I served once a _Roman_ Citizen, together with a young _Grecian_ Slave, whom the Storm had also oblig’d to serve, tho’ born Free. Nature had engraven in the Face of this young Man all the marks of Nobleness, and of that good Education which he ow’d to his Birth and the care of his Parents; and one might easily see that he was not born for the Condition to which his hard Fortune had reduc’d him; if he was to carry any Burden, he sunk under the lightest; yet he would needs do every thing, and forgot his Birth, to adapt himself to the present State of his Fortune. But not being able to bear hard labour, nor the course Food of Servants, he grew insensibly very weak, and neglected himself to that degree, that he did not so much as comb his Hair, which was the finest in the World. In a little time he became lean and full of Wrinckles, his Eyes grew hollow and languishing, his Hands black and course; in fine, he was not the same Man: Melancholy had sunk his Spirit, as much as Fatigue had impair’d his Health. he figh’d often, and his affliction mov’d my Pity; I thought Fortune was very unjust to him; I endeavoured to comfort him under it; wept for his Misfortunes; taught him what he must do, and did part of it my self to ease him. His wretched state did not take away from him a noble Air, and I know not what preheminence over my Birth, which made me sensible of the difference of his, to which I willingly submitted. He knew well enough how much he was oblig’d to me, and return’d me thanks with the politeness of a Courtier. In short, I was so much affected with those Accomplishments, that thinking I had only Pity for his Misfortunes, I found my self in Love with his Person; and indeed I lov’d him desperately.