Our kings can do what they please in such external reformations; their own inclination stands in this case for a law: 

          “Quicquid principes faciunt, praecipere videntur.”

     ["What princes themselves do, they seem to prescribe.” 
     —­Quintil., Declam., 3.]

Whatever is done at court passes for a rule through the rest of France.  Let the courtiers fall out with these abominable breeches, that discover so much of those parts should be concealed; these great bellied doublets, that make us look like I know not what, and are so unfit to admit of arms; these long effeminate locks of hair; this foolish custom of kissing what we present to our equals, and our hands in saluting them, a ceremony in former times only due to princes.  Let them not permit that a gentleman shall appear in place of respect without his sword, unbuttoned and untrussed, as though he came from the house of office; and that, contrary to the custom of our forefathers and the particular privilege of the nobles of this kingdom, we stand a long time bare to them in what place soever, and the same to a hundred others, so many tiercelets and quartelets of kings we have got nowadays and other like vicious innovations:  they will see them all presently vanish and cried down.  These are, ’tis true, but superficial errors; but they are of ill augury, and enough to inform us that the whole fabric is crazy and tottering, when we see the roughcast of our walls to cleave and split.

Plato in his Laws esteems nothing of more pestiferous consequence to his city than to give young men the liberty of introducing any change in their habits, gestures, dances, songs, and exercises, from one form to another; shifting from this to that, hunting after novelties, and applauding the inventors; by which means manners are corrupted and the old institutions come to be nauseated and despised.  In all things, saving only in those that are evil, a change is to be feared; even the change of seasons, winds, viands, and humours.  And no laws are in their true credit, but such to which God has given so long a continuance that no one knows their beginning, or that there ever was any other.

CHAPTER XLIV

OF SLEEP

Reason directs that we should always go the same way, but not always at the same pace.  And, consequently, though a wise man ought not so much to give the reins to human passions as to let him deviate from the right path, he may, notwithstanding, without prejudice to his duty, leave it to them to hasten or to slacken his speed, and not fix himself like a motionless and insensible Colossus.  Could virtue itself put on flesh and blood, I believe the pulse would beat faster going on to assault than in going to dinner:  that is to say, there is a necessity she should heat and be moved upon this account.  I have taken notice, as of an extraordinary thing, of some great