What a censorious world says of me, cannot offend or permanently hurt me. Was it to commend me, it would do me no real service. I had rather have an unspotted conscience (I may be allowed the expression as far as it is relative to my fellow creatures) I had rather I say be possessed of an unspotted conscience, the acquitting plaudit of my own breast, and the rational award of a serene mind, than to have worlds for my admirerers: Without the honied influence of this complacency, I could not but be miserable, nor with it, for any length of time wholly unhappy; and while I am fully resolved to act rightly, the rectitude of my intention cannot but fill my bosom with the most solacing reflexions. I despise then the low manners of an injurious multitude -- it is poor, poor indeed, and I will shield myself in the fair asylum of conscious innocence.