souls, elevated by the ardour of devotion and religion, to a constant and conscientious meditation of divine things, who, by the energy of vivid and vehement hope, prepossessing the use of the eternal nourishment, the final aim and last step of Christian desires, the sole constant, and incorruptible pleasure, disdain to apply themselves to our necessitous, fluid, and ambiguous conveniences, and easily resign to the body the care and use of sensual and temporal pasture; ’tis a privileged study.  Between ourselves, I have ever observed supercelestial opinions and subterranean manners to be of singular accord.

AEsop, that great man, saw his master piss as he walked:  “What then,” said he, “must we drop as we run?” Let us manage our time; there yet remains a great deal idle and ill employed.  The mind has not willingly other hours enough wherein to do its business, without disassociating itself from the body, in that little space it must have for its necessity.  They would put themselves out of themselves, and escape from being men.  It is folly; instead of transforming themselves into angels, they transform themselves into beasts; instead of elevating, they lay themselves lower.  These transcendental humours affright me, like high and inaccessible places; and nothing is hard for me to digest in the life of Socrates but his ecstasies and communication with demons; nothing so human in Plato as that for which they say he was called divine; and of our sciences, those seem to be the most terrestrial and low that are highest mounted; and I find nothing so humble and mortal in the life of Alexander as his fancies about his immortalisation.  Philotas pleasantly quipped him in his answer; he congratulated him by letter concerning the oracle of Jupiter Ammon, which had placed him amongst the gods:  “Upon thy account I am glad of it, but the men are to be pitied who are to live with a man, and to obey him, who exceeds and is not contented with the measure of a man:” 

“Diis to minorem quod geris, imperas.”

     ["Because thou carriest thyself lower than the gods, thou rulest.” 
     —­Horace, Od., iii. 6, 5.]

The pretty inscription wherewith the Athenians honoured the entry of Pompey into their city is conformable to my sense:  “By so much thou art a god, as thou confessest thee a man.”  ’Tis an absolute and, as it were, a divine perfection, for a man to know how loyally to enjoy his being.  We seek other conditions, by reason we do not understand the use of our own; and go out of ourselves, because we know not how there to reside.  ’Tis to much purpose to go upon stilts, for, when upon stilts, we must yet walk with our legs; and when seated upon the most elevated throne in the world, we are but seated upon our breech.  The fairest lives, in my opinion, are those which regularly accommodate themselves to the common and human model without miracle, without extravagance.  Old age stands a little in need of a more gentle treatment.  Let us recommend that to God, the protector of health and wisdom, but let it be gay and sociable: