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Montaigne's Essays

Book I: Chapter VIII.

OF IDLENESSE

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Note on the e-text: this Renascence Editions text was provided by Ben R. Schneider, Lawrence University, Wisconsin. It is in the public domain. "Florio's Translation of Montaigne's Essays was first published in 1603. In 'The World's Classics' the first volume was published in 1904, and reprinted in 1910 and 1924. " Content unique to this presentation is copyright © 1998 The University of Oregon. For nonprofit and educational uses only.



 
 

OF IDLENESSE

AS we see some idle-fallow grounds, if they be fat and fertile, to bring foorth store and sundry roots of wilde and unprofitable weeds, and that to keep them in use we must subject and imploy them with certain seeds for our use and service; and as wee see some women, though single and alone, often to bring foorth lumps of shapelesse flesh, whereas to produce a perfect and naturall generation, they must be manured with another kinde of seed; so is it of mindes, which except they be busied about some subject, that may bridle and keepe them under, they will here and there wildely scatter themselves through the vast field of imaginations. And there is no folly, or extravagant raving, they produce not in that agitation. The minde that hath no fixed bound, will easily loose itselfe: For, as we say, 'To be everiewhere, is to be nowhere.' It is not long since I retired myselfe unto mine owne house, with full purpose, as much as lay in me, not to trouble myselfe with any businesse, but solitarily and quietly to weare out the remainder of my well-nighspent life; where me thought I could doe my spirit no greater favour, than to give him the full scope of idlenesse, and entertaine him as he best pleased, and withall, to settle himselfe as he best liked: which I hoped he might now, being by time become more setled and ripe, accomplish very easily: but I finde, That contrariwise playing the skittish and loosebroken jade, he takes a hundred times more cariere and libertie unto himselfe, than hee did for others, and begets in me so many extravagant Chimeræs, and fantasticall monsters, so orderlesse, and without any reason, one hudling upon another, that at leasure to view the foolishnesse and monstrous strangenesse of them, I have begun to keepe a register of them, hoping, if I live, one day to make him ashamed, and blush at himselfe.

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