of him amongst them who died for his prince, went into another body more happy, more beautiful, and more robust than the former; by which means they much more willingly ventured their lives: "In ferrum mens prona viris, animaeque capaces Mortis, et ignavum est rediturae parcere vitae." ["Men's minds are prone to the sword, and their souls able to bear death; and it is base to spare a life that will be renewed." --Lucan, i. 461.] This is a very comfortable belief, however erroneous. Every nation has many such examples of its own; but this subject would require a treatise by itself. To add one word more to my former discourse, I would advise the ladies no longer to call that honour which is but their duty: "Ut enim consuetudo loquitur, id solum dicitur honestum, quod est populari fama gloriosum;" ["As custom puts it, that only is called honest which is glorious by the public voice."--Cicero, De Finibus, ii. 15.] their duty is the mark, their honour but the outward rind. Neither would I advise them to give this excuse for payment of their denial: for I presuppose that their intentions, their desire, and will, which are things wherein their honour is not at all concerned, forasmuch as nothing thereof appears without, are much better regulated than the effects: "Qux quia non liceat, non facit, illa facit:" ["She who only refuses, because 'tis forbidden, consents." --Ovid, Amor., ii. 4, 4.] The offence, both towards God and in the conscience, would be as great to desire as to do it; and, besides, they are actions so private and secret of themselves, as would be easily enough kept from the knowledge of others, wherein the honour consists, if they had not another respect to their duty, and the affection they bear to chastity, for itself. Every woman of honour will much rather choose to lose her honour than to hurt her conscience. CHAPTER XVII OF PRESUMPTION There is another sort of glory, which is the having too good an opinion of our own worth. 'Tis an inconsiderate affection with which we flatter ourselves, and that represents us to ourselves other than we truly are: like the passion of love, that lends beauties and graces to the object, and makes those who are caught by it, with a depraved and corrupt judgment, consider the thing which they love other and more perfect than it is.