No More Learning

For
without a change of opinions, alas! what is all that ostentation, 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 the common nature requireth, 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 ostentation and vainglory.

XXIX. 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, thou must likewise consider in thy mind. And how many
there be, who never so much as heard of thy name, how many that will
soon forget it; how many who but even now did commend thee, within a
very little while perchance will speak ill of thee. So that neither
fame, nor honour, nor anything else that this world doth afford, is
worth the while. The sum then of all; whatsoever doth happen unto thee,
whereof God is the cause, to accept it contentedly: whatsoever thou
doest, whereof thou thyself art the cause, to do it justly: which will
be, if both in thy resolution and in thy action thou have no further
end, than to do good unto others, as being that, which by thy natural
constitution, as a man, thou art bound unto.

XXX. Many of those things that trouble and straiten thee, it is in thy
power to cut off, as wholly depending from mere conceit and opinion; and
then thou shalt have room enough.

XXXI. To comprehend the whole world together in thy mind, and the whole
course of this present age to represent it unto thyself, and to fix thy
thoughts upon the sudden change of every particular object. How short
the time is from the generation of anything, unto 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 thou seest, will soon be perished, and they that see their
corruptions, will soon vanish away themselves. He that dieth a hundred
years old, and he that dieth young, shall come all to one.

XXXII. What are their minds and understandings; and what the things that
they apply themselves unto: what do they love, and what do they hate
for? Fancy to thyself 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 conceit, and opinion!

XXXIII. Loss and corruption, is in very deed nothing else but change and
alteration; and that is it, which the nature of the universe doth most
delight in, by which, and according to which, whatsoever is done, is
well done. For that was the estate of worldly things from the beginning,
and so shall it ever be. Or wouldest thou 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?

XXXIV. How base and putrid, every common matter is! Water, dust, 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? Thy
most royal apparel, for matter, it is but as it were the hair of a silly
sheep, and for colour, the very blood of a shell-fish; of this nature
are all other things. Thy life itself, is some such thing too; a mere
exhalation of blood: and it also, apt to be changed into some other
common thing.

XXXV. Will this querulousness, this murmuring, this complaining and
dissembling never be at an end? What then is it, that troubleth thee?
Doth any new thing happen unto thee? What doest thou 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
thy duty towards the Gods also, it is time thou shouldst acquit thyself
of it with more goodness and simplicity.

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

XXXVII. If he have sinned, his is the harm, not mine. But perchance he
hath not.

XXXVIII. Either all things by the providence of reason happen unto 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 doest thou trouble thyself for?

XXXIX. Sayest thou unto that rational part, Thou art dead; corruption
hath taken hold on thee? Doth it then also void excrements? Doth 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 thy mind. If they can do
nothing, why doest thou pray? If they can, why wouldst not thou rather
pray, that they will grant unto thee, that thou mayst neither fear, nor
lust after any of those worldly things which cause these distractions
and distempers of it? Why not rather, that thou mayst not at either
their absence or presence, be grieved and discontented: than either that
thou mayst obtain them, or that thou mayst avoid them? For certainly
it must needs be, that if the Gods can help us in anything, they may in
this kind also. But thou wilt say perchance, 'In those things the Gods
have given me my liberty: and it is in mine own power to do what I
will. ' But if thou mayst use this liberty, rather to set thy 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 thy
power, wert not thou better? And as for the Gods, who hath told thee,
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, thou shalt soon perceive, if
thou wilt but try thyself and pray. One prayeth that he may compass his
desire, to lie with such or such a one, pray thou that thou mayst not
lust to lie with her. Another how he may be rid of such a one; pray thou
that thou mayst so patiently bear with him, as that thou have no such
need to be rid of him. Another, that he may not lose his child. Pray
thou that thou mayst not fear to lose him. To this end and purpose, let
all thy prayer be, and see what will be the event.

XLI. 'In my sickness' (saith Epicurus of himself:) 'my discourses were
not concerning 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 thou chance to sicken) or in what other kind
of extremity soever, endeavour thou also to be in thy mind so affected,
as he doth report of himself: not to depart from thy philosophy for
anything that can befall thee, 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 thou art offended with any one's impudency, put
presently this question to thyself: '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, (thou
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 offendeth, must thou ever be ready to
reason with thyself. For whilst in general thou dost thus reason with
thyself, that the kind of them must needs be in the world, thou wilt be
the better able to use meekness towards every particular. This also
thou shalt find of very good use, upon every such occasion, presently
to consider with thyself, what proper virtue nature hath furnished man
with, against such a vice, or to encounter with a disposition vicious
in this kind. As for example, against the unthankful, it hath given
goodness and meekness, as an antidote, and so against another vicious
in another kind some other peculiar faculty. And generally, is it not
in thy power to instruct him better, that is in an error? For whosoever
sinneth, doth in that decline from his purposed end, and is certainly
deceived, And again, what art thou the worse for his sin? For thou shalt
not find that any one of these, against whom thou art incensed, hath in
very deed done anything whereby thy mind (the only true subject of
thy 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 thou rather blame thyself, who, when
upon very good grounds of reason, thou mightst have thought it very
probable, that such a thing would by such a one be committed, didst not
only not foresee it, but moreover dost wonder at it, that such a thing
should be. But then especially, when thou dost find fault with either an
unthankful, or a false man, must thou reflect upon thyself. For without
all question, thou thyself art much in fault, if either of one that were
of such a disposition, thou didst expect that he should be true unto
thee: or when unto any thou didst a good turn, thou didst not there
bound thy thoughts, as one that had obtained his end; nor didst not
think that from the action itself thou hadst received a full reward of
the good that thou hadst done. For what wouldst thou have more? Unto him
that is a man, thou hast done a good turn: doth not that suffice thee?
What thy nature required, that hast thou done. Must thou 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 unto others
whensoever he doth a real good unto any by helping them out of error; or
though but in middle things, as in matter of wealth, life, preferment,
and the like, doth help to further their desires he doth that for which
he was made, and therefore can require no more.




THE TENTH BOOK

I. O my soul, the time I trust will be, when thou shalt be good, simple,
single, more open and visible, than that body by which it is enclosed.
Thou wilt one day be sensible of their happiness, whose end is love, and
their affections dead to all worldly things. Thou shalt 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 thy pleasure, nor place and opportunity,
nor the favour either of the weather or of men. When thou shalt have
content in thy present estate, and all things present shall add to thy
content: when thou shalt persuade thyself, that thou hast all things;
all for thy good, and all by the providence of the Gods: and of things
future also shalt 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 containeth all things in himself, and in himself
doth recollect all things from all places that are dissolved, that of
them he may beget others again like unto them. Such one day shall be thy
disposition, that thou shalt be able, both in regard of the Gods, and
in regard of men, so to fit and order thy conversation, as neither
to complain of them at any time, for anything that they do; nor to do
anything thyself, for which thou mayest justly be condemned.

II. As one who is altogether governed by nature, let it be thy care to
observe what it is that thy nature in general doth require. That
done, if thou find not that thy nature, as thou art a living sensible
creature, will be the worse for it, thou mayest proceed. Next then thou
must examine, what thy nature as thou art a living sensible creature,
doth require. And that, whatsoever it be, thou mayest admit of and do
it, if thy nature as thou art a reasonable living creature, will not be
the worse for it. Now whatsoever is reasonable, is also sociable, Keep
thyself to these rules, and trouble not thyself about idle things.

III. Whatsoever doth happen unto thee, thou art naturally by thy natural
constitution either able, or not able to bear. If thou beest able, be
not offended, but bear it according to thy natural constitution, or as
nature hath enabled thee. If thou beest not able, be not offended. For
it will soon make an end of thee, and itself, (whatsoever it be) at the
same time end with thee. But remember, that whatsoever by the strength
of opinion, grounded upon a certain apprehension of both true profit and
duty, thou canst conceive tolerable; that thou art able to bear that by
thy natural constitution.

IV. Him that offends, to teach with love and meek ness, and to show him
his error. But if thou canst not, then to blame thyself; or rather not
thyself neither, if thy will and endeavours have not been wanting.

V. Whatsoever it be that happens unto thee, it is that which from all
time was appointed unto thee. For by the same coherence of causes, by
which thy substance from all eternity was appointed to be, was also
whatsoever should happen unto it, destinated and appointed.

VI. 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
thy first ground, that thou art part of that universe, which is governed
by nature. Then secondly, that to those parts that are of the same kind
and nature as thou art, thou hast 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 unto 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 unto 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 unto,
as that which is contrary unto it, I shall by all means endeavour to
prevent and avoid. These things once so fixed and concluded, as thou
wouldst 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 thee, that thou shalt live a happy life.

VII. 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
unto them, and yet unavoidable, would not, thinkest thou, the whole
itself be in a sweet case, all the parts of it being subject to
alteration, yea 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 doth happen, as when one doth fall sick and dieth, 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
doth happen, that whatsoever is dissolved, it is dissolved into those
things, whereof it was compounded. For every dissolution is either
a mere dispersion, of the elements into those elements again whereof
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, thou must not conceive it to be that very
same, which at first was, when thou wert born. For alas! all this that
now thou art in either kind, either for matter of substance, or of life,
hath 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 perpetual influx
and new supply of waters, is the same. That therefore which thou hast
since received, not that which came from thy 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 unto thee
never so close, yet what is that to the proper qualities and affections
of it, by which persons are distinguished, which certainly are quite
different?

VIII. Now that thou hast taken these names upon thee of good, modest,
true; of emfrwn, sumfrwn, uperfrwn; take heed lest at any times by doing
anything that is contrary, thou be but improperly so called, and lose
thy right to these appellations. Or if thou do, return unto them again
with all possible speed. And remember, that the word emfrwn notes
unto thee an intent and intelligent consideration of every object that
presents itself unto thee, without distraction. And the word emfrwn a
ready and contented acceptation of whatsoever by the appointment of
the common nature, happens unto thee. And the word sumfrwn, a
super-extension, or a transcendent, and outreaching disposition of thy
mind, whereby it passeth by all bodily pains and pleasures, honour
and credit, death and whatsoever 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 thou shalt observe, and shalt not be ambitious
to be so called by others, both thou thyself shalt become a new man, and
thou shalt begin a new life. For to continue such as hitherto thou hast
been, to undergo those distractions and distempers as thou must needs
for such a life as hitherto thou hast 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 favour, 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 thyself; and from the troubles and
distractions of thy former life convey thyself as it were unto these few
names; and if thou canst abide in them, or be constant in the practice
and possession of them, continue there as glad and joyful as one that
were translated unto 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 whensoever thou findest thyself;
that thou art in danger of a relapse, and that thou art not able to
master and overcome those difficulties and temptations that present
themselves in thy present station: get thee into any private corner,
where thou mayst be better able. Or if that will not serve forsake
even thy life rather. But so that it be not in passion but in a plain
voluntary modest way: this being the only commendable action of thy
whole life that thus thou art departed, or this having been the main
work and business of thy whole life, that thou mightest thus depart. Now
for the better remembrance of those names that we have spoken of, thou
shalt 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 unto 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 unto that which by their natural constitution, is
proper unto them; so man likewise should do that, which by his nature,
as he is a man, belongs unto him.

IX. Toys and fooleries at home, wars abroad: sometimes terror, sometimes
torpor, or stupid sloth: this is thy daily slavery. By little and
little, if thou doest not better look to it, those sacred dogmata will
be blotted out of thy mind. How many things be there, which when as
a mere naturalist, thou hast barely considered of according to their
nature, thou doest let pass without any further use? Whereas thou
shouldst in all things so join action and contemplation, that thou
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 doth of itself
afford, might be lost. Or, that the true and contemnplative knowledge
of everything according to its own nature, might of itself, (action
being subject to many lets and impediments) afford unto thee sufficient
pleasure and happiness. Not apparent indeed, but not concealed. And when
shalt thou attain to the happiness of true simplicity, and unaffected
gravity? When shalt thou 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 doth consist of: who they be that are capable of
it, and who they that can give it, and take it away?

X. As the spider, when it hath caught the fly that it hunted after, is
not little proud, nor meanly conceited of herself: as he likewise that
hath caught an hare, or hath 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 Sarmatai, or
northern nations lately defeated. For these also, these famous soldiers
and warlike men, if thou dost look into their minds and opinions, what
do they for the most part but hunt after prey?

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

XII. He hath 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 the common nature in all things
that should happen unto him. And contenting himself with these two
things, to do all things justly, and whatsoever God doth send to like
well of it: what others shall either say or think of him, or shall do
against him, he doth 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.

XIII. What use is there of suspicion at all? or, why should thoughts
of mistrust, and suspicion concerning that which is future, trouble thy
mind at all? What now is to be done, if thou mayest search and inquiry
into that, what needs thou care for more? And if thou art well able to
perceive it alone, let no man divert thee from it. But if alone thou
doest not so well perceive it, suspend thine action, and take advice
from the best. And if there be anything else that doth hinder thee, go
on with prudence and discretion, according to the present occasion
and opportunity, still proposing that unto thyself, which thou doest
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.

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

XV. In the morning as soon as thou art awaked, when thy judgment, before
either thy affections, or external objects have wrought upon it, is yet
most free and impartial: put this question to thyself, whether if that
which is right and just be done, the doing of it by thyself, or by
others when thou art not able thyself; 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, hast thou 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.

XVI. Give what thou wilt, and take away what thou wilt, saith 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 saith it, but
in mere love, and humble submission.

XVII. So live as indifferent to the world and all worldly objects, as
one who liveth 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 thee.

XVIII. 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.

XIX. Ever to represent unto thyself; and to set before thee, 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 thy 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 whatsoever
else it is, that is the death as it were of everything in his own kind.

XX. 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 lust. 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 base 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 hath once seized upon them.

XXI. That is best for every one, that the common nature of all doth send
unto every one, and then is it best, when she doth send it.

XXII. The earth, saith the poet, doth 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) doth the world bear
a certain affection of love to whatsoever shall come to pass With thine
affections shall mine concur, O world. The same (and no other) shall the
object of my longing be which is of thine. Now that the world doth love
it is true indeed so is it as commonly said, and acknowledged ledged,
when, according to the Greek phrase, imitated by the Latins, of things
that used to be, we say commonly, that they love to be.

XXIII. Either thou dost Continue in this kind of life and that is it,
which so long thou hast been used unto and therefore tolerable: or thou
doest retire, or leave the world, and that of thine own accord, and then
thou hast thy mind: or thy life is cut off; and then mayst thou
rejoice that thou hast ended thy charge. One of these must needs be.
Be therefore of good comfort.

XXIV Let it always appear and be manifest unto thee 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 thou wilt
mayest thou quickly find and apply that to thyself; which Plato saith of
his philosopher, in a place: as private and retired, saith he, as if he
were shut up and enclosed about in some shepherd's lodge, on the top of
a hill. There by thyself to put these questions to thyself or to enter
in these considerations: What is my chief and principal part, which hath
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 ir 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?

XXV. 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 hath been, is, or shall be by his appointment,
who is the Lord and Governor of the universe. For he truly and properly
is Nomoz, or the law, as the only nemwn (sp. ), or distributor
and dispenser of all things that happen unto any one in his
lifetime--Whatsoever then is either sorry, angry, or afraid,
is a fugitive.

XXVI. From man is the seed, that once cast into the womb man hath no
more to do with it. Another cause succeedeth, 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 hath no more to do with it. Another
cause succeedeth and distributeth this food into the senses, and the
affections: into life, and into strength; and doth with it those other
many and marvellous things, that belong unto man. These things therefore
that are so secretly and invisibly wrought and brought to pass, thou
must use to behold and contemplate; and not the things themselves only,
but the power also by which they are effected; that thou mayst behold
it, though not with the eyes of the body, yet as plainly and visibly as
thou canst see and discern the outward efficient cause of the depression
and elevation of anything.

XXVII. Ever to mind and consider with thyself; 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 thine own experience thou hast 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 thine eyes. For thou
shalt find that they are all but after one sort and fashion: only that
the actors were others.

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

XXIX. Whatsoever it is that thou goest about, consider of it by thyself,
and ask thyself, What? because I shall do this no more when I am dead,
should therefore death seem grievous unto me?

XXX. When thou art offended with any man's transgression, presently
reflect upon thyself; and consider what thou thyself art guilty of in
the same kind. As that thou also perchance dost 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 thou shalt call
to mind, thou shalt soon forget thine anger; especially when at the same
time this also shall concur in thy 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 thou therefore if thou canst, take away that from
him, that forceth him to do as he doth.

XXXI. When thou seest 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 thou doest look upon thyself, fancy unto thyself some one or other
of the Caesars; and so for every one, some one or other that hath been
for estate and profession answerable unto him. Then let this come to thy
mind at the same time; and where now are they all? Nowhere or anywhere?
For so shalt thou at all time be able to perceive how all worldly
things are but as the smoke, that vanisheth away: or, indeed, mere
nothing. Especially when thou shalt call to mind this also, that
whatsoever is once changed, shall never be again as long as the world
endureth. And thou then, how long shalt thou endure? And why doth it not
suffice thee, if virtuously, and as becometh thee, thou mayest pass that
portion of time, how little soever it be, that is allotted unto thee?

XXXII. What a subject, and what a course of life is it, that thou doest
so much desire to be rid of. For all these things, what are they, but
fit objects for an understanding, that beholdeth 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 turneth in flame and light, whatsoever thou doest
cast into it) thou have made these things also familiar, and as it were
natural unto thee.

XXXIII. Let it not be in any man's power, to say truly of thee, that
thou art not truly simple, or sincere and open, or not good. Let him be
deceived whosoever he be that shall have any such opinion of thee. For
all this doth depend of thee. For who is it that should hinder thee from
being either truly simple or good? Do thou only resolve rather not to
live, than not to be such. For indeed neither doth 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 whatsoever it be, it is in thy power either to do it, or
to say it, and therefore seek not any pretences, as though thou wert
hindered. Thou wilt never cease groaning and complaining, until such
time as that, what pleasure is unto the voluptuous, be unto thee, to do
in everything that presents itself, whatsoever may be done conformably
and agreeably to the proper constitution of man, or, to man as he is a
man. For thou must account that pleasure, whatsoever it be, that thou
mayest do according to thine own nature. And to do this, every place
will fit thee. Unto the cylindrus, or roller, it is not granted to
move everywhere according to its own proper motion, as neither unto
the water, nor unto the fire, nor unto 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 thine
eyes this happiness and felicity of thy 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 thyself with it, and seek not after any other
thing. For all other kind of hindrances that are not hindrances of thy
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
unto 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 unto the city itself, nor anything hurt
the city, that is not hurtful unto 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.

XXXIV. As he that is bitten by a mad dog, is afraid of everything almost
that he seeth: so unto him, whom the dogmata have once bitten, or in
whom true knowledge hath made an impression, everything almost that
he sees or reads be it never so short or ordinary, doth 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 thy children are. And they
also that applaud thee so gravely, or, that applaud thy speeches, with
that their usual acclamation, axiopistwz, O wisely spoken I and speak
well of thee, as on the other side, they that stick not to curse thee,
they that privately and secretly dispraise and deride thee, 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 worldly 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 unto them. But, to endure but for a while, is common
unto all. Why then shouldest thou so earnestly either seek after these
things, or fly from them, as though they should endure for ever? Yet a
little while, and thine eyes will be closed up, and for him that carries
thee to thy grave shall another mourn within a while after.

XXXV. A good eye must be good to see whatsoever 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 whatsoever is either to be heard,
or smelt: and a good stomach as indifferent to all kinds of food, as
a millstone is, to whatsoever she was made for to grind. As ready
therefore must a sound understanding be for whatsoever shall happen. But
he that saith, O that my children might live! and, O that all men might
commend me for whatsoever I do! is an eye that seeks after green things;
or as teeth, after that which is tender.

XXXVI. 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 thou shalt think
of whensoever thou diest, thou shalt die the more willingly, when thou
shalt think with thyself; I am now to depart from that world, wherein
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, whensoever thou diest,
thou must not be less kind and loving unto them for it; but as before,
see them, continue to be their friend, to wish them well, and meekly,
and gently to carry thyself towards them, but yet so that on the other
side, it make thee 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 thy 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.

XXXVII. Use thyself; as often, as thou seest any man do anything,
presently (if it be possible) to say unto thyself, What is this man's
end in this his action? But begin this course with thyself first of all,
and diligently examine thyself concerning whatsoever thou doest.

XXXVIII. Remember, that that which sets a man at work, and hath power
over the affections 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 dogmata, and opinions: That, that is rhetoric; that is life; that
(to speak true) is man himself. As for thy body, which as a vessel, or
a case, compasseth thee about, and the many and curious instruments
that it hath annexed unto it, let them not trouble thy thoughts. For
of themselves they are but as a carpenter's axe, but that they are born
with us, and naturally sticking unto us. But otherwise, without the
inward cause that hath power to move them, and to restrain them, those
parts are of themselves of no more use unto us, than the shuttle is
of itself to the weaver, or the pen to the writer, or the whip to the
coachman.




THE ELEVENTH BOOK

I. 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
whatsoever, whereas plants, trees, unreasonable creatures, what fruit
soever (be it either fruit properly, or analogically only) they bear,
they bear them unto others, and not to themselves. Again; whensoever,
and wheresoever, sooner or later, her life doth end, she hath 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 hath in her hand whatsoever 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 unto
me. ' Again, she compasseth the whole world, and penetrateth into the
vanity, and mere outside (wanting substance and solidity) of it, and
stretcheth herself unto 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 fetcheth about, and doth comprehend in
herself; and considers withal, 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 neighbour, 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 unto themselves
as their end.

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

III. 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 gravity, so that others may be persuaded also and drawn
to the like example, but without any noise and passionate exclamations.

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

V. Tragedies were at first brought in and instituted, to put men in mind
of worldly 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 thee to storm and rage against the things themselves,' &c. Again,
'To reap one's life, as a ripe ear of corn;' and whatsoever 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 whereof 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?

VI. How clearly doth it appear unto thee, that no other course of thy
life could fit a true philosopher's practice better, than this very
course, that thou art now already in?

VII. A branch cut off from the continuity of that which was next unto
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
neighbour, and knows not that at the same time he divides himself from
the whole body, or corporation. But herein 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.

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

IX. It is not possible that any nature should be inferior unto art,
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 doth the
common 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 affections upon worldly
things; or be apt to be deceived, or rash, and inconstant.

X. The things themselves (which either to get or to avoid thou art put
to so much trouble) come not unto thee themselves; but thou in a manner
goest unto them. Let then thine own judgment and opinion concerning
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.

XI.