events, I govern myself, and apply myself to them, if they will not apply themselves to me.  I have no great art to evade, escape from or force fortune, and by prudence to guide and incline things to my own bias.  I have still less patience to undergo the troublesome and painful care therein required; and the most uneasy condition for me is to be suspended on urgent occasions, and to be agitated betwixt hope and fear.

Deliberation, even in things of lightest moment, is very troublesome to me; and I find my mind more put to it to undergo the various tumblings and tossings of doubt and consultation, than to set up its rest and to acquiesce in whatever shall happen after the die is thrown.  Few passions break my sleep, but of deliberations, the least will do it.  As in roads, I preferably avoid those that are sloping and slippery, and put myself into the beaten track how dirty or deep soever, where I can fall no lower, and there seek my safety:  so I love misfortunes that are purely so, that do not torment and tease me with the uncertainty of their growing better; but that at the first push plunge me directly into the worst that can be expected

“Dubia plus torquent mala.”

               ["Doubtful ills plague us worst.” 
               —­Seneca, Agamemnon, iii. 1, 29.]

In events I carry myself like a man; in conduct, like a child.  The fear of the fall more fevers me than the fall itself.  The game is not worth the candle.  The covetous man fares worse with his passion than the poor, and the jealous man than the cuckold; and a man ofttimes loses more by defending his vineyard than if he gave it up.  The lowest walk is the safest; ’tis the seat of constancy; you have there need of no one but yourself; ’tis there founded and wholly stands upon its own basis.  Has not this example of a gentleman very well known, some air of philosophy in it?  He married, being well advanced in years, having spent his youth in good fellowship, a great talker and a great jeerer, calling to mind how much the subject of cuckoldry had given him occasion to talk and scoff at others.  To prevent them from paying him in his own coin, he married a wife from a place where any one finds what he wants for his money:  “Good morrow, strumpet”; “Good morrow, cuckold”; and there was not anything wherewith he more commonly and openly entertained those who came to see him than with this design of his, by which he stopped the private chattering of mockers, and blunted all the point from this reproach.

As to ambition, which is neighbour, or rather daughter, to presumption, fortune, to advance me, must have come and taken me by the hand; for to trouble myself for an uncertain hope, and to have submitted myself to all the difficulties that accompany those who endeavour to bring themselves into credit in the beginning of their progress, I could never have done it: 

“Spem pretio non emo.”

               ["I will not purchase hope with ready money,” (or),
               “I do not purchase hope at a price.” 
               —­Terence, Adelphi, ii. 3, 11.]