a moiety. You will then have six years and a half left to pass in vexation, in pain, in some pleasures, and in hopes.
The Man of Forty Crowns.—Merciful heaven! At this rate your account does not allow us above three years of tolerable existence.
The Geometrician.—That is no fault of mine. Nature cares very little for individuals. There are insects which do not live above one day, but of which the species is perpetual. Nature resembles those great princes who reckon as nothing the loss of four hundred thousand men, so they but accomplish their august designs.
The Man of Forty Crowns.—Forty crowns and three years of life! What resource can you imagine against two such curses?
The Geometrician.—As to life, it would be requisite to render the air of Paris more pure; that men should eat less and take more exercise; that mothers should suckle their own children; that people should be no longer so ill-advised as to dread inoculation. This is what I have already said, and as to fortune, why, even marry and rear a family.
The Man of Forty Crowns.—How! Can the way to live more at ease be to associate to my own bad circumstances those of others?
The Geometrician.—Five or six bad circumstances put together form a tolerable establishment. Get a good wife, and we will say only two sons and two daughters. This will make seven hundred and
