the display of their own arrogance, hardly thinking themselves possessed
of power unless they let each man see for a long time how powerful they
are. They do nothing promptly, or at one sitting; they are indeed swift
to do mischief, but slow to do good. Be sure that the comic poet speaks
the most absolute truth in the verses:--

"Know you not this? If you your gifts delay,
You take thereby my gratitude away."

And the following lines, the expression of virtuous pain--a
high-spirited man's misery,--

"What thou doest, do quickly;"

and:--

"Nothing in the world
Is worth this trouble; I had rather you
Refused it to me now."

When the mind begins through weariness to hate the promised benefit, or
while it is wavering in expectation of it, how can it feel grateful
for it? As the most refined cruelty is that which prolongs the torture,
while to kill the victim at once is a kind of mercy, since the extremity
of torture brings its own end with it--the interval is the worst part of
the execution--so the shorter time a benefit hangs in the balance, the
more grateful it is to the receiver. It is possible to look forward with
anxious disquietude even to good things, and, seeing that most benefits
consist in a release from some form of misery, a man destroys the value
of the benefit which he confers, if he has the power to relieve us,
and yet allows us to suffer or to lack pleasure longer than we need.
Kindness always eager to do good, and one who acts by love naturally
acts at once; he who does us good, but does it tardily and with long
delays, does not do so from the heart. Thus he loses two most important
things: time, and the proof of his good will to us; for a lingering
consent is but a form of denial.

VI. The manner in which things are said or done, my Liberalis, forms a
very important part of every transaction. We gain much by quickness, and
lose much by slowness. Just as in darts, the strength of the iron head
remains the same, but there is an immeasureable difference between the
blow of one hurled with the full swing of the arm and one which merely
drops from the hand, and the same sword either grazes or pierces
according as the blow is delivered; so, in like manner, that which
is given is the same, but the manner in which it is given makes the
difference. How sweet, how precious is a gift, when he who gives does
not permit himself to be thanked, and when while he gives he forgets
that he