certain people for the sole reward of his work, I doubt that it must continue to write, if he prefers his own satisfaction at least, the usefulness of many and the zeal for truth. I admit that I threw in the year M.DC.LXXXX, and before the fifth between the impatience of my book to give fuller and better shape with new characters, and afraid to tell some of them: “Do they not eventually, these characters, nor will we ever anything of this writer?” People tell me wise one hand: “The material is solid, useful, pleasant, inexhaustible live long, and treat it without interruption while you live: what could you do better? there is no year that the follies of men can not give you a volume. “Others, with much reason, made me fear the whims of the multitude and the lightness of the public, whom I however, if major issues to be happy, and did not fail me suggest that almost one in thirty years is more than reading to read, it was necessary to men, for fun, new chapters and a new title, that indolence had filled the shops and populated the world since that time, books and boring cold, poor style and no resource, without rules and without any accuracy, contrary to morals and good manners, written in haste, and read the same, only their novelty, and that if I did a book a reasonable increase, the best I could do was rest. I then took something from these two opinions so opposite, and a temperament that I kept them together: I pretended not to add