out of his study after midnight, dost thou think he has been tumbling over books to learn how to become a better man, wiser, and more content?  No such matter; he will there end his days, but he will teach posterity the measure of Plautus’ verses and the true orthography of a Latin word.  Who is it that does not voluntarily exchange his health, his repose, and his very life for reputation and glory, the most useless, frivolous, and false coin that passes current amongst us?  Our own death does not sufficiently terrify and trouble us; let us, moreover, charge ourselves with those of our wives, children, and family:  our own affairs do not afford us anxiety enough; let us undertake those of our neighbours and friends, still more to break our brains and torment us: 

         “Vah! quemquamne hominem in animum instituere, aut
          Parare, quod sit carius, quam ipse est sibi?”

["Ah! can any man conceive in his mind or realise what is dearer
than he is to himself?”—­Terence, Adelph., i.  I, 13.]

Solitude seems to me to wear the best favour in such as have already employed their most active and flourishing age in the world’s service, after the example of Thales.  We have lived enough for others; let us at least live out the small remnant of life for ourselves; let us now call in our thoughts and intentions to ourselves, and to our own ease and repose.  ’Tis no light thing to make a sure retreat; it will be enough for us to do without mixing other enterprises.  Since God gives us leisure to order our removal, let us make ready, truss our baggage, take leave betimes of the company, and disentangle ourselves from those violent importunities that engage us elsewhere and separate us from ourselves.

We must break the knot of our obligations, how strong soever, and hereafter love this or that, but espouse nothing but ourselves:  that is to say, let the remainder be our own, but not so joined and so close as not to be forced away without flaying us or tearing out part of our whole.  The greatest thing in the world is for a man to know that he is his own.  ’Tis time to wean ourselves from society when we can no longer add anything to it; he who is not in a condition to lend must forbid himself to borrow.  Our forces begin to fail us; let us call them in and concentrate them in and for ourselves.  He that can cast off within himself and resolve the offices of friendship and company, let him do it.  In this decay of nature which renders him useless, burdensome, and importunate to others, let him take care not to be useless, burdensome, and importunate to himself.  Let him soothe and caress himself, and above all things be sure to govern himself with reverence to his reason and conscience to that degree as to be ashamed to make a false step in their presence: 

“Rarum est enim, ut satis se quisque vereatur.”

     ["For ’tis rarely seen that men have respect and reverence enough
     for themselves.”—­Quintilian, x. 7.]