 moment showed me what I never had observed
before. I have already enjoyed too much; give me something to desire.«
    The old man was surprised at this new species of affliction, and knew not
what to reply, yet was unwilling to be silent. »Sir, said he, if you had seen
the miseries of the world, you would know how to value your present state.«
»Now, said the prince, you have given me something to desire; I shall long to
see the miseries of the world, since the sight of them is necessary to
happiness.«
 

                                   Chapter IV

                    The prince continues to grieve and muse

At this time the sound of musick proclaimed the hour of repast, and the
conversation was concluded. The old man went away sufficiently discontented to
find that his reasonings had produced the only conclusion which they were
intended to prevent. But in the decline of life shame and grief are of short
duration; whether it be that we bear easily what we have born long, or that,
finding ourselves in age less regarded, we less regard others; or, that we look
with slight regard upon afflictions, to which we know that the hand of death is
about to put an end.
    The prince, whose views were extended to a wider space, could not speedily
quiet his emotions. He had been before terrified at the length of life which
nature promised him, because he considered that in a long time much must be
endured; he now rejoiced in his youth, because in many years much might be done.
    This first beam of hope, that had been ever darted into his mind, rekindled
youth in his cheeks, and doubled the lustre of his eyes. He was fired with the
desire of doing something, though he knew not yet with distinctness, either end
or means.
    He was now no longer gloomy and unsocial; but, considering himself as master
of a secret stock of happiness, which he could enjoy only by concealing it, he
affected to be busy in all schemes of diversion, and endeavoured to make others
pleased with the state of which he himself was weary. But pleasures never can be
so multiplied or continued, as not to leave much of life unemployed; there were
many hours, both of the night and day, which he could spend without suspicion in
solitary thought. The load of life was much lightened: he went eagerly into the
assemblies, because he supposed the frequency of his presence necessary to the
success of his purposes; he retired gladly to privacy, because he had now a
subject of thought.
    His chief amusement was to
