be compared with him. He does not haunt the training grounds and the
public porticos, nor does he charm the idle moments of others and his
own by indulging in long talks; no, he is always in his toga and always
at work; his services are at the disposal of many in the Courts, and he
helps numbers more by his advice. Yet in chastity of life, in piety, in
justice, in courage even, there is no one of all his acquaintance to
whom he need give place.

You would marvel, if you were by his side, at the patience with which he
endures his illness, how he fights against his suffering, how he resists
his thirst, how, without moving and without throwing off his bed-
clothes, he endures the dreadful burning heats of his fever. Just
recently he sent for me and a few others of his especial friends with
me, and begged us to consult his doctors and ask them about the
termination of his illness, so that if there were no hope for him he
might voluntarily give up his life, but might fight against it and hold
out if the illness only threatened to be difficult and long. He owed
it, he said, to the prayers of his wife, the tears of his daughter, and
the regard of us who were his friends, not to cheat our hopes by a
voluntary death, providing those hopes were not altogether futile. I
think that such an acknowledgment as that must be especially difficult
to make, and worthy of the highest praise; for many people are quite
capable of hastening to death under the impulse of a sudden instinct,
but only a truly noble mind can weigh up the pros and cons of the
matter, and resolve to live or die according to the dictates of Reason.
However, the doctors give us reassuring promises, and it now remains for
the Deity to confirm and fulfil them, and so at length release me from
my anxiety. The moment my mind is easy, I shall be off to my Laurentine
Villa--that is to say, to my books and tablets, and to my studious ease.
For now as I sit by my friend's bedside I can neither read nor write,