not that I should do ill, but that I should do nothing; nobody
prognosticated that I should be wicked, but only useless; they foresaw
idleness, but no malice; and I find it falls out accordingly:
The complaints I hear of myself are these: "He is idle, cold in the
offices of friendship and relation, and in those of the public, too
particular, too disdainful." But the most injurious do not say, "Why has
he taken such a thing? Why has he not paid such an one?" but, "Why does
he part with nothing? Why does he not give?" And I should take it for a
favour that men would expect from me no greater effects of supererogation
than these. But they are unjust to exact from me what I do not owe, far
more rigorously than they require from others that which they do owe.
In condemning me to it, they efface the gratification of the action, and
deprive me of the gratitude that would be my due for it; whereas the
active well-doing ought to be of so much the greater value from my hands,
by how much I have never been passive that way at all. I can the more
freely dispose of my fortune the more it is mine, and of myself the more
I am my own. Nevertheless, if I were good at setting out my own actions,
I could, peradventure, very well repel these reproaches, and could give
some to understand, that they are not so much offended, that I do not
enough, as that I am able to do a great deal more than I do.

Yet for all this heavy disposition of mine, my mind, when retired into
itself, was not altogether without strong movements, solid and clear
judgments about those objects it could comprehend, and could also,
without any helps, digest them; but, amongst other things, I do really
believe, it had been totally impossible to have made it to submit by
violence and force. Shall I here acquaint you with one faculty of my
youth? I had great assurance of countenance, and flexibility of voice
and gesture, in applying myself to any part I undertook to act: for
before--