“Rerum natura nullam nobis dedit cognitionem finium.”

     ["Nature has green to us no knowledge of the end of things.” 
     —­Cicero, Acad., ii. 29.]

Are they not still wives and friends to the dead who are not at the end of this but in the other world?  We embrace not only the absent, but those who have been, and those who are not yet.  We do not promise in marriage to be continually twisted and linked together, like some little animals that we see, or, like the bewitched folks of Karenty,—­[Karantia, a town in the isle of Rugen.  See Saxo-Grammaticus, Hist. of Denmark, book xiv.]—­tied together like dogs; and a wife ought not to be so greedily enamoured of her husband’s foreparts, that she cannot endure to see him turn his back, if occasion be.  But may not this saying of that excellent painter of woman’s humours be here introduced, to show the reason of their complaints?

         “Uxor, si cesses, aut to amare cogitat,
          Aut tete amari, aut potare, aut animo obsequi;
          Et tibi bene esse soli, cum sibi sit male;”

["Your wife, if you loiter, thinks that you love or are beloved; or that you are drinking or following your inclination; and that it is well for you when it is ill for her (all the pleasure is yours and hers all the care).”  —­Terence, Adelph., act i., sc.  I, v. 7.]

or may it not be, that of itself opposition and contradiction entertain and nourish them, and that they sufficiently accommodate themselves, provided they incommodate you?

In true friendship, wherein I am perfect, I more give myself to my friend, than I endeavour to attract him to me.  I am not only better pleased in doing him service than if he conferred a benefit upon me, but, moreover, had rather he should do himself good than me, and he most obliges me when he does so; and if absence be either more pleasant or convenient for him, ’tis also more acceptable to me than his presence; neither is it properly absence, when we can write to one another:  I have sometimes made good use of our separation from one another:  we better filled and further extended the possession of life in being parted.  He—­[La Boetie.]—­lived, enjoyed, and saw for me, and I for him, as fully as if he had himself been there; one part of us remained idle, and we were too much blended in one another when we were together; the distance of place rendered the conjunction of our wills more rich.  This insatiable desire of personal presence a little implies weakness in the fruition of souls.

As to what concerns age, which is alleged against me, ’tis quite contrary; ’tis for youth to subject itself to common opinions, and to curb itself to please others; it has wherewithal to please both the people and itself; we have but too much ado to please ourselves alone.  As natural conveniences fail, let us supply them with those that are artificial.  ’Tis injustice to excuse youth for pursuing its pleasures, and to forbid old men to seek them.  When young, I concealed my wanton passions with prudence; now I am old, I chase away melancholy by debauch.  And thus do the platonic laws forbid men to travel till forty or fifty years old, so that travel might be more useful and instructive in so mature an age.  I should sooner subscribe to the second article of the same Laws, which forbids it after threescore.