Anatomy or the Interior of Things

The only thing I regret is that this pious desire of my soul, this assiduous practice of devotion, remains until now hidden within the secret chambers of my heart, known only to me, and does not dare to break forth into the public to be approved by You, most powerful King. I am hindered by I know not what fear, which strikes men of my station with a nearly sacred dread at the mere mention of Royal Majesty, pushing them, trembling and fearful, away from the threshold of the august palace, from where they seem to hear ringing in their ears:

But truly, why am I, madman that I am, afraid? Why do I hesitate, or why do I delay my own prayers by allowing myself to be deluded by false images? Could I believe that Your Majesty has a different countenance than that which was so graciously offered to be seen within the private walls of my house, when you deigned to examine my collection of optical instruments—an instance of good fortune for which I am grateful, and shall always be, as long as I live—with a curious zeal to investigate all things?