of those with whom they have to do; I expose myself in my stiff opinion, and after a method the most my own; a tender negotiator, a novice, who had rather fail in the affair than be wanting to myself.  And yet it has been hitherto with so good luck (for fortune has doubtless the best share in it), that few things have passed from hand to hand with less suspicion or more favour and privacy.  I have a free and open way that easily insinuates itself and obtains belief with those with whom I am to deal at the first meeting.  Sincerity and pure truth, in what age soever, pass for current; and besides, the liberty and freedom of a man who treats without any interest of his own is never hateful or suspected, and he may very well make use of the answer of Hyperides to the Athenians, who complained of his blunt way of speaking:  “Messieurs, do not consider whether or no I am free, but whether I am so without a bribe, or without any advantage to my own affairs.”  My liberty of speaking has also easily cleared me from all suspicion of dissembling by its vehemency, leaving nothing unsaid, how home and bitter soever (so that I could have said no worse behind their backs), and in that it carried along with it a manifest show of simplicity and indifference.  I pretend to no other fruit by acting than to act, and add to it no long arguments or propositions; every action plays its own game, win if it can.

As to the rest, I am not swayed by any passion, either of love or hatred, towards the great, nor has my will captivated either by particular injury or obligation.  I look upon our kings with an affection simply loyal and respectful, neither prompted nor restrained by any private interest, and I love myself for it.  Nor does the general and just cause attract me otherwise than with moderation, and without heat.  I am not subject to those penetrating and close compacts and engagements.  Anger and hatred are beyond the duty of justice; and are passions only useful to those who do not keep themselves strictly to their duty by simple reason: 

          “Utatur motu animi, qui uti ratione non potest.”

     ["He may employ his passion, who can make no use of his reason.” 
     —­Cicero, Tusc.  Quaes., iv. 25.]

All legitimate intentions are temperate and equable of themselves; if otherwise, they degenerate into seditious and unlawful.  This is it which makes me walk everywhere with my head erect, my face and my heart open.  In truth, and I am not afraid to confess it, I should easily, in case of need, hold up one candle to St. Michael and another to his dragon, like the old woman; I will follow the right side even to the fire, but exclusively, if I can.  Let Montaigne be overwhelmed in the public ruin if need be; but if there be no need, I should think myself obliged to fortune to save me, and I will make use of all the length of line my duty allows for his preservation.  Was it not Atticus who, being of the just but losing