As to the rest, nothing vexes me so much in folly as that it is more satisfied with itself than any reason can reasonably be.  ’Tis unfortunate that prudence forbids us to satisfy and trust ourselves, and always dismisses us timorous and discontented; whereas obstinacy and temerity fill those who are possessed with them with joy and assurance.  ’Tis for the most ignorant to look at other men over the shoulder, always returning from the combat full of joy and triumph.  And moreover, for the most part, this arrogance of speech and gaiety of countenance gives them the better of it in the opinion of the audience, which is commonly weak and incapable of well judging and discerning the real advantage.  Obstinacy of opinion and heat in argument are the surest proofs of folly; is there anything so assured, resolute, disdainful, contemplative, serious and grave as the ass?

May we not include under the title of conference and communication the quick and sharp repartees which mirth and familiarity introduce amongst friends, pleasantly and wittily jesting and rallying with one another?  ’Tis an exercise for which my natural gaiety renders me fit enough, and which, if it be not so tense and serious as the other I spoke of but now, is, as Lycurgus thought, no less smart and ingenious, nor of less utility.  For my part, I contribute to it more liberty than wit, and have therein more of luck than invention; but I am perfect in suffering, for I endure a retaliation that is not only tart, but indiscreet to boot, without being moved at all; and whoever attacks me, if I have not a brisk answer immediately ready, I do not study to pursue the point with a tedious and impertinent contest, bordering upon obstinacy, but let it pass, and hanging down cheerfully my ears, defer my revenge to another and better time:  there is no merchant that always gains:  Most men change their countenance and their voice where their wits fail, and by an unseasonable anger, instead of revenging themselves, accuse at once their own folly and impatience.  In this jollity, we sometimes pinch the secret strings of our imperfections which, at another and graver time, we cannot touch without offence, and so profitably give one another a hint of our defects.  There are other jeux de main,—­[practical jokes]—­rude and indiscreet, after the French manner, that I mortally hate; my skin is very tender and sensible:  I have in my time seen two princes of the blood buried upon that very account.  ’Tis unhandsome to fight in play.  As to the rest, when I have a mind to judge of any one, I ask him how far he is contented with himself; to what degree his speaking or his work pleases him.  I will none of these fine excuses, “I did it only in sport,

‘Ablatum mediis opus est incudibus istud.’

          ["That work was taken from the anvil half finished.” 
          —­Ovid, Trist., i. 6, 29.]