that fair-weather learning which is nursed by leisure, blossoms under reward and praise, which cannot withstand the shock of opinion, and is liable to be abused by tricks and quackery, will sink under such impediments as these.  Far otherwise is it with that knowledge whose dignity is maintained by works of utility and power.  For the injuries, therefore, which should proceed from the times, I am not afraid of them; and for the injuries which proceed from men, I am not concerned.  For if any one charge me with seeking to be wise over-much, I answer simply that modesty and civil respect are fit for civil matters; in contemplations nothing is to be respected but Truth.  If any one call on me for works, and that presently, I tell him frankly, without any imposture at all, that for me—­a man not old, of weak health, my hands full of civil business, entering without guide or light upon an argument of all others the most obscure—­I hold it enough to have constructed the machine, though I may not succeed in setting it on work....  If, again, any one ask me, not indeed for actual works, yet for definite premises and forecasts of the works that are to be, I would have him know that the knowledge which we now possess will not teach a man even what to wish.  Lastly—­though this is a matter of less moment—­if any of our politicians, who used to make their calculations and conjectures according to persons and precedents, must needs interpose his judgment in a thing of this nature, I would but remind him how (according to the ancient fable) the lame man keeping the course won the race of the swift man who left it; and that there is no thought to be taken about precedents, for the thing is without precedent.

“For myself, my heart is not set upon any of those things which depend upon external accidents.  I am not hunting for fame:  I have no desire to found a sect, after the fashion of heresiarchs; and to look for any private gain from such an undertaking as this I count both ridiculous and base.  Enough for me the consciousness of well-deserving, and those real and effectual results with which Fortune itself cannot interfere.”

In 1604 James’s first Parliament met, and with it Bacon returned to an industrious public life, which was not to be interrupted till it finally came to an end with his strange and irretrievable fall.  The opportunity had come; and Bacon, patient, vigilant, and conscious of great powers and indefatigable energy, fully aware of all the conditions of the time, pushed at once to the front in the House of Commons.  He lost no time in showing that he meant to make himself felt.  The House of Commons had no sooner met than it was involved in a contest with the Chancery, with the Lords, and finally with the King himself, about its privileges—­in this case its exclusive right to judge of the returns of its members.  Bacon’s time was come for showing the King both that he was willing to do him service, and that he