Theodotus has a gentler hobby; he immoderately loves favour, but his passion is less impetuous, and he worships it secretly, and fosters and serves it mysteriously; he is ever on the watch to discover who are the new favourites of the king;[428] if these wish for anything, he offers to serve them, and to intrigue for them; and stealthily sacrifices to them merit, connections, friendship, engagements, and gratitude. If the place of Cassini[429] were vacant, and a Swiss porter or postillion of a favourite were applying for it, he would support his pretensions, judge him worthy of the place, and think him capable of making observations and calculations, and of discussing about parhelions and parallaxes.[430] Should you like to know whether Theodotus be an author or a plagiary, original or a copyist, I will give you one of his works, and bid you read and judge. Who can decide, from the picture I have drawn, whether he is really pious, or merely a courtier?[431] I can with more assurance proclaim whether the stars will be propitious to him. Yes, Theodotus, I have calculated your nativity; you will obtain an appointment, and that very soon; so abandon your lucubrations, and print no more any of your writings; the public begs for quarter. (62.) Never more expect candour, frankness, justice, good offices, services, kindness, generosity, steadiness from a man who for some time has spent all his days at court, and secretly wishes to better his fortunes. Do you know him by his face or conversation? He no longer calls things by their proper names; for him there exist no longer any knaves, rogues, fools, or impertinent people; if by chance he should say of any man what he thinks of him, that very man might come to know it, and prevent him from getting on.[432] Though he thinks ill of everybody, he speaks ill of none, for he only wishes success to himself, but would make believe that he wishes it to everybody, so that all may assist him, or at least that nobody may oppose him. Not satisfied with being insincere himself, he cannot endure that any one should be otherwise; truth offends his ear; he is indifferent, and does not care what remarks are made about the court and courtiers, but because he knows what they mean, he fancies himself an accomplice, and answerable for them. A tyrant in society and a martyr to his ambition, he is mournfully circumspect in his conduct and in his language; his raillery is innocent, but cold and constrained; his laughter is forced, his demonstrations of friendship deceptive, his conversation desultory, and his absence of mind frequent: he is profuse in his praises, and, if I may say so, pours out torrents of them whenever any man in office and a favourite does or says the smallest thing; but for any other person he is as sparing with his words as if he were consumptive. He has different formulas for complimenting people on entering or leaving a room, as well when he visits as when he is visited, and none of those