am no better. Here I cannot stimulate myself to a speech for the sake of these unfortunates, and three words and half a smile of —— had she been here to urge it (and urge it she infallibly would—at least she always pressed me on senatorial duties, and particularly in the cause of weakness) would have made me an advocate, if not an orator. Curse on Rochefoucault for being always right! In him a lie were virtue,—or, at least, a comfort to his readers.
George Byron has not called to-day; I hope he will be an admiral, and, perhaps, Lord Byron into the bargain. If he would but marry, I would engage never to marry myself, or cut him out of the heirship. He would be happier, and I should like nephews better than sons.
I shall soon be six-and-twenty (January 22d., 1814). Is there any thing in the future that can possibly console us for not being always
twenty-five
?
"Oh Gioventu!
Oh Primavera! gioventu dell' anno.
Oh Gioventu! primavera della vita."
| Strato | For Brutus only overcame himself, And no man else hath honour by his death. |
| ... | |
| Octavius | According to his virtue let us use him, With all respect and rites of burial. |
Julius Cæsar