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.
1. O my soul, the time will come, I trust, when you will be good, simple, undivided, and more open and visible than the body that encloses you. One day you will feel the happiness of those whose end is love and whose affections are dead to all worldly things. One day you will be full and in need of no outward thing. You will seek pleasure from nothing this world can offer, whether living or lifeless. You will not need more time to prolong your pleasure, nor place and opportunity, nor the favor of the weather or of men. That will be when you are content with your present state, and all present things add to your content. When you convince yourself that you have all things, all for your good, and all by the providence of the gods. And when you are just as confident about things to come, that all will be well, since all tends in some way to maintain and preserve the perfect welfare and happiness of him who is perfection of life, of goodness, and of beauty. He begets all things and contains all things in himself. And in himself he gathers back from all places all things that are dissolved, so that from them he may beget others like them again. One day your disposition will be such that, toward both gods and men, you can so order your conduct as never to complain of them for anything they do, and never to do anything yourself for which you may 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.
2. As someone guided entirely by nature, focus on understanding what your nature as a whole requires. If you find that your nature as a living, feeling being won't suffer for it, you may proceed. Next, consider what your nature as a living, feeling creature needs. Whatever that may be, you can accept and do it, as long as your nature as a rational being won't be harmed. Remember, anything rational is also social. Stick to these principles and don't worry about trivial matters.
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.
3. Whatever happens to you, you are naturally either able or unable to bear it. If you can handle it, don't be upset; face it according to your nature or abilities. If you can't handle it, don't be upset either. It will soon end you, and itself will end along with you. Remember, though, that whatever you can view as tolerable through the power of belief—based on understanding true benefit and duty—you are naturally able to bear.
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.
4. Teach the one who offends with love and gentleness, and show him his error. But if you cannot, then blame yourself. Or rather, do not blame even yourself, if your will and efforts have not been lacking.
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.
5. Whatever happens to you was meant to happen from the beginning of time. The same chain of events that brought you into existence also determined everything that would occur in your life.
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.
6. Either we must foolishly imagine, with Epicurus, that atoms are the cause of all things, or we must grant that there is a nature. So let this be your first principle: you are part of the universe, which is governed by nature. And second: you are related by kinship to the parts that are of the same kind and nature as you. For if I always remember these things, then first, as I am a part, I will never be displeased with anything that falls to my particular share of the common chances of the world. For nothing that is good for the whole can truly harm what is part of it. It is the common privilege of all natures that they contain nothing harmful to themselves. And the nature of the universe has a privilege beyond other particular natures: no higher outside cause can force her against her will. So she cannot possibly beget and cherish in her bosom anything that would tend to her own hurt and harm. As I bear in mind, then, that I am part of such a universe, I will not be displeased with anything that happens. And since I am related by kinship to the parts of the same kind and nature as I am, I will be careful to do nothing harmful to the community. In all my deliberations, those of my kind will always be in my mind. All my intentions and resolutions will drive toward the common good, and I will do all I can to prevent and avoid whatever is contrary to it. Once these things are so fixed and settled, think of a citizen whose constant study and practice is the good and benefit of his fellow citizens, and who is well pleased with the way the city deals with him. You would think him a happy citizen. In the same way, you must surely 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?
7. All parts of the world (I mean all things contained within the whole world) must of necessity at some time or other come to corruption. I should say alteration, to speak truly and properly. But so that I may be better understood, I am content for now to use that more common word. Now, I ask, if this is both harmful to them and yet unavoidable, would not the whole itself be in a fine state, do you think? All its parts would be subject to alteration, and indeed fitted for corruption by the way they are made, since they consist of things different and contrary. And did nature then deliberately plan and intend the affliction and misery of her own parts? Did she make them on purpose so that they not only might perhaps fall into evil, but must of necessity fall into it? Or did she not know what she was doing when she made them? To say either of these is equally absurd. But let us pass over nature in general and reason about particular things according to their own particular natures. How absurd and ridiculous it is, first to say that all parts of the whole are subject to alteration by their own natural constitution, and then, when such a thing happens, as when someone falls sick and dies, to lament and wonder as though something strange had happened? Besides, this might also move us not to lament so grievously when such a thing happens: whatever is dissolved is dissolved into the things it was composed of. For every dissolution is either a mere dispersion of the elements back into the elements everything consisted of, or a change of what is more solid into earth, and of what is pure and subtle or spiritual into air. So by this means nothing is lost. All is taken up again into those rational generative seeds of the universe. And this universe is either consumed by fire after a certain period of time, or renewed by continual changes, and so endures for ever. Now you must not think that the solid and spiritual parts we speak of are the very same that existed at first, when you were born. For alas! All that you now are of either kind, whether matter of substance or of life, received its whole inflow only two or three days ago, partly from food eaten and partly from air breathed in. It is the same, then, in no other way than a running river is the same, kept up by the constant inflow and new supply of waters. So what you have received since, not what came from your mother, is what comes to change and corruption. But suppose that the general substance, the more solid part, still clung to you ever so closely. Yet what is that to its proper qualities and affections, by which persons are distinguished? Those are certainly 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.
8. Now that you have taken on yourself these names, good, modest, true, ἔμφρων, σύμφρων, ὑπέρφρων, take care that you never do anything contrary to them. Then you would be called by them only improperly, and would lose your right to these titles. Or if you do, return to them again as quickly as you can. And remember that the word ἔμφρων means for you an intent and intelligent consideration of every object that presents itself to you, without distraction. The word σύμφρων means a ready and contented acceptance of whatever happens to you by the appointment of the common nature. And the word ὑπέρφρων means a reaching beyond, a transcendent and outreaching disposition of your mind. By it the mind passes by all bodily pains and pleasures, honor and credit, death, and whatever is of the same nature, as matters of absolute indifference, in no way to be insisted on by a wise man. If you keep these names without fail, and are not ambitious to be called by them by others, you yourself will become a new man and begin a new life. For to stay as you have been until now, and to undergo the distractions and disorders that such a life as you have lived must bring, is the part of someone very foolish and overfond of his life. A man might compare him to one of those half-eaten wretches matched with wild beasts in the amphitheater. Covered all over the body with wounds and blood as they are, they beg as a great favor to be kept until the next day. Then they are exposed again, in the same state, to the same claws and teeth as before. Away, then, set sail. From the troubles and distractions of your former life, carry yourself, as it were, to these few names. If you can stay in them, and be constant in practicing and possessing them, remain there as glad and joyful as someone carried away to a place of bliss and happiness like the one Hesiod and Plato call the Islands of the Blessed, and others call the Elysian Fields. And whenever you find yourself in danger of a relapse, unable to master and overcome the difficulties and temptations that arise in your present station, go into some private corner where you may be better able to. Or if that will not serve, rather leave even your life. But do it not in the heat of passion, but in a plain, voluntary, modest way. So this will be the only commendable action of your whole life, that you departed in this way. Or else this will have been the main work and business of your whole life, that you might depart in this way. Now, to help you better remember these names we have spoken of, you will find it a very good aid to remember the Gods as often as you can. Remember too that what they require of as many of us as are by nature reasonable creatures is not that we flatter them with fair words and an outward show of piety and devotion, but that we become like them. All other natural creatures, the fig tree for example, the dog, the bee, all do and apply themselves to what is proper to them by their natural constitution. So too man should do what belongs to him by his nature, as he is a man.
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?
9. Toys and foolish games at home, wars abroad, sometimes terror, sometimes torpor or stupid sloth: this is your daily slavery. Little by little, if you do not look to it better, those sacred dogmata will be blotted out of your mind. How many things are there that you consider only barely, as a mere naturalist, according to their nature, and then let pass without any further use? Instead, you should join action and contemplation in all things. Then you could attend to every present occasion and do everything duly and carefully, and yet also keep your mind on the contemplative part. In that way none of the delight and pleasure would be lost that the contemplative knowledge of everything according to its true nature gives of itself. Or else, since action is subject to many obstacles and hindrances, the true and contemplative knowledge of everything according to its own nature might of itself give you enough pleasure and happiness. Not obvious, indeed, but not concealed. And when will you attain the happiness of true simplicity and unaffected gravity? When will you rejoice in the certain knowledge of every particular object according to its true nature: what its matter and substance is, what use it serves in the world, how long it can last, what things it consists of, who are capable of having it, and who 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?
10. Just as a spider feels proud after catching a fly, or a hunter after snaring a hare or netting a fish, or another for capturing a boar or bear, so too might soldiers boast of their victories against recently defeated enemies like the Sarmatians or northern tribes. Yet, if you examine the minds and motives of these celebrated warriors, you'll find that most of them are merely hunting for 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.
11. Find and set yourself a definite way and method of contemplation, by which you may clearly discern and picture to yourself how all things change into one another. Keep it always in mind, and see that you are thoroughly well practiced in this point. For nothing is more effective in producing true greatness of mind.
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.
12. He has freed himself from bodily constraints, realizing that he must soon bid farewell to this world and leave everything behind. He now fully dedicates himself to acting righteously and accepting whatever nature brings his way. Content with these two principles—doing all things justly and welcoming whatever God sends—he no longer concerns himself with others' opinions or actions against him. His sole focus is to proceed directly where reason and right guide him, following God's path. This has become his singular purpose 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.
13. Why be suspicious at all? Why let thoughts of mistrust about the future trouble your mind? If you can investigate what needs to be done now, why worry about anything else? If you can figure it out on your own, don't let anyone distract you. But if you're unsure, pause and seek advice from the wisest. If something else is holding you back, proceed carefully and wisely, as the situation allows, always aiming for what you believe is most right and just. Achieving this goal and succeeding in its pursuit must lead to happiness, as it's the only thing we can truly be said to miss or fail at.
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.
14. Who is both slow and quick, cheerful yet serious? The person who uses reason as their guide in all things.
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.
15. In the morning, as soon as you wake, your judgment is still most free and impartial, before either your feelings or outside objects have worked on it. Then ask yourself this question. If what is right and just is done, does it matter whether you do it yourself, or others do it when you cannot? For surely it does not. And as for those who live this way, and set so much store by the praise or blame of other men, have you forgotten what kind of men they are? Have you forgotten what they are like in their beds and at their tables, what their ordinary actions are, what they pursue and what they flee? Have you forgotten what thefts and robberies they commit, if not with their hands and feet, then with that more precious part of themselves, their minds? Their minds, if they would only allow it, might enjoy faith, modesty, truth, justice, and 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.
16. "Give what you will, and take away what you will," says the well-educated and truly humble person to the one who gives and takes away. This statement isn't made from a stubborn or unyielding mindset, but rather from genuine love and humble acceptance.
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.
17. Live with indifference to the world and its material possessions, as if you were alone on a remote hilltop. Whether you're here or elsewhere, it doesn't matter much since the whole world is like one big town. Let people see a person who truly embodies human nature. If they can't tolerate you, let them end your life. It's better to die than to live as others would have you live.
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.
18. Stop debating what makes a good person. Instead, focus on becoming one through your actions.
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.
19. Always keep in mind the broader context of the world and its history, as well as the entirety of existence. Remember that individual things, when compared to the whole, are as insignificant as the tiniest seed and as fleeting as a single turn of a pestle in a mortar. When you focus on any specific object in the world, consider its true nature: it's already in a state of decay and transformation, heading towards some form of breakdown or scattering. This process is essentially the death of everything in its own unique way.
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.
20. Think about people in all aspects of their lives: when they eat, when they sleep, when they use the bathroom, and when they have sex. Consider them too at their highest moments of celebration, in the midst of their grandest displays of power and glory. Or picture them when angry and displeased, scolding others from a position of authority. Remember how they had to humble themselves not long ago to reach such positions, and how quickly their status will change once death claims 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.
21. What the common nature of all sends to each one is best for each, and it is best at the time when she sends 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.
22. The poet says the earth often yearns for rain. Similarly, the majestic sky often desires to descend upon the earth, suggesting a mutual love between them. Likewise, I believe the world holds affection for whatever may come to pass. My desires will align with yours, O world. The object of my longing shall be the same as yours, no different. It is widely accepted that the world indeed loves, as evidenced by the common saying, borrowed from Greek and imitated by Latin, that things which habitually occur are said to "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.
23. Either you go on in this kind of life, and you have long been used to it, so it is bearable. Or you withdraw, or leave the world, and do so of your own accord, and then you have what you wished. Or your life is cut off, and then you may rejoice that you have finished your charge. One of these must be. So take heart.
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?
24. Let it be clear that solitude and remote places, highly valued by many philosophers, are simply what they are. The same observations of nature can be made in towns and among people as in isolated locations. Those who retreat to mountaintops, secluded harbors, or other remote areas can find the same insights anywhere. As Plato said of his philosopher, you can quickly apply this wisdom to yourself: imagine being alone in a shepherd's hut on a hilltop. There, ask yourself these questions: What is my core self that governs the rest? How am I using it now, and what am I focusing on? Is it rational or not? Is it free and independent, or so intertwined with bodily desires that it's controlled by them?
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.
25. A person who flees from their master is a fugitive. The law is everyone's master. Therefore, anyone who abandons the law is a fugitive. This applies to anyone who becomes sorrowful, angry, or fearful about anything that has happened, is happening, or will happen according to the will of the universe's Lord and Governor. For He truly is the Law, the sole distributor and dispenser of all events in a person's life. Thus, whoever is sorrowful, 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.
26. From the moment of conception, humans have no further control over the process. Nature takes over, guiding the development of a child from a single cell to a fully formed being—a truly remarkable transformation. Similarly, once we swallow food, our bodies automatically digest and distribute nutrients throughout our systems, fueling our senses, emotions, and vitality. These intricate, invisible processes deserve our attention and contemplation. We should strive to understand not just the visible outcomes, but also the underlying forces driving these phenomena. By doing so, we can perceive these hidden mechanisms as clearly as we observe physical cause and effect in the world around us.
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.
27. Always remember that everything happening now has occurred in similar ways before. Consider how future events will likely follow the same patterns. Think about the lives and actions of people in various professions you've known personally or read about in history. For example, consider the courts of Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, Philip, Alexander, and Croesus. You'll realize that they all followed similar patterns, with only the individuals involved being different.
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.
28. Imagine someone who wails and thrashes when facing hardship, like a pig being slaughtered. This is how people appear when they lament over worldly matters. Similarly, picture someone alone in bed, mourning the difficulties of mortal existence. Remember, while all creatures must ultimately yield to fate, only rational beings have the privilege of accepting it willingly and consciously.
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?
29. When you're about to do something, pause and ask yourself: "Should I fear death just because I won't be able to do this after I'm gone?" Consider this question carefully on your own.
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.
30. When someone's actions offend you, immediately look inward and consider your own similar faults. Perhaps you also desire wealth, pleasure, or praise. Remembering this will quickly dispel your anger, especially when you realize that the person's actions stem from their mistaken beliefs and lack of knowledge. How can they behave differently if that's what they believe? If possible, help them see things differently, removing the cause of their misguided behavior.
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?
31. When you see Satyro, think of Socraticus and Eutyches, or Hymen. When you see Euphrates, think of Eutychio and Sylvanus. When you see Alciphron, think of Tropaeophorus. When you see Xenophon, think of Crito or Severus. And when you look at yourself, imagine one of the Caesars; for everyone, picture someone of similar status and profession. Then ask yourself: where are they all now? Nowhere or everywhere? This exercise will help you realize how all worldly things are like smoke that vanishes – or indeed, nothing at all. Remember also that once something changes, it will never be the same again as long as the world exists. So how long will you last? Isn't it enough to live virtuously and appropriately during the short time you have, however brief it may be?
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.
32. Consider the life and circumstances you're so eager to escape. What are they, really, but opportunities for your mind to understand and grow? These challenges are perfect for exercising your intellect, helping you see things as they truly are. Be patient. Like a strong stomach that digests everything it encounters, or a roaring fire that transforms all it touches into light and heat, you too can make these experiences familiar and natural to you.
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.
33. Let it not be in any man's power to say truly of you that you are not truly simple, or sincere and open, or not good. Whoever holds any such opinion of you, let him be deceived. For all this depends on you. Who could hinder you from being truly simple or good? Only resolve that you would rather not live than not be such a man. For indeed it is not reasonable that a man who is not such should live. What, then, can be said or done on this present occasion according to the best reason and discretion? Whatever it is, it is in your power to do it or say it. So do not look for excuses, as though you were hindered. You will never stop groaning and complaining until a certain thing is to you what pleasure is to the pleasure-lover. That thing is to do, in everything that comes before you, whatever can be done in keeping with the proper constitution of man, that is, of man as man. For you must count as pleasure whatever you can do according to your own nature. And to do this, every place will suit you. The cylindrus, or roller, is not granted to move everywhere by its own proper motion. Neither is water, nor fire, nor anything else that is merely natural, or natural and endowed with sense but not rational. For there are many things that can hinder their operations. But this is the proper privilege of the mind and understanding: according to its own nature, and as it wills, it can pass through every obstacle it meets and keep straight on. So set before your eyes this happiness of your mind, by which it can pass through all things and is capable of all motions, whether upward like fire, downward like a stone, or down a slope like the cylindrus. Be content with this, and seek nothing else. For all other hindrances, those that are not hindrances of your mind, either belong to the body or come merely from opinion, when reason does not resist as it should but basely and cowardly lets itself be beaten. Of themselves they can neither wound nor do any harm at all. Otherwise, whoever met any of them would of necessity become worse than he was before. For in all other things, whatever is thought harmful to them is what makes them worse. But here, on the contrary, a man (if he makes the good use of them that he should) is rather the better and more praiseworthy for any such hindrances. But in general, remember that nothing can harm a natural citizen that does not harm the city itself, and nothing can harm the city that does not harm the law itself. But none of these mishaps, or external hindrances, harms the law itself, or is contrary to the course of justice and equity by which public societies are kept up. Therefore they harm neither city nor 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.
34. A man bitten by a mad dog is afraid of almost everything he sees. In the same way, take one whom the dogmata have once bitten, or in whom true knowledge has made an impression. Almost everything he sees or reads, however short or ordinary, gives him a good reminder to free him from all grief and fear. Take the poet's lines: 'The winds blow upon the trees, and their leaves fall to the ground. Then the trees begin to bud again, and by springtime they put out new branches. So it is with the generations of men: some come into the world, and others go out of it.' Your children, then, are some of these leaves. Those who applaud you so solemnly, or applaud your speeches with their usual cry, ἀξιοπίστως, O wisely spoken! and speak well of you, are but leaves as well. So too, on the other side, are those who do not hesitate to curse you, and those who privately and secretly criticize and mock you. And those who come after, in whose memories the names of men famous after death are kept, are only leaves as well. For so it is with all these worldly things. Their spring comes, and they are put forth. Then the wind blows, and they go down. Then in their place others like them grow out of the wood, the common matter of all things. But to last only a while is common to all. Why then should you so eagerly either seek these things or flee from them, as though they would last for ever? Yet a little while, and your eyes will be closed. And soon after, another will mourn for the one who carries you to your grave.
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.
35. A good eye must be good for seeing whatever is to be seen, and not green things only. For that is the mark of sore eyes. So a good ear and a good sense of smell must be ready for whatever is to be heard or smelled. And a good stomach must be as indifferent to all kinds of food as a millstone is to whatever it was made to grind. Just as ready, then, must a sound understanding be for whatever happens. But he who says, O that my children might live! and, O that all men might praise me for whatever I do! is an eye that seeks green things, or teeth that seek what 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.
36. No one is so fortunate in death that some of those present won't secretly rejoice at their supposed misfortune. Even for a truly virtuous and wise person, someone might think, "Finally, I'm free from this moralizer. He didn't bother us much, but I know he silently judged us." This is how they'll speak of the virtuous. As for the rest of us, there are countless reasons why many would be glad to be rid of us. Remembering this at your death will make it easier to accept. You can think, "I'm leaving a world where even my closest friends and acquaintances—those I've sacrificed for, prayed for, and cared for—want me to die, hoping they'll be happier without me. Why would anyone want to stay longer?" Nevertheless, don't be less kind or loving toward them. Continue to be their friend, wish them well, and treat them gently. But don't let this make you reluctant to die. Like those who die quickly and easily, your parting should be swift. Nature joined you to these people, and now it separates you. Be ready to leave, as if from friends and family, without resistance or force. This, too, is natural.
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.
37. Practice this: Whenever you see someone doing something, immediately ask yourself, "What's their goal?" But start with yourself first. Carefully examine your own motives behind everything you do.
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.
38. Remember that what motivates a person and influences their emotions is not any external factor, but rather the beliefs and opinions within them. This internal drive is the essence of persuasion, life, and indeed, the person themselves. As for your body, which surrounds you like a vessel or case, along with its many intricate parts, don't let them preoccupy your thoughts. While they are innate to us, they are ultimately just tools, like a carpenter's axe. Without the inner will to control and direct them, these body parts are as useless as a shuttle without a weaver, a pen without a writer, or a whip without a coachman.