se to us of glory, 'tis
infinitely wide of my account. Ambition is of all others the most
contrary humour to solitude; glory and repose are things that cannot
possibly inhabit in one and the same place. For so much as I understand,
these have only their arms and legs disengaged from the crowd; their soul
and intention remain confined behind more than ever:

"Tun', vetule, auriculis alienis colligis escas?"

["Dost thou, then, old man, collect food for others' ears?"
--Persius, Sat., i. 22.]

they have only retired to take a better leap, and by a stronger motion to
give a brisker charge into the crowd. Will you see how they shoot short?
Let us put into the counterpoise the advice of two philosophers, of two
very different sects, writing, the one to Idomeneus, the other to
Lucilius, their friends, to retire into solitude from worldly honours and
affairs. "You have," say they, "hitherto lived swimming and floating;
come now and die in the harbour: you have given the first part of your
life to the light, give what remains to the shade. It is impossible to
give over business, if you do not also quit the fruit; therefore
disengage yourselves from all concern of name and glory; 'tis to be
feared the lustre of your former actions will give you but too much
light, and follow you into your most private retreat. Quit with other
pleasures that which proceeds from the approbation of another man: and as
to your knowledge and parts, never concern yourselves; they will not lose
their effect if yourselves be the better for them. Remember him, who
being asked why he took so much pains in an art that could come to the
knowledge of but few persons? 'A few are enough for me,' replied he;
'I have enough with one; I have enough with never an one.'--[Seneca, Ep.,
7.]--He said true; you and a companion are theatre enough to one
another, or you to yourself. Let the people be to you one, and be you
one to the whole people. 'Tis an unworthy ambition to think to derive
glory from a man's sloth and privacy: you are to do like the beasts of
chase, who efface the track at the entrance into their den. You are no
more to concern yourself how the world talks of you, but how you are to
talk to yourself. Retire yourself into yourself, but first prepare
yourself there to receive yourself: it were a folly to trust yourself in
your own hands, if you cannot govern yourself. A man may miscarry alone
as well as in company. Til