The violence of the sudden mischance hath so wrought in him, who by nature is allied to nothing _less_ than a self-debasing humor of dejection, that I have never seen anything more changed and spirit-broken.

He hath, with a peremptory resolution, dismissed the partners of his riots and late hours, denied his house and person to their most earnest solicitings, and will be seen by none.

He keeps ever alone, and his grief (which is solitary) does not so much seem to possess and govern in him, as it is by Him, with a wilfulness of most manifest affection, entertained and cherished.
_Marg_.

How bears he up against the common rumor?
_Sand_.

With a strange indifference, which, whosoever dives not into the niceness of his sorrow might mistake for obdurate and insensate.
Yet are the wings of his pride forever clipt; and yet a virtuous predominance of filial grief is so ever uppermost, that you may discover his thoughts less troubled with conjecturing what living opinions will say, and judge of his deeds, than absorbed and buried with the dead, whom his indiscretion made so.
_Marg_.