to lay all the blame (and punishment too) upon the instrument; and hang up the minister for the master’s fault. ‘This is the end of all favourites,’ cries one; ‘Not a halfpenny matter if they were all served so,’ says another. And every historian has his saying upon this catastrophe, and sets up a buoy to warn after-ages of the rock of court favours. The greatness of a favourite, I must confess, proclaims the greatness of his maker; and the prince that maintains what he has once raised does but justify the prudence of his own choice; and whenever he comes to undo what he has done, publishes himself to be light and unconstant, and does as good as declare himself (even against himself) of the enemy’s party.” Up stepped Plaintain then, (Severus his favourite) he that was tossed out of a garret window to make the people sport. “My condition in the world,” says he, “was perfectly like that of a rocket or fire-work: I was carried up to a prodigious height in a moment, and all people’s eyes were upon me, as a star of the first magnitude; but my glory was very short-lived, and down I fell into obscurity and ashes.” After him, appeared a number of other favourites; and all of them hearkening to Bellisarius the favourite of Justinian, who, blind as he was, had already knocked twice with his staff, and shaking his head, with a weak and complaining voice, desired audience; which was at length granted him, silence commanded; and he said, as follows. “Princes,” said he, “before they destroy the creatures they have raised and chosen, should do well to consider, that cruelty and inconstancy is much a greater infamy to a prince than the worst effects of it can be to a favourite. For my own part, I served an emperor that was both a Christian and a great lover and promoter of justice. And yet, after all the services I had done him, in several battles and adventures, (insomuch that he was effectually become my debtor, for the very glory of his empire) my reward, in the end, was to have my eyes put out, and (with a dog and a bell) to be turned a-begging from door to door. Thus was that Bellisarius treated, whose very name formerly was worth an army, and he was the soul of his friends as well as the terror of his enemies. But a prince’s favour is like quick-silver—restless and slippery, never to be fixed, never secured. Force it, and it spends itself in fumes; sublime it, and ’tis a mortal poison. Handle it only, and it works itself into the very bones; and all that have to do with it, live and die pale and trembling.”