t of him_, with whom there is fulness of joy, and at whose right
hand are pleasures for evermore.

_Discretion_.

1. I have often thought if the minds of men were laid open, we should
see but little difference between that of the wise man and that of the
fool. There are infinite reveries, numberless extravagancies, and a
perpetual train of vanities, which pass through both. The great
difference is, that the first knows how to pick and cull his thoughts
for conversation, by suppressing some, and communicating others; whereas
the other lets them all indifferently fly out in words. This sort of
discretion, however, has no place in private conversation between
intimate friends. On such occasions the wisest men very often talk like
the weakest; for indeed the talking with a friend is nothing else but
thinking aloud.

2. _Tully_ has therefore very justly exposed a precept delivered by some
ancient writers, that a man should live with his enemy in such a manner,
as might leave him room to become his friend; and with his friend in
such a manner, that if he became his enemy, it should not be in his
power to hurt him. The first part of this rule, which regards our
behaviour towards an enemy, is indeed very reasonable, as well as
prudential; but the latter part of it, which regards our behaviour
towards a friend, favours more of cunning than of discretion, and would
cut a man off from the greatest pleasures of life, which are the
freedoms of conversation with a bosom friend. Besides, that when a
friend is turned into an enemy, and (as the son of _Sirach_ calls him) a
betrayer of secrets, the world is just enough to accuse the
perfidiousness of the friend, rather than the indiscretion of the person
who confided in him.

3. Discretion does not only shew itself in words, but In all the
circumstances of action; and is like an under-agent of Providence, to
guide and direct us in the ordinary concerns of life.

There are many more shining qualities in the mind of man, but there is
none so useful as discretion; it is this indeed which gives a value to
all the rest, which sets them at work in their proper times and places,
and turns them to the advantage of the person who is possessed of them.
Without it, learning is pedantry, and wit impertinence; virtue itself
looks like weakness; the best parts only qualify a man to be more
sprightly in errors, and active to his own prejudice.

4. Nor does discretion only make a man the