Saying is a different thing from doing; we are to consider the sermon apart and the preacher apart.  These men lent themselves to a pretty business who in our times have attempted to shake the truth of our Church by the vices of her ministers; she extracts her testimony elsewhere; ’tis a foolish way of arguing and that would throw all things into confusion.  A man whose morals are good may have false opinions, and a wicked man may preach truth, even though he believe it not himself.  ’Tis doubtless a fine harmony when doing and saying go together; and I will not deny but that saying, when the actions follow, is not of greater authority and efficacy, as Eudamidas said, hearing a philosopher talk of military affairs:  “These things are finely said, but he who speaks them is not to be believed for his ears have never been used to the sound of the trumpet.”  And Cleomenes, hearing an orator declaiming upon valour, burst out into laughter, at which the other being angry; “I should,” said he to him, “do the same if it were a swallow that spoke of this subject; but if it were an eagle I should willingly hear him.”  I perceive, methinks, in the writings of the ancients, that he who speaks what he thinks, strikes much more home than he who only feigns.  Hear Cicero speak of the love of liberty:  hear Brutus speak of it, the mere written words of this man sound as if he would purchase it at the price of his life.  Let Cicero, the father of eloquence, treat of the contempt of death; let Seneca do the same:  the first languishingly drawls it out so you perceive he would make you resolve upon a thing on which he is not resolved himself; he inspires you not with courage, for he himself has none; the other animates and inflames you.  I never read an author, even of those who treat of virtue and of actions, that I do not curiously inquire what kind of a man he was himself; for the Ephori at Sparta, seeing a dissolute fellow propose a wholesome advice to the people, commanded him to hold his peace, and entreated a virtuous man to attribute to himself the invention, and to propose it.  Plutarch’s writings, if well understood, sufficiently bespeak their author, and so that I think I know him even into his soul; and yet I could wish that we had some fuller account of his life.  And I am thus far wandered from my subject, upon the account of the obligation I have to Aulus Gellius, for having left us in writing this story of his manners, that brings me back to my subject of anger.  A slave of his, a vicious, ill-conditioned fellow, but who had the precepts of philosophy often ringing in his ears, having for some offence of his been stript by Plutarch’s command, whilst he was being whipped, muttered at first, that it was without cause and that he had done nothing to deserve it; but at last falling in good earnest to exclaim against and rail at his master, he reproached him that he was no philosopher, as he had boasted himself to be:  that he had often heard him say it was indecent to be angry, nay,