you in the royal family. A prince, who is constant to
himself, and steady in all his undertakings; one with whom that
character of Horace will agree,

_Si fractus illabatur orbis,
Impavidum ferient ruinae_[2];--

such an one cannot but place an esteem, and repose a confidence on
him, whom no adversity, no change of courts, no bribery of interests,
or cabals of factions, or advantages of fortune, can remove from the
solid foundations of honour and fidelity:

_Ille meos, primus qui me sibi junxit, amores
Abstulit; ille habeat secum, servetque sepulcro._

How well your lordship will deserve that praise, I need no inspiration
to foretell. You have already left no room for prophecy: Your early
undertakings have been such, in the service of your king and country,
when you offered yourself to the most dangerous employment, that of
the sea; when you chose to abandon those delights, to which your youth
and fortune did invite you, to undergo the hazards, and, which was
worse, the company of common seamen, that you have made it evident,
you will refuse no opportunity of rendering yourself useful to the
nation, when either your courage or conduct shall be required[3]. The
same zeal and faithfulness continue in your blood, which animated one
of your noble ancestors to sacrifice his life in the quarrels of his
sovereign[4]; though, I hope, both for your sake, and for the public
tranquillity, the same occasion will never be offered to your
lordship, and that a better destiny will attend you. But I make haste
to consider you as abstracted from a court, which (if you will give me
leave to use a term of logic) is only an adjunct, not a propriety of
happiness. The academics, I confess, were willing to admit the goods
of fortune into their notion of felicity; but I do not remember, that
any of the sects of old philosophers did ever leave a room for
greatness. Neither am I formed to praise a court, who admire and covet
nothing, but the easiness and quiet of retirement. I naturally
withdraw my sight from a precipice; and, admit the prospect be never
so large and goodly, can take no pleasure even in looking on the
downfal, though I am secure from the danger. Methinks, there is
something of a malignant joy in that excellent description of
Lucretius;

_Suave, mari magno turbantibus aequora ventis,
E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem;
Non quia vexari quenquam est jucunda voluptas,
Sed, quibus ipse malis careas, quia