“Credo ch ’el reste di quel verno, cose
               Facesse degne di tener ne conto;
               Ma fur fin’ a quel tempo si nascose,
               Che non a colpa mia s’ hor ’non le conto
               Perche Orlando a far l’opre virtuose
               Piu ch’a narrar le poi sempre era pronto;
               Ne mai fu alcun’ de’suoi fatti espresso,
               Se non quando ebbe i testimonii appresso.”

["The rest of the winter, I believe, was spent in actions worthy of narration, but they were done so secretly that if I do not tell them I am not to blame, for Orlando was more bent to do great acts than to boast of them, so that no deeds of his were ever known but those that had witnesses.”—­Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, xi. 81.]

A man must go to the war upon the account of duty, and expect the recompense that never fails brave and worthy actions, how private soever, or even virtuous thoughts-the satisfaction that a well-disposed conscience receives in itself in doing well.  A man must be valiant for himself, and upon account of the advantage it is to him to have his courage seated in a firm and secure place against the assaults of fortune: 

                   “Virtus, repulsaa nescia sordidx
                    Intaminatis fulget honoribus
                    Nec sumit, aut ponit secures
                    Arbitrio popularis aura.”

["Virtue, repudiating all base repulse, shines in taintless
honours, nor takes nor leaves dignity at the mere will of the
vulgar.”—­Horace, Od., iii. 2, 17.]

It is not for outward show that the soul is to play its part, but for ourselves within, where no eyes can pierce but our own; there she defends us from the fear of death, of pain, of shame itself:  there she arms us against the loss of our children, friends, and fortunes:  and when opportunity presents itself, she leads us on to the hazards of war: 

          “Non emolumento aliquo, sed ipsius honestatis decore.”

     ["Not for any profit, but for the honour of honesty itself.” 
     —­Cicero, De Finib., i. 10.]

This profit is of much greater advantage, and more worthy to be coveted and hoped for, than, honour and glory, which are no other than a favourable judgment given of us.

A dozen men must be called out of a whole nation to judge about an acre of land; and the judgment of our inclinations and actions, the most difficult and most important matter that is, we refer to the voice and determination of the rabble, the mother of ignorance, injustice, and inconstancy.  Is it reasonable that the life of a wise man should depend upon the judgment of fools?

          “An quidquam stultius, quam, quos singulos contemnas,
          eos aliquid putare esse universes?”

     ["Can anything be more foolish than to think that those you despise
     singly, can be anything else in general.” 
     —­Cicero, Tusc.  Quaes., v. 36.]