Our outward and inward structure is full of imperfection; but there is nothing useless in nature, not even inutility itself; nothing has insinuated itself into this universe that has not therein some fit and proper place.  Our being is cemented with sickly qualities:  ambition, jealousy, envy, revenge, superstition, and despair have so natural a possession in us, that its image is discerned in beasts; nay, and cruelty, so unnatural a vice; for even in the midst of compassion we feel within, I know not what tart-sweet titillation of ill-natured pleasure in seeing others suffer; and the children feel it: 

         “Suave mari magno, turbantibus aequora ventis,
          E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem:” 

["It is sweet, when the winds disturb the waters of the vast sea, to
witness from land the peril of other persons.”—­Lucretius, ii.  I.]

of the seeds of which qualities, whoever should divest man, would destroy the fundamental conditions of human life.  Likewise, in all governments there are necessary offices, not only abject, but vicious also.  Vices there help to make up the seam in our piecing, as poisons are useful for the conservation of health.  If they become excusable because they are of use to us, and that the common necessity covers their true qualities, we are to resign this part to the strongest and boldest citizens, who sacrifice their honour and conscience, as others of old sacrificed their lives, for the good of their country:  we, who are weaker, take upon us parts both that are more easy and less hazardous.  The public weal requires that men should betray, and lie, and massacre; let us leave this commission to men who are more obedient and more supple.

In earnest, I have often been troubled to see judges, by fraud and false hopes of favour or pardon, allure a criminal to confess his fact, and therein to make use of cozenage and impudence.  It would become justice, and Plato himself, who countenances this manner of proceeding, to furnish me with other means more suitable to my own liking:  this is a malicious kind of justice, and I look upon it as no less wounded by itself than by others.  I said not long since to some company in discourse, that I should hardly be drawn to betray my prince for a particular man, who should be much ashamed to betray any particular man for my prince; and I do not only hate deceiving myself, but that any one should deceive through me; I will neither afford matter nor occasion to any such thing.

In the little I have had to mediate betwixt our princes—­[Between the King of Navarre, afterwards Henry iv., and the Duc de Guise.  See De Thou, De Vita Sua, iii. 9.]—­in the divisions and subdivisions by which we are at this time torn to pieces, I have been very careful that they should neither be deceived in me nor deceive others by me.  People of that kind of trading are very reserved, and pretend to be the most moderate imaginable and nearest to the opinions