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“Tanta vis admonitionis inest in locis….Et id quidem in
hac urbe infinitum; quacumque enim ingredimur, in aliquam
historiam vestigium ponimus.”

[“So great a power of reminiscence resides in places; and that
truly in this city infinite, for which way soever we go, we
find the traces of some story.”
–Cicero, De Fin., v. I, 2.]

It pleases me to consider their face, bearing, and vestments: I pronounce those great names betwixt my teeth, and make them ring in my ears:

“Ego illos veneror, et tantis nominibus semper assurgo.”

[“I reverence them, and always rise to so great names.”
–Seneca, Ep., 64.]

Of things that are in some part great and admirable, I admire even the common parts: I could wish to see them in familiar relations, walk, and sup. It were ingratitude to contemn the relics and images of so many worthy and valiant men as I have seen live and die, and who, by their example, give us so many good instructions, knew we how to follow them.

And, moreover, this very Rome that we now see, deserves to be beloved, so long and by so many titles allied to our crown; the only common and universal city; the sovereign magistrate that commands there is equally acknowledged elsewhere ’tis the metropolitan city of all the Christian nations the Spaniard and Frenchman is there at home: to be a prince of that state, there needs no more but to be of Christendom wheresoever. There is no place upon earth that heaven has embraced with such an influence and constancy of favour; her very ruins are grand and glorious,

“Laudandis pretiosior ruinis.”

[“More precious from her glorious ruins.”
–Sidonius Apollinaris, Carm., xxiii.; Narba, v. 62.]

she yet in her very tomb retains the marks and images of empire:

“Ut palam sit, uno in loco gaudentis opus esse naturx.”

[“That it may be manifest that there is in one place the
work of rejoicing nature.”–Pliny, Nat. Hist., iii. 5.]

Some would blame and be angry at themselves to perceive themselves tickled with so vain a pleasure our humours are never too vain that are pleasant let them be what they may, if they constantly content a man of common understanding, I could not have the heart to blame him.

I am very much obliged to Fortune, in that, to this very hour, she has offered me no outrage beyond what I was well able to bear. Is it not her custom to let those live in quiet by whom she is not importuned?

“Quanto quisque sibi plum negaverit,
A diis plum feret: nil cupientium
Nudus castra peto . . . .
Multa petentibus
Desunt multa.”

[“The more each man denies himself, the more the gods give him.
Poor as I am, I seek the company of those who ask nothing;
they who desire much will be deficient in much.”
–Horace, Od., iii. 16,21,42.]

If she continue her favour, she will dismiss me very well satisfied:

“Nihil supra
Deos lacesso.”

[“I trouble the gods no farther.”–Horace, Od., ii. 18, 11.]

But beware a shock: there are a thousand who perish in the port. I easily comfort myself for what shall here happen when I shall be gone, present things trouble me enough:

“Fortunae caetera mando.”

[“I leave the rest to fortune.”–Ovid, Metam., ii. 140.]

Besides, I have not that strong obligation that they say ties men to the future, by the issue that succeeds to their name and honour; and peradventure, ought less to covet them, if they are to be so much desired. I am but too much tied to the world, and to this life, of myself: I am content to be in Fortune’s power by circumstances properly necessary to my being, without otherwise enlarging her jurisdiction over me; and have never thought that to be without children was a defect that ought to render life less complete or less contented: a sterile vocation has its conveniences too. Children are of the number of things that are not so much to be desired, especially now that it would be so hard to make them good: