self; Chide your Fancy therefore if it offers to shrink from a Moment, and grow faint under so slender a Tryal.
XXXVII. Does Panthea and Pergamus still wait at the Tomb of Verus , or Chabrias, and Diotimus, at that of Adrian? [1] That would be stuff indeed! And what if they were there, would those Princes be sensible of the Service? Granting they were, what satisfaction would it be to them? And suppose they were pleased, would these Waitors last always ? and be Immortal? Are they not doom'd to Age and Death, with the rest of Mankind? And when they are dead, what a pickle would the Royal Ghosts be in, for want of their Attendance? Alass! These Fancies have nothing in them; All this Ceremony must end at last in Stench and Dust.
XXXVIII. If you are so discerning, says the Philosopher, make use of your Talent to some purpose; and let your Subject be proportionable to your Parts.
XXXIX. I find no Moral Virtue which Contradicts and Combates Justice, this can't be affirm'd of Pleasure, for here Temperance comes in with a Restraint.
XL. 'Tis Opinion which gives Being to Misfortune, don't fancy your self hurt, and nothing can touch you. But what, is this You? Is it not some Notional,
- ↑ Princes us'd to have some of their Friends or Domesticks sit constantly at their Tombs for sometime after they were Dead.
