wretched affectation of popularity.  A popular man is, in truth, no better than a prostitute to common fame, and to the people.  He lies down to every one he meets for the hire of praise; and his humility is only a disguised ambition.  Even Cicero himself, whose eloquence deserved the admiration of mankind, yet, by his insatiable thirst of fame, he has lessened his character with succeeding ages; his action against Catiline may be said to have ruined the consul, when it saved the city; for it so swelled his soul, which was not truly great, that ever afterwards it was apt to be over-set with vanity.  And this made his virtue so suspected by his friends, that Brutus, whom of all men he adored, refused him a place in his conspiracy.  A modern wit has made this observation on him; that, coveting to recommend himself to posterity, he begged it as an alms of all his friends, the historians, to remember his consulship:  And observe, if you please, the oddness of the event; all their histories are lost, and the vanity of his request stands yet recorded in his own writings.  How much more great and manly in your lordship, is your contempt of popular applause, and your retired virtue, which shines only to a few; with whom you live so easily and freely, that you make it evident, you have a soul which is capable of all the tenderness of friendship, and that you only retire yourself from those, who are not capable of returning it.  Your kindness, where you have once placed it, is inviolable; and it is to that only I attribute my happiness in your love.  This makes me more easily forsake an argument, on which I could otherwise delight to dwell; I mean, your judgment in your choice of friends; because I have the honour to be one.  After which I am sure you will more easily permit me to be silent, in the care you have taken of my fortune; which you have rescued, not only from the power of others, but from my worst of enemies, my own modesty and laziness; which favour, had it been employed on a more deserving subject, had been an effect of justice in your nature; but, as placed on me, is only charity.  Yet, withal, it is conferred on such a man, as prefers your kindness itself, before any of its consequences; and who values, as the greatest of your favours, those of your love, and of your conversation.  From this constancy to your friends, I might reasonably assume, that your resentments would be as strong and lasting, if they were not restrained by a nobler principle of good nature and generosity; for certainly, it is the same composition of mind, the same resolution and courage, which makes the greatest friendships, and the greatest enmities.  And he, who is too lightly reconciled, after high provocations, may recommend himself to the world for a Christian, but I should hardly trust him for a friend.  The Italians have a proverb to that purpose, “To forgive the first time, shows me a good Catholic; the second time, a fool.”  To this firmness in all your actions, though you are wanting in no other ornaments of mind and body, yet to this I principally ascribe the interest your merits have acquired you in the royal family.  A prince, who is constant to himself, and steady in all his undertakings; one with whom that character of Horace will agree,