The Proper Work Of Man,

Mr Newton, A Fellow Of Our College, And Very Young, Being But The Second Year Master Of Arts; But Of An Extraordinary Genius And Proficiency.

No Adversity Is In Kind Or Degree Peculiar To Us; But If We Survey The Conditions Of Other Men (of Our Brethren Everywhere, Of Our Neighbours All About Us), And Compare Our Case With Theirs, We Shall Find That We Have Many Consorts And Associates In Adversity, Most As Ill, Many Far Worse Bestead Than Ourselves; Whence It Must Be A Great Fondness And Perverseness To Be Displeased That We Are Not Exempted From, But Exposed To Bear A Share In The Common Troubles And Burdens Of Mankind.

Chance Never Writ A Legible Book; Chance Never Built A Fair House; Chance Never Drew A Neat Picture; It Never Did Any Of These Things, Nor Ever Will; Nor Can It Be Without Absurdity Supposed Able To Do Them; Which Yet Are Works Very Gross And Rude, Very Easy And Feasible, As It Were, In Comparison To The Production Of A Flower Or A Tree.

That In Affairs Of Very Considerable Importance Men Should Deal With One Another With Satisfaction Of Mind, And Mutual Confidence, They Must Receive Competent Assurances Concerning The Integrity, Fidelity, And Constancy Each Of Other.

Nothing Of Worth Or Weight Can Be Achieved With Half A Mind, With A Faint Heart, And With A Lame Endeavor.