Meditations

Book I

From my grandfather Verus, I learned to be gentle and mild, and to refrain from all anger and passion. From the fame and memory of him that begot me I have learned both modesty and manly conduct. From my mother, I learned to be religious, and generous; and to refrain, not only to do, but to intend any evil; to content myself with a simple diet, and to avoid all excess as is incidental to great wealth. From my great-grandfather, I learned to attend public schools and lectures, and to get me good and able teachers at home; and that I should not mind, if upon such occasions, I was at great expense.

From the man who raised me, not to be blindly devoted to either of the two great factions of the coursers in the circus, called Prasini, and Veneti: nor in the amphitheatre partially to favor any of the gladiators, or fencers, as either the Parmularii, or the Secutores. Moreover, to endure labor; nor to need many things; when I have anything to do, to do it myself rather than by others; not to meddle in too many affairs; and not to accept slander easily.

Of Diognetus, not to busy myself about empty things, and not easily to believe those things, which are usually spoken, by such as take upon them to work wonders, and by sorcerers, conjurers, and impostors; about the power of charms, and their driving out demons or evil spirits; and the like. Not to keep quails for the game; nor to be mad after such things. Not to be offended with other men's liberty of speech, and to apply myself to philosophy. I also thank him, that ever I heard first Bacchius, then Tandasis and Marcianus, and that I wrote dialogues in my youth; and that I came to like the philosophers' little couch and skins, and such other things, which by the Grecian discipline are proper to those who profess philosophy.

To Rusticus, I owe, that I first understood that my life needed correction and healing. And then, that I did not fall into the ambition of ordinary sophists, either to write tracts about the common doctrines, or to exhort men to virtue and the study of philosophy by public orations; as also that I never by way of showing off tried to show myself an active able man, for any kind of bodily exercises. And that I gave up the study of rhetoric and poetry, and of elegant neat language. That I did not use to walk about the house in my long robe, nor to do any such things. Moreover I learned of him to write letters without affectation or fuss; such as that was, which by him was written to my mother from Sinuessa: and to be easy and ready to be reconciled, and well pleased again with them that had offended me, as soon as any of them would be content to seek to me again. To read carefully; not to rest satisfied with a shallow knowledge, nor to agree too quickly to things usually spoken of: whom also I must thank that ever I came across Epictetus his Hypomnemata, or moral commentaries and reminders: which also he gave me of his own.

From Apollonius, true freedom and steady firmness, and not to regard anything at all, however small, but right and reason: and always, whether in the sharpest pains, or after the loss of a child, or in long diseases, to remain the same person; who also was a present and visible example to me, that it was possible for the same man to be both intense and gentle: a man not subject to be vexed, and offended with the incapacity of his scholars and auditors in his lectures and expositions; and a true pattern of a man who of all his good gifts and faculties, least esteemed in himself, that his excellent skill and ability to teach and persuade others the common doctrines and maxims of the Stoic philosophy. Of him also I learned how to receive favors and kindnesses (as usually they are accounted): from friends, so that I might not become obnoxious to them, for them, nor more yielding upon occasion, than in right I ought; and yet so that I should not pass them neither, as an insensitive and ungrateful man.

From Sextus, mildness and the example of a family governed with paternal affection; and a purpose to live according to nature: to be serious without affectation: to observe carefully the several dispositions of my friends, not to be offended by ignorant people, nor unseasonably to set upon those that are carried with the vulgar opinions, with philosophical doctrines and teachings: his conversation being an example how a man might accommodate himself to all men and companies; so that though his company were sweeter and more pleasing than any flatterer's praise; yet was it at the same time most respected and reverenced: who also had a proper happiness and faculty, rationally and methodically to find out, and set in order all necessary determinations and instructions for a man's life. A man without ever the least appearance of anger, or any other passion; able at the same time most exactly to observe the Stoic Apathia, or freedom from destructive passion, and yet to be most tender-hearted: ever of good credit; and yet almost without noise or rumor: very learned, and yet making little show.

From Alexander the Grammarian, I learned to be careful myself, and not to correct harshly any man for a barbarism or grammatical mistake, or any mispronunciation, but dextrously by way of answer, or testimony, or confirmation of the same matter (taking no notice of the word) to say it correctly; or by some other such close and indirect admonition, gracefully and politely to tell him of it.

From Fronto, to how much envy and fraud and hypocrisy the state of a tyrannous king is subject to, and how they who are usually called ευπατρίδαι, i.e. nobly born, are in some sort incapable, or void of natural affection.

From Alexander the Platonist, not often, and not without real necessity to say, or to write to any man in a letter, "I am not free"; nor in this manner still to put off those duties, which we owe to our friends and acquaintances (to every one in his kind) under the pretense of urgent business.

From Catulus, not to despise any friend's complaint, though unjust, but to strive to restore him to his former attitude: freely and warmly to speak well of all my masters upon any occasion, as it is reported of Domitius, and Athenodotus: and to love my children with genuine affection.

From my brother Severus, to be kind and loving to everyone in my household and family; by whom also I came to the knowledge of Thrasea and Helvidius, and Cato, and Dio, and Brutus. He it was also that did put me in the first idea and desire of an equal commonwealth, administered by justice and equality; and of a kingdom in which should be regarded nothing more than the good and welfare of the subjects. Of him also, to observe a steady course, (not interrupted, with any other cares and distractions), in the study and esteem of philosophy: to be generous and liberal in the largest measure; always to hope for the best; and to be confident that my friends love me. In whom I moreover observed openness towards those whom he reproved at any time, and that his friends might without all doubt or much observation know what he would, or would not, so open and plain was he.

From Claudius Maximus, in all things to endeavor to have power of myself, and not to be carried away by anything; to be cheerful and courageous in all sudden events and accidents, as in sicknesses: to love mildness, and moderation, and seriousness: and to do my business, whatever it be, thoroughly and without complaint. Whatever he said, all men believed him that as he spoke, so he thought, and whatever he did, that he did it with a good intent. His manner was, never to be shocked by anything; never to be rushed, and yet never slow: nor to be perplexed, or dejected, or at any time unseemly, or excessively to laugh: nor angry, or suspicious, but ever ready to do good, and to forgive, and to speak truth; and all this, as one that seemed rather of himself to have been straight and right, than ever to have been rectified or redressed; neither was there any man that ever thought himself undervalued by him, or that could find in his heart, to think himself a better man than he. He would also be very pleasant and gracious.

In my father, I saw his gentleness; his constancy without wavering in those things, which after a due examination and deliberation, he had determined. How free from all vanity he carried himself in matter of honor and dignity, (as they are esteemed): his laboriousness and assiduity, his readiness to hear any man, that had anything to say serving the common good: how generally and impartially he would give every man his due; his skill and knowledge, when rigour or extremity, or when remissness or moderation was in season; how he did abstain from all unchaste love of youths; his moderate condescending to other men's occasions as an ordinary man, neither absolutely requiring of his friends, that they should wait upon him at his ordinary meals, nor that they should of necessity accompany him in his journeys; and that whenever any business upon some necessary occasions was to be put off and omitted before it could be ended, he was ever found when he went about it again, the same man that he was before. His accurate examination of things in consultations, and patient hearing of others. He would not hastily give over the search of the matter, as one easy to be satisfied with sudden notions and apprehensions. His care to preserve his friends; how neither at any time he would carry himself towards them with disdainful neglect, and grow weary of them; nor yet at any time be madly fond of them. His contented mind in all things, his cheerful countenance, his care to foresee things afar off, and to take order for the least, without any noise or clamour. Moreover how all cheers and flattery were repressed by him: how carefully he observed all things necessary to the government, and kept an account of the common expenses, and how patiently he did abide that he was reprehended by some for this his strict and rigid kind of dealing. How he was neither a superstitious worshipper of the gods, nor an ambitious pleaser of men, or studious of public applause; but sober in all things, and everywhere observant of that which was fitting; no affecter of novelties: in those things which conduced to his ease and convenience, (plenty of which his fortune did afford him), without pride and bragging, yet with all freedom and liberty: so that as he did freely enjoy them without any anxiety or affectation when they were present; so when absent, he found no want of them. Moreover, that he was never commended by any man, as either a learned acute man, or an obsequious officious man, or a fine orator; but as a ripe mature man, a perfect sound man; one that could not endure to be flattered; able to govern both himself and others. Moreover, how much he did honor all true philosophers, without upbraiding those that were not so; his sociableness, his gracious and delightful conversation, but never to satiety; his care of his body within bounds and measure, not as one that desired to live long, or overstudious of neatness, and elegancy; and yet not as one that did not regard it: so that through his own care and providence, he seldom needed any inward physic, or outward applications: but especially how ingeniously he would yield to any that had obtained any peculiar faculty, as either eloquence, or the knowledge of the laws, or of ancient customs, or the like; and how he concurred with them, in his best care and endeavor that every one of them might in his kind, for that in which he excelled, be regarded and esteemed: and although he did all things carefully after the ancient customs of his forefathers, yet even of this was he not desirous that men should take notice, that he did imitate ancient customs. Again, how he was not easily moved and tossed up and down, but loved to be constant, both in the same places and businesses; and how after his great fits of headache he would return fresh and vigorous to his wonted affairs. Again, that secrets he neither had many, nor often, and such only as concerned public matters: his discretion and moderation, in exhibiting of the public sights and shows for the pleasure and pastime of the people: in public buildings, congiaries, and the like. In all these things, having a respect to men only as men, and to the equity of the things themselves, and not to the glory that might follow. Never wont to use the baths at unseasonable hours; no builder; never curious, or solicitous, either about his meat, or about the workmanship, or color of his clothes, or about anything that belonged to external beauty. In all his conversation, far from all inhumanity, all boldness, and incivility, all greediness and impetuosity; never doing anything with such earnestness, and intention, that a man could say of him, that he did sweat about it: but contrariwise, all things distinctly, as free; without trouble; orderly, soundly, and agreeably. A man might have applied that to him, which is recorded of Socrates, that he knew how to want, and to enjoy those things, in the want of which, most men show themselves weak; and in the fruition, intemperate: but to hold out firm and constant, and to keep within the compass of true moderation and sobriety in either estate, is proper to a man, who has a perfect and invincible soul; such as he showed himself in the sickness of Maximus.

From the gods, I received good grandfathers, and parents, a good sister, good masters, good domestics, loving kinsmen, almost all that I have; and that I never through haste and rashness transgressed against any of them, notwithstanding that my disposition was such, as that such a thing (if occasion had been) might very well have been committed by me, but that It was the mercy of the gods, to prevent such a concurring of matters and occasions, as might make me to incur this blame. That I was not long brought up by the concubine of my father; that I preserved the flower of my youth. That I took not upon me to be a man before my time, but rather put it off longer than I needed. That I lived under the government of my lord and father, who would take away from me all pride and vanity, and reduce me to that idea and opinion that it was not impossible for a prince to live in the court without a troop of guards and followers, extraordinary apparel, such and such torches and statues, and other like particulars of state and magnificence; but that a man may reduce and contract himself almost to the state of a private man, and yet for all that not to become the more low and relaxed in those public matters and affairs, in which power and authority is requisite. That I have had such a brother, who by his own example might stir me up to think of myself; and by his respect and love, delight and please me. That I have got ingenuous children, and that they were not born distorted, nor with any other natural deformity. That I was no great proficient in the study of rhetoric and poetry, and of other faculties, which perhaps I might have dwelt upon, if I had found myself to go on in them with success. That I did by times prefer those, by whom I was brought up, to such places and dignities, which they seemed to me most to desire; and that I did not put them off with hope and expectation, that (since that they were yet but young) I would do the same hereafter. That I ever knew Apollonius and Rusticus, and Maximus. That I have had occasion often and effectually to consider and meditate with myself, about that life which is according to nature, what the nature and manner of it is: so that as for the gods and such suggestions, helps and inspirations, as might be expected from them, nothing did hinder, but that I might have begun long before to live according to nature; or that even now that I was not yet partaker and in present possession of that life, that I myself (in that I did not observe those inward motions, and suggestions, yes and almost plain and apparent instructions and admonitions of the gods), was the only cause of it. That my body in such a life, has been able to hold out so long. That I never had to do with Benedicta and Theodotus, yes and afterwards when I fell into some fits of love, I was soon cured. That having been often displeased with Rusticus, I never did him anything for which afterwards I had occasion to repent. That it being so that my mother was to die young, yet she lived with me all her latter years. That as often as I had a purpose to help and succour any that either were poor, or fallen into some present necessity, I never was answered by my officers that there was not ready money enough to do it; and that I myself never had occasion to require the like succour from any other. That I have such a wife, so obedient, so loving, so ingenuous. That I had choice of fit and able men, to whom I might commit the bringing up of my children. That by dreams I have received help, as for other things, so in particular, how I might stay my casting of blood, and cure my dizziness, as that also that happened to you in Cajeta, as to Chryses when he prayed by the seashore. And when I did first apply myself to philosophy, that I did not fall into the hands of some sophists, or spent my time either in reading the manifold volumes of ordinary philosophers, nor in practising myself in the solution of arguments and fallacies, nor dwelt upon the studies of the meteors, and other natural curiosities. All these things without the assistance of the gods, and fortune, could not have been.

In the country of the Quadi at Granua, these. Early in the morning say to yourself, This day I shall have to do with an idle curious man, with an ungrateful man, a abusive person, a crafty, false, or an envious man; an antisocial unkind man. All these ill qualities have happened to them, through ignorance of that which is truly good and truly bad. But I that understand the nature of that which is good, that it only is to be desired, and of that which is bad, that it only is truly hateful and shameful: who know moreover, that this transgressor, whosoever he be, is my kinsman, not by the same blood and seed, but by participation of the same reason, and of the same divine particle; How can I either be hurt by any of those, since it is not in their power to make me incur anything that is truly shameful? or angry, and ill affected towards him, who by nature is so near to me? for we are all born to be fellow-workers, as the feet, the hands, and the eyelids; as the rows of the upper and under teeth: for such therefore to be in opposition, is against nature; and what is it to grow angry at, and to be averse from, but to be in opposition?

Whatever I am, is either flesh, or life, or that which we usually call the ruling part of man; reason. Put your books aside, do not allow your mind any more to be distracted, and carried to and fro; for it will not be; but as even now ready to die, think little of your flesh: blood, bones, and a skin; a pretty piece of knit and twisted work, consisting of nerves, veins and arteries; think no more of it, than so. And as for your life, consider what it is; a wind; not one constant wind neither, but every moment of an hour let out, and sucked in again. The third, is your ruling part; and here consider; You are an old man; do not allow that excellent part to be brought in subjection, and to become slavish: suffer it not to be drawn up and down with unreasonable and antisocial desires and motions, as it were with wires and nerves; suffer it not any more, either to repine at anything now present, or to fear and fly anything to come, which the destiny has appointed you.

Whatever proceeds from the gods immediately, that any man will grant totally depends from their divine providence. As for those things that are usually said to happen by fortune, even those must be conceived to have dependence from nature, or from that first and general connection, and concatenation of all those things, which more apparently by the divine providence are administered and brought to pass. All things flow from from there: and whatever it is that is, is both necessary, and contributing to the whole (part of which you are), and whatever it is that is requisite and necessary for the preservation of the general, must of necessity for every particular nature, be good and behoveful. And as for the whole, it is preserved, as by the continual mutation and conversion of the simple elements one into another, so also by the mutation, and alteration of things mixed and compounded. Let these things suffice you; let them be always to you, as your general rules and precepts. As for your craving for books, put aside it with all speed, that you die not murmuring and complaining, but truly gentle and well satisfied, and from your heart thankful to the gods.

Book II

REMEMBER HOW LONG you have already put off these things, and how often a certain day and hour as it were, having been set to you by the gods, you have neglected it. It is high time for you to understand the true nature both of the world, of which you are a part; and of that Lord and Governor of the world, from whom, as a channel from the spring, you yourself flowed: and that there is but a certain limit of time appointed to you, which if you do not use to calm and allay the many disorders of your soul, it will pass away and you with it, and never after return.

II. Let it be your earnest and incessant care as a Roman and a man to perform whatever it is that you are about, with true and unfeigned seriousness, natural affection, freedom and justice: and as for all other cares, and imaginings, how you may ease your mind of them. Which you shall do; if you shall go about every action as your last action, free from all vanity, all passionate and wilful aberration from reason, and from all hypocrisy, and self-love, and dislike of those things, which by fate or appointment of God have happened to you. You see that those things, which for a man to hold on in a prosperous course, and to live a divine life, are requisite and necessary, are not many, for the gods will require no more of any man, that shall but keep and observe these things.

III. Do, soul, do; abuse and contemn yourself; yet a while and the time for you to respect yourself, will be at an end. Every man's happiness depends from himself, but behold your life is almost at an end, while affording yourself no respect, you do make your happiness to consist in the souls, and ideas of other men.

IV. Why should any of these things that happen externally, so much distract you? Give yourself leisure to learn some good thing, and cease roving and wandering to and fro. You must also take heed of another kind of wandering, for they are idle in their actions, who toil and labor in this life, and have no certain scope to which to direct all their motions, and desires.

For not observing the state of another man's soul, hardly was ever any man known to be unhappy. tell whosoever they be that intend not, and guide not by reason and discretion the motions of their own souls, they must of necessity be unhappy.

These things you must always have in mind: What is the nature of the universe, and what is mine - in particular: This to that what relation it has: what kind of part, of what kind of universe it is: And that there is nobody that can hinder you, but that you may always both do and speak those things which are agreeable to that nature, of which you are a part.

Theophrastus, where he compares sin with sin (as after a vulgar sense such things I grant may be compared): says well and like a philosopher, that those sins are greater which are committed through desire, than those which are committed through anger. For he that is angry seems with a kind of grief and close contraction of himself, to turn away from reason; but he that sins through desire, being overcome by pleasure, does in his very sin bewray a more impotent, and unmanlike disposition. Well then and like a philosopher does he say, that he of the two is the more to be condemned, that sins with pleasure, than he that sins with grief. For indeed this latter may seem first to have been wronged, and so in some manner through grief of it to have been forced to be angry, whereas he who through desire does commit anything, did of himself merely resolve upon that action.

Whatever you do affect, whatever you do project, so do, and so project all, as one who, for anything you know, may at this very present depart out of this life. And as for death, if there be any gods, it is no grievous thing to leave the society of men. The gods will do you no hurt, you may be sure. But if it be so that there be no gods, or that they take no care of the world, why should I desire to live in a world void of gods, and of all divine providence? But gods there be certainly, and they take care for the world; and as for those things which be truly evil, as vice and. wickedness, such things they have put in a man s own power, that he might avoid them if he would: and had there been anything besides that had been truly bad and evil, they would have had a care of that also, that a man might have avoided it. But why should that be thought to hurt and prejudice a man's life in this world, which cannot any ways make man himself the better, or the worse in his own person? Neither must we think that the nature of the universe did either through ignorance pass these things, or if not as ignorant of them, yet as unable either to prevent, or better to order and dispose them. It cannot be that she through want either of power or skill, should have committed such a thing, so as to suffer all things both good and bad, equally and promiscuously, to happen to all both good and bad. As for life therefore, and death, honor and dishonour, labor and pleasure, riches and poverty, all these things happen to men indeed, both good and bad, equally; but as things which of themselves are neither good nor bad; because of themselves, neither shameful nor praiseworthy.

Consider how quickly all things are dissolved and resolved: the bodies and substances themselves, into the matter and substance of the world: and their memories into the general age and time of the world. Consider the nature of all external sensible things; of those especially, which either ensnare by pleasure, or for their irksomeness are dreadful, or for their outward lustre and show are in great esteem and request, how low and contemptible, how low and corruptible, how destitute of all true life and being they are.

It is the part of a man endowed with a good understanding faculty, to consider what they themselves are in very deed, from whose bare ideas and voices, honor and credit do proceed: as also what it is to die, and how if a man shall consider this by itself alone, to die, and separate from it in his mind all those things which with it usually represent themselves to us, he can conceive of it no otherwise, than as of a work of nature, and he that fears any work of nature, is a very child. Now death, it is not only a work of nature, but also contributing to nature.

Consider with yourself how man, and by what part of his, is joined to God, and how that part of man is affected, when it is said to be diffused. There is nothing more wretched than that soul, which in a kind of circuit compasses all things, searching (as he says) even the very depths of the earth; and by all signs and conjectures prying into the very thoughts of other men's souls; and yet of this, is not sensible, that it is sufficient for a man to apply himself wholly, and to confine all his thoughts and cares to the tendance of that spirit which is within him, and truly and really to serve him. His service does consist in this, that a man keep himself pure from all violent passion and evil affection, from all rashness and vanity, and from all manner of discontent, either in regard of the gods or men. For indeed whatever proceeds from the gods, deserves respect for their worth and excellency; and whatever proceeds from men, as they are our kinsmen, should by us be entertained, with love, always; sometimes, as proceeding from their ignorance, of that which is truly good and bad, (a blindness no less, than that by which we are not able to discern between white and black): with a kind of pity and compassion also.

If you should live three thousand, or as many as ten thousands of years, yet remember this, that man can part with no life properly, save with that little part of life, which he now lives: and that which he lives, is no other, than that which at every instant he parts with. That then which is longest of duration, and that which is shortest, come both to one effect. For although in regard of that which is already past there may be some inequality, yet that time which is now present and in being, is equal to all men. And that being it which we part with whenever we die, it does manifestly appear, that it can be but a moment of time, that we then part with. For as for that which is either past or to come, a man cannot be said properly to part with it. For how should a man part with that which he has not? These two things therefore you must remember. First, that all things in the world from all eternity, by a continual revolution of the same times and things ever continued and renewed, are of one kind and nature; so that whether for a hundred or two hundred years only, or for an infinite space of time, a man see those things which are still the same, it can be no matter of great moment. And secondly, that that life which any the longest liver, or the shortest liver parts with, is for length and duration the very same, for that only which is present, is that, which either of them can lose, as being that only which they have; for that which he has not, no man can truly be said to lose.

Remember that all is but opinion and idea, for those things are plain and apparent, which were spoken to Monimus the Cynic; and as plain and apparent is the use that may be made of those things, if that which is true and serious in them, be received as well as that which is sweet and pleasing.

A man's soul does wrong and disrespect itself first and especially, when as much as in itself lies it becomes an aposteme, and as it were an excrescency of the world, for to be grieved and displeased with anything that happens in the world, is direct apostacy from the nature of the universe; part of which, all particular natures of the world, are. Secondly, when she either is averse from any man, or led by contrary desires or emotions, tending to his hurt and prejudice; such as are the souls of them that are angry. Thirdly, when she is overcome by any pleasure or pain. Fourthly, when she does dissemble, and covertly and falsely either does or says anything. Fifthly, when she does either affect or endeavor anything to no certain end, but rashly and without due ratiocination and consideration, how consequent or inconsequent it is to the common end. For even the least things ought not to be done, without relation to the end; and the end of the reasonable creatures is, to follow and obey him, who is the reason as it were, and the law of this great city, and ancient commonwealth.

The time of a man's life is as a point; the substance of it ever flowing, the sense obscure; and the whole composition of the body tending to corruption. His soul is restless, fortune uncertain, and fame doubtful; in brief, as a stream so are all things belonging to the body; as a dream, or as a smoke, so are all that belong to the soul. Our life is a warfare, and a mere pilgrimage. Fame after life is no better than oblivion. What is it then that will adhere and follow? Only one thing, philosophy. And philosophy does consist in this, for a man to preserve that spirit which is within him, from all manner of contumelies and injuries, and above all pains or pleasures; never to do anything either rashly, or feignedly, or hypocritically: wholly to depend from himself and his own proper actions: all things that happen to him to embrace contentedly, as coming from Him from whom he himself also came; and above all things, with all gentleness and a calm cheerfulness, to expect death, as being nothing else but the resolution of those elements, of which every creature is composed. And if the elements themselves suffer nothing by this their continual conversion of one into another, that dissolution, and alteration, which is so common to all, why should it be feared by any? Is not this according to nature? But nothing that is according to nature can be evil.

While I was at Carnununtum.

Book III

A MAN MUST NOT ONLY CONSIDER how daily his life wastes and decreases, but this also, that if he live long, he cannot be certain, whether his understanding shall continue so able and sufficient, for either discreet consideration, in matter of businesses; or for contemplation: it being the thing, whereon true knowledge of things both divine and human, does depend. For if once he shall begin to dote, his respiration, nutrition, his imaginative, and appetitive, and other natural faculties, may still continue the same: he shall find no want of them. But how to make that right use of himself that he should, how to observe exactly in all things that which is right and just, how to redress and rectify all wrong, or sudden apprehensions and imaginings, and even of this particular, whether he should live any longer or no, to consider duly; for all such things, in which the best strength and vigour of the mind is most requisite; his power and ability will be past and gone. You must hasten therefore; not only because you are every day nearer to death than other, but also because that intellective faculty in you, whereby you are enabled to know the true nature of things, and to order all your actions by that knowledge, does daily waste and decay: or, may fail you before you die.

This also you must observe, that whatever it is that naturally does happen to things natural, has somewhat in itself that is pleasing and delightful: as a great loaf when it is baked, some parts of it cleave as it were, and part asunder, and make the crust of it rugged and unequal, and yet those parts of it, though in some sort it be against the art and intention of baking itself, that they are thus cleft and parted, which should have been and were first made all even and uniform, they become it well nevertheless, and have a certain peculiar property, to stir the appetite. So figs are accounted fairest and ripest then, when they begin to shrink, and wither as it were. So ripe olives, when they are next to putrefaction, then are they in their proper beauty. The hanging down of grapes, the brow of a lion, the froth of a foaming wild boar, and many other like things, though by themselves considered, they are far from any beauty, yet because they happen naturally, they both are comely, and delightful; so that if a man shall with a profound mind and apprehension, consider all things in the world, even among all those things which are but mere accessories and natural appendices as it were, there will hardly appear anything to him, in which he will not find matter of pleasure and delight. So will he behold with as much pleasure the true rictus of wild beasts, as those which by skilful painters and other artificers are imitated. So will he be able to perceive the proper ripeness and beauty of old age, whether in man or woman: and whatever else it is that is beautiful and alluring in whatever is, with chaste and continent eyes he will soon find out and discern. Those and many other things will he discern, not credible to every one, but to them only who are truly and familiarly acquainted, both with nature itself, and all natural things.

Hippocrates having cured many sicknesses, fell sick himself and died. The Chaldeans and Astrologians having foretold the deaths of divers, were afterwards themselves surprised by fate. Alexander and Pompeius, and Caius Caesar, having destroyed so many towns, and cut off in the field so many thousands both of horse and foot, yet they themselves at last were fain to part with their own lives. Heraclitus having written so many natural tracts about the last and general conflagration of the world, died afterwards all filled with water within, and all bedaubed with dirt and dung without. Lice killed Democritus; and Socrates, another sort of vermin, wicked ungodly men. How then stands the case? You have taken ship, you have sailed, you are come to land, go out, if to another life, there also shall you find gods, who are everywhere. If all life and sense shall cease, then shall you cease also to be subject to either pains or pleasures; and to serve and tend this low cottage; so much the viler, by how much that which ministers to it does excel; the one being a rational substance, and a spirit, the other nothing but earth and blood.

Spend not the remnant of your days in thoughts and impressions about other men, when it is not in relation to some common good, when by it you are hindered from some other better work. That is, spend not your time in thinking, what such a man does, and to what end: what he says, and what he thinks, and what he is about, and such other things or curiosities, which make a man to rove and wander from the care and observation of that part of himself, which is rational, and overruling. See therefore in the whole series and connection of your thoughts, that you be careful to prevent whatever is idle and impertinent: but especially, whatever is curious and malicious: and you must use yourself to think only of such things, of which if a man upon a sudden should ask you, what it is that you are now thinking, you may answer This, and That, freely and boldly, that so by your thoughts it may presently appear that in all you is sincere, and peaceable; as becoms one that is made for society, and regards not pleasures, nor gives way to any self-indulgent imaginings at all: free from all contentiousness, envy, and suspicion, and from whatever else you would blush to confess your thoughts were set upon. He that is such, is he surely that does not put off to lay hold on that which is best indeed, a very priest and minister of the gods, well acquainted and in good correspondence with him especially that is seated and placed within himself, as in a temple and sacrary: to whom also he keeps and preserves himself unspotted by pleasure, undaunted by pain; free from any manner of wrong, or contumely, by himself offered to himself: not capable of any evil from others: a wrestler of the best sort, and for the highest prize, that he may not be cast down by any passion or affection of his own; deeply dyed and drenched in righteousness, embracing and accepting with his whole heart whatever either happens or is allotted to him. One who not often, nor without some great necessity tending to some public good, minds what any other, either speaks, or does, or purposes: for those things only that are in his own power, or that are truly his own, are the objects of his employments, and his thoughts are ever taken up with those things, which of the whole universe are by fate or Providence destinated and appropriated to himself. Those things that are his own, and in his own power, he himself takes order, for that they be good: and as for those that happen to him, he believes them to be so. For that lot and portion which is assigned to every one, as it is unavoidable and necessary, so is it always beneficial. He remembers besides that whatever partakes of reason, is akin to him, and that to care for all men generally, is agreeing to the nature of a man: but as for honor and praise, that they ought not generally to be admitted and accepted of from all, but from such only, who live according to nature. As for them that do not, what manner of men they be at home, or abroad; day or night, how conditioned themselves with what manner of conditions, or with men of what conditions they moil and pass away the time together, he knows, and remembers right well, he therefore regards not such praise and approbation, as proceeding from them, who cannot like and approve themselves.

Do nothing against your will, nor contrary to the community, nor without due examination, nor with reluctancy. Affect not to set out your thoughts with curious neat language. Be neither a great talker, nor a great undertaker. Moreover, let your God that is in you to rule over you, find by you, that he has to do with a man; an aged man; a sociable man; a Roman; a prince; one that has ordered his life, as one that expects, as it were, nothing but the sound of the trumpet, sounding a retreat to depart out of this life with all expedition. One who for his word or actions neither needs an oath, nor any man to be a witness.

To be cheerful, and to stand in no need, either of other men's help or attendance, or of that rest and tranquillity, which you must be beholding to others for. Rather like one that is straight of himself, or has ever been straight, than one that has been rectified.

If you shall find anything in this mortal life better than righteousness, than truth, temperance, fortitude, and in general better than a mind contented both with those things which according to right and reason she does, and in those, which without her will and knowledge happen to you by the providence; if I say, you can find out anything better than this, apply yourself to it with your whole heart, and that which is best wherever you do find it, enjoy freely. But if nothing you shall find worthy to be preferred to that spirit which is within you; if nothing better than to subject to you your own desires and desires, and not to give way to any impressions or imaginings before you have duly considered of them, nothing better than to withdraw yourself (to use Socrates his words) from all sensuality, and submit yourself to the gods, and to have care of all men in general: if you shall find that all other things in comparison of this, are but low, and of little moment; then give not way to any other thing, which being once though but affected and inclined to, it will no more be in your power without all distraction as you oughtest to prefer and to pursue after that good, which is your own and your proper good. For it is not lawful, that anything that is of another and inferior kind and nature, be it what it will, as either public applause, or honor, or riches, or pleasures; should be suffered to confront and contest as it were, with that which is rational, and operatively good. For all these things, if once though but for a while, they begin to please, they presently prevail, and pervert a man's mind, or turn a man from the right way. Do you therefore I say absolutely and freely make choice of that which is best, and stick to it. Now, that they say is best, which is most beneficial. If they mean beneficial to man as he is a rational man, stand you to it, and maintain it; but if they mean beneficial, as he is a creature, only reject it; and from this your tenet and conclusion keep off carefully all plausible shows and colours of external appearance, that you may be able to discern things rightly.

Never esteem of anything as beneficial, which shall ever constrain you either to break your faith, or to lose your modesty; to hate any man, to suspect, to curse, to dissemble, to desire after anything, that requires the secret of walls or veils. But he that preferrs before all things his rational part and spirit, and the sacred mysteries of virtue which issus from it, he shall never lament and exclaim, never sigh; he shall never want either solitude or company: and which is chiefest of all, he shall live without either desire or fear. And as for life, whether for a long or short time he shall enjoy his soul thus compassed about with a body, he is altogether indifferent. For if even now he were to depart, he is as ready for it, as for any other action, which may be performed with modesty and decency. For all his life long, this is his only care, that his mind may always be occupied in such intentions and objects, as are proper to a rational sociable creature.

In the mind that is once truly disciplined and purged, you can not find anything, either foul or impure, or as it were festered: nothing that is either servile, or affected: no partial tie; no malicious averseness; nothing obnoxious; nothing concealed. The life of such an one, death can never surprise as imperfect; as of an actor, that should die before he had ended, or the play itself were at an end, a man might speak.

Use your opinative faculty with all honor and respect, for in her indeed is all: that your opinion do not beget in your understanding anything contrary to either nature, or the proper constitution of a rational creature. The end and object of a rational constitution is, to do nothing rashly, to be kindly affected towards men, and in all things willingly to submit to the gods. Casting therefore all other things aside, keep yourself to these few, and remember also that no man properly can be said to live more than that which is now present, which is but a moment of time. Whatever is besides either is already past, or uncertain. The time therefore that any man does live, is but a little, and the place where he lives, is but a very little corner of the earth, and the greatest fame that can remain of a man after his death, even that is but little, and that too, such as it is while it is, is by the succession of silly mortal men preserved, who likewise shall shortly die, and even while they live know not what in very deed they themselves are: and much less can know one, who long before is dead and gone.

To these ever-present helps and mementoes, let one more be added, ever to make a particular description and delineation as it were of every object that presents itself to your mind, that you may wholly and throughly contemplate it, in its own proper nature, bare and naked; wholly, and severally; divided into its several parts and quarters: and then by yourself in your mind, to call both it, and those things of which it does consist, and in which it shall be resolved, by their own proper true names, and appellations. For there is nothing so effectual to beget true magnanimity, as to be able truly and methodically to examine and consider all things that happen in this life, and so to penetrate into their natures, that at the same time, this also may concur in our apprehensions: what is the true use of it? and what is the true nature of this universe, to which it is useful? how much in regard of the universe may it be esteemed? how much in regard of man, a citizen of the supreme city, of which all other cities in the world are as it were but houses and families?

What is this, that now my fancy is set upon? of what things does it consist? how long can it last? which of all the virtues is the proper virtue for this present use? as whether gentleness, fortitude, truth, faith, sincerity, contentation, or any of the rest? Of everything therefore you must use yourself to say, This immediately comes from God, this by that fatal connection, and concatenation of things, or (which almost comes to one) by some coincidental casualty. And as for this, it proceeds from my neighbor, my kinsman, my fellow: through his ignorance indeed, because he knows not what is truly natural to him: but I know it, and therefore carry myself towards him according to the natural law of fellowship; that is kindly, and justly. As for those things that of themselves are altogether indifferent, as in my best judgment I conceive everything to deserve more or less, so I carry myself towards it.

If you shall intend that which is present, following the rule of right and reason carefully, solidly, meekly, and shall not intermix any other businesses, but shall study this only to preserve your spirit impolluted, and pure, and shall cleave to him without either hope or fear of anything, in all things that you shall either do or speak, contenting yourself with heroical truth, you shall live happily; and from this, there is no man that can hinder you.

As physicians and surgeons have always their instruments ready at hand for all sudden cures; so have you always your principles in a readiness for the knowledge of things, both divine and human: and whatever you do, even in the smallest things that you do, you must ever remember that mutual relation, and connection that is between these two things divine, and things human. For without relation to God, you shall never speed in any external actions; nor on the other side in any divine, without some respect had to things human.

Be not deceived; for you shall never live to read your moral commentaries, nor the acts of the famous Romans and Grecians; nor those excerpta from several books; all which you had provided and laid up for yourself against your old age. Hasten therefore to an end, and giving over all vain hopes, help yourself in time if you carest for yourself, as you oughtest to do.

To steal, to sow, to buy, to be at rest, to see what is to be done (which is not seen by the eyes, but by another kind of sight): what these words mean, and how many ways to be understood, they do not understand. The body, the soul, the understanding. As the senses naturally belong to the body, and the desires and emotions to the soul, so do the principles to the understanding.

To be capable of impressions and imaginings, is common to man and beast. To be violently drawn and moved by the desires and desires of the soul, is proper to wild beasts and monsters, such as Phalaris and Nero were. To follow reason for ordinary duties and actions is common to them also, who believe not that there be any gods, and for their advantage would make no conscience to betray their own country; and who when once the doors be shut upon them, dare do anything. If therefore all things else be common to these likewise, it follows, that for a man to like and embrace all things that happen and are destinated to him, and not to trouble and molest that spirit which is seated in the temple of his own breast, with a multitude of vain impressions and imaginings, but to keep him propitious and to obey him as a god, never either speaking anything contrary to truth, or doing anything contrary to justice, is the only true property of a good man. And such a one, though no man should believe that he lives as he does, either sincerely and conscionably, or cheerful and contentedly; yet is he neither with any man at all angry for it, nor diverted by it from the way that leads to the end of his life, through which a man must pass pure, ever ready to depart, and willing of himself without any compulsion to fit and accommodate himself to his proper lot and portion.

Book IV

THAT INWARD MISTRESS part of man if it be in its own true natural temper, is towards all external chances and events ever so disposed and affected, that it will easily turn and apply itself to that which may be, and is within its own power to compass, when that cannot be which at first it intended. For it never does absolutely addict and apply itself to any one object, but whatever it is that it does now intend and prosecute, it does prosecute it with exception and reservation; so that whatever it is that falls out contrary to its first intentions, even that afterwards it makes its proper object. Even as the fire when it prevails upon those things that are in his way; by which things indeed a little fire would have been quenched, but a great fire does soon turn to its own nature, and so consume whatever comes in his way: yes by those very things it is made greater and greater.

Let nothing be done rashly, and at random, but all things according to the most exact and perfect rules of are.

They seek for themselves private retiring places, as country villages, the sea-shore, mountains; yes you yourself are wont to long much after such places. But all this you must know proceeds from simplicity in the highest degree. At what time soever you will, it is in your power to retire into yourself, and to be at rest, and free from all businesses. A man cannot any whither retire better than to his own soul; he especially who is beforehand provided of such things within, which whenever he does withdraw himself to look in, may presently afford to him perfect ease and tranquillity. By tranquillity I understand a decent orderly disposition and carriage, free from all confusion and tumultuousness. Afford then yourself this retiring continually, and thereby refresh and renew yourself. Let these precepts be brief and fundamental, which as soon as you do call them to mind, may suffice you to purge your soul throughly, and to send you away well pleased with those things whatever they be, which now again after this short withdrawing of your soul into herself you do return to. For what is it that you are offended at? Can it be at the wickedness of men, when you do call to mind this conclusion, that all reasonable creatures are made one for another? and that it is part of justice to bear with them? and that it is against their wills that they offend? and how many already, who once likewise prosecuted their enmities, suspected, hated, and fiercely contended, are now long ago stretched out, and reduced to ashes? It is time for you to make an end. As for those things which among the common chances of the world happen to you as your particular lot and portion, can you be displeased with any of them, when you do call that our ordinary dilemma to mind, either a providence, or Democritus his atoms; and with it, whatever we brought to prove that the whole world is as it were one city? And as for your body, what can you fear, if you do consider that your mind and understanding, when once it has recollected itself, and knows its own power, has in this life and breath (whether it run smoothly and gently, or whether harshly and rudely), no interest at all, but is altogether indifferent: and whatever else you have heard and assented to about either pain or pleasure? But the care of your honor and reputation will perhaps distract you? How can that be, if you do look back, and consider both how quickly all things that are, are forgotten, and what an immense chaos of eternity was before, and will follow after all things: and the vanity of praise, and the inconstancy and variableness of human judgments and opinions, and the narrowness of the place, in which it is limited and circumscribed? For the whole earth is but as one point; and of it, this inhabited part of it, is but a very little part; and of this part, how many in number, and what manner of men are they, that will commend you? What remains then, but that you often put in practice this kind of retiring of yourself, to this little part of yourself; and above all things, keep yourself from distraction, and intend not anything vehemently, but be free and consider all things, as a man whose proper object is Virtue, as a man whose true nature is to be kind and sociable, as a citizen, as a mortal creature. Among other things, which to consider, and look into you must use to withdraw yourself, let those two be among the most obvious and at hand. One, that the things or objects themselves reach not to the soul, but stand without still and quiet, and that it is from the opinion only which is within, that all the tumult and all the trouble does proceed. The next, that all these things, which now you see, shall within a very little while be changed, and be no more: and ever call to mind, how many changes and alterations in the world you yourself have already been an eyewitness of in your time. This world is mere change, and this life, opinion.

If to understand and to be reasonable be common to all men, then is that reason, for which we are termed reasonable, common to all. If reason is general, then is that reason also, which prescribes what is to be done and what not, common to all. If that, then law. If law, then are we fellow-citizens. If so, then are we partners in some one commonweal. If so, then the world is as it were a city. For which other commonweal is it, that all men can be said to be members of? From this common city it is, that understanding, reason, and law is derived to us, for from from where else? For as that which in me is earthly I have from some common earth; and that which is moist from some other element is imparted; as my breath and life has its proper fountain; and that likewise which is dry and fiery in me: (for there is nothing which does not proceed from something; as also there is nothing that can be reduced to mere nothing): so also is there some common beginning from from where my understanding has proceeded.

As generation is, so also death, a secret of nature's wisdom: a mixture of elements, resolved into the same elements again, a thing surely which no man ought to be ashamed of: in a series of other fatal events and consequences, which a rational creature is subject to, not improper or incongruous, nor contrary to the natural and proper constitution of man himself.

Such and such things, from such and such causes, must of necessity proceed. He that would not have such things to happen, is as he that would have the fig-tree grow without any sap or moisture. In short, remember this, that within a very little while, both you and he shall both be dead, and after a little while more, not so much as your names and memories shall be remaining.

Let opinion be taken away, and no man will think himself wronged. If no man shall think himself wronged, then is there no more any such thing as wrong. That which makes not man himself the worse, cannot make his life the worse, neither can it hurt him either inwardly or outwardly. It was useful in nature that it should be so, and therefore necessary.

Whatever does happen in the world, does happen justly, and so if you do well take heed, you shall find it. I say not only in right order by a series of inevitable consequences, but according to justice and as it were by way of equal distribution, according to the true worth of everything. Continue then to take notice of it, as you have begun, and whatever you do, do it not without this proviso, that it be a thing of that nature that a good man (as the word good is properly taken) may do it. This observe carefully in every action.

Idea no such things, as he that wrongs you conceives, or would have you to conceive, but look into the matter itself, and see what it is in very truth.

These two rules, you must have always in a readiness. First, do nothing at all, but what reason proceeding from that regal and supreme part, shall for the good and benefit of men, suggest to you. And secondly, if any man that is present shall be able to rectify you or to turn you from some erroneous persuasion, that you be always ready to change your mind, and this change to proceed, not from any respect of any pleasure or credit thereon depending, but always from some probable apparent ground of justice, or of some public good thereby to be furthered; or from some other such inducement.

Have you reason? I have. Why then makest you not use of it? For if your reason do her part, what more can you require?

As a part until now you have had a particular subsistence: and now shall you vanish away into the common substance of Him, who first begot you, or rather you shall be resumed again into that original rational substance, out of which all others have issued, and are propagated. Many small pieces of frankincense are set upon the same altar, one drops first and is consumed, another after; and it comes all to one.

Within ten days, if so happen, you shall be esteemed a god of them, who now if you shall return to the principles and to the honouring of reason, will esteem of you no better than of a mere brute, and of an ape.

Not as though you had thousands of years to live. Death hangs over you: while yet you livest, while you may, be good.

Now much time and leisure does he gain, who is not curious to know what his neighbor has said, or has done, or has attempted, but only what he does himself, that it may be just and holy? or to express it in Agathos' words, "Not to look about upon the evil conditions of others, but to run on straight in the line, without any loose and extravagant agitation."

He who is greedy of credit and reputation after his death, does not consider, that they themselves by whom he is remembered, shall soon after every one of them be dead; and they likewise that succeed those; until at last all memory, which until now by the succession of men admiring and soon after dying has had its course, be quite extinct. But suppose that both they that shall remember you, and your memory with them should be immortal, what is that to you? I will not say to you after you are dead; but even to you living, what is your praise? But only for a secret and politic consideration, which we call οικονομοίαν, or dispensation. For as for that, that it is the gift of nature, whatever is commended in you, what might be objected from from there, let that now that we are upon another consideration be omitted as unseasonable. That which is fair and goodly, whatever it be, and in what respect soever it be, that it is fair and goodly, it is so of itself, and terminates in itself, not admitting praise as a part or member: that therefore which is praised, is not thereby made either better or worse. This I understand even of those things, that are usually called fair and good, as those which are commended either for the matter itself, or for curious workmanship. As for that which is truly good, what can it stand in need of more than either justice or truth; or more than either kindness and modesty? Which of all those, either becomes good or fair, because commended; or dispraised suffers any damage? Does the emerald become worse in itself, or more low if it be not commended? Does gold, or ivory, or purple? Is there anything that does though never so common, as a knife, a flower, or a tree?

If so be that the souls remain after death (say they that will not believe it); how is the air from all eternity able to contain them? How is the earth (say I) ever from that time able to Contain the bodies of them that are buried? For as here the change and resolution of dead bodies into another kind of subsistence (whatever it be); makes place for other dead bodies: so the souls after death transferred into the air, after they have conversed there a while, are either by way of transmutation, or transfusion, or conflagration, received again into that original rational substance, from which all others do proceed: and so give way to those souls, who before coupled and associated to bodies, now begin to subsist single. This, upon a supposition that the souls after death do for a while subsist single, may be answered. And here, (besides the number of bodies, so buried and contained by the earth), we may further consider the number of several beasts, eaten by us men, and by other creatures. For notwithstanding that such a multitude of them is daily consumed, and as it were buried in the bodies of the eaters, yet is the same place and body able to contain them, by reason of their conversion, partly into blood, partly into air and fire. What in these things is the speculation of truth? to divide things into that which is passive and material; and that which is active and formal.

Not to wander out of the way, but upon every motion and desire, to perform that which is just: and ever to be careful to attain to the true natural apprehension of every fancy, that presents itself.

Whatever is useful to you, O World, is useful to me; nothing can either be unseasonable to me, or out of date, which to you is seasonable. Whatever your seasons bear, shall ever by me be esteemed as happy fruit, and increase. O Nature! from you are all things, in you all things subsist, and to you all tend. Could he say of Athens, You lovely city of Cecrops; and shall not you say of the world, You lovely city of God?

They will say usually, Meddle not with many things, if you will live cheerfully. Certainly there is nothing better, than for a man to confine himself to necessary actions; to such and so many only, as reason in a creature that knows itself born for society, will command and enjoin. This will not only procure that cheerfulness, which from the goodness, but that also, which from the paucity of actions does usually proceed. For since it is so, that most of those things, which we either speak or do, are unnecessary; if a man shall cut them off, it must needs follow that he shall thereby gain much leisure, and save much trouble, and therefore at every action a man must privately by way of admonition suggest to himself, What? may not this that now I go about, be of the number of unnecessary actions? Neither must he use himself to cut off actions only, but thoughts and imaginings also, that are unnecessary for so will unnecessary consequent actions the better be prevented and cut off.

Try also how a good man's life; (of one, who is well pleased with those things whatever, which among the common changes and chances of this world fall to his own lot and share; and can live well contented and fully satisfied in the justice of his own proper present action, and in the goodness of his disposition for the future): will agree with you. You have had experience of that other kind of life: make now trial of this also. Trouble not yourself any more from now on, reduce yourself to perfect simplicity. Does any man offend? It is against himself that he does offend: why should it trouble you? Has anything happened to you? It is well, whatever it be, it is that which of all the common chances of the world from the very beginning in the series of all other things that have, or shall happen, was destinated and appointed to you. To comprehend all in a few words, our life is short; we must endeavor to gain the present time with best discretion and justice. Use recreation with sobriety.

Either this world is a κόσμος or a comely piece, because all disposed and governed by certain order: or if it be a mixture, though confused, yet still it is a comely piece. For is it possible that in you there should be any beauty at all, and that in the whole world there should be nothing but disorder and confusion? and all things in it too, by natural different properties one from another differenced and distinguished; and yet all through diffused, and by natural sympathy, one to another united, as they are?

A black or malign disposition, an effeminate disposition; an hard inexorable disposition, a wild inhuman disposition, a sheepish disposition, a childish disposition; a blockish, a false, a scurril, a fraudulent, a tyrannical: what then? If he be a stranger in the world, that knows not the things that are in it; why not he a stranger as well, that wonders at the things that are done in it?

He is a true fugitive, that flies from reason, by which men are sociable. He blind, who cannot see with the eyes of his understanding. He poor, that stands in need of another, and has not in himself all things needful for this life. He an aposteme of the world, who by being discontented with those things that happen to him in the world, does as it were apostatise, and separate himself from universal Nature's rational administration. For the same nature it is that brings this to you, whatever it be, that first brought you into the world. He raises sedition in the city, who by irrational actions withdraws his own soul from that one and common soul of all rational creatures.

There is, who without so much as a coat; and there is, who without so much as a book, does put philosophy in practice. I am half naked, neither have I bread to eat, and yet I depart not from reason, says one. But I say; I want the food of good teaching, and instructions, and yet I depart not from reason.

What are and profession soever you have learned, endeavor to affect it, and comfort yourself in it; and pass the remainder of your life as one who from his whole heart commits himself and whatever belongs to him, to the gods: and as for men, carry not yourself either tyrannically or servilely towards any.

Consider in my mind, for example's sake, the times of Vespasian: you shall see but the same things: some marrying, some bringing up children, some sick, some dying, some fighting, some feasting, some merchandising, some tilling, some flattering, some boasting, some suspecting, some undermining, some wishing to die, some fretting and murmuring at their present estate, some wooing, some hoarding, some seeking after magistracies, and some after kingdoms. And is not that their age quite over, and ended? Again, consider now the times of Trajan. There likewise you see the very self-same things, and that age also is now over and ended. In the like manner consider other periods, both of times and of whole nations, and see how many men, after they had with all their might and main intended and prosecuted some one external thing or other did soon after drop away, and were resolved into the elements. But especially you must call to mind them, whom you yourself in your lifetime have known much distracted about empty things, and in the meantime neglecting to do that, and closely and unseparably (as fully satisfied with it) to adhere to it, which their own proper constitution did require. And here you must remember, that your carriage in every business must be according to the worth and due proportion of it, for so shall you not easily be tired out and vexed, if you shall not dwell upon small matters longer than is fitting.

Those words which once were common and ordinary, are now become obscure and obsolete; and so the names of men once usually known and famous, are now become in a manner obscure and obsolete names. Camillus, Cieso, Volesius, Leonnatus; not long after, Scipio, Cato, then Augustus, then Adrianus, then Antoninus Pius: all these in a short time will be out of date, and, as things of another world as it were, become fabulous. And this I say of them, who once shined as the wonders of their ages, for as for the rest, no sooner are they expired, than with them all their fame and memory. And what is it then that shall always be remembered? all is vanity. What is it that we must bestow our care and diligence upon? even upon this only: that our minds and wills be just; that our actions be kind; that our speech be never deceitful, or that our understanding be not subject to error; that our inclination be always set to embrace whatever shall happen to us, as necessary, as usual, as ordinary, as flowing from such a beginning, and such a fountain, from which both you yourself and all things are. Willingly therefore, and wholly surrender up yourself to that fatal concatenation, yielding up yourself to fate, to be disposed of at their pleasure.

Whatever is now present, and from day to day has its existence; all objects of memories, and the minds and memories themselves, incessantly consider, all things that are, have their being by change and alteration. Use yourself therefore often to meditate upon this, that the nature of the universe delights in nothing more, than in altering those things that are, and in making others like to them. So that we may say, that whatever is, is but as it were the seed of that which shall be. For if you think that that only is seed, which either the earth or the womb receives, you are very simple.

You are now ready to die, and yet have you not attained to that perfect simplicity: you are yet subject to many troubles and perturbations; not yet free from all fear and suspicion of external accidents; nor yet either so meekly disposed towards all men, as you should; or so affected as one, whose only study and only wisdom is, to be just in all his actions.

Behold and observe, what is the state of their rational part; and those that the world does account wise, see what things they fly and are afraid of; and what things they hunt after.

In another man's mind and understanding your evil Cannot subsist, nor in any proper temper or distemper of the natural constitution of your body, which is but as it were the coat or cottage of your soul. In which then, but in that part of you, in which the idea, and apprehension of any misery can subsist? Let not that part therefore admit any such idea, and then all is well. Though your body which is so near it should either be cut or burnt, or suffer any corruption or putrefaction, yet let that part to which it belongs to judge of these, be still at rest; that is, let her judge this, that whatever it is, that equally may happen to a wicked man, and to a good man, is neither good nor evil. For that which happens equally to him that lives according to nature, and to him that does not, is neither according to nature, nor against it; and by consequent, neither good nor bad.

Ever consider and think upon the world as being but one living substance, and having but one soul, and how all things in the world, are terminated into one sensitive power; and are done by one general motion as it were, and deliberation of that one soul; and how all things that are, concur in the cause of one another's being, and by what manner of connection and concatenation all things happen.

What are you, that better and divine part excepted, but as Epictetus said well, a wretched soul, appointed to carry a carcass up and down?

To suffer change can be no hurt; as no benefit it is, by change to attain to being. The age and time of the world is as it were a flood and swift current, consisting of the things that are brought to pass in the world. For as soon as anything has appeared, and is passed away, another succeeds, and that also will presently out of sight.

Whatever does happen in the world, is, in the course of nature, as usual and ordinary as a rose in the spring, and fruit in summer. Of the same nature is sickness and death; slander, and lying in wait, and whatever else ordinarily does to fools use to be occasion either of joy or sorrow. That, whatever it is, that comes after, does always very naturally, and as it were familiarly, follow upon that which was before. For you must consider the things of the world, not as a loose independent number, consisting merely of necessary events; but as a discreet connection of things orderly and harmoniously disposed. There is then to be seen in the things of the world, not a bare succession, but an admirable correspondence and affinity.

Let that of Heraclitus never be out of your mind, that the death of earth, is water, and the death of water, is air; and the death of air, is fire; and so on the contrary. Remember him also who was ignorant whither the way did lead, and how that reason being the thing by which all things in the world are administered, and which men are continually and most inwardly conversant with: yet is the thing, which ordinarily they are most in opposition with, and how those things which daily happen among them, cease not daily to be strange to them, and that we should not either speak, or do anything as men in their sleep, by opinion and bare imagination: for then we think we speak and do, and that we must not be as children, who follow their father's example; for best reason alleging their bare καθότι παρειλήψαμεν; or, as by successive tradition from our forefathers we have received it.

Even as if any of the gods should tell you, You shall certainly die tomorrow, or next day, you would not, except you were extremely low and pusillanimous, take it for a great benefit, rather to die the next day after, than tomorrow; (for alas, what is the difference!) so, for the same reason, think it no great matter to die rather many years after, than the very next day.

Let it be your continual meditation, how many physicians who once looked so grim, and so tetrically shrunk their brows upon their patients, are dead and gone themselves. How many astrologers, after that in great showing off they had foretold the death of some others, how many philosophers after so many elaborate tracts and volumes about either mortality or immortality; how many brave captains and commanders, after the death and slaughter of so many; how many kings and tyrants, after they had with such horror and insolency abused their power upon men's lives, as though themselves had been immortal; how many, that I may so speak, whole cities both men and towns: Helice, Pompeii, Herculaneum, and others innumerable are dead and gone. Run them over also, whom you yourself, one after another, have known in your time to drop away. Such and such a one took care of such and such a one's burial, and soon after was buried himself. So one, so another: and all things in a short time. For here lies all indeed, ever to look upon all external things, as things for their continuance, that are but for a day: and for their worth, most low, and contemptible, as for example, What is man? That which but the other day when he was conceived was low snivel; and within few days shall be either an embalmed carcass, or mere ashes. Thus must you according to truth and nature, throughly consider how man's life is but for a very moment of time, and so depart gentle and contented: even as if a ripe olive falling should praise the ground that bare her, and give thanks to the tree that begat her.

XL. You must be like a promontory of the sea, against which though the waves beat continually, yet it both itself stands, and about it are those swelling waves stilled and quieted.

XLI. Oh, wretched I, to whom this mischance is happened! no, happy I, to whom this thing being happened, I can continue without grief; neither wounded by that which is present, nor in fear of that which is to come. For as for this, it might have happened to any man, but any man having such a thing befallen him, could not have continued without grief. Why then should that rather be an unhappiness, than this a happiness? But however, can you, O man! term that unhappiness, which is no mischance to the nature of man I. Can you think that a mischance to the nature of man, which is not contrary to the end and will of his nature? What then have you learned is the will of man's nature? Does that then which has happened to you, hinder you from being just? or magnanimous? or temperate? or wise? or circumspect? or true? or modest? or free? or from anything else of all those things in the present enjoying and possession of which the nature of man, (as then enjoying all that is proper to her), is fully satisfied? Now to conclude; upon all occasion of sorrow remember from now on to make use of this dogma, that whatever it is that has happened to you, is in very deed no such thing of itself, as a misfortune; but that to bear it generously, is certainly great happiness.

XLII. It is but an ordinary coarse one, yet it is a good effectual remedy against the fear of death, for a man to consider in his mind the examples of such, who greedily and covetously (as it were) did for a long time enjoy their lives. What have they got more, than they whose deaths have been untimely? Are not they themselves dead at the last? as Cadiciant's, Fabius, Julianus Lepidus, or any other who in their lifetime having buried many, were at the last buried themselves. The whole space of any man's life, is but little; and as little as it is, with what troubles, with what manner of dispositions, and in the society of how wretched a body must it be passed! Let it be therefore to you altogether as a matter of indifferency. For if you shall look backward; behold, what an infinite chaos of time does present itself to you; and as infinite a chaos, if you shall look forward. In that which is so infinite, what difference can there be between that which lives but three days, and that which lives three ages?

XLIII. Let your course ever be the most compendious way. The most compendious, is that which is according to nature: that is, in all both words and deeds, ever to follow that which is most sound and perfect. For such a resolution will free a man from all trouble, strife, dissembling, and showing off.

Book V

IN THE MORNING when you findest yourself unwilling to rise, consider with yourself presently, it is to go about a man's work that I am stirred up. Am I then yet unwilling to go about that, for which I myself was born and brought forth into this world? Or was I made for this, to lay me down, and make much of myself in a warm bed? "O but this is pleasing." And was it then for this that you were born, that you mightest enjoy pleasure? Was it not in very truth for this, that you mightest always be busy and in action? See you not how all things in the world besides, how every tree and plant, how sparrows and ants, spiders and bees: how all in their kind are intent as it were orderly to perform whatever (towards the preservation of this orderly universe) naturally does become and belong to thin? And will not you do that, which belongs to a man to do? Will not you run to do that, which your nature does require? "But you must have some rest." Yes, you must. Nature has of that also, as well as of eating and drinking, allowed you a certain stint. But you guest beyond your stint, and beyond that which would suffice, and in matter of action, there you comest short of that which you may. It must needs be therefore, that you do not love yourself, for if you did, you would also love your nature, and that which your nature does propose to herself as her end. Others, as many as take pleasure in their trade and profession, can even pine themselves at their works, and neglect their bodies and their food for it; and do you less honor your nature, than an ordinary mechanic his trade; or a good dancer his are? than a covetous man his silver, and vain man applause? These to whatever they take an affection, can be content to want their meat and sleep, to further that every one which he affects: and shall actions tending to the common good of human society, seem more low to you, or worthy of less respect and intention?

How easy a thing is it for a man to put off from him all turbulent adventitious imaginings, and presently to be in perfect rest and tranquillity!

Think yourself fit and worthy to speak, or to do anything that is according to nature, and let not the reproach, or report of some that may ensue upon it, ever deter you. If it be right and honest to be spoken or done, undervalue not yourself so much, as to be discouraged from it. As for them, they have their own rational over-ruling part, and their own proper inclination: which you must not stand and look about to take notice of, but go on straight, whither both your own particular, and universal Nature do lead you; and the way of both these, is but one.

I continue my course by actions according to nature, until I fall and cease, breathing out my last breath into that air, by which continually breathed in I did live; and falling upon that earth, out of whose gifts and fruits my father gathered his seed, my mother her blood, and my nurse her milk, out of which for so many years I have been provided, both of meat and drink. And lastly, which bears me that tread upon it, and bears with me that so many ways do abuse it, or so freely make use of it, so many ways to so many ends.

No man can admire you for your sharp acute language, such is your natural disability that way. Be it so: yet there be many other good things, for the want of which you can not plead the want or natural ability. Let them be seen in you, which depend wholly from you; sincerity, seriousness, laboriousness, contempt of pleasures; be not querulous, be Content with little, be kind, be free; avoid all superfluity, all vain prattling; be magnanimous. Do not you perceive, how many things there be, which notwithstanding any pretence of natural indisposition and unfitness, you mightest have performed and exhibited, and yet still you do voluntarily continue drooping downwards? Or will you say. that it is through defect of your natural constitution, that you are constrained to murmur, to be low and wretched to flatter; now to accuse, and now to please, and pacify your body: to be vain, to be so giddyheaded., and unsettled in your thoughts? no (witnesses be the Gods) of all these you mightest have been rid long ago: only, this you must have been contented with, to have borne the blame of one that is somewhat slow and dull. in which you must so exercise yourself, as one who neither does much take to heart this his natural defect, nor yet pleases himself in it.

Such there be, who when they have done a good turn to any, are ready to set them on the score for it, and to require retaliation. Others there be, who though they stand not upon retaliation, to require any, yet they think with themselves nevertheless, that such a one is their debtor, and they know as their word is what they have done. Others again there be, who when they have done any such thing, do not so much as know what they have done; but are like to the vine, which bears her grapes, and when once she has borne her own proper fruit, is contented and seeks for no further recompense. As a horse after a race, and a hunting dog when he has hunted, and a bee when she has made her honey, look not for applause and commendation; so neither does that man that rightly does understand his own nature when he has done a good turn: but from one does proceed to do another, even as the vine after she has once borne fruit in her own proper season, is ready for another time. You therefore must be one of them, who what they do, barely do it without any further thought, and are in a manner insensible of what they do. "No but," will some reply perhaps, "this very thing a rational man is bound to, to understand what it is, that he does." For it is the property, say they, of one that is naturally sociable, to be sensible, that he does operate sociably: no, and to desire, that the party him self that is sociably dealt with, should be sensible of it too. I answer, That which you sayest is true indeed, but the true meaning of that which is said, you do not understand. And therefore are you one of those first, whom I mentioned. For they also are led by a probable appearance of reason. But if you do desire to understand truly what it is that is said, fear not that you shall therefore give over any sociable action.

The form of the Athenians' prayer did run thus: "O rain, rain, good Jupiter, upon all the grounds and fields that belong to the Athenians." Either we should not pray at all, or thus absolutely and freely; and not every one for himself in particular alone.

As we say usually, The physician has prescribed to this man, riding; to another, cold baths; to a third, to go barefoot: so it is alike to say, The nature of the universe has prescribed to this man sickness, or blindness, or some loss, or damage or some such thing. For as there, when we say of a physician, that he has prescribed anything, our meaning is, that he has appointed this for that, as subordinate and contributing to health: so here, whatever does happen to any, is ordained to him as a thing subordinate to fate, and therefore do we say of such things, that they do συμβαίνειν, that is, happen, or fall together; as of square stones, when either in walls, or pyramids in a certain position they fit one another, and agree as it were in an harmony, the masons say, that they do συμβαίνειν; as if you should say, fall together: so that in the general, though the things be divers that make it, yet the consent or harmony itself is but one. And as the whole world is made up of all the particular bodies of the world, one perfect and complete body, of the same nature that particular bodies; so is the destiny of particular causes and events one general one, of the same nature that particular causes are. What I now say, even they that are mere idiots are not ignorant of: for they say usually τούτο έφερεν αυτώ, that is, This his destiny has brought upon him. This therefore is by fate properly and particularly brought upon this, as that to this in particular is by the physician prescribed. These therefore let us accept of in like manner, as we do those that are prescribed to us our physicians. For them also in themselves shall We find to contain many harsh things, but we nevertheless, in hope of health, and recovery, accept of them. Let. the fulfilling' and accomplishment of those things which universal Nature has determined, be to you as your health. Accept then, and be pleased with whatever does happen, though otherwise harsh and unpleasing, as tending to that end, to the health and welfare of the universe, and to Jove's happiness and prosperity. For this whatever it be, should not have been produced, had it not conduced to the good of the universe. For neither does any ordinary particular nature bring anything to pass, that is not to whatever is within the sphere of its own proper administration and government agreeable and subordinate. For these two considerations then you must be well pleased with anything that does happen to you. First, because that for you properly it was brought to pass, and to you it was prescribed; and that from the very beginning by the series and connection of the first causes, it has ever had a reference to you. And secondly, because the good success and perfect welfare, and indeed the very continuance of Him, that is the Administrator of the whole, does in a manner depend on it. For the whole (because whole, therefore entire and perfect) is maimed, and mutilated, if you shall cut off anything at all, whereby the coherence, and contiguity as of parts, so of causes, is maintained and preserved. Of which certain it is, that you do (as much as lies in you) cut off, and in some sort violently take somewhat away, as often as you are displeased with anything that happens.

Be not discontented, be not disheartened, be not out of hope, if often it succeed not so well with you punctually and precisely to do all things according to the right principles, but being once cast off, return to them again: and as for those many and more frequent occurrences, either of external distractions, or human infirmities, which as a man you can not but in some measure be subject to, be not you discontented with them; but however, love and affect that only which you do return to: a philosopher's life, and proper occupation after the most exact manner. And when you do return to your philosophy, return not to it as the manner of some is, after play and liberty as it were, to their schoolmasters and pedagogues; but as they that have sore eyes to their sponge and egg: or as another to his cataplasm; or as others to their fomentations: so shall not you make it a matter of showing off at all to obey reason but of ease and comfort. And remember that philosophy requires nothing of you, but what your nature requires, and would you yourself desire anything that is not according to nature? for which of these sayest you; that which is according to nature or against it, is of itself more kind and pleasing? Is it not for that respect especially, that pleasure itself is to so many men's hurt and overthrow, most prevalent, because esteemed usually most kind, and natural? But consider well whether magnanimity rather, and true liberty, and true simplicity, and equanimity, and holiness; whether these be not most kind and natural? And prudency itself, what more kind and amiable than it, when you shall truly consider with yourself, what it is through all the proper objects of your rational intellectual faculty currently to go on without any fall or stumble? As for the things of the world, their true nature is in a manner so involved with obscurity, that to many philosophers, and those no mean ones, they seemed altogether incomprehensible. and the Stoics themselves, though they judge them not altogether incomprehensible, yet hardly and not without much difficulty, comprehensible, so that all assent of ours is fallible, for who is he that is infallible in his conclusions? From the nature of things, pass now to their subjects and matter: how temporary, how low are they I such as may be in the power and possession of some abominable loose liver, of some common strumpet, of some notorious oppressor and extortioner. Pass from from there to the dispositions of them that you do ordinarily converse with, how hardly do we bear, even with the most loving and amiable! that I may not say, how hard it is for us to bear even with our own selves, in such obscurity, and impurity of things: in such and so continual a flux both of the substances and time; both of the motions themselves, and things moved; what it is that we can fasten upon; either to honor, and respect especially; or seriously, and studiously to seek after; I cannot so much as conceive For indeed they are things contrary.

You must comfort yourself in the expectation of your natural dissolution, and in the meantime not grieve at the delay; but rest contented in those two things. First, that nothing shall happen to you, which is not according to the nature of the universe. Secondly, that it is in your power, to do nothing against your own proper God, and inward spirit. For it is not in any man's power to constrain you to transgress against him.

What is the use that now at this present I make of my soul? Thus from time to time and upon all occasions you must put this question to yourself; what is now that part of mine which they call the rational ruling part, employed about? Whose soul do I now properly possess? a child's? or a youth's? a woman's? or a tyrant's? some brute, or some wild beast's soul?

What those things are in themselves, which by the greatest part are esteemed good, you may gather even from this. For if a man shall hear things mentioned as good, which are really good indeed, such as are prudence, temperance, justice, fortitude, after so much heard and conceived, he cannot endure to hear of any more, for the word good is properly spoken of them. But as for those which by the vulgar are esteemed good, if he shall hear them mentioned as good, he does hearken for more. He is well contented to hear, that what is spoken by the comedian, is but familiarly and popularly spoken, so that even the vulgar apprehend the difference. For why is it else, that this offends not and needs not to be excused, when virtues are styled good: but that which is spoken in commendation of wealth, pleasure, or honor, we entertain it only as merrily and pleasantly spoken? Proceed therefore, and inquire further, whether it may not be that those things also which being mentioned upon the stage were merrily, and with great applause of the multitude, scoffed at with this jest, that they that possessed them had not in all the world of their own, (such was their affluence and plenty) so much as a place where to avoid their excrements. Whether, I say, those ought not also in very deed to be much respected, and esteemed of, as the only things that are truly good.

All that I consist of, is either form or matter. No corruption can reduce either of these to nothing: for neither did I of nothing become a subsistent creature. Every part of mine then. will by mutation be disposed into a certain part of the whole world, and that in time into another part; and so in infinitum; by which kind of mutation, I also became what I am, and so did they that begot me, and they before them, and so upwards in infinitum. For so we may be allowed to speak, though the age and government of the world, be to some certain periods of time limited, and confined.

Reason, and rational power, are faculties which content themselves with themselves, and their own proper operations. And as for their first inclination and motion, that they take from themselves. But their progress is right to the end and object, which is in their way, as it were, and lies just before them: that is, which is feasible and possible, whether it be that which at the first they proposed to themselves, or no. For which reason also such actions are termed κατορθώσεις, to intimate the directness of the way, by which they are achieved. Nothing must be thought to belong to a man, which does not belong to him as he is a man. These, the event of purposes, are not things required in a man. The nature of man does not profess any such things. The final ends and consummations of actions are nothing at all to a man's nature. The end therefore of a man, or the summum bonum whereby that end is fulfilled, cannot consist in the consummation of actions purposed and intended. Again, about these outward external things, were it so that any of them did properly belong to man, then would it not belong to man, to condemn them and to stand in opposition with them. Neither would he be praiseworthy that can live without them; or he good, (if these were good indeed) who of his own accord does deprive himself of any of them. But we see contrariwise, that the more a man does withdraw himself from these in which external pomp and greatness does consist, or any other like these; or the better he does bear with the loss of these, the better he is accounted.

Such as your thoughts and ordinary cogitations are, such will your mind be in time. For the soul does as it were receive its tincture from the impressions, and imaginings. Dye it therefore and thoroughly soak it with the assiduity of these cogitations. As for example. Wherever you may live, there it is in your power to live well and happy. But you may live at the Court, there then also may you live well and happy. Again, that which everything is made for, he is also made to that, and cannot but naturally incline to it. That which anything does naturally incline to, in it is his end. In which the end of everything does consist, in it also does his good and benefit consist. Society therefore is the proper good of a rational creature. For that we are made for society, it has long since been demonstrated. Or can any man make any question of this, that whatever is naturally worse and inferior, is ordinarily subordinated to that which is better? and that those things that are best, are made one for another? And those things that have souls, are better than those that have none? and of those that have, those best that have rational souls?

To desire things impossible is the part of a mad man. But it is a thing impossible, that wicked man should not commit some such things. Neither does anything happen to any man, which in the ordinary course of nature as natural to him does not happen. Again, the same things happen to others also. And truly, if either he that is ignorant that such a thing has happened to him, or he that is ambitious to be commended for his magnanimity, can be patient, and is not grieved: is it not a grievous thing, that either ignorance, or a vain desire to please and to be commended, should be more powerful and effectual than true prudence? As for the things themselves, they touch not the soul, neither can they have any access to it: neither can they of themselves any ways either affect it, or move it. For she herself alone can affect and move herself, and according as the principles and opinions are, which she does vouchsafe herself; so are those things which, as accessories, have any co-existence with her.

After one consideration, man is nearest to us; as we are bound to do them good, and to bear with them. But as he may oppose any of our true proper actions, so man is to me but as a thing indifferent: even as the sun, or the wind, or some wild beast. By some of these it may be, that some operation or other of mine, may be hindered; however, of my mind and resolution itself, there can be no let or impediment, by reason of that ordinary constant both exception (or reservation wherewith it inclins) and ready conversion of objects; from that which may not be, to that which may be, which in the prosecution of its inclinations, as occasion serves, it does observe. For by these the mind does turn and convert any impediment whatever, to be her aim and purpose. So that what before was the impediment, is now the principal object of her working; and that which before was in her way, is now her readiest way.

Honor that which is chiefest and most powerful in the world, and that is it, which makes use of all things, and governs all things. So also in yourself; honor that which is chiefest, and most powerful; and is of one kind and nature with that which we now spoke of. For it is the very same, which being in you, turns all other things to its own use, and by whom also your life is governed.

That which does not hurt the city itself; cannot hurt any citizen. This rule you must remember to apply and make use of upon every idea and apprehension of wrong. If the whole city be not hurt by this, neither am I certainly. And if the whole be not, why should I make it my private grievance? consider rather what it is in which he is overseen that is thought to have done the wrong. Again, often meditate how swiftly all things that subsist, and all things that are done in the world, are carried away, and as it were conveyed out of sight: for both the substance themselves, we see as a flood, are in a continual flux; and all actions in a continual change; and the causes themselves, subject to a thousand alterations, neither is there anything almost, that may ever be said to be now settled and constant. Next to this, and which follows upon it, consider both the infiniteness of the time already past, and the immense vastness of that which is to come, in which all things are to be resolved and annihilated. Are not you then a very fool, who for these things, are either puffed up with pride, or distracted with cares, or can find in your heart to make such moans as for a thing that would trouble you for a very long time? Consider the whole universe of which you are but a very little part, and the whole age of the world together, of which but a short and very momentary portion is allotted to you, and all fate and destinies together, of which how much is it that comes to your part and share! Again: another does trespass against me. Let him look to that. He is master of his own disposition, and of his own operation. I for my part am in the meantime in possession of as much, as universal Nature would have me to possess: and that which mine own nature would have me do, I do.

Let not that chief commanding part of your soul be ever subject to any variation through any corporal either pain or pleasure, neither suffer it to be mixed with these, but let it both circumscribe itself, and confine those emotions to their own proper parts and members. But if at any time they do reflect and rebound upon the mind and understanding (as in an united and compacted body it must needs); then must you not go about to resist sense and feeling, it being natural. However let not your understanding to this natural sense and feeling, which whether to our flesh pleasant or painful, is to us nothing properly, add an opinion of either good or bad and all is well.

To live with the Gods. He lives with the Gods, who at all times affords to them the spectacle of a soul, both contented and well pleased with whatever is afforded, or allotted to her; and performing whatever is pleasing to that Spirit, whom (being part of himself) Jove has appointed to every man as his overseer and governor.

Be not angry neither with him whose breath, neither with him whose arm holes, are offensive. What can he do? such is his breath naturally, and such are his arm holes; and from such, such an effect, and such a smell must of necessity proceed. "O, but the man (sayest you) has understanding in him, and might of himself know, that he by standing near, cannot choose but offend." And you also (God bless you!) have understanding. Let your reasonable faculty, work upon his reasonable faculty; show him his fault, admonish him. If he hearken to you, you have cured him, and there will be no more occasion of anger.

"Where there shall neither roarer be, nor harlot." Why so? As you do purpose to live, when you have retired yourself to some such place, where neither roarer nor harlot is: so may you here. And if they will not suffer you, then may you leave your life rather than your calling, but so as one that does not think himself anyways wronged. Only as one would say, Here is a smoke; I will out of it. And what a great matter is this! Now till some such thing force me out, I will continue free; neither shall any man hinder me to do what I will, and my will shall ever be by the proper nature of a reasonable and sociable creature, regulated and directed.

That rational essence by which the universe is governed, is for community and society; and therefore has it both made the things that are worse, for the best, and has allied and knit together those which are best, as it were in an harmony. See you not how it has subordinated, and co-ordinated? and how it has distributed to everything according to its worth? and those which have the preeminency and superiority above all, has it united together, into a mutual consent and agreement.

How have you carried yourself until now towards the Gods? towards your parents? towards your brethren? towards your wife? towards your children? towards your masters? your foster-fathers? your friends? your domestics? your servants? Is it so with you, that until now you have neither by word or deed wronged any of them?18 Remember also through how many things you have already passed, and how many you have been able to endure; so that now the legend of your life is full, and your charge is accomplished. Again, how many truly good things have certainly by you been discerned? how many pleasures, how many pains have you passed over with contempt? how many things eternally glorious have you despised? towards how many perverse unreasonable men have you carried yourself kindly, and discreetly?

Why should imprudent unlearned souls trouble that which is both learned, and prudent? And which is that that is so? she that understands the beginning and the end, and has the true knowledge of that rational essence, that passes through all things subsisting, and through all ages being ever the same, disposing and dispensing as it were this universe by certain periods of time.

Within a very little while, you will be either ashes, or a skeleton; and a name perhaps; and perhaps, not so much as a name. And what is that but an empty sound, and a rebounding echo? Those things which in this life are dearest to us, and of most account, they are in themselves but vain, putrid, contemptible. The most weighty and serious, if rightly esteemed, but as puppies, biting one another: or untoward children, now laughing and then crying. As for faith, and modesty, and justice, and truth, they long since, as one of the poets has it, have abandoned this spacious earth, and retired themselves to heaven. What is it then that does keep you here, if things sensible be so mutable and unsettled? and the senses so obscure, and so fallible? and our souls nothing but an exhalation of blood? and to be in credit among such, be but vanity? What is it that you do stay for? an extinction, or a translation; either of them with a propitious and contented mind. But still that time come, what will content you? what else, but to worship and praise the Gods; and to do good to men. To bear with them, and to refrain to do them any wrong. And for all external things belonging either to this your wretched body, or life, to remember that they are neither your, nor in your power.

You may always speed, if you will but make choice of the right way; if in the course both of your opinions and actions, you will observe a true method.

These two things be common to the souls, as of God, so of men, and of every reasonable creature, first that in their own proper work they cannot be hindered by anything: and secondly, that their happiness does consist in a disposition to, and in the practice of righteousness; and that in these their desire is terminated.

If this neither be my wicked act, nor an act anyways depending from any wickedness of mine, and that by it the public is not hurt; what does it concern me? And in which can the public be hurt? For you must not altogether be carried by idea and common opinion: as for help you must afford that to them after your best ability, and as occasion shall require, though they sustain damage, but in these middle or external things; but however do not you conceive that they are truly hurt thereby: for that is not right. But as that old foster-father in the comedy, being now to take his leave does with a great deal of ceremony, require his foster-child's rhombus, or rattle-top, remembering nevertheless that it is but a rhombus; so here also do you likewise. For indeed what is all this pleading and public bawling for at the courts? O man, have you forgotten what those things are! yes but they are things that others much care for, and highly esteem of. Will you therefore be a fool too? Once I was; let that suffice.

Let death surprise rue when it will, and where it will, I may be εύμοιρος, or a happy man, nevertheless. For he is a happy man, who in his lifetime deals to himself a happy lot and portion. A happy lot and portion is, good inclinations of the soul, good desires, good actions.

Book VI

THE MATTER ITSELF, of which the universe does consist, is of itself very tractable and pliable. That rational essence that does govern it, has in itself no cause to do evil. It has no evil in itself; neither can it do anything that is evil: neither can anything be hurt by it. And all things are done and determined according to its will and prescript.

Be it all one to you, whether half frozen or well warm; whether only slumbering, or after a full sleep; whether discommended or commended you do your duty: or whether dying or doing somewhat else; for that also "to die," must among the rest be reckoned as one of the duties and actions of our lives.

Look in, let not either the proper quality, or the true worth of anything pass you, before you have fully apprehended it.

All substances come soon to their change, and either they shall be resolved by way of exhalation (if so be that all things shall be reunited into one substance), or as others maintain, they shall be scattered and dispersed. As for that Rational Essence by which all things are governed, as it best understands itself, both its own disposition, and what it does, and what matter it has to do with and accordingly does all things; so we that do not, no wonder, if we wonder at many things, the reasons of which we cannot comprehend.

The best kind of revenge is, not to become like to them.

Let this be your only joy, and your only comfort, from one sociable kind action without intermission to pass to another, God being ever in your mind.

The rational commanding part, as it alone can stir up and turn itself; so it makes both itself to be, and everything that happens, to appear to itself, as it will itself.

According to the nature of the universe all things particular are determined, not according to any other nature, either about compassing and containing; or within, dispersed and contained; or without, depending. Either this universe is a mere confused mass, and an intricate context of things, which shall in time be scattered and dispersed again: or it is an union consisting of order, and administered by Providence. If the first, why should I desire to continue any longer in this fortuit confusion and commixtion? or why should I take care for anything else, but that as soon as may be I may be earth again? And why should I trouble myself any more while I seek to please the Gods? Whatever I do, dispersion is my end, and will come upon me whether I will or no. But if the latter be, then am not I religious in vain; then will I be quiet and patient, and put my trust in Him, who is the Governor of all.

Whenever by some present hard occurrences you are constrained to be in some sort troubled and vexed, return to yourself as soon as may be, and be not out of tune longer than you must needs. For so shall you be the better able to keep your part another time, and to maintain the harmony, if you do use yourself to this continually; once out, presently to have recourse to it, and to begin again.

If it were that you had at one time both a stepmother, and a natural mother living, you would honor and respect her also; nevertheless to your own natural mother would your refuge, and recourse be continually. So let the court and your philosophy be to you. Have recourse to it often, and comfort yourself in her, by whom it is that those other things are made tolerable to you, and you also in those things not intolerable to others.

How marvellous useful it is for a man to represent to himself meats, and all such things that are for the mouth, under a right apprehension and imagination! as for example: This is the carcass of a fish; this of a bird; and this of a hog. And again more generally; This phalernum, this excellent highly commended wine, is but the bare juice of an ordinary grape. This purple robe, but sheep's hairs, dyed with the blood of a shellfish. So for coitus, it is but the attrition of an ordinary low entrail, and the excretion of a little low snivel, with a certain kind of convulsion: according to Hippocrates his opinion. How excellent useful are these lively impressions and representations of things, thus penetrating and passing through the objects, to make their true nature known and apparent! This must you use all your life long, and upon all occasions: and then especially, when matters are apprehended as of great worth and respect, your are and care must be to uncover them, and to behold their vileness, and to take away from them all those serious circumstances and expressions, under which they made so serious a show. For outward pomp and appearance is a great juggler; and then especially are you most in danger to be beguiled by it, when (to a man's thinking) you most seemest to be employed about matters of moment.

See what Crates pronounces about Xenocrates himself.

Those things which the common sort of people do admire, are most of them such things as are very general, and may be comprehended under things merely natural, or naturally affected and qualified: as stones, wood, figs, vines, olives. Those that be admired by them that are more moderate and restrained, are comprehended under things animated: as flocks and herds. Those that are yet more gentle and curious, their admiration is usually confined to reasonable creatures only; not in general as they are reasonable, but as they are capable of are, or of some craft and subtile invention: or perhaps barely to reasonable creatures; as they that delight in the possession of many slaves. But he that honours a reasonable soul in general, as it is reasonable and naturally sociable, does little regard anything else: and above all things is careful to preserve his own, in the continual habit and exercise both of reason and sociableness: and thereby does co-operate with him, of whose nature he does also participate; God.

Some things hasten to be, and others to he no more. And even whatever now is, some part of it has already perished. Continual fluxes and alterations renew the world, as the continual course of time does make the age of the world (of itself infinite) to appear always fresh and new. In such a flux and course of all things, what of these things that hasten so fast away should any man regard, since among all there is not any that a man may fasten and fix upon? as if a man would settle his affection upon some ordinary sparrow living by him, who is no sooner seen, than out of sight. For we must not think otherwise of our lives, than as a mere exhalation of blood, or of an ordinary respiration of air. For what in our common apprehension is, to breathe in the air and to breathe it out again, which we do daily: so much is it and no more, at once to breathe out all your respirative faculty into that common air from from where but lately (as being but from yesterday, and today), you did first breathe it in, and with it, life.

Not vegetative spiration, it is not surely (which plants have) that in this life should be so dear to us; nor sensitive respiration, the proper life of beasts, both tame and wild; nor this our imaginative faculty; nor that we are subject to be led and carried up and down by the strength of our sensual appetites; or that we can gather, and live together; or that we can feed: for that in effect is no better, than that we can void the excrements of our food. What is it then that should be dear to us? to hear a clattering noise? if not that, then neither to be applauded by the tongues of men. For the praises of many tongues, is in effect no better than the clattering of so many tongues. If then neither applause, what is there remaining that should be dear to you? This I think: that in all your motions and actions you be moved, and restrained according to your own true natural constitution and Construction only. And to this even ordinary arts and professions do lead us. For it is that which every are does aim at, that whatever it is, that is by are effected and prepared, may be fit for that work that it is prepared for. This is the end that he that dresses the vine, and he that takes upon him either to tame colts, or to train up dogs, does aim at. What else does the education of children, and all learned professions tend to? Certainly then it is that, which should be dear to us also. If in this particular it go well with you, care not for the obtaining of other things. But is it so, that you can not but respect other things also? Then can not you truly be free? then can you not have self-content: then will you ever be subject to strong emotions. For it is not possible, but that you must be envious, and jealous, and suspicious of them whom you know can bereave you of such things; and again, a secret underminer of them, whom you see in present possession of that which is dear to you. To be short, he must of necessity be full of confusion within himself, and often accuse the Gods, whosoever stands in need of these things. But if you shall honor and respect your mind only, that will make you acceptable towards yourself, towards your friends very tractable; and conformable and concordant with the Gods; that is, accepting with praises whatever they shall think good to appoint and allot to you.

Under, above, and about, are the motions of the elements; but the motion of virtue, is none of those motions, but is somewhat more excellent and divine. Whose way (to speed and prosper in it) must be through a way, that is not easily comprehended.

Who can choose but wonder at them?22 They will not speak well of them that are at the same time with them, and live with them; yet they themselves are very ambitious, that they that shall follow, whom they have never seen, nor shall ever see, should speak well of them. As if a man should grieve that he has not been commended by them, that lived before him.

Do not ever conceive anything impossible to man, which by you cannot, or not without much difficulty be effected; but whatever in general you can Conceive possible and proper to any man, think that very possible to you also.

Suppose that at the palestra somebody has all totorn you with his nails, and has broken your head. Well, you are wounded. Yet you do not exclaim; you are not offended with him. You do not suspect him for it afterwards, as one that watches to do you a mischief. Yes even then, though you do your best to save yourself from him, yet not from him as an enemy. It is not by way of any suspicious indignation, but by way of gentle and friendly declination. Keep the same mind and disposition in other parts of your life also. For many things there be, which we must idea and apprehend, as though we had had to do with an antagonist at the palestra. For as I said, it is very possible for us to avoid and decline, though we neither suspect, nor hate.

If anybody shall reprove me, and shall make it apparent to me, that in any either opinion or action of mine I do err, I will most gladly retract. For it is the truth that I seek after, by which I am sure that never any man was hurt; and as sure, that he is hurt that continues in any error, or ignorance whatever.

I for my part will do what belongs to me; as for other things, whether things insensitive or things irrational; or if rational, yet deceived and ignorant of the true way, they shall not trouble or distract me. For as for those creatures which are not endued with reason and all other things and matters of the world whatever I freely, and generously, as one endued with reason, of things that have none, make use of them. And as for men, towards them as naturally partakers of the same reason, my care is to carry myself sociably. But whatever it is that you are about, remember to call upon the Gods. And as for the time how long you shall live to do these things, let it be altogether indifferent to you, for even three such hours are sufficient.

Alexander of Macedon, and he that dressed his mules, when once dead both came to one. For either they were both resumed into those original rational essences from from where all things in the world are propagated; or both after one fashion were scattered into atoms.

XXIII. Consider how many different things, whether they concern our bodies, or our souls, in a moment of time come to pass in every one of us, and so you will not wonder if many more things or rather all things that are done, can at one time subsist, and coexist in that both one and general, which we call the world. if any should put this question to you, how this word Antoninus is written, would you not presently fix your intention upon it, and utter out in order every letter of it? And if any shall begin to gainsay you, and quarrel with you about it; will you quarrel with him again, or rather go on meekly as you have begun, until you have numbered out every letter? Here then likewise remember, that every duty that belongs to a man does consist of some certain letters or numbers as it were, to which without any noise or tumult keeping yourself you must orderly proceed to your proposed end, forbearing to quarrel with him that would quarrel and fall out with you.

Is it not a cruel thing to forbid men to affect those things, which they conceive to agree best with their own natures, and to tend most to their own proper good and behoof? But you after a sort deniest them this liberty, as often as you are angry with them for their sins. For surely they are led to those sins whatever they be, as to their proper good and commodity. But it is not so (you will object perhaps). You therefore teach them better, and make it appear to them: but be not you angry with them.

Death is a cessation from the impression of the senses, the tyranny of the strong emotions, the errors of the mind, and the servitude of the body.

If in this kind of life your body be able to hold out, it is a shame that your soul should faint first, and give over. take heed, lest of a philosopher you become a mere Caesar in time, and receive a new tincture from the court. For it may happen if you do not take heed. Keep yourself therefore, truly simple, good, sincere, serious, free from all showing off, a lover of that which is just, religious, kind, tender-hearted, strong and vigorous to undergo anything that becomes you. Endeavor to continue such, as philosophy (had you wholly and constantly applied yourself to it) would have made, and secured you. Worship the Gods, procure the welfare of men, this life is short. Kind actions, and a holy disposition, is the only fruit of this earthly life.

Do all things as becoms the disciple of Antoninus Pius. Remember his resolute constancy in things that were done by him according to reason, his equability in all things, his sanctity; the cheerfulness of his countenance, his sweetness, and how free he was from all vanity; how careful to come to the true and exact knowledge of matters in hand, and how he would not at all give over till he did fully, and plainly understand the whole state of the business; and how patiently, and without any contestation he would bear with them, that did unjustly condemn him: how he would never be over-hasty in anything, nor give ear to slanders and false accusations, but examine and observe with best diligence the several actions and dispositions of men. Again, how he was no backbiter, nor easily frightened, nor suspicious, and in his language free from all affectation and curiosity: and how easily he would content himself with few things, as lodging, bedding, clothing, and ordinary nourishment, and attendance. How able to endure labor, how patient; able through his simple diet to continue from morning to evening without any necessity of withdrawing before his accustomed hours to the necessities of nature: his uniformity and constancy in matter of friendship. How he would bear with them that with all boldness and liberty opposed his opinions; and even rejoice if any man could better advise him: and lastly, how religious he was without superstition. All these things of him remember, that whenever your last hour shall come upon you, it may find you, as it did him, ready for it in the possession of a good conscience.

Stir up your mind, and recall your wits again from your natural dreams, and visions, and when you are perfectly awoken, and can perceive that they were but dreams that troubled you, as one newly awakened out of another kind of sleep look upon these external things with the same mind as you did upon those, that you sawest in your sleep.

I consist of body and soul. To my body all things are indifferent, for of itself it cannot affect one thing more than another with apprehension of any difference; as for my mind, all things which are not within the verge of her own operation, are indifferent to her, and for her own operations, those altogether depend of her; neither does she busy herself about any, but those that are present; for as for future and past operations, those also are now at this present indifferent to her.

As long as the foot does that which belongs to it to do, and the hand that which belongs to it, their labor, whatever it be, is not unnatural. So a man as long as he does that which is proper to a man, his labor cannot be against nature; and if it be not against nature, then neither is it hurtful to him. But if it were so that happiness did consist in pleasure: how came notorious robbers, impure abominable livers, parricides, and tyrants, in so large a measure to have their part of pleasures?

Do you not see, how even those that profess mechanic arts, though in some respect they be no better than mere idiots, yet they stick close to the course of their trade, neither can they find in their heart to decline from it: and is it not a grievous thing that an architect, or a physician shall respect the course and mysteries of their profession, more than a man the proper course and condition of his own nature, reason, which is common to him and to the Gods?

Asia, Europe; what are they, but as corners of the whole world; of which the whole sea, is but as one drop; and the great Mount Athos, but as a clod, as all present time is but as one point of eternity. All, petty things; all things that are soon altered, soon perished. And all things come from one beginning; either all severally and particularly deliberated and resolved upon, by the general ruler and governor of all; or all by necessary consequence. So that the dreadful hiatus of a gaping lion, and all poison, and all hurtful things, are but (as the thorn and the mire) the necessary consequences of goodly fair things. Think not of these therefore, as things contrary to those which you do much honor, and respect; but consider in your mind. the true fountain of all.

XXXIV. He that seeth the things that are now, has Seen all that either was ever, or ever shall be, for all things are of one kind; and all like one to another. Meditate often upon the connection of all things in the world; and upon the mutual relation that they have one to another. For all things are after a sort folded and involved one within another, and by these means all agree well together. For one thing is consequent to another, by local motion, by natural conspiration and agreement, and by substantial union, or, reduction of all substances into one.

Fit and accommodate yourself to that estate and to those occurrences, which by the destinies have been annexed to you; and love those men whom your fate it is to live with; but love them truly. An instrument, a tool, an utensil, whatever it be, if it be fit for the purpose it was made for, it is as it should be though he perhaps that made and fitted it, be out of sight and gone. But in things natural, that power which has framed and fitted them, is and abids within them still: for which reason she ought also the more to be respected, and we are the more obliged (if we may live and pass our time according to her purpose and intention) to think that all is well with us, and according to our own minds. After this manner also, and in this respect it is, that he that is all in all does enjoy his happiness.

What things soever are not within the proper power and jurisdiction of your own will either to compass or avoid, if you shall propose to yourself any of those things as either good, or evil; it must needs be that according as you shall either fall into that which you do think evil, or miss of that which you do think good, so will you be ready both to complain of the Gods, and to hate those men, who either shall be so indeed, or shall by you be suspected as the cause either of your missing of the one, or falling into the other. And indeed we must needs commit many evils, if we incline to any of these things, more or less, with an opinion of any difference. But if we mind and fancy those things only, as good and bad, which wholly depend of our own wills, there is no more occasion why we should either murmur against the Gods, or be at enmity with any man.

We all work to one effect, some willingly, and with a rational apprehension of what we do: others without any such knowledge. As I think Heraclitus in a place speaks of them that sleep, that even they do work in their kind, and do confer to the general operations of the world. One man therefore does co-operate after one sort, and another after another sort; but even he that does murmur, and to his power does resist and hinder; even he as much as any does co-operate. For of such also did the world stand in need. Now do you consider among which of these you will rank yourself. For as for him who is the Administrator of all, he will make good use of you whether you will or no, and make you (as a part and member of the whole) so to co-operate with him, that whatever you do, shall turn to the furtherance of his own counsels, and resolutions. But be not you for shame such a part of the whole, as that low and ridiculous verse (which Chrysippus in a place does mention) is a part of the comedy.

Does either the sun take upon him to do that which belongs to the rain? or his son Aesculapius that, which to the earth does properly belong? How is it with every one of the stars in particular? Though they all differ one from another, and have their several charges and functions by themselves, do they not all nevertheless concur and co-operate to one end?

If so be that the Gods have deliberated in particular of those things that should happen to me, I must stand to their deliberation, as discrete and wise. For that a God should be an imprudent God, is a thing hard even to conceive: and why should they resolve to do me hurt? for what profit either to them or the universe (which they specially take care for) could arise from it? But if so be that they have not deliberated of me in particular, certainly they have of the whole in general, and those things which in consequence and coherence of this general deliberation happen to me in particular, I am bound to embrace and accept of. But if so be that they have not deliberated at all (which indeed is very irreligious for any man to believe: for then let us neither sacrifice, nor pray, nor respect our oaths, neither let us any more use any of those things, which we persuaded of the presence and secret conversation of the Gods among us, daily use and practise): but, I say, if so be that they have not indeed either in general, or particular deliberated of any of those things, that happen to us in this world; yet God be thanked, that of those things that concern myself, it is lawful for me to deliberate myself, and all my deliberation is but about that which may be to me most beneficial. Now that to every one is most beneficial, which is according to his own constitution and nature. And my nature is, to be rational in all my actions and as a good, and natural member of a city and commonwealth, towards my fellow members ever to be sociably and kindly disposed and affected. My city and country as I am Antoninus, is Rome; as a man, the whole world. Those things therefore that are useful and beneficial to those cities, are the only things that are good and useful for me.

XL. Whatever in any kind does happen to any one, is useful to the whole. And this much to content us might suffice, that it is useful for the whole in general. But yet this also shall you generally perceive, if you do diligently take heed, that whatever does happen to any one man or men.... 24 And now I am content that the word useful, should more generally be understood of those things which we otherwise call middle things, or things indifferent; as health, wealth, and the like.

XLI. As the ordinary shows of the theater and of other such places, when you are presented with them, affect you; as the same things still seen, and in the same fashion, make the sight ingrateful and tedious; so must all the things that we see all our life long affect us. For all things, above and below, are still the same, and from the same causes. When then will there be an end?

XLII. Let the several deaths of men of all sorts, and of all sorts of professions, and of all sort of nations, be a continual object of your thoughts,... 25 so that you may even come down to Philistio, Phoebus, and Origanion. Pass now to other generations. There shall we after many changes, where so many brave orators are; where so many serious philosophers; Heraclitus, Pythagoras, Socrates. Where so many heroes of the old times; and then so many brave captains of the latter times; and so many kings. After all these, where Eudoxus, Hipparchus, Archimedes; where so many other sharp, generous, industrious, subtile, peremptory dispositions; and among others, even they, that have been the greatest scoffers and deriders of the frailty and brevity of this our human life; as Menippus, and others, as many as there have been such as he. Of all these consider, that they long since are all dead, and gone. And what do they suffer by it! No they that have not so much as a name remaining, what are they the worse for it? One thing there is, and that only, which is worth our while in this world, and ought by us much to be esteemed; and that is, according to truth and righteousness, meekly and lovingly to converse with false, and unrighteous men.

XLIII. When you will comfort and cheer yourself, call to mind the several gifts and virtues of them, whom you do daily converse with; as for example, the industry of the one; the modesty of another; the liberality of a third; of another some other thing. For nothing can so much rejoice you, as the resemblances and parallels of several virtues, visible and eminent in the dispositions of those who live with you; especially when, all at once, as near as may be, they represent themselves to you. And therefore you must have them always in a readiness.

XLIV. Do you grieve that you do weigh but so many pounds, and not three hundred rather? Just as much reason have you to grieve that you must live but so many years, and not longer. For as for bulk and substance you do content yourself with that proportion of it that is allotted to you, so should you for time.

XLV. Let us do our best endeavours to persuade them; but however, if reason and justice lead you to it, do it, though they be never so much against it. But if any shall by force withstand you, and hinder you in it, convert your virtuous inclination from one object to another, from justice to contented equanimity, and cheerful patience: so that what in the one is your hindrance, you may make use of it for the exercise of another virtue: and remember that it was with due exception, and reservation, that you did at first incline and desire. For you did not set your mind upon things impossible. Upon what then? that all your desires might ever be moderated with this due kind of reservation. And this you have, and may always obtain, whether the thing desired be in your power or no. And what do I care for more, if that for which I was born and brought forth into the world (to rule all my desires with reason and discretion) may be?

XLVI. The ambitious supposes another man's act, praise and applause, to be his own happiness; the self-indulgent his own sense and feeling; but he that is wise, his own action.

XLVII. It is in your power absolutely to exclude all manner of idea and opinion, as about this matter; and by the same means, to exclude all grief and sorrow from your soul. For as for the things and objects themselves, they of themselves have no such power, whereby to beget and force upon us any opinion at all.

XLVIII. Use yourself when any man speaks to you, so to hearken to him, as that in the interim you give not way to any other thoughts; that so you may (as far as is possible) seem fixed and fastened to his very soul, whosoever he be that speaks to you.

XLIX. That which is not good for the bee-hive, cannot be good for the bee.

L. Will either passengers, or patients, find fault and complain, either the one if they be well carried, or the others if well cured? Do they take care for any more than this; the one, that their shipmaster may bring them safe to land, and the other, that their physician may effect their recovery?

LI. How many of them who came into the world at the same time when I did, are already gone out of it?

LII. To them that are sick of the jaundice, honey seems bitter; and to them that are bitten by a mad dog, the water terrible; and to children, a little ball seems a fine thing. And why then should I be angry? or do I think that error and false opinion is less powerful to make men transgress, than either choler, being immoderate and excessive, to cause the jaundice; or poison, to cause rage?

LIII. No man can hinder you to live as your nature does require. Nothing can happen to you, but what the common good of nature does require.

LIV. What manner of men they be whom they seek to please, and what to get, and by what actions: how soon time will cover and bury all things, and how many it has already buried!

Book VII

WHAT IS WICKEDNESS? It is that which many time and often you have already seen and known in the world. And so oft as anything does happen that might otherwise trouble you, let this memento presently come to your mind, that it is that which you have already often Seen and known. Generally, above and below, you shall find but the same things. The very same things of which ancient stories, middle age stories, and fresh stories are full of which towns are full, and houses full. There is nothing that is new. All things that are, are both usual and of little continuance.

II. What fear is there that your principles, or philosophical resolutions and conclusions, should become dead in you, and lose their proper power and efficacy to make you live happy, as long as those proper and correlative impressions, and representations of things on which they mutually depend (which continually to stir up and revive is in your power), are still kept fresh and alive? It is in my power about this thing that is happened, what soever it be, to idea that which is right and true. If it be, why then am I troubled? Those things that are without my understanding, are nothing to it at all: and that is it only, which does properly concern me. Be always in this mind, and you will be right.

III. That which most men would think themselves most happy for, and would prefer before all things, if the Gods would grant it to them after their deaths, you may while you livest grant to yourself; to live again. See the things of the world again, as you have already seen them. For what is it else to live again? Public shows and solemnities with much pomp and vanity, stage plays, flocks and herds; conflicts and contentions: a bone thrown to a company of hungry curs; a bait for greedy fishes; the painfulness, and continual burden-bearing of wretched ants, the running to and fro of terrified mice: little puppets drawn up and down with wires and nerves: these be the objects of the world. among all these you must stand steadfast, meekly affected, and free from all manner of indignation; with this right ratiocination and apprehension; that as the worth is of those things which a man does affect, so is in very deed every man's worth more or less.

Word after word, every one by itself, must the things that are spoken be conceived and understood; and so the things that are done, purpose after purpose, every one by itself likewise. And as in matter of purposes and actions, we must presently see what is the proper use and relation of every one; so of words must we be as ready, to consider of every one what is the true meaning, and signification of it according to truth and nature, however it be taken in common use.

Is my reason, and understanding sufficient for this, or no? If it be sufficient, without any private applause, or public showing off as of an instrument, which by nature I am provided of, I will make use of it for the work in hand, as of an instrument, which by nature I am provided of. if it be not, and that otherwise it belong not to me particularly as a private duty, I will either give it over, and leave it to some other that can better effect it: or I will endeavor it; but with the help of some other, who with the joint help of my reason, is able to bring somewhat to pass, that will now be seasonable and useful for the common good. For whatever I do either by myself, or with some other, the only thing that I must intend, is, that it be good and useful for the public. For as for praise, consider how many who once were much commended, are now already quite forgotten, yes they that commended them, how even they themselves are long since dead and gone. Be not therefore ashamed, whenever you must use the help of others. For whatever it be that lies upon you to effect, you must propose it to yourself, as the scaling of walls is to a soldier. And what if you through either lameness or some other impediment are not able to reach to the top of the battlements alone, which with the help of another you may; will you therefore give it over, or go about it with less courage and alacrity. because you can not effect it all alone?

Let not things future trouble you. For if necessity so require that they come to pass, you shall (whenever that is) be provided for them with the same reason, by which whatever is now present, is made both tolerable and acceptable to you. All things are linked and knitted together, and the knot is sacred, neither is there anything in the world, that is not kind and natural in regard of any other thing, or, that has not some kind of reference and natural correspondence with whatever is in the world besides. For all things are ranked together, and by that decency of its due place and order that each particular does observe, they all concur together to the making of one and the same κόσμος or world: as if you said, a comely piece, or an orderly composition. For all things throughout, there is but one and the same order; and through all things, one and the same God, the same substance and the same law. There is one common reason, and one common truth, that belongs to all reasonable creatures, for neither is there save one perfection of all creatures that are of the same kind, and partakers of the same reason.

Whatever is material, does soon vanish away into the common substance of the whole; and whatever is formal, or, whatever does animate that which is material, is soon resumed into the common reason of the whole; and the fame and memory of anything, is soon swallowed up by the general age and duration of the whole.

To a reasonable creature, the same action is both according to nature, and according to reason.

Straight of itself, not made straight.

As several members in one body united, so are reasonable creatures in a body divided and dispersed, all made and prepared for one common operation. And this you shall apprehend the better, if you shall use yourself often to say to yourself, I am μέλος, or a member of the mass and body of reasonable substances. But if you shall say I am μέρος, or a part, you do not yet love men from your heart. The joy that you takest in the exercise of generosity, is not yet grounded upon a due ratiocination and right apprehension of the nature of things. You do exercise it as yet upon this ground barely, as a thing convenient and fitting; not, as doing good to yourself, when you do good to others.

Of things that are external, happen what will to that which can suffer by external accidents. Those things that suffer let them complain themselves, if they will; as for me, as long as I conceive no such thing, that that which is happened is evil, I have no hurt; and it is in my power not to conceive any such thing.

Whatever any man either does or says, you must be good; not for any man's sake, but for your own nature's sake; as if either gold, or the emerald, or purple, should ever be saying to themselves, Whatever any man either does or says, I must still be an emerald, and I must keep my color.

This may ever be my comfort and security: my understanding, that ruleth over all, will not of itself bring trouble and vexation upon itself. This I say; it will not put itself in any fear, it will not lead itself into any craving. If it be in the power of any other to compel it to fear, or to grieve, it is free for him to use his power. But sure if itself do not of itself, through some false opinion or supposition incline itself to any such disposition; there is no fear. For as for the body, why should I make the grief of my body, to be the grief of my mind? If that itself can either fear or complain, let it. But as for the soul, which indeed, can only be truly sensible of either fear or grief; to which only it belongs according to its different imaginings and opinions, to admit of either of these, or of their contraries; you may look to that yourself, that it suffer nothing. Induce her not to any such opinion or persuasion. The understanding is of itself sufficient to itself, and needs not (if itself does not bring itself to need) any other thing besides itself, and by consequent as it needs nothing, so neither can it be troubled or hindered by anything, if itself does not trouble and hinder itself.

What is ευδαιμονία, or happiness: but αγαθός δαίμων, or, a good dæmon, or spirit? What then do you do here, O opinion? By the Gods I adjure you, that you leave, as you earnest: for I need you not. You earnest indeed to me according to your ancient wonted manner. It is that, that all men have ever been subject to. That you camest therefore I am not angry with you, only begone, now that I have found you what you are.

Is any man so foolish as to fear change, to which all things that once were not owe their being? And what is it, that is more pleasing and more familiar to the nature of the universe? How could you yourself use your ordinary hot baths, should not the wood that heats them first be changed? How could you receive any nourishment from those things that you have eaten, if they should not be changed? Can anything else almost (that is useful and beneficial) be brought to pass without change? How then do not you perceive, that for you also, by death, to come to change, is a thing of the very same nature, and as necessary for the nature of the universe?

Through the substance of the universe, as through a torrent pass all particular bodies, being all of the same nature, and all joint workers with the universe itself as in one of our bodies so many members among themselves. How many such as Chrysippus, how many such as Socrates, how many such as Epictetus, has the age of the world long since swallowed up and devoured? Let this, be it either men or businesses, that you have occasion to think of, to the end that your thoughts be not distracted and your mind too earnestly set upon anything, upon every such occasion presently come to your mind. Of all my thoughts and cares, one only thing shall be the object, that I myself do nothing which to the proper constitution of man, (either in regard of the thing itself, or in regard of the manner, or of the time of doing), is contrary. The time when you shall have forgotten all things, is at hand. And that time also is at hand, when you yourself shall be forgotten by all. While you are, apply yourself to that especially which to man as he is a mart, is most proper and agreeable, and that is, for a man even to love them that transgress against him. This shall be, if at the same time that any such thing does happen, you call to mind, that they are your kinsmen; that it is through ignorance and against their wills that they sin; and that within a very short while after, both you and he shall be no more. But above all things, that he has not done you any hurt; for that by him your mind and understanding is not made worse or more low than it was before.

The nature of the universe, of the common substance of all things as it were of so much wax has now perhaps formed a horse; and then, destroying that figure, has new tempered and fashioned the matter of it into the form and substance of a tree: then that again into the form and substance of a man: and then that again into some other. Now every one of these does subsist but for a very little while. As for dissolution, if it be no grievous thing to the chest or trunk, to be joined together; why should it be more grievous to be put asunder?

An angry countenance is much against nature, and it is oftentimes the proper countenance of them that are at the point of death. But were it so, that all anger and passion were so thoroughly quenched in you, that it were altogether impossible to kindle it any more, yet here must not you rest satisfied, but further endeavor by good consequence of true ratiocination, perfectly to conceive and understand, that all anger and passion is against reason. For if you shall not be sensible of your innocence; if that also shall be gone from you, the comfort of a good conscience, that you do all things according to reason: what should you live any longer for? All things that now you see, are but for a moment. That nature, by which all things in the world are administered, will soon bring change and alteration upon them, and then of their substances make other things like to them: and then soon after others again of the matter and substance of these: that so by these means, the world may still appear fresh and new.

Whenever any man does trespass against other, presently consider with yourself what it was that he did suppose to be good, what to be evil, when he did trespass. For this when you know, you will pity him you will have no occasion either to wonder, or to be angry. For either you yourself do yet live in that error and ignorance, as that you do suppose either that very thing that he does, or some other like external thing, to be good; and so you are bound to pardon him if he have done that which you in the like case would have done yourself. Or if so be that you do not any more suppose the same things to be good or evil, that he does; how can you but be gentle to him that is in an error?

Fancy not to yourself things future, as though they were present but of those that are present, take some aside, that you takest most benefit of, and consider of them particularly, how wonderfully you would want them, if they were not present. But take heed also, lest that while you do settle your contentment in things present, you grow in time so to overprize them, as that the want of them (whenever it shall so fall out) should be a trouble and a vexation to you. Wind up yourself into yourself. Such is the nature of your reasonable commanding part, as that if it exercise justice, and have by that means tranquillity within itself, it does rest fully satisfied with itself without any other thing.

Wipe off all opinion stay the force and violence of unreasonable desires and emotions: circumscribe the present time examine whatever it be that is happened, either to yourself or to another: divide all present objects, either in that which is formal or material think of the last hour. That which your neighbor has committed, where the guilt of it lies, there let it rest. Examine in order whatever is spoken. Let your mind penetrate both into the effects, and into the causes. Rejoice yourself with true simplicity, and modesty; and that all middle things between virtue and vice are indifferent to you. Finally, love mankind; obey God.

All things (says he) are by certain order and appointment. And what if the elements only.... It will suffice to remember, that all things in general are by certain order and appointment: or if it be but few.... 28 And as about death, that either dispersion, or the atoms, or annihilation, or extinction, or translation will ensue. And as about pain, that that which is intolerable is soon ended by death; and that which holds long must needs be tolerable; and that the mind in the meantime (which is all in all) may by way of interclusion, or interception, by stopping all manner of commerce and sympathy with the body, still retain its own tranquillity. Your understanding is not made worse by it. As for those parts that suffer, let them, if they can, declare their grief themselves. As for praise and commendation, view their mind and understanding, what estate they are in; what kind of things they fly, and what things they seek after: and that as in the seaside, whatever was before to be seen, is by the continual succession of new heaps of sand cast up one upon another, soon hid and covered; so in this life, all former things by those which immediately succeed.

Out of Plato. "He then whose mind is endowed with true magnanimity, who has accustomed himself to the contemplation both of all times, and of all things in general; can this mortal life (think you) seem any great matter to him? It is not possible, answered he. Then neither will such a one account death a grievous thing? By no means."

Out of Antisthenes. "It is a princely thing to do well, and to be ill-spoken of. It is a shameful thing that the face should be subject to the mind, to be put into what shape it will, and to be dressed by it as it will; and that the mind should not bestow so much care upon herself, as to fashion herself, and to dress herself as best becoms her."

Out of several poets and comics. "It will but little avail you, to turn your anger and indignation upon the things themselves that have fallen across to you. For as for them, they are not sensible of it, &c. You shall but make yourself a laughingstock; both to the Gods and men, &c. Our life is reaped like a ripe ear of corn; one is yet standing and another is down, &c. But if so be that I and my children be neglected by the gods, there is some reason even for that, &c. As long as right and equity is of my side, &c. Not to lament with them, not to tremble, &c"

Out of Plato. "My answer, full of justice and equity, should be this: Your speech is not right, O man! if you supposest that he that is of any worth at all, should apprehend either life or death, as a matter of great hazard and danger; and should not make this rather his only care, to examine his own actions, whether just or unjust: whether actions of a good, or of a wicked man, &c. For thus in very truth stands the case, O ye men of Athens. What place or station soever a man either has chosen to himself, judging it best for himself; or is by lawful authority put and settled in, in it do I think (all appearance of danger notwithstanding) that he should continue, as one who fears neither death, nor anything else, so much as he fears to commit anything that is vicious and shameful, &c. But, O noble sir, consider I pray, whether true generosity and true happiness, do not consist in somewhat else rather, than in the preservation either of our, or other men's lives. For it is not the part of a man that is a man indeed, to desire to live long or to make much of his life while he lives: but rather (he that is such) will in these things wholly refer himself to the Gods, and believing that which every woman can tell him, that no man can escape death; the only thing that he takes thought and care for is this, that what time he lives, he may live as well and as virtuously as he can possibly, &c. To look about, and with the eyes to follow the course of the stars and planets as though you would run with them; and to mind perpetually the several changes of the elements one into another. For such impressions and imaginings, help much to purge away the dross and filth of this our earthly life," &c. That also is a fine passage of Plato's, where he speaks of external things in these words: "You must also as from some higher place look down, as it were, upon the things of this world, as flocks, armies, husbandmen's labours, marriages, divorces, generations, deaths: the tumults of courts and places of judicatures; desert places; the several nations of barbarians, public festivals, mournings, fairs, markets." How all things upon earth are pell-mell; and how miraculously things contrary one to another, concur to the beauty and perfection of this universe.

To look back upon things of former ages, as upon the manifold changes and conversions of several monarchies and commonwealths. We may also foresee things future, for they shall all be of the same kind; neither is it possible that they should leave the tune, or break the concert that is now begun, as it were, by these things that are now done and brought to pass in the world. It comes all to one therefore, whether a man be a spectator of the things of this life but forty years, or whether he see them ten thousand years together: for what shall he see more? "And as for those parts that came from the earth, they shall return to the earth again; and those that came from heaven, they also shall return to those heavenly places." Whether it be a mere dissolution and unbinding of the manifold intricacies and entanglements of the confused atoms; or some such dispersion of the simple and incorruptible elements... "With meats and drinks and divers charms, they seek to divert the channel, that they might not die. Yet must we needs endure that blast of wind that comes from above, though we toil and labor never so much."

He has a stronger body, and is a better wrestler than I. - What then? Is he more generous? Is he more modest? Does he bear all adverse chances with more equanimity: or with his neighbor's offences with more gentleness and gentleness than I?

Where the matter may be effected agreeably to that reason, which both to the Gods and men is common, there can be no just cause of grief or sorrow. For where the fruit and benefit of an action well begun and prosecuted according to the proper constitution of man may be reaped and obtained, or is sure and certain, it is against reason that any damage should there be suspected. In all places, and at all times, it is in your power religiously to embrace whatever by God's appointment is happened to you, and justly to converse with those men, whom you have to do with, and accurately to examine every fancy that presents itself, that nothing may slip and steal in, before you have rightly apprehended the true nature of it.

Look not about upon other men's minds and understandings; but look right on forwards whither nature, both that of the universe, in those things that happen to you; and your in particular, in those things that are done by you: does lead, and direct you. Now every one is bound to do that, which is consequent and agreeable to that end which by his true natural constitution he was ordained to. As for all other things, they are ordained for the use of reasonable creatures: as in all things we see that that which is worse and inferior, is made for that which is better. Reasonable creatures, they are ordained one for another. That therefore which is chief in every man's constitution, is, that he intend the common good. The second is, that he yield not to any desires and motions of the flesh. For it is the part and privilege of the reasonable and intellective faculty, that she can so bound herself, as that neither the sensitive, nor the appetitive faculties, may not anyways prevail upon her. For both these are brutish. And therefore over both she challenges mastery, and cannot anyways endure, if in her right temper, to be subject to either. And this indeed most justly. For by nature she was ordained to command all in the body. The third thing proper to man by his constitution, is, to avoid all rashness and precipitancy; and not to be subject to error. To these things then, let the mind apply herself and go straight on, without any distraction about other things, and she has her end, and by consequent her happiness.

As one who had lived, and were now to die by right, whatever is yet remaining, bestow that wholly as a gracious overplus upon a virtuous life. Love and affect that only, whatever it be that happens, and is by fate appointed to you. For what can be more reasonable? And as anything does happen to you by way of cross, or calamity, call to mind presently and set before your eyes, the examples of some other men, to whom the self-same thing did once happen likewise. Well, what did they? They grieved; they wondered; they complained. And where are they now? All dead and gone. Will you also be like one of them? Or rather leaving to men of the world (whose life both in regard of themselves, and them that they converse with, is nothing but mere mutability; or men of as fickle minds, as fickle bodies; ever changing and soon changed themselves: let it be your only care and study, how to make a right use of all such accidents. For there is good use to be made of them, and they will prove fit matter for you to work upon, if it shall be both your care and your desire, that whatever you do, you yourself may like and approve yourself for it. And both these, see, that you remember well, according as the diversity of the matter of the action that you are about shall require. Look within; within is the fountain of all good. Such a fountain, where springing waters can never fail, so you dig still deeper and deeper.

You must use yourself also to keep your body fixed and steady; free from all loose fluctuant either motion, or posture. And as upon your face and looks, your mind has easily power over them to keep them to that which is serious and decent; so let it challenge the same power over the whole body also. But so observe all things in this kind, as that it be without any manner of affectation.

The are of true living in this world is more like a wrestler's, than a dancer's practice. For in this they both agree, to teach a man whatever falls upon him, that he may be ready for it, and that nothing may cast him down.

You must continually ponder and consider with yourself, what manner of men they be, and for their minds and understandings what is their present estate, whose good word and testimony you do desire. For then neither will you see cause to complain of them that offend against their wills; or find any want of their applause, if once you do but penetrate into the true force and ground both of their opinions, and of their desires. "No soul (says he) is willingly bereft of the truth," and by consequent, neither of justice, or temperance, or kindness, and mildness; nor of anything that is of the same kind. It is most needful that you should always remember this. For so shall you be far more gentle and moderate towards all men.

What pain soever you are in, let this presently come to your mind, that it is not a thing of which you needest to be ashamed, neither is it a thing whereby your understanding, that has the government of all, can be made worse. For neither in regard of the substance of it, nor in regard of the end of it (which is, to intend the common good) can it alter and corrupt it. This also of Epicurus may you in most pains find some help of, that it is "neither intolerable, nor eternal"; so you keep yourself to the true bounds and limits of reason and give not way to opinion. This also you must consider, that many things there be, which oftentimes unsensibly trouble and vex you, as not armed against them with patience, because they go not ordinarily under the name of pains, which in very deed are of the same nature as pain; as to slumber unquietly, to suffer heat, to want appetite: when therefore any of these things make you discontented, check yourself with these words: Now has pain given you the foil; your courage has failed you.

Take heed lest at any time you stand so affected, though towards unnatural evil men, as ordinary men are usually one towards another.

How know we whether Socrates were so eminent indeed, and of so extraordinary a disposition? For that he died more gloriously, that he disputed with the Sophists more subtilly; that he watched in the frost 35 more assiduously; that being commanded to fetch innocent Salaminius, he refused to do it more generously; all this will not serve. Nor that he walked in the streets, with much seriousness and majesty, as was objected to him by his adversaries: which nevertheless a man may well doubt of, whether it were so or no, or, which above all the rest, if so be that it were true, a man would well consider of, whether commendable, or discommendable. The thing therefore that we must inquire into, is this; what manner of soul Socrates had: whether his disposition was such; as that all that he stood upon, and sought after in this world, was barely this, that he might ever carry himself justly towards men, and holily towards the Gods. Neither vexing himself to no purpose at the wickedness of others, nor yet ever condescending to any man's evil fact, or evil intentions, through either fear, or engagement of friendship. Whether of those things that happened to him by God's appointment, he neither did wonder at any when it did happen, or thought it intolerable in the trial of it. And lastly, whether he never did suffer his mind to sympathise with the senses, and emotions of the body. For we must not think that Nature has so mixed and tempered it with the body, as that she has not power to circumscribe herself, and by herself to intend her own ends and occasions.

For it is a thing very possible, that a man should be a very divine man, and yet be altogether unknown. This you must ever be mindful of, as of this also, that a man's true happiness does consist in very few things. And that although you do despair, that you shall ever be a good either logician, or naturalist, yet you are never the further off by it from being either liberal, or modest, or kind, or obedient to God.

Free from all compulsion in all cheerfulness and alacrity you may run out your time, though men should exclaim against you never so much, and the wild beasts should pull in sunder the poor members of your pampered mass of flesh. For what in either of these or the like cases should hinder the mind to retain her own rest and tranquillity, consisting both in the right judgment of those things that happen to her, and in the ready use of all present matters and occasions? So that her judgment may say, to that which is befallen her by way of cross: this you are in very deed, and according to your true nature: notwithstanding that in the judgment of opinion you do appear otherwise: and her discretion to the present object; you are that, which I sought for. For whatever it be, that is now present, shall ever be embraced by me as a fit and seasonable object, both for my reasonable faculty, and for my sociable, or kind inclination to work upon. And that which is principal in this matter, is that it may be referred either to the praise of God, or to the good of men. For either to God or man, whatever it is that does happen in the world has in the ordinary course of nature its proper reference; neither is there anything, that in regard of nature is either new, or reluctant and intractable, but all things both usual and easy.

XL. Then has a man attained to the estate of perfection in his life and conversation, when he so spends every day, as if it were his last day: never hot and vehement in his emotions, nor yet so cold and stupid as one that had no sense; and free from all manner of dissimulation.

XLI. Can the Gods, who are immortal, for the continuance of so many ages bear without indignation with such and so many sinners, as have ever been, yes not only so, but also take such care for them, that they want nothing; and do you so grievously take on, as one that could bear with them no longer; you that are but for a moment of time? yes you that are one of those sinners yourself? A very ridiculous thing it is, that any man should dispense with vice and wickedness in himself, which is in his power to restrain; and should go about to suppress it in others, which is altogether impossible.

XLII. What object soever, our reasonable and sociable faculty does meet with, that affords nothing either for the satisfaction of reason, or for the practice of kindness, she worthily does think unworthy of herself.

XLIII. When you have done well, and another is benefited by your action, must you like a very fool look for a third thing besides, as that it may appear to others also that you have done well, or that you may in time, receive one good turn for another? No man useth to be weary of that which is beneficial to him. But every action according to nature, is beneficial. Be not weary then of doing that which is beneficial to you, while it is so to others.

XLIV. The nature of the universe did once certainly before it was created, whatever it has done since, deliberate and so resolve upon the creation of the world. Now since that time, whatever it is, that is and happens in the world, is either but a consequent of that one and first deliberation: or if so be that this ruling rational part of the world, takes any thought and care of things particular, they are surely his reasonable and principal creatures, that are the proper object of his particular care and providence. This often thought upon, will much contribute to your tranquillity.

Book VIII

THIS ALSO, among other things, may serve to keep you from vanity; if you shall consider, that you are now altogether incapable of the commendation of one, who all his life long, or from his youth at least, has lived a philosopher's life. For both to others, and to yourself especially, it is well known, that you have done many things contrary to that perfection of life. You have therefore been confounded in your course, and from now on it will be hard for you to recover the title and credit of a philosopher. And to it also is your calling and profession repugnant. If therefore you do truly understand, what it is that is of moment indeed; as for your fame and credit, take no thought or care for that: let it suffice you if all the rest of your life, be it more or less, you shall live as your nature requires, or according to the true and natural end of your making. Take pains therefore to know what it is that your nature requires, and let nothing else distract you. You have already had sufficient experience, that of those many things that until now you have erred and wandered about, you could not find happiness in any of them. Not in syllogisms, and logical subtilties, not in wealth, not in honor and reputation, not in pleasure. In none of all these. In which then is it to be found? In the practice of those things, which the nature of man, as he is a man, does require. How then shall he do those things? if his principles, or moral tenets and opinions (from which all motions and actions do proceed), be right and true. Which be those principles? Those that concern that which is good or evil, as that there is nothing truly good and beneficial to man, but that which makes him just, temperate, courageous, liberal; and that there is nothing truly evil and hurtful to man, but that which causes the contrary effects.

Upon every action that you are about, put this question to yourself; How will this when it is done agree with me? Shall I have no occasion to repent of it? Yet a very little while and I am dead and gone; and all things are at end. What then do I care for more than this, that my present action whatever it be, may be the proper action of one that is reasonable; whose end is, the common good; who in all things is ruled and governed by the same law of right and reason, by which God Himself is.

Alexander, Caius, Pompeius; what are these to Diogenes, Heraclitus, and Socrates? These penetrated into the true nature of things; into all causes, and all subjects: and upon these did they exercise their power and authority. But as for those, as the extent of their error was, so far did their slavery extend.

What they have done, they will still do, although you should hang yourself. First; let it not trouble you. For all things both good and evil: come to pass according to the nature and general condition of the universe, and within a very little while, all things will be at an end; no man will be remembered: as now of Africanus (for example) and Augustus it is already come to pass. Then secondly; fix your mind upon the thing itself; look into it, and remembering yourself, that you are bound nevertheless to be a good man, and what it is that your nature requires of you as you are a man, be not diverted from what you are about, and speak that which seems to you most just: only speak it kindly, modestly, and without hypocrisy.

That which the nature of the universe does busy herself about, is; that which is here, to transfer it there, to change it, and from there again to take it away, and to carry it to another place. So that you needest not fear any new thing. For all things are usual and ordinary; and all things are disposed by equality.

Every particular nature has content, when in its own proper course it speeds. A reasonable nature does then speed, when first in matter of impressions and imaginings, it gives no consent to that which is either false uncertain. Secondly, when in all its motions and resolutions it takes its level at the common good only, and that it desirs nothing, and flieth from nothing, bet what is in its own power to compass or avoid. And lastly, when it willingly and gladly embraces, whatever is dealt and appointed to it by universal Nature. For it is part of it; even as the nature of any one leaf, is part of universal Nature of all plants and trees. But that the nature of a leaf, is part of a nature both unreasonable and insensitive, and which in its proper end may be hindered; or, which is servile and slavish: whereas the nature of man is part of a universal Nature which cannot be hindered, and which is both reasonable and just. From from where also it is, that according to the worth of everything, she does make such equal distribution of all things, as of duration, substance form, operation, and of events and accidents. But here consider not whether you shall find this equality in everything absolutely and by itself; but whether in all the particulars of some one thing taken together, and compared with all the particulars of some other thing, and them together likewise.

You have no time nor opportunity to read. What then? Have you not time and opportunity to exercise yourself, not to wrong yourself; to strive against all bodily pleasures and pains, and to get the upper hand of them; to contemn honor and vanity; and not only, not to be angry with them, whom towards you you do find insensitive and ungrateful; but also to have a care of them still, and of their welfare?

Forbear from now on to complain of the trouble of a courtly life, either in public before others, or in private by yourself.

Repentance is an inward and self-reprehension for the neglect or omission of somewhat that was beneficial. Now whatever is good, is also beneficial, and it is the part of an honest virtuous man to set by it, and to make reckoning of it accordingly. But never did any honest virtuous man repent of the neglect or omission of any bodily pleasure: no bodily pleasure then is either good or beneficial.

This, what is it in itself, and by itself, according to its proper constitution? What is the substance of it? What is the matter, or proper use? What is the form or efficient cause? What is it for in this world, and how long will it abide? Thus must you examine all things, that present themselves to you.

When you are hard to he stirred up and awaked out of your sleep, admonish yourself and call to mind, that, to perform actions tending to the common good is that which your own proper constitution, and that which the nature of man do require. But to sleep, is common to unreasonable creatures also. And what more proper and natural, yes what more kind and pleasing, than that which is according to nature?

As every fancy and imagination presents itself to you, consider (if it be possible) the true nature, and the proper qualities of it, and reason with yourself about it.

At your first encounter with any one, say presently to yourself: This man, what are his opinions about that which is good or evil? as about pain, pleasure, and the causes of both; about honor, and dishonour, about life and death? thus and thus. Now if it be no wonder that a man should have such and such opinions, how can it be a wonder that he should do such and such things? I will remember then, that he cannot but do as he does, holding those opinions that he does. Remember, that as it is a shame for any man to wonder that a fig tree should bear figs, so also to wonder that the world should bear anything, whatever it is which in the ordinary course of nature it may bear. To a physician also and to a pilot it is a shame either for the one to wonder, that such and such a one should have an ague; or for the other, that the winds should prove Contrary.

Remember, that to change your mind upon occasion, and to follow him that is able to rectify you, is equally ingenuous, as to find out at the first, what is right and just, without help. For of you nothing is required, that is beyond the extent of your own deliberation and jun. merit, arid of your own understanding.

If it were your act and in your own power, why would you do it? If it were not, whom do tin accuse? the atoms, or the Gods? For to do either, the part of a mad man. You must therefore blame nobody, but if it be in your power, redress what is amiss; if it be not, to what end is it to complain? For nothing should be done but to some certain end.

Whatever dies and falls, however and wherever it die and fall, it cannot fall out of the world. here it have its abode and change, here also shall it have its dissolution into its proper elements. The same are the world's elements, and the elements of which you do consist. And they when they are changed, they murmur not; why should you?

Whatever is, was made for something: as a horse, a vine. Why wonderest you? The sun itself will say of itself, I was made for something; and so has every god its proper function. What then were then made for? to disport and delight yourself? See how even common sense and reason cannot brook it.

Nature has its end as well in the end and final consummation of anything that is, as in the beginning and continuation of it.

As one that tosses up a ball. And what is a. ball the better, if the motion of it be upwards; or the worse if it be downwards; or if it chance to fall upon the ground? So for the bubble; if it continue, what it the better? and if it dissolve, what is it the worse And so is it of a candle too. And so must you reason with yourself, both in matter of fame, and in matter of death. For as for the body itself, (the subject of death) would you know the vileness of it? Turn it about that you may behold it the worst sides upwards as well, as in its more ordinary pleasant shape; how does it look, when it is old and withered? when sick and pained? when in the act of desire, and fornication? And as for fame. This life is short. Both he that praises, and he that is praised; he that remembers, and he that is remembered, will soon be do and ashes. Besides, it is but in one corner of this part of the world that you are praised; and yet in this corner, you have not the joint praises of all men; no nor hardly of any one constantly. And yet the whole earth itself, what is it but as one point, in regard of the whole world?

That which must be the subject of your consideration, is either the matter itself, or the dogma, or the operation, or the true sense and signification.

Most justly have these things happened to you: why do not you amend? O but you had rather become good tomorrow, than to be so today.

Shall I do it? I will; so the end of my action be to do good to men. Does anything by way of cross or adversity happen to me? I accept it, with reference to the Gods, and their providence; the fountain of all things, from which whatever comes to pass, does hang and depend.

By one action judge of the rest: this bathing which usually takes up so much of our time, what is it? Oil, sweat, filth; or the sordes of the body: an excrementitious viscosity, the excrements of oil and other ointments used about the body, and mixed with the sordes of the body: all low and loathsome. And such almost is every part of our life; and every external object.

Lucilla buried Verus; then was Lucilla herself buried by others. So Secunda Maximus, then Secunda herself. So Epitynchanus, Diotimus; then Epitynchanus himself. So Antoninus Pius, Faustina his wife; then Antoninus himself. This is the course of the world. First Celer, Adrianus; then Adrianus himself. And those austere ones; those that foretold other men's deaths; those that were so proud and stately, where are they now? Those austere ones I mean, such as were Charax, and Demetrius the Platonic, and Eudaemon, and others like to those. They were all but for one day; all dead and gone long since. Some of them no sooner dead, than forgotten. Others soon turned into fables. Of others, even that which was fabulous, is now long since forgotten. This thereafter you must remember, that whatever you are compounded of, shall soon be dispersed, and that your life and breath, or your soul, shall either be no more, or shall be translated, and appointed to some certain place and station.

The true joy of a man, is to do that which properly belongs to a man. That which is most proper to a man, is, first, to he kindly affected towards them that are of the same kind and nature as he is himself to contemn all sensual motions and appetites, to discern rightly all plausible impressions and imaginings, to contemplate the nature of the universe; both it, and things that are done in it. In which kind of contemplation three several relations are to be observed The first, to the apparent secondary cause. The Second to the first original cause, God, from whom originally proceeds whatever does happen in the world. The third and last, to them that we live and converse with: what use may be made of it, to their use and benefit.

If pain be an evil, either it is in regard of the body; (and that cannot be, because the body of itself is altogether insensible): or in regard of the soul But it is in the power of the soul, to preserve her own peace and tranquillity, and not to suppose that pain is evil. For all judgment and deliberation; all prosecution, or aversation is from within, whither the sense of evil (except it be let in by opinion) cannot penetrate.

Wipe off all idle impressions, and say to yourself incessantly; Now if I will, it is in my power to keep out of this my soul all wickedness, all desire, and concupiscences, all trouble and confusion. But on the contrary to behold and consider all things according to their true nature, and to carry myself towards everything according to its true worth. Remember then this your power that nature has given you.

Whether you speak in the Senate or whether you speak to any particular, let your speech In always serious and modest. But you must not openly and vulgarly observe that sound and exact form of speaking, about that which is truly good and truly civil; the vanity of the world, and of external men: which otherwise truth and reason does prescribe.

Augustus his court; his wife, his daughter, his nephews, his sons-in-law his sister, Agrippa, his kinsmen, his domestics, his friends; Areus, Maecenas, his slayers of beasts for sacrifice and divination: there you have the death of a whole court together. Proceed now on to the rest that have been since that of Augustus. Has death dwelt with them otherwise, though so many and so stately while they lived, than it does use to deal with any one particular man? Consider now the death of a whole kindred and family, as of that of the Pompeys, as that also that useth to be written upon some monuments, HE WAS THE LAST OF HIS OWN KINDRED. O what care did his predecessors take, that they might leave a successor, yet behold at last one or other must of necessity be THE LAST. Here again therefore consider the death of a whole kindred.

Contract your whole life to the measure and proportion of one single action. And if in every particular action you do perform what is fitting to the utmost of your power, let it suffice you. And who can hinder you, but that you may perform what is fitting? But there may be some outward let and impediment. Not any, that can hinder you, but that whatever you do, you may do it, justly, temperately, and with the praise of God. Yes, but there may be somewhat, whereby some operation or other of your may he hindered. And then, with that very thing that does hinder, you may he well pleased, and so by this gentle and equanimious conversion of your mind to that which may be, instead of that which at first you did intend, in the room of that former action there succeeds another, which agrees as well with this contraction of your life, that we now speak of.

Receive temporal blessings without showing off, when they are sent and you shall be able to part with them with all readiness and facility when they are taken from you again.

If ever you sawest either a hand, or a foot, or a head lying by itself, in some place or other, as cut off from the rest of the body, such must you conceive him to make himself, as much as in him lies, that either is offended with anything that is happened, (whatever it be) and as it were divides himself from it: or that commits anything against the natural law of mutual correspondence, and society among men: or, he that, commits any act of uncharitableness. Whosoever you are, you are such, you are cast forth I know not whither out of the general unity, which is according to nature. You went born indeed a part, but now you have cut yourself off. However, here is matter of joy and exultation, that you may be united again. God has not granted it to any other part, that once separated and cut off, it might be reunited, and come together again. But, behold, that GOODNESS how great and immense it is! which has so much esteemed MAN. As at first be was so made, that he needed not, except he would himself, have divided himself from the whole; so once divided and cut off, IT has so provided and ordered it, that if he would himself, he might return, and grow together again, and be admitted into its former rank and place of a part, as he was before.

As almost all her other faculties and properties the nature of the universe has imparted to every reasonable creature, so this in particular we have received from her, that as whatever does oppose itself to her, and does withstand her in her purposes and intentions, she does, though against its will and intention, bring it about to herself, to serve herself of it in the execution of her own destinated ends; and so by this though not intended co-operation of it with herself makes it part of herself whether it will or no. So may every reasonable creature, what crosses and impediments soever it meets with in the course of this mortal life, it may use them as fit and proper objects, to the furtherance of whatever it intended and absolutely proposed to itself as its natural end and happiness.

Let not the general representation to yourself of the wretchedness of this our mortal life, trouble you. Let not your mind wander up and down, and heap together in her thoughts the many troubles and grievous calamities which you are as subject to as any other. But as everything in particular does happen, put this question to yourself, and say: What is it that in this present matter, seems to you so intolerable? For you will be ashamed to confess it. Then upon this presently call to mind, that neither that which is future, nor that which is past can hurt you; but that only which is present. (And that also is much lessened, if you do lightly circumscribe it): and then check your mind if for so little a while, (a mere instant), it cannot hold out with patience.

What? are either Panthea or Pergamus abiding to this day by their masters' tombs? or either Chabrias or Diotimus by that of Adrianus? O foolery! For what if they did, would their masters be sensible of It? or if sensible, would they be glad of it? or if glad, were these immortal? Was not it appointed to them also (both men and women), to become old in time, and then to die? And these once dead, what would become of these former? And when all is done, what is all this for, but for a mere bag of blood and corruption?

If you are quick-sighted, be so in matter of judgment, and best discretion, says he.

In the whole constitution of man, I see not any virtue contrary to justice, whereby it may be resisted and opposed. But one whereby pleasure and self-indulgence may be resisted and opposed, I see: continence.

If you can but withdraw idea and opinion about that which may seem hurtful and offensive, you yourself are as safe, as safe may be. You yourself? and who is that? Your reason. "Yes, but I am not reason." Well, be it so. However, let not your reason or understanding admit of grief, and if there be anything in you that is grieved, let that, (whatever it be), conceive its own grief, if it can.

That which is a hindrance of the senses, is an evil to the sensitive nature. That which is a hindrance of the appetitive and prosecutive faculty, is an evil to the sensitive nature. As of the sensitive, so of the vegetative constitution, whatever is a hindrance to it, is also in that respect an evil to the same. And so likewise, whatever is a hindrance to the mind and understanding, must needs be the proper evil of the reasonable nature. Now apply all those things to yourself. Do either pain or pleasure seize on you? Let the senses look to that. Have you met with Some obstacle or other in your purpose and intention? If you did propose without due reservation and exception now has your reasonable part received a blow indeed But if in general you did propose to yourself what soever might be, you are not thereby either hurt, nor properly hindered. For in those things that properly belong to the mind, she cannot be hindered by any man. It is not fire, nor iron; nor the power of a tyrant nor the power of a slandering tongue; nor anything else that can penetrate into her.

XL. If once round and solid, there is no fear that ever it will change.

XLI. Why should I grieve myself; who never did willingly grieve any other! One thing rejoices one and another thing another. As for me, this is my joy, if my understanding be right and sound, as neither averse from any man, nor refusing any of those things which as a man I am) subject to; if I can look upon all things in the world meekly and kindly; accept all things and carry myself towards everything according to true worth of the thing itself.

XLII. This time that is now present, bestow you upon yourself. They that rather hunt for fame after death, do not consider, that those men that shall be hereafter, will be even such, as these whom now they can so hardly bear with. And besides they also will be mortal men. But to consider the thing in itself, if so many with so many voices, shall make such and such a sound, or shall have such and such an opinion about you, what is it to you?

XLIII. Take me and throw me where you will: I am indifferent. For there also I shall have that spirit which is within me propitious; that is well pleased and fully contented both in that constant disposition, and with those particular actions, which to its own proper constitution are suitable and agreeable.

XLIV. Is this then a thing of that worth, that for it my soul should suffer, and become worse than it was? as either basely dejected, or disordinately affected, or confounded within itself, or terrified? What can there be, that you should so much esteem?

XLV. Nothing can happen to you, which is not incidental to you, as you are a man. As nothing can happen either to an ox, a vine, or to a stone, which is not incidental to them; to every one in his own kind. If therefore nothing can happen to anything, which is not both usual and natural; why are you displeased? Sure universal Nature of all would not bring anything upon any, that were intolerable. If therefore it be a thing external that causes your grief, know, that it is not that properly that does cause it, but your own idea and opinion about the thing: which you may rid yourself of, when you will. But if it be somewhat that is amiss in your own disposition, that does grieve you, may you not rectify your moral tenets and opinions. But if it grieve you, that you do not perform that which seems to you right and just, why do not you choose rather to perform it than to grieve? But somewhat that is stronger than yourself does hinder you. Let it not grieve you then, if it be not your fault that the thing is not performed. "Yes but it is a thing of that nature, as that your life is not worth the while, except it may be performed." If it be so, upon condition that you be kindly and lovingly disposed towards all men, you may be gone. For even then, as much as at any time, are you in a very good estate of performance, when you do die in kindness with those, that are an obstacle to your performance.

XLVI. Remember that your mind is of that nature as that it becoms altogether unconquerable, when once recollected in herself, she seeks no other content than this, that she cannot be forced: yes though it so fall out, that it be even against reason itself, that it cloth bandy. How much less when by the help of reason she is able to judge of things with discretion? And therefore let your chief fort and place of defence be, a mind free from strong emotions. A stronger place, (to which to make his refuge, and so to become impregnable) and better fortified than this, has no man. He that seeth not this is unlearned. He that seeth it, and betakes not himself to this place of refuge, is unhappy.

XLVII. Keep yourself to the first bare and naked apprehensions of things, as they present themselves to you, and add not to them. It is reported to you, that such a one speaks ill of you. Well; that he speaks ill of you, so much is reported. But that you are hurt thereby, is not reported: that is the addition of opinion, which you must exclude. I see that my child is sick. That he is sick, I see, but that he is in danger of his life also, I see it not. Thus you must use to keep yourself to the first motions and apprehensions of things, as they present themselves outwardly; and add not to them from within yourself through mere idea and opinion. Or rather add to them: hut as one that understands the true nature of all things that happen in the world.

XLVIII. Is the cucumber bitter? set it away. Brambles are in the way? avoid them. Let this suffice. Add not presently speaking to yourself, What serve these things for in the world? For, this, one that is acquainted with the mysteries of nature, will laugh at you for it; as a carpenter would or a shoemaker, if meeting in either of their shops with some shavings, or small remnants of their work, you should blame them for it. And yet those men, it is not for want of a place where to throw them that they keep them in their shops for a while: but the nature of the universe has no such out-place; but here does consist the wonder of her are and skill, that she having once circumscribed herself within some certain bounds and limits, whatever is within her that seems either corrupted, or old, or unprofitable, she can change it into herself, and of these very things can make new things; so that she needs not to seek elsewhere out of herself either for a new supply of matter and substance, or for a place where to throw out whatever is irrecoverably putrid and corrupt. Thus she, as for place, so for matter and are, is herself sufficient to herself.

XLIX. Not to be slack and negligent; or loose, and wanton in your actions; nor contentious, and troublesome in your conversation; nor to rove and wander in your impressions and imaginings. Not basely to contract your soul; nor boisterously to sally out with it, or furiously to launch out as it were, nor ever to want employment.

L. "They kill me, they cut my flesh; they persecute my person with curses." What then? May not your mind for all this continue pure, prudent, temperate, just? As a fountain of sweet and clear water, though she be cursed by some stander by, yet do her springs nevertheless still run as sweet and clear as before; yes though either dirt or dung be thrown in, yet is it no sooner thrown, than dispersed, and she cleared. She cannot be dyed or infected by it. What then must I do, that I may have within myself an overflowing fountain, and not a well? Beget yourself by continual pains and endeavours to true liberty with kindness, and true simplicity and modesty.

LI. He that knows not what the world is, knows not where he himself is. And he that knows not what the world was made for, cannot possibly know either what are the qualities, or what is the nature of the world. Now he that in either of these is to seek, for what he himself was made is ignorant also. What then do you think of that man, who proposes to himself, as a matter of great moment, the noise and applause of men, who both where they are, and what they are themselves, are altogether ignorant? Do you desire to be commended of that man, who thrice in one hour perhaps, does himself curse himself? Do you desire to please him, who pleases not himself? or do you think that he pleases himself, who does use to repent himself almost of everything that he does?

LII. Not only now from now on to have a common breath, or to hold correspondency of breath, with that air, that compasses us about; but to have a common mind, or to hold correspondency of mind also with that rational substance, which compasses all things. For, that also is of itself, and of its own nature (if a man can but draw it in as he should) everywhere diffused; and passes through all things, no less than the air does, if a man can but suck it in.

LIII. Wickedness in general does not hurt the world. Particular wickedness does not hurt any other: only to him it is hurtful, whosoever he be that offends, to whom in great favor and mercy it is granted, that whenever he himself shall but first desire it, he may be presently delivered of it. To my free-will my neighbor's free-will, whoever he be, (as his life, or his bode), is altogether indifferent. For though we are all made one for another, yet have our minds and understandings each of them their own proper and limited jurisdiction. For else another man's wickedness might be my evil which God would not have, that it might not be in another man's power to make me unhappy: which nothing now can do but mine own wickedness.

LIV. The sun seems to be shed abroad. And indeed it is diffused but not effused. For that diffusion of it is a τάσις or an extension. For therefore are the beams of it called ακτίνες from the word εκτείνεσθαι, to be stretched out and extended. Now what a sunbeam is, you may know if you observe the light of the sun, when through some narrow hole it pierces into some room that is dark. For it is always in a direct line. And as by any solid body, that it meets with in the way that is not penetrable by air, it is divided and abrupted, and yet neither slides off, or falls down, but stays there nevertheless: such must the diffusion in the mind be; not an effusion, but an extension. What obstacles and impediments soever she meets within her way, she must not violently, and by way of an impetuous onset light upon them; neither must she fall down; but she must stand, and give light to that which does admit of it.

For as for that which does not, it is its own fault and loss, if it bereave itself of her light.

LV. He that fears death, either fears that he shall have no sense at all, or that his senses will not be the same. Whereas, he should rather comfort himself, that either no sense at all, and so no sense of evil; or if any sense, then another life, and so no death properly.

LVI. All men are made one for another: either then teach them better, or bear with them.

LVII. The motion of the mind is not as the motion of a dart. For the mind when it is wary and cautelous, and by way of diligent circumspection turns herself many ways, may then as well be said to go straight on to the object, as when it useth no such circumspection.

LVIII. To pierce and penetrate into the estate of every one's understanding that you have to do with: as also to make the estate of your own open, and penetrable to any other.

Book IX

HE THAT IS UNJUST, is also impious. For the nature of the universe, having made all reasonable creatures one for another, to the end that they should do one another good; more or less according to the several persons and occasions but in nowise hurt one another: it is manifest that he that does transgress against this her will, is guilty of impiety towards the most ancient and venerable of all the deities. For the nature of the universe, is the nature the common parent of all, and therefore piously to be observed of all things that are, and that which now is, to whatever first was, and gave it its being, has relation of blood and kindred. She is also called truth and is the first cause of all truths. He therefore that willingly and wittingly does lie, is impious in that he does receive, and so commit injustice: but he that against his will, in that he disagres from the nature of the universe, and in that striving with the nature of the world he does in his particular, violate the general order of the world. For he does no better than strive and war against it, who contrary to his own nature applies himself to that which is contrary to truth. For nature had before furnished him with instincts and opportunities sufficient for the attainment of it; which he having until now neglected, is not now able to discern that which is false from that which is true. He also that pursues after pleasures, as that which is truly good and flies from pains, as that which is truly evil: is impious. For such a one must of necessity oftentimes accuse that universal Nature, as distributing many things both to the evil, and to the good, not according to the deserts of either: as to the bad oftentimes pleasures, and the causes of pleasures; so to the good, pains, and the occasions of pains. Again, he that fears pains and crosses in this world, fears some of those things which some time or other must needs happen in the world. And that we have already showed to be impious. And he that pursus after pleasures, will not spare, to compass his desires, to do that which is unjust, and that is manifestly impious. Now those things which to nature are equally indifferent (for she had not created both, both pain and pleasure, if both had not been to her equally indifferent): they that will live according to nature, must in those things (as being of the same mind and disposition that she is) be as equally indifferent. Whosoever therefore in either matter of pleasure and pain; death and life; honor and dishonour, (which things nature in the administration of the world, indifferently does make use of), is not as indifferent, it is apparent that he is impious. When I say that universal Nature does indifferently make use of them, my meaning is, that they happen indifferently in the ordinary course of things, which by a necessary consequence, whether as principal or accessory, come to pass in the world, according to that first and ancient deliberation of Providence, by which she from some certain beginning, did resolve upon the creation of such a world, conceiving then in her womb as it were some certain rational generative seeds and faculties of things future, whether subjects, changes, successions; both such and such, and just so many.

It were indeed more happy and comfortable, for a man to depart out of this world, having lived all his life long clear from all falsehood, dissimulation, self-indulgence, and pride. But if this cannot be, yet it is some comfort for a man joyfully to depart as weary, and out of love with those; rather than to desire to live, and to continue long in those wicked courses. Has not yet experience taught you to fly from the plague? For a far greater plague is the corruption of the mind, than any certain change and distemper of the common air can be. This is a plague of creatures, as they are living creatures; but that of men as they are men or reasonable.

You must not in matter of death carry yourself scornfully, but as one that is well pleased with it, as being one of those things that nature has appointed. For what you do conceive of these, of a boy to become a young man, to wax old, to grow, to ripen, to get teeth, or a beard, or grey hairs to beget, to bear, or to be delivered; or what other action soever it be, that is natural to man according to the several seasons of his life; such a thing is it also to he dissolved. It is therefore the part of a wise man, in matter of death, not in any wise to carry himself either violently, or proudly but patiently to wait for it, as one of nature's operations: that with the same mind as now you do expect when that which yet is but an embryo in your wife's belly shall come forth, you may expect also when your soul shall fall off from that outward coat or skin: in which as a child in the belly it lies involved and shut up. But you desirest a more popular, and though not so direct and philosophical, yet a very powerful and penetrative recipe against the fear of death, nothing can make they more willing to part with your life, than if you shall consider, both what the subjects themselves are that you shall part with, and what manner of disposition you shall no more have to do with. True it is, that. offended with them you must not be not at all, but take care of them, and meekly bear with them However, this you may remember, that whenever it happens that you depart, it shall not be from men that held the same opinions that you do. For that indeed, (if it were so) is the only thing that might make you averse from death, and willing to continue here, if it were your hap to live with men that had obtained the same belief that you have. But now, what a toil it is for you to live with men of different opinions, you see: so that you have rather occasion to say, Hasten, I you pray, O Death; lest I also in time forget myself.

He that sins, sins to himself. He that is unjust, hurts himself, in that he makes himself worse than he was before. Not he only that committs, but he also that omitts something, is oftentimes unjust.

If my present apprehension of the object be right, and my present action kind, and this, towards whatever does proceed from God, be my present disposition, to be well pleased with it, it suffices.

To wipe away fancy, to use deliberation, to quench craving, to keep the mind free to herself.

Of all unreasonable creatures, there is but one unreasonable soul; and of all that are reasonable, but one reasonable soul, divided betwixt them all. As of all earthly things there is but one earth, and but one light that we see by; and but one air that we breathe in, as many as either breathe or see. Now whatever partakes of some common thing, naturally affects and inclines to that of which it is part, being of one kind and nature with it. Whatever is earthly, presses downwards to the common earth. Whatever is liquid, would flow together. And whatever is airy, would be together likewise. So that without some obstacle, and some kind of violence, they cannot well be kept asunder. Whatever is fiery, does not only by reason of the elementary fire tend upwards; but here also is so ready to join, and to burn together, that whatever does want sufficient moisture to make resistance, is easily set on fire. Whatever therefore is partaker of that reasonable universal Nature, naturally does as much and more long after his own kind. For by how much in its own nature it excels all other things, by so much more is it desirous to be joined and united to that, which is of its own nature. As for unreasonable creatures then, they had not long been, but presently begun among them swarms, and flocks, and broods of young ones, and a kind of mutual love and affection. For though but unreasonable, yet a kind of soul these had, and therefore was that natural desire of union more strong and intense in them, as in creatures of a more excellent nature, than either in plants, or stones, or trees. But among reasonable creatures, begun commonwealths, friendships, families, public meetings, and even in their wars, conventions, and truces. Now among them that were yet of a more excellent nature, as the stars and planets, though by their nature far distant one from another, yet even among them began some mutual correspondency and unity. So proper is it to excellency in a high degree to affect unity, as that even in things so far distant, it could operate to a mutual sympathy. But now behold, what is now come to pass. Those creatures that are reasonable, are now the only creatures that have forgotten their natural affection and inclination of one towards another. Among them alone of all other things that are of one kind, there is not to be found a general disposition to flow together. But though they fly from nature, yet are they stopt in their course, and apprehended. Do they what they can, nature does prevail. And so shall you confess, if you do observe it. For sooner may you find a thing earthly, where no earthly thing is, than find a man that naturally can live by himself alone.

Man, God, the world, every one in their kind, bear some fruits. All things have their proper time to bear. Though by custom, the word itself is in a manner become proper to the vine, and the like, yet is it so nevertheless, as we have said. As for reason, that bears both common fruit for the use of others; and peculiar, which itself does enjoy. Reason is of a diffusive nature, what itself is in itself, it begets in others, and so does multiply.

Either teach them better if it be in your power; or if it be not, remember that for this use, to bear with them patiently, was mildness and goodness granted to you. The Gods themselves are good to such; yes and in some things, (as in matter of health, of wealth, of honor), are content often to further their endeavours: so good and gracious are they. And mightest you not be so too? or, tell me, what does hinder you?

Labor not as one to whom it is appointed to be wretched, nor as one that either would be pitied, or admired; but let this be your only care and desire; so always and in all things to prosecute or to refrain, as the law of kindness, or mutual society does require.

This day I did come out of all my trouble. No I have cast out all my trouble; it should rather be for that which troubled you, whatever it was, was not without anywhere that you should come out of it, but within in your own opinions, from from where it must be cast out, before you can truly and constantly be at ease.

All those things, for matter of experience are usual and ordinary; for their continuance but for a day; and for their matter, most low and filthy. As they were in the days of those whom we have buried, so are they now also, and no otherwise.

The things themselves that affect us, they stand without doors, neither knowing anything themselves nor able to utter anything to others about themselves. What then is it, that passes verdict on them? The understanding.

As virtue and wickedness consist not in passion, but in action; so neither does the true good or evil of a reasonable kind man consist in passion, but in operation and action.

To the stone that is cast up, when it comes down it is no hurt to it; as neither benefit, when it does ascend.

Sift their minds and understandings, and behold what men they be, whom you do stand in fear of what they shall judge of you, what they themselves judge of themselves.

All things that are in the world, are always in the estate of alteration. You also are in a continual change, yes and under corruption too, in some part: and so is the whole world.

It is not your, but another man's sin. Why should it trouble you? Let him look to it, whose sin it is.

Of an operation and of a purpose there is an ending, or of an action and of a purpose we say usually, that it is at an end: from opinion also there is an absolute cessation, which is as it were the death of it. In all this there is no hurt. Apply this now to a man's age, as first, a child; then a youth, then a young man, then an old man; every change from one age to another is a kind of death And all this while here no matter of grief yet. Pass now to that life first, that which you livedst under your grandfather, then under your mother, then under your father. And thus when through the whole course of your life until now you have found and observed many alterations, many changes, many kinds of endings and cessations, put this question to yourself What matter of grief or sorrow do you find in any of these? Or what do you suffer through any of these? If in none of these, then neither in the ending and consummation of your whole life, which is also but a cessation and change.

As occasion shall require, either to your own understanding, or to that of the universe, or to his, whom you have now to do with, let your refuge be with all speed. To your own, that it resolve upon nothing against justice. To that of the universe, that you may remember, part of whom you are. Of his, that you may consider. whether in the estate of ignorance, or of knowledge. And then also must you call to mind, that he is your kinsman.

As you yourself, whoever you are, were made for the perfection and consummation, being a member of it, of a common society; so must every action of your tend to the perfection and consummation of a life that is truly sociable. What action soever of your therefore that either immediately or afar off, has not reference to the common good, that is an exorbitant and disorderly action; yes it is seditious; as one among the people who from such and such a consent and unity, should factiously divide and separate himself.

Children's anger, mere babels; wretched souls bearing up dead bodies, that they may not have their fall so soon: even as it is in that common dirge song.

Go to the quality of the cause from which the effect does proceed. Behold it by itself bare and naked, separated from all that is material. Then consider the utmost bounds of time that that cause, thus and thus qualified, can subsist and abide.

Infinite are the troubles and miseries, that you have already been put to, by reason of this only, because that for all happiness it did not suffice you, or, that you did not account it sufficient happiness, that your understanding did operate according to its natural constitution.

When any shall either impeach you with false accusations, or hatefully reproach you, or shall use any such carriage towards you, go presently to their minds and understandings, and look in them, and behold what manner of men they be. You shall see, that there is no such occasion why it should trouble you, what such as they are think of you. Yet must you love them still, for by nature they are your friends. And the Gods themselves, in those things that they seek from them as matters of great moment, are well content, all manner of ways, as by dreams and oracles, to help them as well as others.

Up and down, from one age to another, go the ordinary things of the world; being still the same. And either of everything in particular before it come to pass, the mind of the universe does consider with itself and deliberate: and if so, then submit for shame to the determination of such an excellent understanding: or once for all it did resolve upon all things in general; and since that whatever happens, happens by a necessary consequence, and all things indivisibly in a manner and inseparably hold one of another. In short, either there is a God, and then all is well; or if all things go by chance and fortune, yet may you use your own providence in those things that concern you properly; and then are you well.

Within a while the earth shall cover us all, and then she herself shall have her change. And then the course will be, from one period of eternity to another, and so a continual eternity. Now can any man that shall consider with himself in his mind the several rollings or successions of so many changes and alterations, and the swiftness of all these rulings; can he otherwise but contemn in his heart and despise all external things? The cause of the universe is as it were a strong torrent, it carries all away.

And these your professed politicians, the only true practical philosophers of the world, (as they think of themselves) so full of affected seriousness, or such professed lovers of virtue and honesty, what wretches be they in very deed; how low and contemptible in themselves? O man! what ado do you keep? Do what your nature does now require. Resolve upon it, if you may: and take no thought, whether anybody shall know it or no. Yes, but sayest you, I must not expect a Plato's commonwealth. If they profit however small, I must be content; and think much even of that little progress. Does then any of them forsake their former false opinions that I should think they profit? For without a change of opinions, alas! what is all that showing off, but mere wretchedness of slavish. minds, that groan privately, and yet would make a show of obedience to reason, and truth? Go too now and tell me of Alexander and Philippus, and Demetrius Phalereus. Whether they understood what universal Nature requires, and could rule themselves or no, they know best themselves. But if they kept a life, and swaggered; I (God be thanked) am not bound to imitate them. The effect of true philosophy is, unaffected simplicity and modesty. Persuade me not to showing off and vanity.

From some high place as it were to look down, and to behold here flocks, and there sacrifices, without number; and all kind of navigation; some in a rough and stormy sea, and some in a calm: the general differences, or different estates of things, some, that are now first upon being; the several and mutual relations of those things that are together; and some other things that are at their last. Their lives also, who were long ago, and theirs who shall be hereafter, and the present estate and life of those many nations of barbarians that are now in the world, you must likewise consider in your mind. And how many there be, who never so much as heard of your name, how many that will soon forget it; how many who but even now did commend you, within a very little while perhaps will speak ill of you. So that neither fame, nor honor, nor anything else that this world does afford, is worth the while. The sum then of all; whatever does happen to you, of which God is the cause, to accept it contentedly: whatever you do, of which you yourself are the cause, to do it justly: which will be, if both in your resolution and in your action you have no further end, than to do good to others, as being that, which by your natural constitution, as a man, you are bound to.

Many of those things that trouble and straiten you, it is in your power to cut off, as wholly depending from mere idea and opinion; and then you shall have room enough.

To comprehend the whole world together in your mind, and the whole course of this present age to represent it to yourself, and to fix your thoughts upon the sudden change of every particular object. How short the time is from the generation of anything, to the dissolution of the same; but how immense and infinite both that which was before the generation, and that which after the generation of it shall be. All things that you see, will soon be perished, and they that see their corruptions, will soon vanish away themselves. He that dies a hundred years old, and he that dies young, shall come all to one.

What are their minds and understandings; and what the things that they apply themselves to: what do they love, and what do they hate for? Fancy to yourself the estate of their souls openly to be seen. When they think they hurt them shrewdly, whom they speak ill of; and when they think they do them a very good turn, whom they commend and extol: O how full are they then of idea, and opinion!

Loss and corruption, is in very deed nothing else but change and alteration; and that is it, which the nature of the universe does most delight in, by which, and according to which, whatever is done, is well done. For that was the estate of external things from the beginning, and so shall it ever be. Or would. you rather say, that all things in the world have gone ill from the beginning for so many ages, and shall ever go ill? And then among so many deities, could no divine power be found all this while, that could rectify the things of the world? Or is the world, to incessant woes and miseries, for ever condemned?

How low and putrid, every common matter is! Water, do, and from the mixture of these bones, and all that loathsome stuff that our bodies do consist of: so subject to be infected, and corrupted. And again those other things that are so much prized and admired, as marble stones, what are they, but as it were the kernels of the earth? gold and silver, what are they, but as the more gross faeces of the earth? Your most royal apparel, for matter, it is but as it were the hair of a silly sheep, and for color, the very blood of a shell-fish; of this nature are all other things. Your life itself, is some such thing too; a mere exhalation of blood: and it also, apt to be changed into some other common thing.

Will this complaining, this murmuring, this complaining and dissembling never be at an end? What then is it, that troubls you? Does any new thing happen to you? What do you so wonder at? At the cause, or the matter? Behold either by itself, is either of that weight and moment indeed? And besides these, there is not anything. But your duty towards the Gods also, it is time you should acquit yourself of it with more goodness and simplicity.

It is all one to see these things for a hundred of years together or but for three years.

If he have sinned, his is the harm, not mine. But perhaps he has not.

Either all things by the providence of reason happen to every particular, as a part of one general body; and then it is against reason that a part should complain of anything that happens for the good of the whole; or if, according to Epicurus, atoms be the cause of all things and that life be nothing else but an accidentary confusion of things, and death nothing else, but a mere dispersion and so of all other things: what do you trouble yourself for?

Sayest you to that rational part, You are dead; corruption has taken hold on you? Does it then also void excrements? Does it like either oxen, or sheep, graze or feed; that it also should be mortal, as well as the body?

XL. Either the Gods can do nothing for us at all, or they can still and allay all the distractions and distempers of your mind. If they can do nothing, why do you pray? If they can, why would not you rather pray, that they will grant to you, that you may neither fear, nor desire after any of those external things which cause these distractions and distempers of it? Why not rather, that you may not at either their absence or presence, be grieved and discontented: than either that you may obtain them, or that you may avoid them? For certainly it must needs be, that if the Gods can help us in anything, they may in this kind also. But you will say perhaps, "In those things the Gods have given me my liberty: and it is in mine own power to do what I will." But if you may use this liberty, rather to set your mind at true liberty, than wilfully with baseness and servility of mind to affect those things, which either to compass or to avoid is not in your power, were not you better? And as for the Gods, who has told you, that they may not help us up even in those things that they have put in our own power? whether it be so or no, you shall soon perceive, if you will but try yourself and pray. One prays that he may compass his desire, to lie with such or such a one, pray you that you may not desire to lie with her. Another how he may be rid of such a one; pray you that you may so patiently bear with him, as that you have no such need to be rid of him. Another, that he may not lose his child. Pray you that you may not fear to lose him. To this end and purpose, let all your prayer be, and see what will be the event.

XLI. "In my sickness" (says Epicurus of himself): "my discourses were not about the nature of my disease, neither was that, to them that came to visit me, the subject of my talk; but in the consideration and contemplation of that, which was of especial weight and moment, was all my time bestowed and spent, and among others in this very thing, how my mind, by a natural and unavoidable sympathy partaking in some sort with the present indisposition of my body, might nevertheless keep herself free from trouble, and in present possession of her own proper happiness. Neither did I leave the ordering of my body to the physicians altogether to do with me what they would, as though I expected any great matter from them, or as though I thought it a matter of such great consequence, by their means to recover my health: for my present estate, methought, liked me very well, and gave me good content." Whether therefore in sickness (if you chance to sicken) or in what other kind of extremity soever, endeavor you also to be in your mind so affected, as he does report of himself: not to depart from your philosophy for anything that can befall you, nor to give ear to the discourses of silly people, and mere naturalists.

XLII. It is common to all trades and professions to mind and intend that only, which now they are about, and the instrument whereby they work.

XLIII. When at any time you are offended with any one's impudency, put presently this question to yourself: "What? Is it then possible, that there should not be any impudent men in the world! Certainly it is not possible." Desire not then that which is impossible. For this one, (you must think) whosoever he be, is one of those impudent ones, that the world cannot be without. So of the subtile and crafty, so of the perfidious, so of every one that offends, must you ever be ready to reason with yourself. For while in general you do thus reason with yourself, that the kind of them must needs be in the world, you will be the better able to use gentleness towards every particular. This also you shall find of very good use, upon every such occasion, presently to consider with yourself, what proper virtue nature has furnished man with, against such a vice, or to encounter with a disposition vicious in this kind. As for example, against the ungrateful, it has given goodness and gentleness, as an antidote, and so against another vicious in another kind some other peculiar faculty. And generally, is it not in your power to instruct him better, that is in an error? For whosoever sins, does in that decline from his purposed end, and is certainly deceived, And again, what are you the worse for his sin? For you shall not find that any one of these, against whom you are incensed, has in very deed done anything whereby your mind (the only true subject of your hurt and evil) can be made worse than it was. And what a matter of either grief or wonder is this, if he that is unlearned, do the deeds of one that is unlearned? Should not you rather blame yourself, who, when upon very good grounds of reason, you mightst have thought it very probable, that such a thing would by such a one be committed, did not only not foresee it, but moreover do wonder at it, that such a thing should be. But then especially, when you do find fault with either an ungrateful, or a false man, must you reflect upon yourself. For without all question, you yourself are much in fault, if either of one that were of such a disposition, you did expect that he should be true to you: or when to any you did a good turn, you did not there bound your thoughts, as one that had obtained his end; nor did not think that from the action itself you had received a full reward of the good that you had done. For what would you have more? To him that is a man, you have done a good turn: does not that suffice you? What your nature required, that have you done. Must you be rewarded for it? As if either the eye for that it seeth, or the feet that they go, should require satisfaction. For as these being by nature appointed for such an use, can challenge no more, than that they may work according to their natural constitution: so man being born to do good to others whenever he does a real good to any by helping them out of error; or though but in middle things, as in matter of wealth, life, preferment, and the like, does help to further their desires he does that for which he was made, and therefore can require no more.

Book X

O MY SOUL, the time I trust will be, when you shall be good, simple, single, more open and visible, than that body by which it is enclosed. You will one day be sensible of their happiness, whose end is love, and their emotions dead to all external things. You shall one day be full, and in want of no external thing: not seeking pleasure from anything, either living or insensible, that this world can afford; neither wanting time for the continuation of your pleasure, nor place and opportunity, nor the favor either of the weather or of men. When you shall have content in your present estate, and all things present shall add to your content: when you shall persuade yourself, that you have all things; all for your good, and all by the providence of the Gods: and of things future also shall be as confident, that all will do well, as tending to the maintenance and preservation in some sort, of his perfect welfare and happiness, who is perfection of life, of goodness, and beauty; who begets all things, and contains all things in himself, and in himself does recollect all things from all places that are dissolved, that of them he may beget others again like to them. Such one day shall be your disposition, that you shall be able, both in regard of the Gods, and in regard of men, so to fit and order your conversation, as neither to complain of them at any time, for anything that they do; nor to do anything yourself, for which you may justly be condemned.

As one who is altogether governed by nature, let it be your care to observe what it is that your nature in general does require. That done, if you find not that your nature, as you are a living sensible creature, will be the worse for it, you may proceed. Next then you must examine, what your nature as you are a living sensible creature, does require. And that, whatever it be, you may admit of and do it, if your nature as you are a reasonable living creature, will not be the worse for it. Now whatever is reasonable, is also sociable, Keep yourself to these rules, and trouble not yourself about idle things.

Whatever does happen to you, you are naturally by your natural constitution either able, or not able to bear. If you are able, be not offended, but bear it according to your natural constitution, or as nature has enabled you. If you are not able, be not offended. For it will soon make an end of you, and itself, (whatever it be) at the same time end with you. But remember, that whatever by the strength of opinion, grounded upon a certain apprehension of both true profit and duty, you can conceive tolerable; that you are able to bear that by your natural constitution.

Him that offends, to teach with love and gentle ness, and to show him his error. But if you can not, then to blame yourself; or rather not yourself neither, if your will and endeavours have not been wanting.

Whatever it be that happens to you, it is that which from all time was appointed to you. For by the same coherence of causes, by which your substance from all eternity was appointed to be, was also whatever should happen to it, destinated and appointed.

Either with Epicurus, we must fondly imagine the atoms to be the cause of all things, or we must needs grant a nature. Let this then be your first ground, that you are part of that universe, which is governed by nature. Then secondly, that to those parts that are of the same kind and nature as you are, you have relation of kindred. For of these, if I shall always be mindful, first as I am a part, I shall never be displeased with anything, that falls to my particular share of the common chances of the world. For nothing that is behoveful to the whole, can be truly hurtful to that which is part of it. For this being the common privilege of all natures, that they contain nothing in themselves that is hurtful to them; it cannot be that the nature of the universe (whose privilege beyond other particular natures, is, that she cannot against her will by any higher external cause be constrained), should beget anything and cherish it in her bosom that should tend to her own hurt and prejudice. As then I bear in mind that I am a part of such an universe, I shall not be displeased with anything that happens. And as I have relation of kindred to those parts that are of the same kind and nature that I am, so I shall be careful to do nothing that is prejudicial to the community, but in all my deliberations shall they that are of my kind ever be; and the common good, that, which all my intentions and resolutions shall drive to, as that which is contrary to it, I shall by all means endeavor to prevent and avoid. These things once so fixed and concluded, as you would think him a happy citizen, whose constant study and practice were for the good and benefit of his fellow citizens, and the carriage of the city such towards him, that he were well pleased with it; so must it needs be with you, that you shall live a happy life.

All parts of the world, (all things I mean that are contained within the whole world, must of necessity at some time or other come to corruption. Alteration I should say, to speak truly and properly; but that I may be the better understood, I am content at this time to use that more common word. Now say I, if so be that this be both hurtful to them, and yet unavoidable, would not, think you, the whole itself be in a sweet case, all the parts of it being subject to alteration, yes and by their making itself fitted for corruption, as consisting of things different and contrary? And did nature then either of herself thus project and purpose the affliction and misery of her parts, and therefore of purpose so made them, not only that haply they might, but of necessity that they should fall into evil; or did not she know what she did, when she made them? For either of these two to say, is equally absurd. But to let pass nature in general, and to reason of things particular according to their own particular natures; how absurd and ridiculous is it, first to say that all parts of the whole are, by their proper natural constitution, subject to alteration; and then when any such thing does happen, as when one does fall sick and dies, to take on and wonder as though some strange thing had happened? Though this besides might move not so grievously to take on when any such thing does happen, that whatever is dissolved, it is dissolved into those things, of which it was compounded. For every dissolution is either a mere dispersion, of the elements into those elements again of which everything did consist, or a change, of that which is more solid into earth; and of that which is pure and subtile or spiritual, into air. So that by this means nothing is lost, but all resumed again into those rational generative seeds of the universe; and this universe, either after a certain period of time to lie consumed by fire, or by continual changes to be renewed, and so for ever to endure. Now that solid and spiritual that we speak of, you must not conceive it to be that very same, which at first was, when you were born. For alas! all this that now you are in either kind, either for matter of substance, or of life, has but two or three days ago partly from meats eaten, and partly from air breathed in, received all its influx, being the same then in no other respect, than a running river, maintained by the continual influx and new supply of waters, is the same. That therefore which you have since received, not that which came from your mother, is that which comes to change and corruption. But suppose that that for the general substance, and more solid part of it, should still cleave to you never so close, yet what is that to the proper qualities and emotions of it, by which persons are distinguished, which certainly are quite different?

Now that you have taken these names upon you of good, modest, true; of έμφρων, σύμφρων, υπέρφρων; take heed lest at any times by doing anything that is contrary, you be but improperly so called, and lose your right to these appellations. Or if you do, return to them again with all possible speed. And remember, that the word έμφρων notes to you an intent and intelligent consideration of every object that presents itself to you, without distraction. And the word σύμφρων, a ready and contented acceptation of whatever by the appointment of universal Nature, happens to you. And the word υπέρφρων, a superextension, or a transcendent, and outreaching disposition of your mind, whereby it passes by all bodily pains and pleasures, honor and credit, death and whatever is of the same nature, as matters of absolute indifferency, and in no wise to be stood upon by a wise man. These then if inviolably you shall observe, and shall not be ambitious to be so called by others, both you yourself shall become a new man, and you shall begin a new life. For to continue such as until now you have been, to undergo those distractions and distempers as you must needs for such a life as until now you have lived, is the part of one that is very foolish, and is overfond of his life. Whom a man might compare to one of those half-eaten wretches, matched in the amphitheatre with wild beasts; who as full as they are all the body over with wounds and blood, desire for a great favor, that they may be reserved till the next day, then also, and in the same estate to be exposed to the same nails and teeth as before. Away therefore, ship yourself; and from the troubles and distractions of your former life convey yourself as it were to these few names; and if you can abide in them, or be constant in the practice and possession of them, continue there as glad and joyful as one that were translated to some such place of bliss and happiness as that which by Hesiod and Plato is called the Islands of the Blessed, by others called the Elysian Fields. And whenever you findest yourself; that you are in danger of a relapse, and that you are not able to master and overcome those difficulties and temptations that present themselves in your present station: go into any private corner, where you may be better able. Or if that will not serve forsake even your life rather. But so that it be not in passion but in a plain voluntary modest way: this being the only commendable action of your whole life that thus you are departed, or this having been the main work and business of your whole life, that you mightest thus depart. Now for the better remembrance of those names that we have spoken of, you shall find it a very good help, to remember the Gods as often as may be: and that, the thing which they require at our hands of as many of us, as are by nature reasonable creation is not that with fair words, and outward show of piety and devotion we should flatter them, but that we should become like to them: and that as all other natural creatures, the fig tree for example; the dog the bee: both do, all of them, and apply themselves to that. which by their natural constitution, is proper to them; so man likewise should do that, which by his nature, as he is a man, belongs to him.

Toys and fooleries at home, wars abroad: sometimes terror, sometimes torpor, or stupid sloth: this is your daily slavery. By little and little, if you do not better look to it, those sacred principles will be blotted out of your mind. How many things be there, which when as a mere naturalist, you have barely considered of according to their nature, you do let pass without any further use? Whereas you should in all things so join action and contemplation, that you mightest both at the same time attend all present occasions, to perform everything duly and carefully and yet so intend the contemplative part too, that no part of that delight and pleasure, which the contemplative knowledge of everything according to its true nature does of itself afford, might be lost. Or, that the true and contemplative knowledge of everything according to its own nature, might of itself, (action being subject to many lets and impediments) afford to you sufficient pleasure and happiness. Not apparent indeed, but not concealed. And when shall you attain to the happiness of true simplicity, and unaffected seriousness? When shall you rejoice in the certain knowledge of every particular object according to its true nature: as what the matter and substance of it is; what use it is for in the world: how long it can subsist: what things it does consist of: who they be that are capable of it, and who they that can give it, and take it away?

As the spider, when it has caught the fly that it hunted after, is not little proud, nor meanly conceited of herself: as he likewise that has caught an hare, or has taken a fish with his net: as another for the taking of a boar, and another of a bear: so may they be proud, and applaud themselves for their valiant acts against the Sarmatæ, or northern nations lately defeated. For these also, these famous soldiers and warlike men, if you do look into their minds and opinions, what do they for the most part but hunt after prey?

To find out, and set to yourself some certain way and method of contemplation, whereby you may clearly discern and represent to yourself, the mutual change of all things, the one into the other. Bear it in your mind evermore, and see that you be throughly well exercised in this particular. For there is not anything more effectual to beget true magnanimity.

He has got loose from the bonds of his body, and perceiving that within a very little while he must of necessity bid the world farewell, and leave all these things behind him, he wholly applied himself, as to righteousness in all his actions, so to universal Nature in all things that should happen to him. And contenting himself with these two things, to do all things justly, and whatever God does send to like well of it: what others shall either say or think of him, or shall do against him, he does not so much as trouble his thoughts with it. To go on straight, whither right and reason directed him, and by so doing to follow God, was the only thing that he did mind, that, his only business and occupation.

What use is there of suspicion at all? or, why should thoughts of mistrust, and suspicion about that which is future, trouble your mind at all? What now is to be done, if you may search and inquiry into that, what needs you care for more? And if you are well able to perceive it alone, let no man divert you from it. But if alone you do not so well perceive it, suspend your action, and take advice from the best. And if there be anything else that does hinder you, go on with prudence and discretion, according to the present occasion and opportunity, still proposing that to yourself, which you do conceive most right and just. For to hit that aright, and to speed in the prosecution of it, must needs be happiness, since it is that only which we can truly and properly be said to miss of, or miscarry in.

What is that that is slow, and yet quick? merry, and yet serious? He that in all things does follow reason for his guide.

In the morning as soon as you are awaked, when your judgment, before either your emotions, or external objects have wrought upon it, is yet most free and impartial: put this question to yourself, whether if that which is right and just be done, the doing of it by yourself, or by others when you are not able yourself; be a thing material or no. For sure it is not. And as for these that keep such a life, and stand so much upon the praises, or dispraises of other men, have you forgotten what manner of men they be? that such and such upon their beds, and such at their board: what their ordinary actions are: what they pursue after, and what they fly from: what thefts and rapines they commit, if not with their hands and feet, yet with that more precious part of theirs, their minds: which (would it but admit of them) might enjoy faith, modesty, truth, justice, a good spirit.

Give what you will, and take away what you will, says he that is well taught and truly modest, to Him that gives, and takes away. And it is not out of a stout and peremptory resolution, that he says it, but in mere love, and humble submission.

So live as indifferent to the world and all external objects, as one who lives by himself alone upon some desert hill. For whether here, or there, if the whole world be but as one town, it matters not much for the place. Let them behold and see a man, that is a man indeed, living according to the true nature of man. If they cannot bear with me, let them kill me. For better were it to die, than so to live as they would have you.

Make it not any longer a matter of dispute or discourse, what are the signs and proprieties of a good man, but really and actually to be such.

Ever to represent to yourself; and to set before you, both the general age and time of the world, and the whole substance of it. And how all things particular in respect of these are for their substance, as one of the least seeds that is: and for their duration, as the turning of the pestle in the mortar once about. Then to fix your mind upon every particular object of the world, and to conceive it, (as it is indeed), as already being in the state of dissolution, and of change; tending to some kind of either putrefaction or dispersion; or whatever else it is, that is the death as it were of everything in his own kind.

Consider them through all actions and occupations, of their lives: as when they eat, and when they sleep: when they are in the act of necessary exoneration, and when in the act of desire. Again, when they either are in their greatest exultation; and in the middle of all their pomp and glory; or being angry and displeased, in great state and majesty, as from an higher place, they chide and rebuke. How low and slavish, but a little while ago, they were fain to be, that they might come to this; and within a very little while what will be their estate, when death has once seized upon them.

That is best for every one, that universal Nature of all does send to every one, and then is it best, when she does send it.

The earth, says the poet, does often long after the rain. So is the glorious sky often as desirous to fall upon the earth, which argues a mutual kind of love between them. And so (say I) does the world bear a certain affection of love to whatever shall come to pass With your emotions shall mine concur, O world. The same (and no other) shall the object of my longing be which is of your. Now that the world does love it is true indeed so is it as usually said, and acknowledged ledged, when, according to the Greek phrase, imitated by the Latins, of things that used to be, we say usually, that they love to be.

Either you do Continue in this kind of life and that is it, which so long you have been used to and therefore tolerable: or you do retire, or leave the world, and that of your own accord, and then you have your mind: or your life is cut off; and then may. you rejoice that you have ended your charge. One of these must needs be. Be therefore of good comfort.

Let it always appear and be manifest to you that solitariness, and desert places, by many philosophers so much esteemed of and affected, are of themselves but thus and thus; and that all things are them to them that live in towns, and converse with others as they are the same nature everywhere to be seen and observed: to them that have retired themselves to the top of mountains, and to desert havens, or what other desert and inhabited places soever. For anywhere it you will may you quickly find and apply that to yourself; which Plato says of his philosopher, in a place: as private and retired, says he, as if he were shut up and enclosed about in some shepherd's lodge, on the top of a hill. There by yourself to put these questions to yourself. or to enter in these considerations: What is my chief and principal part, which has power over the rest? What is now the present estate of it, as I use it; and what is it, that I employ it about? Is it now void of reason or no? Is it free, and separated; or so affixed, so congealed and grown together as it were with the flesh, that it is swayed by the motions and inclinations of it?

He that runs away from his master is a fugitive. But the law is every man's master. He therefore that forsakes the law, is a fugitive. So is he, whosoever he be, that is either sorry, angry, or afraid, or for anything that either has been, is, or shall be by his appointment, who is the Lord and Governor of the universe. For he truly and properly is Νόμος, or the law, as the only νέμων, or distributor and dispenser of all things that happen to any one in his lifetime. Whatever then is either sorry, angry, or afraid, is a fugitive.

From man is the seed, that once cast into the womb man has no more to do with it. Another cause succeeds, and undertakes the work, and in time brings a child (that wonderful effect from such a beginning!) to perfection. Again, man lets food down through his throat; and that once down, he has no more to do with it. Another cause succeeds and distributs this food into the senses, and the emotions: into life, and into strength; and does with it those other many and marvellous things, that belong to man. These things therefore that are so secretly and invisibly wrought and brought to pass, you must use to behold and contemplate; and not the things themselves only, but the power also by which they are effected; that you may behold it, though not with the eyes of the body, yet as plainly and visibly as you can see and discern the outward efficient cause of the depression and elevation of anything.

Ever to mind and consider with yourself; how all things that now are, have been heretofore much after the same sort, and after the same fashion that now they are: and so to think of those things which shall be hereafter also. Moreover, whole dramata, and uniform scenes, or scenes that comprehend the lives and actions of men of one calling and profession, as many as either in your own experience you have known, or by reading of ancient histories; (as the whole court of Adrianus, the whole court of Antoninus Pius, the whole court of Philippus, that of Alexander, that of Croesus): to set them all before your eyes. For you shall find that they are all but after one sort and fashion: only that the actors were others.

As a pig that cries and flings when his throat is cut, fancy to yourself every one to be, that grieves for any external thing and takes on. Such a one is he also, who upon his bed alone, does bewail the miseries of this our mortal life. And remember this, that To reasonable creatures only it is granted that they may willingly and freely submit to Providence: but absolutely to submit, is a necessity imposed upon all creatures equally.

Whatever it is that you go about, consider of it by yourself, and ask yourself, What? because I shall do this no more when I am dead, should therefore death seem grievous to me?

When you are offended with any man's transgression, presently reflect upon yourself; and consider what you yourself are guilty of in the same kind. As that you also perhaps do think it a happiness either to be rich, or to live in pleasure, or to be praised and commended, and so of the rest in particular. For this if you shall call to mind, you shall soon forget your anger; especially when at the same time this also shall concur in your thoughts, that he was constrained by his error and ignorance so to do: for how can he choose as long as he is of that opinion? Do you therefore if you can, take away that from him, that forces him to do as he does.

When you see Satyro, think of Socraticus and Eutyches, or Hymen, and when Euphrates, think of Eutychio, and Sylvanus, when Alciphron, of Tropaeophorus, when Xenophon, of Crito, or Severus. And when you do look upon yourself, fancy to yourself some one or other of the Cæsars; and so for every one, some one or other that has been for estate and profession answerable to him. Then let this come to your mind at the same time; and where now are they all? Nowhere or anywhere? For so shall you at all time. be able to perceive how all external things are but as the smoke, that vanishes away: or, indeed, mere nothing. Especially when you shall call to mind this also, that whatever is once changed, shall never be again as long as the world endurs. And you then, how long shall you endure? And why does it not suffice you, if virtuously, and as becoms you, you may pass that portion of time, how little soever it be, that is allotted to you?

What a subject, and what a course of life is it, that you do so much desire to be rid of. For all these things, what are they, but fit objects for an understanding, that beholds everything according to its true nature, to exercise itself upon? Be patient, therefore, until that (as a strong stomach that turns all things into his own nature; and as a great fire that turns in flame and light, whatever you do cast into it) you have made these things also familiar, and as it were natural to you.

Let it not be in any man's power, to say truly of you, that you are not truly simple, or sincere and open, or not good. Let him be deceived whosoever he be that shall have any such opinion of you. For all this does depend of you. For who is it that should hinder you from being either truly simple or good? Do you only resolve rather not to live, than not to be such. For indeed neither does it stand with reason that he should live that is not such. What then is it that may upon this present occasion according to best reason and discretion, either be said or done? For whatever it be, it is in your power either to do it, or to say it, and therefore seek not any pretences, as though you were hindered. You will never cease groaning and complaining, until such time as that, what pleasure is to the self-indulgent, be to you, to do in everything that presents itself, whatever may be done conformably and agreeably to the proper constitution of man, or, to man as he is a man. For you must account that pleasure, whatever it be, that you may do according to your own nature. And to do this, every place will fit you. To the cylindrus, or roller, it is not granted to move everywhere according to its own proper motion, as neither to the water, nor to the fire, nor to any other thing, that either is merely natural, or natural and sensitive; but not rational. for many things there be that can hinder their operations. But of the mind and understanding this is the proper privilege, that according to its own nature, and as it will itself, it can pass through every obstacle that it finds, and keep straight on forwards. Setting therefore before your eyes this happiness and felicity of your mind, whereby it is able to pass through all things, and is capable of all motions, whether as the fire, upwards; or as the stone downwards, or as the cylindrus through that which is sloping: content yourself with it, and seek not after any other thing. For all other kind of hindrances that are not hindrances of your mind either they are proper to the body, or merely proceed from the opinion, reason not making that resistance that it should, but basely, and cowardly suffering itself to be foiled; and of themselves can neither wound, nor do any hurt at all. Else must he of necessity, whosoever he be that meets with any of them, become worse than he was before. For so is it in all other subjects, that that is thought hurtful to them, whereby they are made worse. But here contrariwise, man (if he make that good use of them that he should) is rather the better and the more praiseworthy for any of those kind of hindrances, than otherwise. But generally remember that nothing can hurt a natural citizen, that is not hurtful to the city itself, nor anything hurt the city, that is not hurtful to the law itself. But none of these casualties, or external hindrances, do hurt the law itself; or, are contrary to that course of justice and equity, by which public societies are maintained: neither therefore do they hurt either city or citizen.

As he that is bitten by a mad dog, is afraid of everything almost that he seeth: so to him, whom the principles have once bitten, or in whom true knowledge has made an impression, everything almost that he sees or reads be it never so short or ordinary, does afford a good memento; to put him out of all grief and fear, as that of the poet, "The winds blow upon the trees, and their leaves fall upon the ground. Then do the trees begin to bud again, and by the spring-time they put forth new branches. So is the generation of men; some come into the world, and others go out of it." Of these leaves then your children are. And they also that applaud you so gravely, or, that applaud your speeches, with that their usual acclamation, αξιοπίστως, O wisely spoken I and speak well of you, as on the other side, they that stick not to curse you, they that privately and secretly dispraise and deride you, they also are but leaves. And they also that shall follow, in whose memories the names of men famous after death, is preserved, they are but leaves neither. For even so is it of all these external things. Their spring comes, and they are put forth. Then blows the wind, and they go down. And then in lieu of them grow others out of the wood or common matter of all things, like to them. But, to endure but for a while, is common to all. Why then should you so earnestly either seek after these things, or fly from them, as though they should endure for ever? Yet a little while, and your eyes will be closed up, and for him that carries you to your serious shall another mourn within a while after.

A good eye must be good to see whatever is to be seen, and not green things only. For that is proper to sore eyes. So must a good ear, and a good smell be ready for whatever is either to be heard, or smelt: and a good stomach as indifferent to all kinds of food, as a millstone is, to whatever she was made for to grind. As ready therefore must a sound understanding be for whatever shall happen. But he that says, O that my children might live! and, O that all men might commend me for whatever I do! is an eye that seeks after green things; or as teeth, after that which is tender.

There is not any man that is so happy in his death, but that some of those that are by him when he dies, will be ready to rejoice at his supposed calamity. Is it one that was virtuous and wise indeed? will there not some one or other be found, who thus will say to himself; "Well now at last shall I be at rest from this pedagogue. He did not indeed otherwise trouble us much: but I know well enough that in his heart, he did much condemn us." Thus will they speak of the virtuous. But as for us, alas I how many things be there, for which there be many that glad would be to be rid of us. This therefore if you shall think of whenever you diest, you shall die the more willingly, when you shall think with yourself; I am now to depart from that world, in which those that have been my nearest friends and acquaintances, they whom I have so much suffered for, so often prayed for, and for whom I have taken such care, even they would have me die, hoping that after my death they shall live happier, than they did before. What then should any man desire to continue here any longer? Nevertheless, whenever you diest, you must not be less kind and loving to them for it; but as before, see them, continue to be their friend, to wish them well, and meekly, and gently to carry yourself towards them, but yet so that on the other side, it make you not the more unwilling to die. But as it fareth with them that die an easy quick death, whose soul is soon separated from their bodies, so must your separation from them be. To these had nature joined and annexed me: now she parts us; I am ready to depart, as from friends and kinsmen, but yet without either reluctancy or compulsion. For this also is according to Nature.

Use yourself; as often, as you see any man do anything, presently (if it be possible) to say to yourself, What is this man's end in this his action? But begin this course with yourself first of all, and diligently examine yourself about whatever you do.

Remember, that that which sets a man at work, and has power over the emotions to draw them either one way, or the other way, is not any external thing properly, but that which is hidden within every man's principles, and opinions: That, that is rhetoric; that is life; that (to speak true) is man himself. As for your body, which as a vessel, or a case, compasses you about, and the many and curious instruments that it has annexed to it, let them not trouble your thoughts. For of themselves they are but as a carpenter's axe, but that they are born with us, and naturally sticking to us. But otherwise, without the inward cause that has power to move them, and to restrain them, those parts are of themselves of no more use to us, than the shuttle is of itself to the weaver, or the pen to the writer, or the whip to the coachman.

Book XI

THE NATURAL PROPERTIES, and privileges of a reasonable soul are: That she seeth herself; that she can order, and compose herself: that she makes herself as she will herself: that she reaps her own fruits whatever, whereas plants, trees, unreasonable creatures, what fruit soever (be it either fruit properly, or analogically only) they bear, they bear them to others, and not to themselves. Again; whenever, and wherever, sooner or later, her life does end, she has her own end nevertheless. For it is not with her, as with dancers and players, who if they be interrupted in any part of their action, the whole action must needs be imperfect: but she in what part of time or action soever she be surprised, can make that which she has in her hand whatever it be, complete and full, so that she may depart with that comfort, "I have lived; neither want I anything of that which properly did belong to me." Again, she compasses the whole world, and penetrats into the vanity, and mere outside (wanting substance and solidity) of it, and stretches herself to the infiniteness of eternity; and the revolution or restoration of all things after a certain period of time, to the same state and place as before, she fetches about, and does comprehend in herself; and considers also, and sees clearly this, that neither they that shall follow us, shall see any new thing, that we have not seen, nor they that went before, anything more than we: but that he that is once come to forty (if he have any wit at all) can in a manner (for that they are all of one kind) see all things, both past and future. As proper is it, and natural to the soul of man to love her neighbor, to be true and modest; and to regard nothing so much as herself: which is also the property of the law: whereby by the way it appears, that sound reason and justice comes all to one, and therefore that justice is the chief thing, that reasonable creatures ought to propose to themselves as their end.

A pleasant song or dance; the Pancratiast's exercise, sports that you are wont to be much taken with, you shall easily contemn; if the harmonious voice you shall divide into so many particular sounds of which it does consist, and of every one in particular shall ask yourself; whether this or that sound is it, that does so conquer you. For you will be ashamed of it. And so for shame, if accordingly you shall consider it, every particular motion and posture by itself: and so for the wrestler's exercise too. Generally then, whatever it be, besides virtue, and those things that proceed from virtue that you are subject to be much affected with, remember presently thus to divide it, and by this kind of division, in each particular to attain to the contempt of the whole. This you must transfer and apply to your whole life also.

That soul which is ever ready, even now presently (if need be) from the body, whether by way of extinction, or dispersion, or continuation in another place and estate to be separated, how blessed and happy is it! But this readiness of it, it must proceed, not from an obstinate and peremptory resolution of the mind, violently and passionately set upon Opposition, as Christians are wont; but from a peculiar judgment; with discretion and seriousness, so that others may be persuaded also and drawn to the like example, but without any noise and passionate exclamations.

Have I done anything charitably? then am I benefited by it. See that this upon all occasions may present itself to your mind, and never cease to think of it. What is your profession? to be good. And how should this be well brought to pass, but by certain doctrines and doctrines; some About the nature of the universe, and some About the proper and particular constitution of man?

Tragedies were at first brought in and instituted, to put men in mind of external chances and casualties: that these things in the ordinary course of nature did so happen: that men that were much pleased and delighted by such accidents upon this stage, would not by the same things in a greater stage be grieved and afflicted: for here you see what is the end of all such things; and that even they that cry out so mournfully to Cithaeron, must bear them for all their cries and exclamations, as well as others. And in very truth many good things are spoken by these poets; as that (for example) is an excellent passage: "But if so be that I and my two children be neglected by the Gods, they have some reason even for that," &c. And again, "It will but little avail you to storm and rage against the things themselves," &c. Again, "To reap one's life, as a ripe ear of corn"; and whatever else is to be found in them, that is of the same kind. After the tragedy, the ancient comedy was brought in, which had the liberty to inveigh against personal vices; being therefore through this her freedom and liberty of speech of very good use and effect, to restrain men from pride and arrogancy. To which end it was, that Diogenes took also the same liberty. After these, what were either the Middle, or New Comedy admitted for, but merely, (Or for the most part at least) for the delight and pleasure of curious and excellent imitation? "It will steal away; look to it," &c. Why, no man denies, but that these also have some good things of which that may be one: but the whole drift and foundation of that kind of dramatical poetry, what is it else, but as we have said?

How clearly does it appear to you, that no other course of your life could fit a true philosopher's practice better, than this very course, that you are now already in?

A branch cut off from the continuity of that which was next to it, must needs be cut off from the whole tree: so a man that is divided from another man, is divided from the whole society. A branch is cut off by another, but he that hates and is averse, cuts himself off from his neighbor, and knows not that at the same time he divides himself from the whole body, or corporation. But here is the gift and mercy of God, the Author of this society, in that, once cut off we may grow together and become part of the whole again. But if this happen often the misery is that the further a man is run in this division, the harder he is to be reunited and restored again: and however the branch which, once cut of afterwards was graffed in, gardeners can tell you is not like that which sprouted together at first, and still continued in the unity of the body.

To grow together like fellow branches in matter of good correspondence and affection; but not in matter of opinions. They that shall oppose you in your right courses, as it is not in their power to divert you from your good action, so neither let it be to divert you from your good affection towards them. But be it your care to keep yourself constant in both; both in a right judgment and action, and in true gentleness towards them, that either shall do their endeavor to hinder you, or at least will be displeased with you for what you have done. For to fail in either (either in the one to give over for fear, or in the other to forsake your natural affection towards him, who by nature is both your friend and your kinsman) is equally low, and much savouring of the disposition of a cowardly fugitive soldier.

It is not possible that any nature should be inferior to are, since that all arts imitate nature. If this be so; that the most perfect and general nature of all natures should in her operation come short of the skill of arts, is most improbable. Now common is it to all arts, to make that which is worse for the better's sake. Much more then does universal Nature do the same. Hence is the first ground of justice. From justice all other virtues have their existence. For justice cannot be preserved, if either we settle our minds and emotions upon external things; or be apt to be deceived, or rash, and inconstant.

The things themselves (which either to get or to avoid you are put to so much trouble) come not to you themselves; but you in a manner go to them. Let then your own judgment and opinion about those things be at rest; and as for the things themselves, they stand still and quiet, without any noise or stir at all; and so shall all pursuing and flying cease.

Then is the soul as Empedocles does liken it, like to a sphere or globe, when she is all of one form and figure: when she neither greedily stretches out herself to anything, nor basely contracts herself, or lies flat and dejected; but shins all with light, whereby she does see and behold the true nature, both that of the universe, and her own in particular.

Will any contemn me? let him look to that, upon what grounds he does it: my care shall be that I may never be found either doing or speaking anything that does truly deserve contempt. Will any hate me? let him look to that. I for my part will be kind and loving to all, and even to him that hates me, whomsoever he be, will I be ready to show his error, not by way of exprobation or showing off of my patience, but ingenuously and meekly: such as was that famous Phocion, if so be that he did not dissemble. For it is inwardly that these things must be: that the Gods who look inwardly, and not upon the outward appearance, may behold a man truly free from all indignation and grief. For what hurt can it be to you whatever any man else does, as long as you may do that which is proper and suitable to your own nature? Will not you (a man wholly appointed to be both what, and as the common good shall require) accept of that which is now seasonable to the nature of the universe?

They contemn one another, and yet they seek to please one another: and whilest they seek to surpass one another in external pomp and greatness, they most debase and prostitute themselves in their better part one to another.

How rotten and insincere is he, that says, I am resolved to carry myself hereafter towards you with all ingenuity and simplicity. O man, what do you mean! what needs this profession of your? the thing itself will show it. It ought to be written upon your forehead. No sooner your voice is heard, than your countenance must be able to show what is in your mind: even as he that is loved knows presently by the looks of his sweetheart what is in her mind. Such must he be for all the world, that is truly simple and good, as he whose armholes are offensive, that whosoever stands by, as soon as ever he comes near him, may as it were smell him whether he will or no. But the affectation of simplicity is nowise laudable. There is nothing more shameful than perfidious friendship. Above all things, that must be avoided. However true goodness, simplicity, and kindness cannot so be hidden, but that as we have already said in the very eyes and countenance they will show themselves.

To live happily is an inward power of the soul, when she is affected with indifferency, towards those things that are by their nature indifferent. To be thus affected she must consider all external objects both divided and whole: remembering also that no object can of itself beget any opinion in us, neither can come to us, but stands without still and quiet; but that we ourselves beget, and as it were print in ourselves opinions about them. Now it is in our power, not to print them; and if they creep in and lurk in some corner, it is in our power to wipe them off. Remembering moreover, that this care and circumspection of your, is to continue but for a while, and then your life will be at an end. And what should hinder, but that you may do well with all these things? For if they be according to nature, rejoice in them, and let them be pleasing and acceptable to you. But if they be against nature, seek you that which is according to your own nature, and whether it be for your credit or no, use all possible speed for the attainment of it: for no man ought to be blamed, for seeking his own good and happiness.

Of everything you must consider from from where it came, of what things it does consist, and into what it will be changed: what will be the nature of it, or what it will be like to when it is changed; and that it can suffer no hurt by this change. And as for other men's either foolishness or wickedness, that it may not trouble and grieve you; first generally thus; What reference have I to these? and that we are all born for one another's good: then more particularly after another consideration; as a ram is first in a flock of sheep, and a bull in a herd of cattle, so am I born to rule over them. Begin yet higher, even from this: if atoms be not the beginning of all things, than which to believe nothing can be more absurd, then must we needs grant that there is a nature, that does govern the universe. If such a nature, then are all worse things made for the better's sake; and all better for one another's sake. Secondly, what manner of men they be, at board, and upon their beds, and so forth. But above all things, how they are forced by their opinions that they hold, to do what they do; and even those things that they do, with what pride and self-idea they do them. Thirdly, that if they do these things rightly, you have no reason to be grieved. But if not rightly, it must needs be that they do them against their wills, and through mere ignorance. For as, according to Plato's opinion, no soul does willingly err, so by consequent neither does it anything otherwise than it ought, but against her will. Therefore are they grieved, whenever they hear themselves charged, either of injustice, or unconscionableness, or covetousness, or in general, of any injurious kind of dealing towards their neighbours. Fourthly, that you yourself do transgress in many things, and are even such another as they are. And though perhaps you do forbear the very act of some sins, yet have you in yourself an habitual disposition to them, but that either through fear, or vanity, or some such other ambitious foolish respect, you are restrained. Fifthly, that whether they have sinned or no, you do not understand perfectly. For many things are done by way of discreet policy; and generally a man must know many things first, before he be able truly and judiciously to judge of another man's action. Sixthly, that whenever you do take on grievously, or makest great woe, little do you remember then that a man's life is but for a moment of time, and that within a while we shall all be in our graves. Seventhly, that it is not the sins and transgressions themselves that trouble us properly; for they have their existence in their minds and understandings only, that commit them; but our own opinions about those sins. Remove then, and be content to part with that idea of your, that it is a grievous thing, and you have removed your anger. But how should I remove it? How? reasoning with yourself that it is not shameful. For if that which is shameful, be not the only true evil that is, you also will be driven whilest you do follow the common instinct of nature, to avoid that which is evil, to commit many unjust things, and to become a thief, and anything, that will make to the attainment of your intended external ends. Eighthly, how many things may and do oftentimes follow upon such fits of anger and grief; far more grievous in themselves, than those very things which we are so grieved or angry for. Ninthly, that gentleness is a thing unconquerable, if it be true and natural, and not affected or hypocritical. For how shall even the most fierce and malicious that you shall conceive, be able to hold on against you, if you shall still continue gentle and loving to him; and that even at that time, when he is about to do you wrong, you shall be well disposed, and in good temper, with all gentleness to teach him, and to instruct him better? As for example; My son, we were not born for this, to hurt and annoy one another; it will be your hurt not mine, my son: and so to show him forcibly and fully, that it is so in very deed: and that neither bees do it one to another, nor any other creatures that are naturally sociable. But this you must do, not scoffingly, not by way of exprobation, but tenderly without any harshness of words. Neither must you do it by way of exercise, or showing off, that they that are by and hear you, may admire you: but so always that nobody be privy to it, but himself alone: yes, though there be more present at the same time. These nine particular heads, as so many gifts from the Muses, see that you remember well: and begin one day, whilest you are yet alive, to be a man indeed. But on the other side you must take heed, as much to flatter them, as to be angry with them: for both are equally unkind, and equally hurtful. And in your strong emotions, take it presently to your consideration, that to be angry is not the part of a man, but that to be gentle and mild, as it savours of more humanity, so of more manhood. That in this, there is strength and nerves, or vigour and fortitude: of which anger and indignation is altogether void. For the nearer everything is to freedom from destructive passion, the nearer it is to power. And as grief does proceed from weakness, so does anger. For both, both he that is angry and that grieves, have received a wound, and cowardly have as it were yielded themselves to their emotions. If you will have a tenth also, receive this tenth gift from Hercules the guide and leader of the Muses: that is a mad man's part, to look that there should be no wicked men in the world, because it is impossible. Now for a man to brook well enough, that there should be wicked men in the world, but not to endure that any should transgress against himself, is against all equity, and indeed tyrannical.

Four several dispositions or inclinations there be of the mind and understanding, which to be aware of, you must carefully observe: and whenever you do discover them, you must rectify them, saying to yourself about every one of them, This imagination is not necessary; this is unkind: this you shall speak as another man's slave, or instrument; than which nothing can be more senseless and absurd: for the fourth, you shall sharply check and upbraid yourself; for that you do suffer that more divine part in you, to become subject and obnoxious to that more ignoble part of your body, and the gross desires and concupiscences of it.

What portion soever, either of air or fire there be in you, although by nature it tend upwards, submitting nevertheless to the ordinance of the universe, it abides here below in this mixed body. So whatever is in you, either earthy, or humid, although by nature it tend downwards, yet is it against its nature both raised upwards, and standing, or consistent. So obedient are even the elements themselves to the universe, abiding patiently wherever (though against their nature) they are placed, until the sound as it were of their retreat, and separation. Is it not a grievous thing then, that your reasonable part only should be disobedient, and should not endure to keep its place: yes though it be nothing enjoined that is contrary to it, but that only which is according to its nature? For we cannot say of it when it is disobedient, as we say of the fire, or air, that it tends upwards towards its proper element, for then goes it the quite contrary way. For the motion of the mind to any injustice, or incontinency, or to sorrow, or to fear, is nothing else but a separation from nature. Also when the mind is grieved for anything that is happened by the divine providence, then does it likewise forsake its own place. For it was ordained to holiness and godliness, which specially consist in an humble submission to God and His providence in all things; as well as to justice: these also being part of those duties, which as naturally sociable, we are bound to; and without which we cannot happily converse one with another: yes and the very ground and fountain indeed of all just actions.

He that has not one and the self-same general end always as long as he lives, cannot possibly be one and the self-same man always. But this will not suffice except you add also what ought to be this general end. For as the general idea and apprehension of all those things which upon no certain ground are by the greater part of men deemed good, cannot be uniform and agreeable, but that only which is limited and restrained by some certain proprieties and conditions, as of community: that nothing be conceived good, which is not usually and publicly good: so must the end also that we propose to ourselves, be common and sociable. For he that does direct all his own private motions and purposes to that end, all his actions will be agreeable and uniform; and by that means will be still the same man.

Remember the fable of the country mouse and the city mouse, and the great fright and terror that this was put into.

Socrates was wont to call the common ideas and opinions of men, the common bugbears of the world: the proper terror of silly children.

The Lacedæmonians at their public spectacles were wont to appoint seats and forms for their strangers in the shadow, they themselves were content to sit anywhere.

What Socrates answered to Perdiccas, why he did not come to him, Lest of all deaths I should die the worst kind of death, said he: that is, not able to requite the good that has been done to me.

In the ancient mystical letters of the Ephesians, there was an item, that a man should always have in his mind some one or other of the ancient worthies.

The Pythagoreans were wont early in the morning the first thing they did, to look up to the heavens, to put themselves in mind of them who constantly and invariably did perform their task: as also to put themselves in mind of orderliness, or good order, and of purity, and of naked simplicity. For no star or planet has any cover before it.

How Socrates looked, when he was fain to gird himself with a skin, Xanthippe his wife having taken away his clothes, and carried them abroad with her, and what he said to his fellows and friends, who were ashamed; and out of respect to him, did retire themselves when they saw him thus decked.

In matter of writing or reading you must needs be taught before you can do either: much more in matter of life. "For you are born a mere slave, to your senses and brutish emotions"; destitute without teaching of all true knowledge and sound reason.

"My heart smiled within me." "They will accuse even virtue herself; with heinous and opprobrious words."

As they that long after figs in winter when they cannot be had; so are they that long after children, before they be granted them.

"As often as a father kisses his child, he should say secretly with himself" (said Epictetus), "tomorrow perhaps shall he die." But these words be ominous. No words ominous (said he) that signify anything that is natural: in very truth and deed not more ominous than this, "to cut down grapes when they are ripe." Green grapes, ripe grapes, dried grapes, or raisins: so many changes and mutations of one thing, not into that which was not absolutely, but rather so many several changes and mutations, not into that which has no being at all, but into that which is not yet in being.

"Of the free will there is no thief or robber": out of Epictetus; Whose is this also: that we should find a certain are and method of assenting; and that we should always observe with great care and heed the inclinations of our minds, that they may always be with their due restraint and reservation, always kind, and according to the true worth of every present object. And as for earnest longing, that we should altogether avoid it: and to use averseness in those things only, that wholly depend of our own wills. It is not about ordinary petty matters, believe it, that all our strife and contention is, but whether, with the vulgar, we should be mad, or by the help of philosophy wise and sober, said he.

Socrates said, "What will you have? the souls of reasonable, or unreasonable creatures? Of reasonable. But what? Of those whose reason is sound and perfect? or of those whose reason is vitiated and corrupted? Of those whose reason is sound and perfect. Why then labor ye not for such? Because we have them already. What then do ye so strive and contend between you?"

Book XII

WHATEVER YOU DO hereafter aspire to, you may even now enjoy and possess, if you do not envy yourself your own happiness. And that will be, if you shall forget all that is past, and for the future, refer yourself wholly to the Divine Providence, and shall bend and apply all your present thoughts and intentions to holiness and righteousness. To holiness, in accepting willingly whatever is sent by the Divine Providence, as being that which the nature of the universe has appointed to you, which also has appointed you for that, whatever it be. To righteousness, in speaking the truth freely, and without ambiguity; and in doing all things justly and discreetly. Now in this good course, let not other men's either wickedness, or opinion, or voice hinder you: no, nor the sense of this your pampered mass of flesh: for let that which suffers, look to itself. If therefore whenever the time of your departing shall come, you shall readily leave all things, and shall respect your mind only, and that divine part of you, and this shall be your only fear, not that some time or other you shall cease to live, but you shall never begin to live according to nature: then shall you be a man indeed, worthy of that world, from which you had your beginning; then shall you cease to be a stranger in your country, and to wonder at those things that happen daily, as things strange and unexpected, and anxiously to depend of divers things that are not in your power.

God beholds our minds and understandings, bare and naked from these material vessels, and outsides, and all earthly dross. For with His simple and pure understanding, He pierces into our inmost and purest parts, which from His, as it were by a water pipe and channel, first flowed and issued. This if you also shall use to do, you shall rid yourself of that manifold luggage, wherewith you are round about encumbered. For he that does regard neither his body, nor his clothing, nor his dwelling, nor any such external furniture, must needs gain to himself great rest and ease. Three things there be in all, which you do consist of; your body, your life, and your mind. Of these the two former, are so far forth your, as that you are bound to take care for them. But the third alone is that which is properly your. If then you shall separate from yourself, that is from your mind, whatever other men either do or say, or whatever you yourself have heretofore either done or said; and all troublesome thoughts about the future, and whatever, (as either belonging to your body or life): is without the jurisdiction of your own will, and whatever in the ordinary course of human chances and accidents does happen to you; so that your mind (keeping herself loose and free from all outward coincidental entanglements; always in a readiness to depart): shall live by herself, and to herself, doing that which is just, accepting whatever does happen, and speaking the truth always; if, I say, you shall separate from your mind, whatever by sympathy might adhere to it, and all time both past and future, and shall make yourself in all points and respects, like to Empedocles his allegorical sphere, "all round and circular," &c., and shall think of no longer life than that which is now present: then shall you be truly able to pass the remainder of your days without troubles and distractions; nobly and generously disposed, and in good favor and correspondency, with that spirit which is within you.

I have often wondered how it should come to pass, that every man loving himself best, should more regard other men's opinions about himself than his own. For if any God or serious master standing by, should command any of us to think nothing by himself but what he should presently speak out; no man were able to endure it, though but for one day. Thus do we fear more what our neighbours will think of us, than what we ourselves.

How come it to pass that the Gods having ordered all other things so well and so lovingly, should be overseen in this one only thing, that whereas then. has been some very good men that have made many covenants as it were with God and by many holy actions and outward services contracted a kind of familiarity with Him; that these men when once they are dead, should never be restored to life, but be extinct for ever. But this you may be sure of, that this (if it be so indeed) would never have been so ordered by the Gods, had it been fit otherwise. For certainly it was possible, had it been more just so and had it been according to nature, the nature of the universe would easily have borne it. But now because it is not so, (if so be that it be not so indeed) be therefore confident that it was not fit it should be so. for you see yourself, that now seeking after this matter, how freely you do argue and contest with God. But were not the Gods both just and good in the highest degree, you durst not thus reason with them. Now if just and good, it could not be that in the creation of the world, they should either unjustly or unreasonably oversee anything.

Use yourself even to those things that you do at first despair of. For the left hand we see, which for the most part lies idle because not used; yet does it hold the bridle with more strength than the right, because it has been used to it.

Let these be the objects of your ordinary meditation: to consider, what manner of men both for soul and body we ought to be, whenever death shall surprise us: the shortness of this our mortal life: the immense vastness of the time that has been before, and will he after us: the frailty of every external material object: all these things to consider, and behold clearly in themselves, all disguisement of external outside being removed and taken away. Again, to consider the efficient causes of all things: the proper ends and references of all actions: what pain is in itself; what pleasure, what death: what fame or honor, how every man is the true and proper ground of his own rest and tranquillity, and that no man can truly be hindered by any other: that all is but idea and opinion. As for the use of your principles, you must carry yourself in the practice of them, rather like to a pancratiastes, or one that at the same time both fights and wrestles with hands and feet, than a gladiator. For this, if he lose his sword that he fights with, he is gone: whereas the other has still his hand free, which he may easily turn and manage at his will.

All external things you must behold and consider, dividing them into matter, form, and reference, or their proper end.

How happy is man in this his power that has been granted to him: that he needs not do anything but what God shall approve, and that he may embrace contentedly, whatever God does send to him?

Whatever does happen in the ordinary course and consequence of natural events, neither the Gods, (for it is not possible, that they either wittingly or unwittingly should do anything amiss) nor men, (for it is through ignorance, and therefore against their wills that they do anything amiss) must he accused. None then must be accused.

How ridiculous and strange is he, that wonders at anything that happens in this life in the ordinary course of nature!

Either fate, (and that either an absolute necessity, and unavoidable decree; or a placable and flexible Providence) or all is a mere casual confusion, void of all order and government. If an absolute and unavoidable necessity, why do you resist? If a placable and exorable Providence, make yourself worthy of the divine help and assistance. If all be a mere confusion without any moderator, or governor, then have you reason to congratulate yourself; that in such a general flood of confusion you yourself have obtained a reasonable faculty, whereby you may govern your own life and actions. But if you are carried put aside the flood, it must be your body perhaps, or your life, or some other thing that belongs to them that is carried away: your mind and understanding cannot. Or should it be so, that the light of a candle indeed is still bright and lightsome until it be put out: and should truth, and righteousness, and temperance cease to shine in you whilest you yourself have any being?

At the idea and apprehension that such and such a one has sinned, thus reason with yourself; What do I know whether this be a sin indeed, as it seems to be? But if it be, what do I know but that he himself has already condemned himself for it? And that is all one as if a man should scratch and tear his own face, an object of compassion rather than of anger. Again, that he that would not have a vicious man to sin, is like to him that would not have moisture in the fig, nor children to weep nor a horse to neigh, nor anything else that in the course of nature is necessary. For what shall he do that has such an habit? If you therefore are powerful and eloquent, remedy it if you can.

If it be not fitting, do it not. If it be not true, speak it not. Ever maintain your own purpose and resolution free from all compulsion and necessity.

Of everything that presents itself to you, to consider what the true nature of it is, and to unfold it, as it were, by dividing it into that which is formal: that which is material: the true use or end of it, and the just time that it is appointed to last.

It is high time for you, to understand that there is somewhat in you, better and more divine than either your strong emotions, or your sensual appetites and emotions. What is now the object of my mind, is it fear, or suspicion, or desire, or any such thing? To do nothing rashly without some certain end; let that be your first care. The next, to have no other end than the common good. For, alas! yet a little while, and you are no more: no more will any, either of those things that now you see, or of those men that now are living, be any more. For all things are by nature appointed soon to be changed, turned, and corrupted, that other things might succeed in their room.

Remember that all is but opinion, and all opinion depends of the mind. Take your opinion away, and then as a ship that has stricken in within the arms and mouth of the harbour, a present calm; all things safe and steady: a bay, not capable of any storms and tempests: as the poet has it.

No operation whatever it he, ceasing for a while, can be truly said to suffer any evil, because it is at an end. Neither can he that is the author of that operation; for this very respect, because his operation is at an end, be said to suffer any evil. Likewise then, neither can the whole body of all our actions (which is our life) if in time it cease, be said to suffer any evil for this very reason, because it is at an end; nor he truly be said to have been ill affected, that did put a period to this series of actions. Now this time or certain period, depends of the determination of nature: sometimes of particular nature, as when a man dies old; but of nature in general, however; the parts of which thus changing one after another, the whole world still continues fresh and new. Now that is ever best and most seasonable, which is for the good of the whole. Thus it appears that death of itself can neither be hurtful to any in particular, because it is not a shameful thing (for neither is it a thing that depends of our own will, nor of itself contrary to the common good) and generally, as it is both useful and seasonable to the whole, that in that respect it must needs be good. It is that also, which is brought to us by the order and appointment of the Divine Providence; so that he whose will and mind in these things runs along with the Divine ordinance, and by this concurrence of his will and mind with the Divine Providence, is led and driven along, as it were by God Himself; may truly be termed and esteemed the θεοφόρητος, or divinely led and inspired.

These three things you must have always in a readiness: first about your own actions, whether you do nothing either idly, or otherwise, than justice and equity do require: and about those things that happen to you externally, that either they happen to you by chance, or by providence; of which two to accuse either, is equally against reason. Secondly, what like to our bodies are whilest yet rude and imperfect, until they be animated: and from their animation, until their expiration: of what things they are compounded, and into what things they shall be dissolved. Thirdly, how vain all things will appear to you when, from on high as it were, looking down you shall contemplate all things upon earth, and the wonderful mutability, that they are subject to: considering also, the infinite both greatness and variety of things aerial and things celestial that are round about it. And that as often as you shall behold them, you shall still see the same: as the same things, so the same shortness of continuance of all those things. And, behold, these be the things that we are so proud and puffed up for.

Cast away from you opinion, and you are safe. And what is it that hinders you from casting of it away? When you are grieved at anything, have you forgotten that all things happen according to the nature of the universe; and that him only it concerns, who is in fault; and moreover, that what is now done, is that which from ever has been done in the world, and will ever be done, and is now done everywhere: how nearly all men are allied one to another by a kindred not of blood, nor of seed, but of the same mind. You have also forgotten that every man's mind partakes of the Deity, and issus from from there; and that no man can properly call anything his own, no not his son, nor his body, nor his life; for that they all proceed from that One who is the giver of all things: that all things are but opinion; that no man lives properly, but that very instant of time which is now present. And therefore that no man whenever he dies can properly be said to lose any more, than an instant of time.

Let your thoughts ever run upon them, who once for some one thing or other, were moved with extraordinary indignation; who were once in the highest pitch of either honor, or calamity; or mutual hatred and enmity; or of any other fortune or condition whatever. Then consider what's now become of all those things. All is turned to smoke; all to ashes, and a mere fable; and perhaps not so much as a fable. As also whatever is of this nature, as Fabius Catulinus in the field; Lucius Lupus, and Stertinius, at Baiæ; Tiberius at Capreæ: and Velius Rufus, and all such examples of vehement prosecution in external matters; let these also run in your mind at the same time; and how low every object of such earnest and vehement prosecution is; and how much more agreeable to true philosophy it is, for a man to carry himself in every matter that offers itself; justly, and moderately, as one that follows the Gods with all simplicity. For, for a man to be proud and high conceited, that he is not proud and high conceited, is of all kind of pride and presumption, the most intolerable.

To them that ask you, Where have you seen the Gods, or how know you certainly that there be Gods, that you are so devout in their worship? I answer first of all, that even to the very eye, they are in some manner visible and apparent. Secondly, neither have I ever seen mine own soul, and yet I respect and honor it. So then for the Gods, by the daily experience that I have of their power and providence towards myself and others, I know certainly that they are, and therefore worship them.

Here does consist happiness of life, for a man to know thoroughly the true nature of everything; what is the matter, and what is the form of it: with all his heart and soul, ever to do that which is just, and to speak the truth. What then remains but to enjoy your life in a course and coherence of good actions, one upon another immediately succeeding, and never interrupted, though for never so little a while?

There is but one light of the sun, though it be intercepted by walls and mountains, and other thousand objects. There is but one common substance of the whole world, though it be concluded and restrained into several different bodies, in number infinite. There is but one common soul, though divided into innumerable particular essences and natures. So is there but one common intellectual soul, though it seem to be divided. And as for all other parts of those generals which we have mentioned, as either sensitive souls or subjects, these of themselves (as naturally irrational) have no common mutual reference one to another, though many of them contain a mind, or reasonable faculty in them, whereby they are ruled and governed. But of every reasonable mind, this the particular nature, that it has reference to whatever is of her own kind, and desirs to be united: neither can this common affection, or mutual unity and correspondency, be here intercepted or divided, or confined to particulars as those other common things are.

What do you desire? To live long. What? To enjoy the operations of a sensitive soul; or of the appetitive faculty? or would you grow, and then decrease again? Would you long be able to talk, to think and reason with yourself? Which of all these seems to you a worthy object of your desire? Now if of all these you do find that they be but little worth in themselves, proceed on to the last, which is, in all things to follow God and reason. But for a man to grieve that by death he shall be deprived of any of these things, is both against God and reason.

What a small portion of vast and infinite eternity it is, that is allowed to every one of us, and how soon it vanishes into the general age of the world: of the common substance, and of the common soul also what a small portion is allotted to us: and in what a little clod of the whole earth (as it were) it is that you do crawl. After you shall rightly have considered these things with yourself; fancy not anything else in the world any more to be of any weight and moment but this, to do that only which your own nature does require; and to conform yourself to that which universal Nature does afford.

What is the present estate of my understanding? For here lies all indeed. As for all other things, they are without the compass of mine own will: and if without the compass of my will, then are they as dead things to me, and as it were mere smoke.

To stir up a man to the contempt of death this among other things, is of good power and efficacy, that even they who esteemed pleasure to be happiness, and pain misery, did nevertheless many of them contemn death as much as any. And can death be terrible to him, to whom that only seems good, which in the ordinary course of nature is seasonable? to him, to whom, whether his actions be many or few, so they be all good, is all one; and who whether he behold the things of the world being always the same either for many years, or for few years only, is altogether indifferent? O man! as a citizen you have lived, and conversed in this great city the world. Whether just for so many years, or no, what is it to you? You have lived (you may be sure) as long as the laws and orders of the city required; which may be the common comfort of all. Why then should it be grievous to you, if (not a tyrant, nor an unjust judge, but) the same nature that brought you in, does now send you out of the world? As if the praetor should fairly dismiss him from the stage, whom he had taken in to act a while. Oh, but the play is not yet at an end, there are but three acts yet acted of it? You have well said: for in matter of life, three acts is the whole play. Now to set a certain time to every man's acting, belongs to him only, who as first he was of your composition, so is now the cause of your dissolution. As for yourself; you have to do with neither. Go your ways then well pleased and contented: for so is He that dismisses you.