["As Indian ivory streaked with crimson, or white lilies mixed
with the damask rose.”—­AEneid, xii. 67.]

Who can stay till the morning without dying for shame to behold the disdain of the fair eyes of her who knows so well his fumbling impertinence,

“Et taciti fecere tamen convicia vultus,”

["Though she nothing say, her looks betray her anger.” 
—­Ovid, Amor., i. 7, 21.]

has never had the satisfaction and the glory of having cudgelled them till they were weary, with the vigorous performance of one heroic night.  When I have observed any one to be vexed with me, I have not presently accused her levity, but have been in doubt, if I had not reason rather to complain of nature; she has doubtless used me very uncivilly and unkindly: 

         “Si non longa satis, si non bene mentula crassa
          Nimirum sapiunt, videntque parvam
          Matronae quoque mentulam illibenter:” 

[The first of these verses is the commencement of an epigram of the Veterum Poetayurra Catalecta, and the two others are from an epigram in the same collection (Ad Matrones).  They describe untranslatably Montaigne’s charge against nature, indicated in the previous passage.]

and done me a most enormous injury.  Every member I have, as much one as another, is equally my own, and no other more properly makes me a man than this.

I universally owe my entire picture to the public.  The wisdom of my instruction consists in liberty, in truth, in essence:  disdaining to introduce those little, feigned, common, and provincial rules into the catalogue of its real duties; all natural, general, and constant, of which civility and ceremony are daughters indeed, but illegitimate.  We are sure to have the vices of appearance, when we shall have had those of essence:  when we have done with these, we run full drive upon the others, if we find it must be so; for there is danger that we shall fancy new offices, to excuse our negligence towards the natural ones, and to confound them:  and to manifest this, is it not seen that in places where faults are crimes, crimes are but faults; that in nations where the laws of decency are most rare and most remiss, the primitive laws of common reason are better observed:  the innumerable multitude of so many duties stifling and dissipating our care.  The application of ourselves to light and trivial things diverts us from those that are necessary and just.  Oh, how these superficial men take an easy and plausible way in comparison of ours!  These are shadows wherewith we palliate and pay one another; but we do not pay, but inflame the reckoning towards that great judge, who tucks up our rags and tatters above our shameful parts, and suckles not to view us all over, even to our inmost and most secret ordures:  it were a useful decency of our maidenly modesty, could it keep him from this discovery.  In fine, whoever could reclaim man from so scrupulous a verbal superstition,