Books One to Four

BOOK ONE

1
What, then, is to be done? To make the best of what is in our power, and take the rest as it natural­ly happens.

2
I must die: and must I die groaning too? — Be fettered. Must it be lamenting too? — Exiled. And what hinders me, then, but that I may go smiling, and cheerful, and serene? — “Betray a secret” — I will not betray it; for this is in my own power. — “Then I will fetter you.” — What do you say, man? Fetter me? You will fetter my leg; but not Jupiter himself can get the better of my choice. “I will throw you into prison: I will behead that paltry body of yours.” Did I ever tell you, that I alone had a head not liable to be cut off?

3
This it is to have studied what ought to be studied; to have rendered our desires and aversions incapable of being restrained, or incurred. I must die: if instantly, I will die instantly; if in a short time, I will dine first; and when the hour comes, then I will die: How? As becomes one who restores what is not his own.

4
It is you who know yourself, what value you set upon yourself, and at what rate you sell yourself: for different people sell themselves at different prices.

5
Only consider at what price you sell your own will and choice, man: if for nothing else, that you may not sell it for a trifle. Greatness indeed, and excellence, perhaps belong to others, to such as Socrates.

Why, then, as we are born with a like nature, do not all, or the greater number, become such as he?

Why, are all horses swift? Are all dogs saga­cious? What then, because nature hath not befriended me, shall I neglect all care of myself? Heaven forbid I Epictetus is inferior to Socrates; but if superior to ______ this is enough for me. I shall never be Milo, and yet I do not neglect my body; nor
Croesus, and yet I do not neglect my property: nor, in general, do we omit the care of any thing belong­ing to us, from a despair of arriving at the highest degree of perfection.

6
If a person could be persuaded of this principle as he ought, that we are all originally descended from God, and that he is the Father of gods and men, I conceive he never would think meanly or degener­ately concerning himself. Suppose Caesar were to adopt you, there would be no bearing your haughtly looks: and will you not be elated on knowing your­self to be the son of Jupiter?

7
What is the business of virtue? A prosperous life.

8
Where is improvement, then? If any of you, withdrawing himself from externals, turns to his own faculty of choice, to exercise, and finish, and render it conformable to nature; elevated, free, unrestrained, unhindered, faithful, decent: if he hath learnt too, that whoever desired, or is averse to, things out of his own power, can neither be faithful nor free, but must necessarily be changed and tossed up and down with them; must necessarily too be subject to others, to such as can procure or prevent what he desires or is averse to: if, rising in the morning, he observes and keeps to these rules; bathes and eats as a man of fidelity and honor; and thus, on every subject of action, exercises himself in his principal duty; as a racer, in the business of racing; as a public speaker, in the business of exercising his voice: this is he who truly improves; this is he who hath not travelled in vain. But if he is wholly intent on reading books, and hath labored that point only, and travelled for that: I bid him go home immediately, and not neglect his domestic affairs; for what he travelled for is nothing. The only real thing is, studying how to rid his life of lamentation, and complaint, and “Alas!” and “I am undone,” and misfortune, and disappointment; and to learn what death, what exile, what prison, what poison is: that he may be able to say in a prison, like Socrates, “My dear Crito, if it thus pleases the gods, thus let it be”; and not — “Wretched old man, have I kept my grey hairs for this!”.

9
We offer sacrifices on the account of those who have given us corn and the vine; and shall we not give thanks to God, for those who have produced that fruit in the human understanding, by which they proceed to discover to us the true doctrine of happiness?

10
From every event that happens in the world it is easy to celebrate providence, if a person hath but these two circumstances in himself; a faculty of considering what happens to each individual, and a grateful temper. Without the first he will not perceive the usefulness of things which happen, and without the other he will not be thankful for them. If God had made colors, and had not made the faculty of seeing them, what would have been their use? None.

11
Who is it that hath fitted the sword to the scabbard, and the scabbard to the sword? Is it no one? From the very construction of a complete work, we are used to declare positively, that it must be the operation of some artificer, and not the effect of mere chance. Doth every such work, then demon­s tr ate an artificer; and do not visible objects, and the sense of seeing, and Light, demonstrate one? Doth not the difference of the sexes, and their inclination to each other, and the use of their several powers; do not these things, neither, demon­strate an artificer?

Most certainly they do.

12
God hath introduced man as a spectator of himself and his works; and not only as a spectator, but an interpreter of them. It is therefore shameful that man should begin and end where irrational creatures do. He is indeed rather to begin there, but to end where nature itself hath fixed our end; and that is in contemplation and understanding, and in a scheme of life conformable to nature.

Take care, then, not to die without being spectators of these things. You take a journey to Olympia to behold the work of Phidias, and each of you think it a misfortune to die without a knowledge of such things; and will you have no inclination to understand and be spectators of those works for which there is no need to take a journey; but which are ready and at hand, even to those who bestow no pains? Will you never perceive, then, either what you are or for what you were born; nor for what purpose you are admitted spectators of this sight?

13
Well, and (in the present case) have not you received faculties by which you may support every events? Have not you received greatness of soul? Have not you received a manly spirit? Have not you received patience? What signifies to me any thing that happens, while I have a greatness of soul? What shall disconcert or trouble or appear grievous to me? Shall I not make use of my faculties, to that purpose for which they were granted me, but lament and groan at what happens?

Oh, but my nose runs.

And what have you hands for, beast, but to wipe it?

But was there, then, any good reason that there should be such a dirty thing in the world?

And how much better is it that you should wipe your nose, than complain?

14
What is the profession of reasoning? to lay down true positions; to reject false ones; and to suspend the judgment in doubtful ones. Is it enough, then, to have learned merely this? — Is it enough, then, for him who would not commit any mistake in the use of money, merely to have heard that we are to receive

the good pieces, and reject the bad? — This is not enough. — What must be added besides? — That faculty which tries and distinguishes what pieces are good, what bad. — Therefore, in reasoning too, what hath been already said is not enough; but it is necessary that we should be able to prove and distinguish between the true and the false and the doubtful. — It is necessary.

15
If you ask me, what is the good of man? I have nothing else to say to you but that it is a certain regulation of the choice with regard to the appear­ances of things.

16
Shall kindred to Caesar, or any other of the great at Rome, enable a man to live secure, above contempt, and void of all fear whatever; and shall not the having God for our Maker, and Father, and Guardian free us from griefs and terrors?

17
This is the work, if any, that ought to employ your master and preceptor, if you had one; that you should come to him, and say: “Epictetus, we can no longer bear being tied down to this paltry body, feeding and resting and cleaning it, and hurried about with so many low cares on its account. Are not these things indifferent, and nothing to us, and death no evil? Are not we relations of God, and did we not come from him? Suffer us to go back thither from whence we came; suffer us, at length, to be delivered from these fetters, that chain and weigh us down. Here thieves and robbers, and courts of judicature, and those who are called tyrants, seem to have some power over us, on account of the body and its possessions. Suffer us to show them, that they have no power.”

And in this case it would be my part to answer: “My friends, wait for God, till he shall give the signal, and dismiss you from this service; then return to him. For the present, be content to remain in this post where he has placed you. The time of your abode here is short, and easy to such as are disposed like you. For what tyrant, what robber, what thief, or what courts of judicature are formidable to those who thus account the body and its possessions as nothing? Stay. Depart not inconsid­erately.”

18
True instruction is this: learning to will that things should happen as they do. And how do they happen? As the appointer of them hath appointed. He hath appointed that there should be summer and winter, plenty and dearth, virtue and vice, and all such contrarieties, for the harmony of the whole. To each of us he hath given a body and its parts, and our several properties and companions. Mindful of this appointment, we should enter upon a course of education and instruction not to change the constitu­tion of things, which is neither put within our reach nor for our good; but that, being as they are, and as their nature is with regard to us, we may have our mind accommodated to what exists.

19
So that when you have shut your doors, and darkened your room, remember never to say that you are alone, for you are not; but God is within, and your genius is within, and what need have they of light to see what you are doing?

20
When one consulted him, how he might persuade his brother to forbear treating him ill: Philosophy, answered Epictetus, doth not promise to procure anything external to man, otherwise it would admit something beyond its proper subject-matter. For the subject-matter of a carpenter is wood; of a statuary, brass: and so of the art of living, the subject matter is each person’s own life.

21
No great thing is brought to perfection sudden­ly, when not so much as a bunch of grapes or a fig is. If you tell me that you would at this minute have a fig, I will answer you, that there must be time. Let it first blossom, then bear fruit, then ripen. Is then the fruit of a fig-tree not brought to perfection suddenly, and in one hour; and would you possess the fruit of the human mind in so short a time, and without trouble? I tell you, expect no such thing.

22
Ought we not, whether we are digging, or plough­ing, or eating, to sing the hymn to God? Great is God, who has supplied us with these instruments to till the ground: great is God, who has given us hands, a power of swallowing, a stomach: who has given us to grow insensibly, to breathe in sleep. Even these things we ought upon every occasion to celebrate; but to make it the subject of the greatest and most divine hymn, that he has given us the faculty of apprehending them, and using them in a proper way.

23
Who then is unconquerable? He whom nothing, independent of choice, disconcerts.

24
The philosophers talk paradoxes. And are there not paradoxes in other arts? What is more paradoxi­cal than the pricking any one’s eye to make him see? If a person was to tell this to one ignorant of surgery, would not he laugh at him? Where is the wonder, then, if, in philosophy too, many truths appear paradoxes to the ignorant?

25
Socrates used to say that we ought not to live a life unexamined.

26
When you are going to any one of the great, remember, that there is Another, who sees from above what passes; and whom you ought to please rather than man.

 

BOOK TWO

1
For it is not death or pain that is to be feared; but the fear of pain or death. Hence we commend him who says:

“Death is no ill, but shamefully to die.”

2
And thus, this paradox becomes neither imposs­ible nor a paradox, that we must be at once cautious and courageous: courageous in what doth not depend upon choice, and cautious in what doth.

3
Consider, you are going to take your trial, what you wish to preserve, and in what to succeed. Thus Socrates, to one who put him in mind to prepare himself for his trial: “Do not you think,” says he, “that I have been preparing myself for this very thing my whole life?” By what kind of preparation? “I have preserved what was in my own power.” What do you mean? “I have done nothing unjust , either in public or in private life.”

4
Diogenes rightly answered one who desired letters of recommendation from him, “At first sight he will know you to be a man: and whether you are a good or a bad man, if he hath any skill in distin­guishing, he will know likewise: and, if he hath not, he will never know it, though I should write a thousand times.”

5
How, then shall one preserve intrepidity and tranquility; and at the same time be careful, and neither rash nor indolent?

By imitating those who play at tables. The dice are indifferent; the pieces are indifferent. How do I know what will fall out? But it is my business to manage carefully and dexterously whatever doth fall out. Thus in life, too, this is the chief business; distinguish and separate things, and say, “Externals are not in my power, choice is. Where shall I seek good and evil? Within; in what is my own.” But in what belongs to others, call nothing good, or evil, or profit, or hurt, or anything of that sort.

6
God is beneficial. Good is also beneficial. It should seem, then, that where the essence of God is, there too is the essence of good. What, then, is the essence of God? Flesh? — By no means. An estate? Fame? — by no means. Intelligence? Knowledge? Right reason? — Certainly. Here then, without more ado, seek the essence of good.

7
You are a distinct portion of the essence of God, and contain a certain part of him in yourself. Why, then, are you so ignorant of your noble birth? Why do not you consider whence you came? Why do not you remember, when you are eating, who you are who eat, and whom you feed? When you are in the company of women, when you are conversing, when you are exercising, when you are disputing, do not you know that it is a god you feed, a god you exercise? You carry a god about with you, wretch, and know nothing of it. Do you suppose I mean some god without you, of gold or silver? It is within yourself you carry him, and profane him, without being sensible of it, by impure thoughts and unclean actions. If even the image of God were present, you would not dare to act as you do; and when God himself is within you, and hears and sees all, are not you ashamed to think and act thus, insensible of your own nature and hateful to God?

8
If God had committed some orphan to your charge, would you have been thus careless of him? He hath delivered yourself to your care, and says, “I had no one fitter to be trusted than you: preserve this person for me, such as he is by nature; modest, faithful, sublime, unterrified, dispassionate, tranquil.” And will you not preserve him?

9
Examine who you are. In the first place, a man: that is, one who hath nothing superior to the faculty of choice; but all things subject to this; and this itself unenslaved, and unsubjected, to anything. Consider, then, from what you are distinguished by reason. You are distinguished from wild beasts: you are distinguished from cattle. Besides, you are a citizen of the world, and a part of it; not a subser­vient, but a principal part.

10
But must you lose money, in order to suffer damage; and is there no other thing, the loss of which endamages a man? If you were to part with your skill in grammar, or in music, would you think the loss of these a damage? And, if you part with honor, decency, and gentleness, do you think that no matter? Yet the first are lost by some cause exter­nal, and independent on choice; but the last by our own fault. There is no shame either in having, or losing the one; but either not to have, or to lose, the other, is equally shameful and reproachful and unhappy.

11
What, then, shall not I hurt him who hath hurt me? Consider first what hurt is; and remember what you have heard from the Philosophers. For, if both good and evil consist in choice, see whether what you say doth not amount to this: “Since he hath hurt himself by injuring me, shall not I hurt myself by injuring him?” 

12
The beginning of philosophy is this: The being sensible of the disagreement of men with each other; an inquiry into the cause of this disagreement, and a disapprobation and distrust of what merely seems; a certain examination into what seems, whether it seem rightly; and an invention of some rule, like a balance for the determination of weights, like a square for straight and crooked.

13
This is the part of philosophy: to examine and fix the rules; and to make use of them when the are known, is the business of a wise and good man.

14
When children cry if their nurse happens to be absent for a little while, give them a cake, and they forget their grief. Shall we compare you to these children, then?

No, indeed. For I do not desire to be pacified by a cake, but by right principles. And what are they?

Such as a man ought to study all day long, so as not to be attached to what doth not belong to him; neither to a friend, to a place, an academy, nor even to his own body, but to remember the law and to have that constantly before his eyes. And what is the divine law? To preserve inviolate what is properly our own, not to claim what belongs to others; to use what is given us, and not desire what is not given us; and, when anything is taken away, to restore it readily, and to be thankful for the time you have been permitted the use of it, and not cry after it, like a child for its nurse and its mamma.

15
Expel grief, fear, desire, envy, malevolence, avarice, effeminacy, intemperance, from your mind. But these can be no otherwise expelled than by looking up to God alone as your pattern; by attaching yourself to him alone, and being consecrated to his commands. If you wish for anything else, you will, with sighs and groans, follow what is stronger than you, always seeking prosperity without, and never able to find it. For you seek it where it is not, and neglect to seek it where it is.

16
What is the first business of one who studies philosophy? To part with self-conceit. For it is impossible for any one to begin to learn what he hath a conceit that he already knows. Now it is ridicu­lous to suppose that a person will learn anything but what he desires to learn, or make an improvement in what he doth not learn.

17
Every habit and faculty is preserved and increas­ed by correspondent actions: as the habit of walking, by walking; of running, by running. If you would be a reader, read; if a writer, write. But if you do not read for a month together, but do somewhat else, you will see what will be the consequence. So after sitting still for ten days, get up and attempt to take a long walk, and you will find how your legs are weakened. Upon the whole, then, whatever you would make habitual, practice it; and, if you would not make a thing habitual, do not practice it, but habituate yourself to something else.

It is the same with regard to the operations of the soul. Whenever you are angry, be assured that it is not only a present evil, but that you have increas­ed a habit, and added fuel to a fire. When you are overcome by the company of women, do not esteem it as a single defeat; but that you have fed, that you have increased, your dissoluteness. For it is impossible but that habits and faculties must either be first produced, or strengthened and increased, by corres­pondent actions.

18
If you would not be of an angry temper, then, do not feed the habit. Give it nothing to help its increase. Be quiet at first, and reckon the days in which you have not been angry. I used to be angry every day; now every other day; then every third and fourth day: and, if you miss it so long as thirty days, offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving to God. For habit is first weakened, and then entirely destroyed. “I was not vexed to-day; nor the next day; nor for three or four months after; but took heed to myself when some provoking things happened.” Be assured that you are in a fine way. “To-day, when I saw a handsome person, I did not say to myself, 0 that I could possess her! And, How happy is her husband! ( for he who says this, says too, How happy is her gallant!): nor do I go on to represent her as pre­sent, as undressed, as lying down beside me.” On this I stroke my head, and say, Well done, Epictetus: thou hast solved a pretty sophism; a much prettier than one very celebrated in the schools. But if even the lady should happen to be willing, and give me intimations of it, and send for me and press my hand, and place herself next to me, and I should then forbear and get the victory, that would be a sophism beyond all the subtleties of logic. This, and not disputing artfully, is the proper subject for exul­tation.

19

Concerning those who embrace philosophy only in word: Who, then, is a Stoic? As we call that a Phidian statue, which is formed according to the art of Phidias, so show me some one person, formed according to the principles which he professes. Show me one who is sick, and happy; in danger, and happy; dying, and happy; exiled, and happy; disgraced, and happy. Show him me, for, by heaven, I long to see a Stoic. But (you will say) you have not one perfectly formed. Show me, then, one who is forming, one who is approaching towards this character. Do me this favor. Do not refuse an old man a sight which he hath never yet seen. Do you suppose that you are to show the Jupiter or Minerva of Phidias, a work of ivory or gold? Let any of you show me a human soul, willing to have the same sentiments with those of God, not to accuse either God or man, not to be disappointed of its desire, or incur its aversion, not to be angry, not to be envious, not to be jealous, in a word, willing from a man to become a god, and, in this poor mortal body, aiming to have fellowship with Jupiter. Show him to me. But you cannot.

20
True and evident propositions must, of neces­sity, be used even by those who contradict them. And, perhaps, one of the strongest proofs that there is such a thing as evidence, is the necessity which those who contradict it are under to make use of it. If a person, for instance, should deny that anything is universally true, he will be obliged to assert the contrary, that nothing is universally true. What, wretch, not even this itself? For what is this but to say, that everything universal is false? Again, if any one should come and say, “Know that there is nothing to be known, but all things are uncertain”; or another, “Believe me, and it will be the better for you, no man ought to be believe in anything”; or a third, “Learn from me, that nothing is to be learned; I tell you this, and will teach the proof of it, if you please.” Now what difference is there between such as these, and those who call themselves Academics? Who say to us, “Be convinced, that no one ever is convinced. Believe us, that nobody believes anybody.”

21
Thus also, when Epicurus would destroy the natural relation of mankind to each other, he makes use of the very thing he is destroying. For what doth he say? “Be not deceived, be not seduced and mistaken. There is no natural relation between reasonable beings. Believe me.  Those who say otherwise mislead and impose upon you.” Why are you concerned for us, then?  You Let us be deceived. will fare never the worse if all the rest of us are persuaded that there is a natural relation between mankind, and that it is by all means to be preserved. Nay, it will be much safer and better. Why do you give yourself any trouble about us, sir? Why do you break your rest for us? Why do you light your lamp? Why do you rise early? Why do you compose so many volumes? Is it that none of us should be deceived concerning the gods; as if they took any care of men? Or that we may not suppose the essence of good consists in anything but pleasure? For, if these things be so, lie down and sleep, and lead the life of which you judge yourself worthy — that of a mere reptile. Eat and drink, and satisfy your passion for women, and ease yourself, and snore. What is it to you whether others think right or wrong about these things?

22
To whatever objects a person devotes his attention, these objects he probably loves. ­Do men ever devote their attention, then, to evils? — By no means. Or even to what doth not concern them? — No, nor this. It remains, then, that good must be the sole object of their attention; and, if of their attention, of their love too. Whoever, therefore, understands good is capable likewise of love; and he who cannot distinguish good from evil, and things indifferent from both, how is it possible that he can love? The prudent person alone, then, is capable of loving.

23
If, therefore, to speak properly belongs to one who is skillful, do not you see, that to hear with benefit belongs likewise to one who is skillful? He who would hear philosophers needs some kind of exercise in hearing.

24
When one of the company said to him, “Convince me that logic is necessary”: Would you have me demonstrate it to you? says he. — “Yes.” Then I must use a demonstrative form of argument. — “Granted.” And how will you know then whether I argue sophis­tically? On this, the man being silent: You see, says he, that even by your own confession, logic is necessary; since, without its assistance, you cannot learn so much as whether it be necessary or not.

 

BOOK THREE

1
Of ascetic exercise: We are not to carry our exercises beyond nature, nor merely to attract admiration; for thus we, who call ourselves philoso­phers, shall not differ from jugglers.

2
As bad performers cannot sing alone but in a chorus, so some persons cannot walk alone. If you are anything, walk alone, talk by yourself, and do not skulk in the chorus. Think a little at last; look about you, sift yourself, that you my know what you are.

3
I am better than you, for my father hath been consul. I have been a tribune, says another, and not you. If we were horses, would you say, My father was swifter than yours? I have abundance of oats and hay, and fine trappings? What now, if while you were saying this, I should answer, “Be it so. Let us run a race, then.” Is there nothing in man analogous to a race in horses, by which it may be known which is better or worse? Is there not honor, fidelity, justice? Show yourself the better in these, that you may be the better, as a man. But if you tell me you can kick violently, I will tell you again that you value yourself on the property of an ass.

4
He who frequently converses with others, either in discourse or entertainments, or in any familiar way of living, must necessarily either become like his companions, or bring them over to his own way. For, if a dead coal be applied to a live one, either the first will quench the last, or the last kindle the first. Since, then, the danger is so great, caution must be used in entering into these familiar­ities with the vulgar; remembering that it is impossible to touch a chimney-sweeper without being partaker of his soot.

5
Do not you know that a wise and good man doth nothing for appearance, but for the sake of having acted well?

6
Why, do you not know, then, that the origin of all human evils and of mean-spiritedness and coward­ice is not death, but rather the fear of death? Fortify yourself, therefore, against this. Hither let all your discourses, readings, exercises, tend. And then you will know that thus alone are men made free.

 

BOOK FOUR

1
Consider in animals what is our idea of freedom. Some keep tame lions, and feed and even carry them about with them; and who will say that any such lion is free? Nay, doth he not live the more slavishly the more he lives at ease? And who, that had sense and reason, would wish to be one of those lions? Again, how much do birds, which are taken and kept in a cage, suffer by trying to fly away? Nay, some of them starve with hunger rather than undergo such a life; then, as many of them as are saved, it is scarcely and with difficulty and in a pining condi­tion, and the moment they find any hole, out they hop. Such a desire have they of natural freedom, and to be at their own disposal and unrestrained.

2
Do you think freedom to be something great and noble and valuable? — “How should I not?” Is it possible, then, that he who acquires anything so great and valuable and noble should be of an abject spirit? — “It is not.” Whenever, then, you see any one subject to another, and flattering him, contrary to his own opinion, confidently say that he too is not free; and not only if he doth it for a supper, but even if it be for a government, nay, a consul­ship; but call those indeed little slaves who act thus for the sake of little things, and the others, as they deserve, great slaves.

3
What is it, then, that makes a man free and independent? For neither riches, nor consulship, nor command of provinces, or kingdoms, make him so; but something else must be found. What is it that preserves any one from being hindered and restrained in writing? — “The science of writing.” In music? — “The science of music.” Therefore, in life, too, the science of living. As you have heard it in general, then, consider it likewise in particulars. Is it possible for him to be unrestrained who desires any of those things that are in the power of others?
“No.” Can he avoid being hindered? — “No.” There­fore neither can he be free.

4
And what if my fellow-traveller himself should turn against me, and rob me?  What shall I do? I will be the friend of Caesar. While I am his compion, no one will injure me. Yet, before I can become illustrious enough for this, what must I bear and suffer! How often, and by how many, must I be robbed? And then, if I do become the friend of

Caesar, he too is mortal; and, if by any accident he should become my enemy, where can I best retreat? To a desert? Well, and doth not a fever come there? What can be done, then? Is it not possible to find a fellow-traveller, safe, faithful, brave, incapable of being surprised? A person who reasons thus under­stands and considers that, if he joins himself to God, he shall go safely through his journey. — “How do you mean, join himself?” That whatever is the will of God may be his will too; whatever is not the will of God may not be his. “How, then, can this be done?” — Why, how otherwise than by considering the exertions of God’s power, and his administration? What hath he given me, my own, and independent? What hath he reserved to himself? He hath given me whatever depends upon choice. The things in my power he hath made incapable of hindrance or restraint.

5
After you have received all, and even your very self, from another, are you angry with the giver, and complain if he takes anything away from you? Who are you, and for what purpose did you come? Was it not he who brought you here? Was it not he who showed you the light? Hath not he given you assistants? Hath not he given you senses? Hath not he given you reason? And as whom did he bring you here? Was it not as a mortal? Was it not as one to live, with a little portion of flesh, upon earth, and to see his administration; to behold the spectacle with him, and partake of the festival for a short time? After having beheld the spectacle, and the solemnity, then, as long as it is permitted you, will you not depart when he leads you out, adoring and thankful for what you have heard and seen?

6
Correct your principles. See that nothing cleave to you which is not your own; nothing grow to you that may give you pain when it is torn away. And say, when you are daily exercising yourself as you do here, not that you act the philosopher (admit this to be an insolent title), but that you are asserting your freedom. For this is true freedom.

7
Are you free yourself, then? (it will be said). By heaven, I wish and pray for it. But I cannot yet face my masters. I still pay a regard to my body, and set a great value on keeping it whole, though at the same time it is not whole. But I can show you one who was free, that you may no longer seek an example. Diogenes was free. — Not “How so?” because he was of free parents, for he was not; but because he was so himself, because he had cast away all the handles of slavery, nor was there any way of getting at him, nor anywhere to lay hold on him to enslave him. Everything sat loose upon him, every­thing only just hung on. If you took hold on his possessions, he would rather let them go than follow you for them; if on his leg, he let go his leg; if his body, he let go his body; acquaintance, friends, country, just the same. For he knew whence he had them, and from who and upon what conditions he received them. But he would never have forsaken his true parents the gods, and his real country, nor have suffered any one to be more dutiful and obedient to them than he; nor would any one have died more readily for his country than he.

8
And that you may not think that I show you the example of a man clear of encumbrances, without a wife or children, or country or friends, or relations to bend and draw him aside; take Socrates, and consider him, who had a wife and children, but not as his own; a country, friends, relations, but only as long as it was proper, and in the manner that was proper; and all these he submitted to the law and to the obedience due to it. Hence, when it was proper to fight he was the first to go out, and exposed himself to danger without the least reserve. But when he was sent by the thirty tyrants to apprehend Leo, because he esteemed it a base action he did not deliberate about it, though he knew that, perhaps, he might die for it. But what did that signify to him? For it was something else that he wanted to preserve, not his paltry flesh; but his fidelity, his honor, free from attack or subjection. And afterwards, when

he was to make a defence for his life, doth he behave like one who had children? Or a wife? No; but like a single man. And how doth he behave when he was to drink the poison? When he might have escaped, and Crito persuaded him to get out of prison for the sake of his children, what doth he say? Doth he esteem it a fortunate opportunity? How should he? But he considers what is becoming, and neither sees nor regards anything else. “For I am not desirous,” says he, “to preserve this pitiful body, but that [part of me] which is improved and preserved by justice, and impaired and destroyed by injustice.” Socrates is not to be basely preserved. He who refused to vote for what the Athenians commanded, he who contemned the thirty tyrants, he who held such discourses on virtue and moral beauty: such a man is not to be preserved by a base action; but is preserved by dying, not by running away. For even a good actor is preserved by leaving off when he ought, not by going on to act beyond his time. “What, then, will become of your children?” — “If I had gone away to Thessaly you would have taken care of them; and will there be no one to take care of them when I am departed to Hades?” You see how he ridicules and plays with death. But, if it had been you or I, we should presently have proved, by philosophical arguments, that those who act unjustly are to be repaid in their own way; and should have added, “If I escape, I shall be of use to many; if I die, to none.” Nay, if it had been necessary, we should have crept through a mouse-hole to get away. But how should we have been of use to any? For where must they have dwelt? If we were useful alive, should we not be of still more use to mankind by dying when we ought, and as we ought? And now the remembrance of the death of Socrates is not less, but even more useful to the world than that of the things which he did and said when alive.

9
When you have lost anything external, have this always at hand, what you have got instead of it; and, if that be of more value, do not by any means say, “I am a loser”; whether it be a horse for an ass, an ox for a sheep, a good action for a piece of money, a due composedness of mind for a dull jest, or modesty for indecent discourse. By continually remembering this, you will preserve your character such as it ought to be.

10
Now, the very nature of every one is to pursue good, to avoid evil, to esteem him as an enemy and betrayer who deprives us of the one, and involves us in the other, though he be a brother, or a son, or father. For nothing is more nearly related to us than good.

11
Never commend or censure any one for common actions, nor ascribe them either to skillfulness or unskillfulness, and thus you will at once be free both from rashness and ill-nature. Such a one bathes in a mighty little time. Doth he therefore do it ill? Not at all. But what? In a mighty little time. — “Is everything well done, then?” — By no means. But what is done from good principles is well done; what from bad ones, ill. But till you know from what principles any one acts, neither commend nor censure the action.

12
At what employment, then, would you have death find you? For my part, I would have it some humane, beneficent, public-spirited, gallant action. But if I cannot be found doing any such great things, yet, at least, I would be doing what I am incapable of being restrained from, what is given me to do, correcting myself, improving that faculty which makes use of the appearances of things, to procure tranquil­lity, and render to the several relations of life their due; and, if I am so fortunate, advancing to the third topic, a security of judging right. If death overtakes me in such a situation, it is enough for me if I can stretch out my hands to God and say, “The opportunities which thou hast given me of comprehending and following [the rules] of thy administration I have not neglected. As far as in me lay, I have not dishonored thee. See how I have used my perceptions, how my pre-conceptions. Have I at any time found fault with thee? Have I been discontented at thy dispensations, ­or wished them otherwise? Have I transgressed the relations of life? I thank thee that thou hast brought me into being. I am satisfied with the time that I have enjoyed the things which thou hast given me. Receive them back again, and assign them to whatever place thou wilt; for they were all thine, and thou gavest them to me.”

13
When you let go your attention for a little while, do not fancy you may recover it whenever you please; but remember this, that by means of the fault of today your affairs must necessarily be in a worse condition for the future.