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 ἔμφρων,
σύμφρων,
ὑπέρφρων; 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
ἔμφρων notes unto thee an intent and
intelligent consideration of every object that presents itself unto thee,
without distraction. And the word
σύμφρων, a ready and contented
acceptation of whatsoever by the appointment of the common nature,
happens unto thee. And the word
ὑπέρφρων, 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
Νόμος, or the law, as the only
νέμων, 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 Crœsus): 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
Cæsars; 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,
ἀξιοπίστως, 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.