THE LIFE, AND PHILOSOPHY, OF EPICTETUS. With THE EMBLEM OF Humane LIFE, By CEBES.  
Rendered into English, by JOHN DAVIES of Kidwelly.  
LONDON, Printed by T. R. for John Martin, and are to be Sold at the Sign of the Bell without Temple Bar, 1670.   

TO THE Right HONOURABLE, PHILIP HOWARD OF NORFOLK, Lord Almoner to her most Sacred Majesty of Great Britain, etc.  
TO prove the productions of the Ancients extraordinary and transcendent in their kinds, it would be hard for me to bring a greater Testimony, than the present I here make your Lordship of these two small, yet Masterpieces of Morality. The veneration and esteem wherewith they have been entertained through so many Ages sufficiently argue, that Time, with all its envy, hath not been able to make any diminution of their Original excellency.  
For, who can reflect on Epictetus, wihtout a certain astonishment at his exemplary Constancy? Who can think on the strictness of his Precepts, without framing to himself an Idea of that noble Insensibility, which the Stoics required in their Virtuoso? Who can view him so indifferent and unconcerned in the greatest emergencies, and not be convinced, that there may be an undistracted pursuit of Virtue through all the disgraces and inconveniences of humane Life? Who, in fine, shall consider him laying down Humility for the Groundwork of his Morals, and not be surprised at the strange illumination of a Heathen Philosopher?  
These, my Lord, were the Characters which endeared Epictetus to all the lovers of virtuous action, and raised him out of the miseries of Servitude into a familiarity with Emperors. From which considerations I must acknowledge myself encouraged to recommend him, in his present dress, to your Patronage, presuming that, with these Qualifications, he must be kindly received by a Person, who hath preferred the splendour arising from Christian Austerities and Mortifications before all the advantages of Nature or Fortune; and with him the sincerity and submission wherewith I am,  
MY Lord, Your most humbly devoted Servant J. DAVIES.   

THE PREFACE.  
TO make some estimate of the value which hath been from time to time set on the Dictates of Epictetus, we may content ourselves with this remark, that so many Learned Hands have been employed either in the rendering of them into other Languages, or the explication of them in his own. In the Latin, there are many Versions, of all which it is not our design here to give any particular account. In English, I cannot find that it hath appeared above once before, done as close as could be to the Original, and as well as the English could bear it: which Edition came out about the year 1610. entitled, The Manual of Epictetus.  
In the French Tongue, several eminent Persons spent their pains about it, among whom Monfieur Boileau is the last, and consequently the most exact, in regard he had consulted all that had gone before him on this subject. His labours herein proved so acceptable, that in few years his Work came to a third Impression, which appearing abroad in the year 1667. is the Original of this Translation. It seems, in the precedent Editions Mons. Boileau had entitled it The Enchiridion of Epictetus; but in the last, out of compliance with the advice of some Friends, and a reflection that some Words, as they are not so easily pronounced, so are they not so easily naturalised as others, he put out that Title, and called it, the Philosophy of Epictetus.  
Monsieur Du Vair, who some years since translated this Tract, was pleased to call it also the Manual of Epictetus. But our Author declined that name too, partly out of a consideration that the Word Manual seems to be particularly consecrateed to Works of Devotion and Piety, and partly, that Enchiridion is a Greek Term, which, in this place, properly signifies a Poniard. The reason alleged by Simplicius, why Arrian gave it that Title, is this; That, as Poniards are light Arms, which we commonly carry about us, to be used when we are surprised by our Enemies: So should we always have this little Book before our eyes, that we may the better oppose the assaults of our Passions, a kind of domestic Enemies, whereof we should be always distrustful. Had our Author been satisfied with this fancy of Simplicius, he would still have entitled his Book, the Poniard of Epictetus; but somewhat improperly, inasmuch as besides that it might have frighted some Readers, it sounded not well to attribute either defensive or offensive Arms to Epictetus, a Philosopher so signal for his Constancy and Patience. Upon which reflections he thought best to call it simply the Philosophy of Epictetus.  
Mons. Boileau affirms further of himself, that, for the better understanding of the Original Author, he got all the helps he could out of the Discourses of Arrian and the Greek Commentary of Simplicius, an excellent Work, comprehending the whole Morality of the Stoics. He says also, that, among the many Latin Versions, he kept most closely to those of Politian and Wolfius, as the most exactly done; not forgetting the late labour of Salmasius upon this Piece, in a large Commentary upon that of Simplicius.  
But what our Author most esteems in this Work of his, is the Life of Epictetus, which had not been written in any Language before, and consequently must require the greater pains, since it was to be collected out of so many several Authors. Had he pleased he might have made it larger; but some things have been omitted, that it might be the more proportioned to this Abbridgment.  
At the end of the Philosophy follows Cebes' Tablet, that is, an Emblem, or Representation of Humane Life, before which there is a Preface giving an account of it. These two Pieces have been for the most joined together, partly upon a consideration of the alliance of the Subject, and partly upon that of their Antiquity.  
J. D.   

  

THE LIFE OF EPICTETUS.  
EPICTETUS was born near the end of Nero's Empire, 
Suid. in Epist.  at Hierapolis, a City of Phrygia. Of his birth there is no certain account, for his Father and Mother are equally unknown, All the certainty we have of him is, that he was a 
b Arrian. Diss. l. 1. c. 9  Slave of one, named Epaphroditus, a Libertine, and one of the Captains of Nero's Lifeguard, a person recommendable upon no other score, save that of being Master to so illustrious a Slave.  
Arrian relates of this Epaphroditus two actions, among others, worthy certainly the Genius of the person, and which I the rather take notice of here, because, I conceive, they perfectly express his character. One day, this Man, sold to another Officer of Nero's, one of his Slaves, named Felition, by profession a Shoemaker, as accounting him no expert Workman. That Slave coming afterwards, by that means, to be the Emperor's Shoemaker, and Epaphroditus hearing of it, treated him with extraordinary civilities and respects, and at length made him his greatest Friend and Confident.  

c Arrian. Diss. l. 1. c. 26.  Another time, a certain Man casting himself at his feet, extremely deploring the crossness of his Fortune, and complaining, that, of all his estate, he had but a hundred and fifty thousand crowns left, Epaphroditus made answer, In troth, Friend, I much wonder, that you have had the patience to forbear speaking of it so long. Which he said, not by way of ralliery, but very seriously, and out of a real admiration.  
It was under the verge of this imperious Master that 
d Aul. Gel. Noct. Att. l. 12. c. 11. Suet. in Domit. Philost. l. 7. Dion. Chrysost. de Exil. Euseb. in Chron.  Epictetus passed away the first years of life. About what time, or how he obtained his Liberty, is not known; only this we find, that under the reign of Domitian, there being a public Edict, for the departure of all the Philosophers out of Rome and Italy, Epictetus was obliged, among others, to retire to Nicopolis, a City of Epirus, now called Preveza. This is a clear argument, that he had then obtained liberty, since he was forced, as a Philosopher, leave Rome. Nor indeed is it to be imagined, that a person of his merit, beloved and esteemed by the Emperors of his time, should continue in Slavery.  
It is generally believed, that after his exile, he never returned to Rome, and that his constant abode was at Nicopolis, 
† l. 2. c. 6.  for Arrian affirms in several places, that the Discourses he collected of his, were held by him at Nicopolis. But I question the truth of this conjecture, notwithstanding the Authority of 
f In Not, ad Epist. & Sim. P. 4.  Salmasius. For 
g In Vit. Hadr. p. 8.  Spartian writes, among other things, that the Emperor Hadrian entertained this Philosopher with much familiarity. Now how that could be, I cannot imagine, if Epictetus continued still at Nicopolis. But whether Epictetus lived in that City or not, is of no great concern to his Life.  
Nor do I know whether he were ever married; but as I affirm it not, so do I neither deny it. For 
h l. 3. c. 7.  Arrian obferves that Epictetus blamed the Epicureans for their speaking against Marriage. 
Arr. Diss. l. 3. c. 22.  But that he was not married, seems deducible hence, that though he did not account Marriage imcompatible with virtue, yet he thought it a great obstacle to the attainment of perfection. But whether he were married or not, it is very likely he had no Children, or at lest no Daughters. For besides that his having any is not mentioned in any Author; 
k In Dem.  Lucian relates, that one day Epictetus persuading Demonax to take a Wife, Demonax jeeringly made answer, Well, I am content to do it, conditionally you give me one of your Daughters.  
Moreover, 
1 In Vit. Hadr.  Spartian affirms, that Hadrian exercised great liberalities and respects towards the Poets, Orators, Philosophers, Mathematicians, and all Professors of Science. But whatever Spartian relates of that Prince, of whom it may be said, that never any man took such pleasure in abusing and scoffing at those very persons, as he did; certain it is, that Epictetus was always very poor, and that neither the said Emperor, nor his Successors, who so highly esteemed him, did advance him much, if at all, in matter of wealth; and possibly this might proceed from his great contempt thereof. For it is granted, he lived at Rome in a little house, which had not so much as a door. 
m Vincent. Obsop. l. 3. Anth. a● Epig. Epictet.  All the Attendants he had was an old Servant maid, and all his Houshould-stuff, an earthen Lamp, by the light whereof he brought forth those noble and divine reflections; of which we have at this day the remainders in the Books of Arrian. Whence it may be guessed how poor he was.  
But to return to his Sentiments and Morality; Modesty was his darling and most familiar Virtue. Hence came it, that he affirmed, 
Strob. Ser. 38.  There was no necessity of adorning houses with Tapestry and Pictures; but that they were to be furnished with Modesty and Temperance; for those were the ornaments that last always, and never grow old, or are out of fashion. He had so far renounced ambition and ostentation, that if ever Philosopher did things out of humility, it may be said that he was the person. For as there was not any man, in his time, that did so many good Actions as he; so was there not any that ever made it so much his business to conceal them, and to have it believed that he had not done them. Whence it came, that amongst the Instructions he gave his Disciples, these were the chiefest: If you are so happy as to have learned to satisfy your body with little, 
Enchir. Epict.  make no ostentation of it. If you have brought yourself to a custom of drinking only water, forbear bragging of it. If you have a desire to enter upon some painful exercise, do it privately. Whatever may come of it, do nothing out of a design to be observed, or admired by the people. All these affectations are vain, and unbecoming a Philosopher.  
And indeed Epictetus was at so great a distance from vanity, that though he were the ablest of any of his time, to Write, yet was he never inclined to do it; though that be an humour which hath been predominant over the noblest Souls. For if his Disciple Arrian had not reduced to writing, 
Aul. Gell. Noct. Att. l. 17. c. 9  what he had heard him deliver by word of mouth, Epictetus would haply have been a name unknown in the world.  
He was of opinion also, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  that a true Philosopher ought to do, and not to speak. He accordingly affirmed, that most of those, who took upon them to be Philosophers, were only such as to the denomination; but not such in effect. One day, a certain person being displeased at some others pitying of him; 
Arr. Diss. l. 4. c. 5.  Friend, said Epictetus to him, you are much to blame for being so angry. For upon this very account that you are offended at your being bemoaned, you are deservedly pitied. Another time, observing a Man who was engaged in a most infamous Debauch, and careless of all honour and reputation, falling into discourse of Study and Philosophy, he cried out; O extravagant man! what dost thou mean to do? 
A. Gell. Noct. Att. l. 17. c. 19  Hast thou considered whether thy Vessel be pure and clean, before thou pourest any thing into it? For otherwise, whatever thou hast put into it, will be corrupted and turned into Urine or Vinegar, or something worse.  
A. Gellius, who relates this passage, conceives there could not be any thing more judiciously, or more truly spoken; as if he would insinuate, that when Philosophy, and the other Sciences fall into a sordid soul, defiled with Vice; they are, as it were, in a foul and unclean Vessel, where they are tainted, and beget nothing but corruption.  
But Epictetus had a quality, 
Arr. l. 4. Dissert. c. 12.  which I esteem the more, in that it is a rare one, even in a Philosopher. He was an extraordinary lover of Neatness; and would say sometimes, that he would rather see one of his Disciples with his hair well combed, and in good order, than tangled and nasty. But though he were so great a lover of Neatness, yet was it not ever the more observable in his own person. He was infirm of Body, and lame, by reason of a defluxion fallen down into his leg. He does ingeniously acknowledge as much in an Epigram he made of himself, which might be thus rendered; 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 
A Gell. Noct. Att. l. 2. c. 18.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Born, indisposed of Body, and a Slave;  
Kindness, from Fortune, I could never find;  
But this advantage from the Gods I have,  
Their unexhausted Treasures fill my Mind.   
Planudes, 
In Antholog. Lib. γ. cap. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  in his Collection of Greek Epigrams, falsely attributes this to Leonidas, as Vincentius Obsopaeus hath well observed: and after him, Salmasius, who also pretends that this Epigram is not Epictetus', and that it was added to A. Gellius by some not-deeply-learnt person. All the reason he gives of it, is, That it is not found in an ancient Manuscript of Aulus Gellius': I am apt to believe it might be so. But if this conjecture be true; it must be also granted, that the same not-deeply-learned person had got it added to Macrobius, who citys it, as Epictetus', in the first Book of his Saturnalia, 
c. 11.  and brings in the same words of Aulus Gellius. But indeed the reason, arguing this Epigram not to be Epictetus', is this, that it cannot easily be presumed, a Philosopher, so remarkable for his modesty and humility, as he was, should speak so advantageously of his own worth.  
Howe'er it might be, this is most certain, that Fortune had not the least kindness for Epictetus; yet did not her Persecutions ever oblige him to make his addresses ever the more to Great Persons. They are very much to blame, said he sometimes, 
Arr. Diss. l. 1. c. 19  to pride themselves in the conceit that so many court them with their respects and services. Do they imagine, that it is for their own sakes all these submissions are made? Everyone, as to that particular minds his own concern, which taken away they are soon slighted. They are justly served, as Asses are: If they be rubbed or curried, it is in order to some service to be got out of them. So we reverence those men, as men do the Fever at Rome. If Altars be erected to her, it is out of a fear of the hurt she may do. But what so great mischief, 
Arr. Diss. l 2 c. 6.  continued he, are we afraid of at their hands? The worst they can do is to send us into another World. What matters it? Must we not always expect death? Are not all the ways of Death equal? And is not that, through which a Tyrant sends us, many times the shortest and the easiest? In a word, no Tyrant was ever so cruel as to be above six months in torturing a man to death, Whereas a Fever is sometimes above a year ere it dispatches him.  
When he met with any of those Persons, who are of opinion they transcend others, because they are in favour with the Prince, or can derive their Pedigree from a long series of Ancestors; he treated them after a very pleasant manner. You imagine, said he to them, because your Grandfather was Consul, 
Arr. Diss. l. 4. c. 1.  your Father a Senator, and you are Caesar's Favourite, that you are more at liberty, and of better quality than another. Know that you are more a Slave, than the meanest Slave among the popular, and that the condition of such a one is better than yours. For if he be ill-treated sometimes by an imperious Master, you are continually domineered over and tormented by Ambition, or some other Passion. The only advantage you have over him is, that he is but a Slave in some course-cloath, and you are one in a Scarlet-coat. Besides, if he does not his duty, he must expect the lash or some such punishment; whereas, if you do not yours, you are somewhat more honourably dealt withal; for your head is struck off, as beseems a Favourite of Caesar's.  
Thus were Persons of quality treated by Epictetus: So that his extreme poverty, and the meanness of his extraction, could not check him out of the humour of making sport at their Wealth, and imaginary Grandeurs: His virtue had exalted him above all those things, And though Fortune always wreaked her malice upon him, yet would he never repine, but passed away his life in perpetual content.  
But if he might justly complain of the niggardlyness of Fortune towards him, as to corporeal accommodations; he was on the other side to acknowledge the profuseness of Heaven towards him, as to the advantages of his Mind. It seemed the former had not declared herself his enemy; but that his triumph over her might be the more glorious. Nay, I dare affirm, that Bondage, and the infirmity of his Body were the necessary retinue of his Virtue, that it might appear with greater lustre to posterity. For, without flattery, never did any person force up constancy to so noble a height.  
While he was yet a Slave to Epaphroditus, 
Origen. l. 7. cont. Cells.  that humorous Brute would needs one time, make it his sport to wrinch his Leg. Epictetus, perceiving that he took a certain pleasure in so doing, and that he renewed the exercise with greater strength, said to him smiling, and without seeming any way moved thereat; If you continue this sport, you will certainly break my Leg: Accordingly, that having happened, as he had foretold it; all he said to him was, Well, did I not tell you that you would break my Leg? Was there ever Constancy equal to this? Was it not, as I may say, an out-braving of Fortune's extravagance, and the infirmity of our Nature. 
Celsus affirmed the patience of Epictetus, to be greater than that of Jesus Christ.  Celsus transported with an Enthusiasm of Philosophy, makes this patience of his transcend whatever might pretend to that name, so far as to be guilty of an abominable impiety, by heightening the patience of Epictetus above that of our Saviour Jesus Christ. If the malice of Time had not deprived us of the Book. 
Simpl. in Ench. Epict. init.  which Arrian writ of his Life and Death, I am confident, we should have found many other as great examples of his Patience. Nor is it to be doubted, but that a man, who so suffered his Leg to be broken, had before made discoveries of his Constancy upon several other occasions. And indeed this Virtue was so attendant on him, that it forsook him not even in the most considerable actions of his Life. Thence it came that he said, If your Oil be spilt, or your Wine stolen out of your Cellar; you are to make this reflection in yourself, That by such casualties is Constancy purchased. But if he maintained these Maxims with much earnestness, he observed them with no less rigour.  
For one day this Philosopher having bought an Iron-lamp, 
Arr. Diss. l. 2. c. 6.  which he thought a very precious piece of Householdstuff; as he was in a deep meditation in the Chimney-corner, a Thief came into his Room, and stole away his Lamp, without his perceiving of him. So that a while after, Epictetus looking about, and missing his Lamp, fell a smiling, and without any disturbance, said, I shall deceive this Thief to morrow, for if he come for another Lamp, it shall be but an Earthen one.  
True it is, we cannot affirm this action was of equal gallantry with the former; yet, in my judgement, it is no less remarkable. There is not aught wherein the Genius of persons is so discoverable, as in their trivial things inasmuch as the Soul appears therein as it were▪ stripped of the disguise of all sorts of Passions: Whereas in grea● matters she is in a manner always disguised; Interest, or Ambition causing her, most commonly, to act contrary to the natural bent of her inclination.  
But to return to our Philosopher; it may be truly said, That never man knew better how to suffer, than he did. It was a Science he had learned even from his tenderest age, and wherein he improved himself to the last moment of his life. He needed not Companions in his misfortunes, that he might derive Consolation from their joynt-suffering. He never sought any but in himself; and if his mind were sensible of any grief, it was only of the grief of others. He thought it the greatest mark of the malignancy of a corrupt nature, to imagine evil less burdensome, when several other persons participate of it with us: as if our sufferings were heightened, or remitted, proportionably to the augmentation or diminution of theirs.  
According to this Principle was it, that he affirmed those persons were ridiculous, who complained, that none were unjustly dealt with but themselves. How, said he, if you are sentenced to have your head struck off, would you have all other Men condemned to the same punishment; and can you find no Consolation, but in the destruction of Mankind? Thence it came that Epictetus so highly celebrated the constancy, and great courage of Lateranus. For Nero having condemned him to have his head struck off, and the Execution●● having but slightly wounded him at th● first blow, he had the heart to lift up his head, and to stretch forth his neck the second time. Nay, a little before his death, Epaphroditus making some Interrogatives to him about the Conspiracy he was charged withal, he undauntedly made this Answer; If I had any thing else to say, 
Arr Dis. l. 1. c. 2.  I would tell it thy Master, and not Thee.  
As Epictetus was the most resolute, and the most constant of all Men; so were the judgements he made of Resolution, and Constancy, better and more sound, than those of any other. For though he were most intimately acquainted with these two Virtues, as being his first and most ancient inclinations, yet could he not endure them, if they had the least blemish, that rendered them insupportable. A● he would not have a Man to be heartless and cowardly, so would he neither have him to be temerarious. When a man might go through a plain, or some easy passage, he would not have advised him, to take his way through steepy and rough places. He was not of the humour of that Philosopher, 
Diog. Laert. in vita Pyrrh.  who would rather have a Cart pass over his body, then turn out of his way to avoid it. Epictetus' behaved himself otherwise; for when Epaphroditus made it his sport to break his leg, he generously endured it; but if Epaphroditus had had the good nature, to have forborn that diversion, he had very much obliged him. He thought it as great a vanity and shame, for a man to run himself into danger, where there was no necessity for the doing of it, as there was honour and Virtue, to embrace it, when his duty obliged him thereto.  
But when Reason required a man's exposing of himself to danger, he would then have him think of no delay, but look on all inconveniencies and difficulties as so many trials of our Virtue, and occasions, contributing to our glory. Had Hercules, said he, ever been Hercules, if that Lion, that Hydra, that wild Boar, and all those Monsters, whereof he disburdened the Earth, had not exercised his courage? How is it to be imagined, he should come to the height he attained, if his Virtue had not met with employment? What advantage could we have made of all his strength, all his patience, and all his courage, had he not embraced the occasions of making discoveries thereof? Not that it is to be inferred hence, that he would have a man wish to see whole Provinces pestered with Lions and Hydra's, that he might thereby signalise his valour: but he only maintained, That the casual meeting with these Monsters had made a fortunate discovery, what kind of person Hercules was.  
Epictetus' said further, that Helvidius had been admirably well convinced of this truth; that he had perfectly studied these Maxims, and that never any man had been more indivertible from his Sentiments, than he. When he once thought it his devoir, and conceived himself obliged in Conscience to do something, though the Emperor, the Senate, and the People should have conspired together, and contributed their joint endeavours, to obstruct what he was resolved to do; yet was not all that combination of Emperor, Senate, and People able to tempt him to the least act of meanness.  
It happened one day, that Vespasian was desirous to get something passed in the Senate. He, well acquainted with the humour of Helvidius, 
Arr. Diss. l. 1. c. 2.  and knowing he would be sure to oppose it, forbade him to come that day into the Senate. Helvidius having received that message made the Emperor this return, That it was in his power to deprive him of his charge; but that while he continued a Senator, he could not exempt himself from doing his duty, and coming to the Senate. Be it so, replied Vespasian; I am content you should come thither, conditionally you say nothing. If I am not pressed to give my vote, answers Helvidius, I promise you to be silent. But there is a necessity of my requiring your advice, says the Emperor. There is in like manner, replies Helvidius, a necessity, that I should answer you, and that I should speak what I conceive just and reasonable. If you do so, and that it oppose what I would have done, added Vespasian, I shall put you to death. When did I ever tell you, replies Helvidius, that I was immortal? you will execute your charge, and I will endeavour to do the like by mine. It may be your part to sentence me to banishment, and it is mine cheerfully to submit thereto. It is your part to order my death, and mine, resolutely and undauntedly to receive it.  
I make the less difficulty to fall into these little Digressions, because I observe that Plutarch is no enemy to the like, and that they are not the meanest Ornaments of the Lives which he hath written.  
Epictetus' was also a great admirer of the Constancy expressed by Agrippinus. 
Arr l. r. c. 2.  For, some one telling him, that an Information, which concerned his life was put in against him in the Senate, he made answer, I am glad of it; but what time of the day is it? Being told, it was about five in the Afternoon, Come, replied he, let us go to the Bath, it is time to part. Being returned home a little while after, news was brought him, that the Information was found against him. Well, said he, what am I sentenced to? to Death? No, replied he who brought him the tidings, you are only condemned to banishment. Very well, replied Agrippinus, let us sup to night at Aricia.  
Epictetus' had further a particular veneration for Pyrrho, 
A Town about two Leagues from Rome.  the Sceptic, upon this account, that he put no difference between Life and Death. He esteemed above all the reply he made to a certain person, who thought to make some sport with him. For that man saying to him, Why dost thou not therefore die, Pyrrho, since it is indifferent to thee, whether thou livest or diest? That is the very reason of it, replied he.  
In a word, Epictetus would have all Philosophy to consist in Constancy and Continence. Whence he had always these words in his mouth, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Bear and Forbear, but the grace and energy of the saying is much greater in the Greek, than in any modern Languages. Thence it came, that he was so much taken with the procedure of Lycurgus towards a Lacedaemonian, who had struck out one of his Eyes. For the people having delivered up the person to be punished; Lycurgus, instead of revenging himself upon him, instructed him in Virtue. Wherein when he had made a considerable proficiency, he ordered him to be brought upon the Theatre, to the great astonishment of the People, who thought him dead long before; and said to them, This man, whom you delivered up to me as a wicked and perfidious person, I now return you virtuous and just.  
The more we look on Epictetus, as an unbyass'd esteemer of men's Actions; the more glorious is it to the memory of these great Persons, to have had such an Approbator as he was. He, all his life, made profession of the Stoic Philosophy; that is, the severest and most austere of all Antiquity. Never was there any person who knew better how to reduce to practise the Maxims and Precepts of that Sect. For though he may be numbered among the last that applied themselves thereto, yet was he one of the greatest Ornaments of it. In his Discourses and Actions, he imitated Socrates, Zeno, and Diogenes. When he undertook any work, he first considered, what they would have done, upon the like occasion. When he reproved, or instructed any one, he always entertained him with some example of those Philosophers. In fine, he looked on them as persons infinitely transcending all others.  
But, above all, he had a particular esteem for Socrates, and had framed himself to a stile like his. In his Discourses, he used comparisons so familiar, and so pertinent, that he insensibly won all to his Opinion. He was so persuasive, that he forced even such as disputed against him, to be witnesses of the truth he spoke. He was no affector of polite or elegant expressions; but if his Discourse were intelligible, and full of good sense, after the example of that of Socrates, he was satisfied. In a word, He had proposed that Philosopher to himself, as the model, and rule of all his actions.  
Though he much esteemed Pyrrho himself, yet had he so strange a contempt for the Pyrrhonians, that he could not endure them. A certain Pyrrhonian one day taking a great deal of pains to prove, that the Senses always deceived men, he said to him, Who of your Sect intending to go to the Stoves, mistook his way, and went to the Mill? It was also an ordinary saying with him, 
Arr. Diss. l 2. c. 20.  Were I a Servant to some of these Pyrrhonians, I should take a pleasure in tormenting them. When they said to me, Epictetus, pour some Oil into the Bath, I would cast some Brine on their heads. When they called for Water-gruel, I would bring them Vinegar. And if they complained of that usage, I would tell them their senses were deceived, and would persuade them that Vinegar and Water-gruel was the same thing, or I would make them renounce their own sentiments.  
He declared himself a perpetual enemy of Opinion and Fortune, by whom yet others thought the world governed. The greatest part, said he, of those things which we admire are but pure fantastical humours. For instance, The Iliad, which is so much talked of, is it not a pure humour? An humour came into Paris' head, to carry away Helen; she was in a humour to follow him, and Menelaus must needs be in an humour to be angry at it. And this speaking properly, is the main design of the Iliad. But if Menelaus had behaved himself like a prudent man, and had imagined, that he was no small gainer, by the loss of such a Wife, what had become of the Iliad? Would not it, and the Odysseys, have been clearly lost.  
As to Fortune, Epictetus compared her to a Lady of Quality, who prostitutes herself to Servants, and the meanest among such. He said that the Life, which had any dependence on Fortune, was like a Torrent after a violent shower, muddy, foul, hard to be got over, impetuous, and of short continuance. He maintained, on the contrary, that a mind addicted to Virtue was like an unexhausted ever-flowing Spring, whose waters were clear, sweet and pleasant to drink, in a word, not chargeable with any manner of corruption.  
In like manner, it was his highest care to heighten himself up more and more towards perfection in the study of virtue. He had renounced all other pleasures, that he might the more intentively prosecute those of the mind. When he was at any great Feast, 
Stob. Ser. 1.  he minded not so much the satisfaction of his body, as that of his mind. For it was his persuasion, that what was bestowed on the body perished, and was never recovered again; whereas what was bestowed on the mind continued and was never lost: For this reason did he prefer the Tranquillity and indisturbance of the Soul, before all other things imaginable. And he held it for a Maxim, That as a man would be loath to be cast away in a Ship, though it were ever so beautiful, and loaden with Treasures and wealth: so how rich and sumptuous soever a House may be, a man should never be so careful in the preserving of it, as to be crushed by the burden of excessive cares and disquiets.  
This was also another saying of his. If Persia had been the place of your Nativity, 
Stob. Ser. 38.  it is certain you would have had no inclination to live in Greece; you would only have wished to live happily in your own Country. When therefore a man is born in Poverty, to what end should he have the ambition to be rich? Why does he not rather frame himself to a contentedness in that condition, and endeavour to live happily therein? As it were better for a man never to lie in any but a narrow Bed, and to have his health; then to be sumptuously lodged, and to be sick: So ought it to be a man's wish rather to preserve an indisturbed tranquillity and composure of mind, in a mean condition, then be tormented with Grief and Vexation, amidst a greater liberality of Fortune. We must not imagine, that our unhappiness proceeds from Poverty, but from Ambition. Nor are we delivered from fear, by Wealth, but only by reason. Whence it comes, that he who makes provision of Reason is content in himself, and charges not his grievances on Poverty. These were the reflections of Epictetus on those things whereof men make so great account.  
He could not endure those persons, who sought pretences to conceal, or justify themselves in their miscarriages. He said they imitated the Roman Courtesans; who to cover their shame and to justify their Lewdness, made their advantage of Plato's Books of Commonwealth; inasmuch as that Philosopher would have women to be common: not piercing into the sense, but lewdly interpreting the words of that great man. For he does not hold that a Woman married to one man should afterwards prostitute herself to all others; but he would abrogate that kind of Marriage between one Man and one Woman, to introduce another. For this reason Epictetus never bethought himself of any excuse, when he was once sensible that he had done amiss: on the contrary, he was never better pleased, than when his miscarriages were discovered to him.  
One day, 
Arr. Diss. l. 1. 6. 7.  Rufus bitterly reproving him, that he had not observed an omission in a Syllogism, he made answer. I have not committed so great a crime, as if I had set the Capitol on fire. How, wretch, replies Rufus, dost thou think there is no other crime, than that of firing the Capitol? Epictetus' was so far from being displeased at so sharp a retort, that he gave Rufus thanks, and afterwards told the story to all the World.  
Another time a certain person, who had been very wealthy, but then was fallen into extreme Poverty, came and entreated him to write on his behalf to the People. Epictetus, glad to do him any service, writ him a most Obliging Letter, wherein he represented and bemoaned his misfortune, in such terms, as might have excited compassion in Persons the least inclined to any. But when the other had read it, instead of giving him thanks, he returned it him again, alleging, that his addresses to him were out of hopes of receiving some assistance from him, and not of being bemoaned, which he needed not. That scornfulness so pleased Epictetus, that he thought himself more obliged to him for that Answer, than if what Worthy person had entertained him kindness, with the most insinuating Compliments.  
But above all things, Epictetus was extremely nice in point of Friendship, and there needs be no more said, than that he was a Stoic, to give some security, that he was sincere and disinteressed. He would not have a man think of consulting the Oracle, when he was concerned in the vindication of a Friend. 
Enchir. Epict.  He was persuaded, that it ought to be attempted even with the hazard of a man's Life. As he was maintaining one day, That only a wise man was capable of Friendship; one made him this reply, That though he were no wise man, yet he tenderly loved his own Son. 
Arr. Diss. l. 2. c. 22.  'Tis your imagination, Answers Epictetus. Did you ever observe little whelps playing together? It might be inferred, from their sporting, that they had an extreme kindness one for the other. And yet cast but a piece of meat betwixt them, and you will find whether they effectually love one another. The case is parallel with that of you and your Son. Cast but a piece of Land between you and him, and you will discover whether, to gain that, he will not wish your Death; and whether within a while after you will not have a mortal aversion against him. Eteocles and Polynices, Were they not Brothers, the Children of the same Father and Mother? Had they not had their Education together? Had they not made a thousand protestations of inviolable Friendship? And yet when the Kingdom fell between them, which is the fatal Morsel, did they remember, or reflect on their promises? Was not the Friendship between them clearly forgotten? Did there not happen dreadful Wars between them, and were they not desirous to kill one the other? Did not Paris live under the same roof with Menelaus? Did they not lodge in the same bed? Were they not continually together? And yet, did not the imaginary beauty of a wretched Woman make an irreconcilable distance between them, and engage them in the most bloody and most cruel War that ever was heard of? When it would be discovered, continued he, whether two men are truly Friends; there is no necessity of enquiring whether they be related one to the other, or have had a joint education. These are uncertain marks, and such as commonly do but trapan us. We are only to inform ourselves of their Opinions, and their Manners; and if we find they are truly virtuous, and well-principled, we may pass an assured Judgement of them that they are perfect in point of Friendship.  
One day, 
Arr. Diss. l. 1. c. 11.  a person of Quality making him a visit, he very civilly entertained him, and discoursed with him a great while. But after they had talked of divers things, Epictetus asked him whether he were married? I am so, said the other to my great sorrow. What cause have you to be so much troubled, replied Epictetus, For methinks people marry only in order to a more happy Life? I am so miserable, replies the other, that I have not a quiet hour. I so tenderly Love my Children, that I am in a perpetual apprehension, that some accident may befall them. And upon the least thing being amiss with them, I am like a distracted person, tearing the hair of my head, and deploring the wretchedness of my condition. Not long since, continued he, news being brought me, that my little Daughter was not well, I was so smitten thereat, that I had not the courage to see her, till I was assured, that she had recovered that fit, and was grown better. Certainly replies Epictetus, you are a person of a very humorous Friendship; I could wish my Enemies had the same affection for me, as you have for your Children, and that they would Love me so well, as not to see me while I live. You do as a certain Gallant sometime did, who, being entered the Lists, was struck with such a fear, that he cast his Cloak over his Eyes, while his Horse galloped, and having afterwards casually got the prize, they were forced to apply Sponges to him, to recover him out of the swound he was fallen into.  
When some said to Epictetus, that if he still lived in Poverty, he would never be in a capacity to serve his Friends. 
Enchir. Epict.  How are you mistaken! replied he, Do you think that the assisting of Friends consists in the lending of money? No, no. True it is that a man ought to do what lies in his power, to get Wealth, that he may therewith relieve them, in their necessities; but if you can direct me how it may be gotten, in the age we live in, with the preservation of V'ertuous life and Integrity, I promise you my utmost endeavours to do it. And if you also expect it from me, that I should hazard the loss of those Goods I can call my own, in order to the acquisition of others which are not true Goods, Consider whether you are not very unjust, and whether you ought not to prefer a faithful Friend before money? This certainly was an Answer beseeming a true Philosopher.  
But what's particularly observable in Epictetus, is, that, of all the ancient Philosophers, he had the best opinions concerning the Deity, and the greatest insight into our Mysteries. His sentiments are so conformable to Christianity, that St. Augustine, as great an enemy as he was to the ancient Philosophers, speaks very advantageously of this Man; nay so far, as to honour him with the denomination of Most Wise. And no doubt St. Augustine had great reason to give him that Character, 
Arr. Diss. l. 1. c. 9 l. 2. c. 14.  since Epictetus was clearly persuaded, of the Immortality of the Soul, a great admirer of Providence, a Mortal enemy to Impiety and Atheism, acknowledged but one Divinity, and made Modesty, not to say, Humility, the ground of his Morals, as we have already observed.  
But what I more highly esteem in him, is, that having been Nursed up in the Principles of the Stoic Philosophy, he sucked nothing of its bitter. ness, And that he had weaned his mind from most of its Errors and false Maxims. 
The Stoics exalted their Wise Man above God.  In a word, He had no tincture of those insolent Opinions, and ridiculous qualifications, which the Stoics required in their Virtuoso, or Wise Man. A man who had reduced all his Philosophy to Practice, and one, who, by the acknowledgement of all subsequent Ages since his time, was the most knowing and the most humble of all the Philosophers, such a man, I say, must needs be far from any imagination of his being above God. So that if Epictetus was a Stoic, he was a much more reformed Stoic, than any of the rest. he had not so great a Devotion for the School of Zeno, or was so sworn to the observance of his Morality, as that he would not sometimes transgress the rules of it. On the contrary he gloried in opposing them, when he thought them not consistent with good Manners and Prudence. and certainly, if St. Jerome made it no difficulty to place a Philosopher of the same Sect in the Catalogue of the Saints, What may we think of Epictetus? For, not to urge that he always spoke very clearly of the immortality of the Soul, and that Seneca never fully expressed his sentiment as to that point, he hath this further advantage over him, that he never approved that pernicious and tragical Maxim of Stoics Cloister, so received and so inveterate, 
Arr. Diss. l. 1. c. 9  That it was lawful for a man to be his own Murderer: Whereas Seneca alleges it, and maintains it in several places. Which is a consideration so much the more pressing, by as much as there is nothing so opposite to the Doctrine of the Gospel.  
I know Wolfius is not of this opinion, 
Annot. in Diss. Arrian. l. 1. c. 24.  and pretends that Epictetus was fallen into that Error, as well as the rest of the Stoics. but I know also, that it is very likely, Wolfius is mistaken, as to that particular. For the only Text on which he grounds that Conjecture, is this that Epictetus affirms, in Arrian, That when a man is weary of acting his part, he is to remember, That the Door is open.  
But when he says, The Door is open, He means not by those words, That a man may be his own Murderer. His meaning is plainly this, that when we are weary of Life, and the condition we are in, it concerns us to remember, that our Term is almost expired, that within a short time we shall be delivered from that disquiet, and that infallibly we shall die. This was the reflection of Epictetus, And, to be assured of it, we need only observe, how clearly he expresses himself to the same purpose, in another passage, where he derides those, who are much troubled for the morrow. Thus than he speaks to them. If you have any thing to eat to morrow, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  you will eat, if you have nought, you will forbear eating: the worst that can befall you, is to go into the other World, The Door is always open for you. This passage is as much to the point in Debate, as the other; and yet no understanding person will maintain that Epictetus his meaning in this place, is, That it is lawful for a man to be his own Executioner, For, two or three lines before, he holds, That, 
Arr. l. 1. C. 9  When we are persecuted by Tyrants, We must have Patience, and wait God's leisure, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 etc.  to deliver us from their Persecution. It is just, adds he, that we continue in the rank wherein God hath placed us. We must leave it to him to remove us out of it, when it shall please him. The time of our abode will not be long. When a man hath once taken this resolution, there is no Tyrant but we may defy. This is the Constant opinion of Epictetus, which is clearly opposite to that, which Wolfius would impose upon him.  
But to return to his Life. These were his true Sentiments; that admirable Modesty, that profound Wisdom; and, above all, that inflexible Integrity so remarkable in him, were the recommendations which gained him the Esteem and Friendship of the greatest Persons of his time. 
A. Cell. l. 17. c. 10 part l. 1. c. 8.  There was an intimate Friendship between him and Favorinus, and Herod the Sophist, two men very Illustrious among the Ancients, and whose Lives are written by Philostratus. 
In Vit. Hadr.  Spartian, as I have already observeed, numbers him among the most familiar Friends of the Emperor Hadrtan. 
Them. O. rat. 12.  Themistius, in his Oration to the Emperor sovinian, affirms, that he received great honours from the two Antoninus'. And indeed, 
Mar. Anton. l. 17. Sect. 16. l. 11. S. 28. etc.  Marcus Aurelius speaks very advantageously of him, in several places; so far as to parallel him with the Zeno's, Socrates', and Crysippus'. In fine, he was in so great reputation, 
Ad judoct.  that Lucian satyrizes on an Ignorant person, who had given three thousand Drachmas for Epictetus' earthen Lamp, out of a conceit he should become as eminent for Learning as he was, by the light of his Lamp.  
His words were so efficacious, and men had such a respect and Veneration for what ever came from him, that none opposed it. One day Herod, 
A. Gell. Noct. Att. l. 1. c. 2.  the Sophist, met with a young man who professed the Stoic, Philosophy, but had such an humour of talking and magnifying himself, as if all the Greeks and Latins had been ignorant persons in comparison of him. The Sophist having patiently given attention to all he thought fit to say, sent for the second Book of Epictetus' Discourses, collected by Arrian, whereof he caused a Chapter to be read, treating of great Talkers, and presumptuous persons, The young man was so startled, and out of countenance at it, that he had not a word to say for himself. From this instance it may be conjectured, what esteem Epictetus must be in.  
Of all his Diciples, we know not of any considerable person but Arrian; and yet the making of this one Diciple is a sufficient argument of the greatness of the Master. 
Genebr. l. 3 Chron.  This is the Arrian, who was afterwards Master to Antoninus Pius, and had the Title given him of young Xenophon, upon this account, that in imitation of that Philosopher, he had reduced to writing all he had heard his Master say, during his Life, and disposed it into a Volume, which he Entitled, The Discourses of Epictetus, or his Dissertations, whereof there are yet remaining four Books. He afterwards made a little Treatise, which he called Enchiridion, 
Simpl. in Pro●●m. Enchir.  which is an Abridgement of all the Moral Philosophy of Epictetus, which is yet extant, and indisputabl'y one of the most excellent Pieces of Antiquity.  
But what I am extremely astonished at; 
Lips. in 〈◊〉. ad Sancto. Phil. l. c 19 Epicteti scripta pa●●●a extaut Enchiridion ●●●●gregium, etc.  is, that a person so highly learned as Lipsius, whose illuminated judgement sound its way into the greatest obscurities of the Stoic. Philosophy, and who made it his principal study, should imagine that Epictetus was the Author of that Enchiridion, and how he missed observing, that Simplicius expressly affirms at the very beginning of his Book, that the Enchiridion was composed by Arrian, 
In Prooem, Enchir. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. See his Preface on the Discourses of Epictetus.  and that it was an extract of the noblest and most considerable Maxims of Epictetus' Philosophy. The Translator of Arrians Discourses into French, so well known by the Philarchus of Monsieur de Balzac, is guilty of the same Error.  
Arrian had also written another very large Book, of the Life and Death of Epictetus, which is clearly lost. Marcus Aurclius speaks of another Book, 
Mar. Ant. the is qua ad se. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  entitled, The Commentaries of Epictetus, which he had very exactly read over. But, in all probability, these Commentaries are no other than the Discourses of Epictetus, whereof I have already spoken. For Arrian, in the Preface he made before thosse Discourses, calls them also the Commentarie●, of Epictetus. 
Arrian in Pras. ad Gell. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  I conceive the equivocation proceeded from the two publications made of that Book, during the life of Arrian, who possibly gave it different Titles.  
I am also of opinion, that those Discourses were much larger than we now find them, and, it may be, that, instead of four, there were five or six Books of them. This is so far certain, that Gellius citys a passage of the fifth Book of Arrian's Discourses. And Stobaeus relates several passages of the same Author, now not extant elsewhere. It is possible also, that Arrian left out several things at the second publication which was made of his Book, and reduced the six Books he had made, to four. However it be, I cannot allow what is affirmed by Suidas, 
Suid. in. Epict.  that Epictetus writ much. For if we ever so little consult what hath been written by Arrian, or reflect on the Maxims maintained by him, we shall hardly be induced to any imagination of it.  
There are also certain Answers, 
Altercat. Hadr. & Epict.  which some pretend that he made to the Emperor Hadrian. But there needs only the reading of them to discover their being supposititious, and that they are falsely attributed to him. Wolsius put us sometime in hopes, 
In praef. ad Atlercat. Hadr.  that we should see Epictetus' Letters, which were, as he was told, in the Library of Florence. But it is very likely, that he, who told him that News, was not well informed of the truth, and that we may long expect the publishing of them.  
Of what Disease Epictetus died, or at what time, is not well known. True it is, that Suidas affirms he died under the reign of Marcus Aurelius. But I much question the truth of it. Salmasius, who hath been very large as to this particular, brings several reasons to make it appear that Suidas was mistaken.  
The first is, that the same Suidas affirms, 
Suid. in Epict.  that Epictetus was a slave to Epaphroditus, who was Captain of the Lifeguard to Nero. Now, from the death of Nero to Marcus Aurelius' advancement to the Empire, 
Salm. in Not. ad Epic. & simple.  there are near ninety four years. Nay before Epictetus was in a condition to do Epaphroditus any service, and to come from Hierapolis to Rome, he must be of some Age. So that according to this computation he must have lived near a hundred and twenty years: which is not easily believed. And yet there may be somewhat in the conjecture, though not enough to make it convictive, for it is possible, 
Lips. in Manud. ad St. Phil. l. 1. c. 19  as Lipsius hath well observed, that he did not serve Epaphroditus, till after the death of Nero. Yet Lipsius may be answered, by alleging that Epaphroditus is here styled Captain of Nero's Life Guard; 
Suid. in Epict. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Ant. de his quae ad se.  which argues that Nero was then living.  
Salmasius' second reason is, that Marcus Aurelius numbers not. Epictetus' among those whom he had heard. He only affirms, that he had seen his Commentaries, by the means of Junius Rusticus, who sent him them. This reason seems to me much weaker than the former. For, besides that Epictetus might at that time be retired to Nicopolis, he died haply at the beginning of Marcus Aurelius' Reign. And Suidas affirms only, that he came to the time of that Emperor. And so though Epictetus had lived till the beginning of his Reign, it is possible that Emperor might not see the Commentaries of Epictetus, till after his death.  
The third reason alleged by Salmasius seems to me to be of no validity at all. He says, that Epictetus' Lamp was sold in Lucian's time, and thence he infers, that Epictetus was then dead. But this does not prove any thing. For there are very high probabilities, if not certainty, that Lucian died not till after Marcus Aurclius. And so, that Lamp might have been sold in Lucian's time, though Epictetus lived to the time of that Emperor. Nay it is possible it was sold in the Life-time of Epictetus; and in that case, there would be no difficulty.  
The fourth Reason is, 
A. Gell. l. 11. c. 19 Ita Salmas. resulit locum Gellii in Not. ad Simple De Epict. autem Philosopho recention est memoria. Itae Gell. De Epict autem Philosopho, quod is quoq servus fuerit, recentior est memoria.  That A. Gellius, who writ in the time of Antoninus Pius, or at the beginning of Marcus Aurelias' Reign, affirms of Epictetus thus, The memory of Epictetus the Philosopher is yet fresh. The passage is not faithfully set down by Salmasius. For it is precisely said in Aulus Gellius, That Epictetus also was a slave, is of fresh Memory. That is, it was of fresh memory that Epictetus had been a Slave, and not simply that he had been.  
To conclude, The last Reason brought by Salmasius, is, that Aulus Gellius speaks in another place, in these Terms, I have heard Favorinus say that Epictetus said etc. So that, since Favorinus died under the Emperor Hadrian, Salmasius, infers, that Epictetus could not have lived up to the time of Marcus Aurelius. This reason is not convictive, because Favorinus might inform Aulus Gellius, of what, Epictetus said, though Epictetus were not dead. Yet must we allow it some ground. For Aulus Gellius, who writ in the time of Antoninus Pius, the Predecessor of Marcus Aurelius, when he speaks of Epictetus, expresses himself in these Terms. Epictetus' said. That venerable Old Man said, I have been informed by such a one, that Epictetus said. Which clearly argues that he was not then living. And what makes me the more inclinable to this opinion, is, that it is probable, that Arrian had not made any collection of the Discourses of Epictetus, till after the death of that Philosopher. And if so, it is impossible that what is affirmed by Suidas should be true, and that Epictetus lived up to the time of Marcus Aurelius. For in the time of Aulus Gellius; who, as hath been observed, writ under Antoninus Pius, these Discourses were already published, and generally known. True it is, that Arrian might have made that Book in the Life-time of Epictetus, but there is little probability, and it will not easily be presumed, that the Discourses, and memorable things of a person yet living should be published.  
There is yet another very considerable difficulty, which hath not been observed by any one. This is; that, from Nero's death, to the Edict set forth by Domitian, touching the Banishment of the Philosophers, there is very little above twenty years. For that Edict was published in the eighth year of his Reign, as is affirmed by Eusebius. Now if the conjecture of Lipsius be true, and that Epictetus did not serve Epophroditus, till after Nero's death, it would follow, that at the time of that Edict, Epictetus could not be above eighteen or nineteen years of Age. Which cannot be granted, For than he had obtained his Liberty, and was even at that very time in great reputation; inasmuch as it is affirmed by Aulus Gellius; that, upon the qualification of a Philolsopher, he was forced to retire to Nicopolis. It must needs be allowed then, that he was at that time about thirty years of Age. But if he were of that Age, at the time of that Edict, it must necessarily follow, that he lived near a hundred and eight or nine years, to come up to the time of Marcus Aurelius. Which is not probable; since Lucian, who lived in that very time makes no mention of Epictetus, in his Dialogue Of Long-livers. True it is, 
Fuseb. in Chron.  that Eusebius speaks also of a second Edict against the Philosophers, which was not published till the fifteenth year of Domitian's Reign. But, not to take notice, that he is the only person of all the Chronologers and Historians, who makes any mention of this second Edict, Scaliger precisely observes, that the Edict, whereof Aulus Gellius speaks, (which is the same we now discourse of) was the first which was published in the eight year of Domitian's Reign.  
This reason seems to me so strong, that I should make no difficulty to affirm, that Suidas was mistaken, if I had not met with a passage of Themistius, 
Them. in Orat. ad Jovin.  where he precisely says, That the two Antoninus' rendered great honours to Epictetus. Yet might it be answered, that what is said is by an Orator, who observed not that strictness, which was requisite in a faithful Historian. Or haply that Marcus Aurelius was a great honourer of Epictetus, in the time of Hadrian, and Antoninus Pius, and before he came to be Emperor. Or rather, that he did him those honours after his death. As indeed we see, by the Books he hath left us, that he had a particular Veneration for his Memory. In fine, This is not without some difficulty, and I should be loath to be absolutely decisive in the point. I therefore think it sufficient, that I have simply laid down the doubts of both sides. And yet, after a mature examination of these things, if I may presume to give my judgement, I am the rather inclined to comply with what is affirmed by Salmasius, that Epictetus reached not the Reign of Marcus Aurelius. For besides that Suidas is an Author who hath not always light on the truth, it was a most undeniable mistake in him, when he affirmed that Epicletus had written much. So that it is possible he may also be mistaken in his computation of the time. Howe'er it be, yet this is certain, that Epictetus was regretted by all the illustrious Persons in his time, and that his memory will be precious to posterity. And this all I could meet with of his Life, which hitherto hath not been written in any Language, since that Life of Epictetus, done by Arrian, hath been lost.  

A CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE, to find out the time of Epictetus' death.  Years from the Foundation of Rome. Years from Nero.  807 1  808 2 Nero. 809 3  810 4  811 5  812 6  813 7  814 8  815 9  816 10  817 11  818 12 Epaphroditus. 819 13 Epictetus. 820 14 Galba. 821 15 Otho. Vitellius. 822 16  823 17 Vespasian. 824 18  825 19  826 20  827 21  828 22  829 23  830 24  831 25 Titus Vesp. 832 26  833 27  834 28 Domitian. 835 29  836 30  837 31  838 32  839 33  840 34 Edict for the banishment of the Philosophers. 841 35  842 36  843 37  844 38  845 39  846 40  847 41 Nerva. 848 42  849 43  850 44 Trajan. 851 45  852 46  853 47  854 48  855 49  856 50  857 51  858 52  859 53  860 54  861 55  862 56  863 57  864 58  865 59  866 60  867 61  868 62  869 63  870 64 Hadrian. 871 65  872 66  873 67  874 68  875 69  876 70  877 71  878 72  879 73  880 74  881 75  882 76  883 77  884 78  885 79  886 80  887 81 Favorinus' Death. 888 82  889 83 Antoninus Pius. 890 84  891 85  892 86  893 87  894 88  895 89  896 90  897 91  898 92  899 93  900 94  901 95  902 96 Epictetus' Death. 903 97  904 98  905 99  906 100  907 101  908 102  909 103 Aulus Gellius. 910 104  911 105  912 106  913 107 Marcus Aurelius. 914 108  915 109  916 110  917 111  918 112  919 113  920 114  921 115  922 116  923 117  924 118  925 119  926 120  927 121  928 122  929 123  930 124  931 125  932 126 Commodus. 933 127 Lucian's Death.   


THE PHILOSOPHY OF EPICTETUS.  
Honesta res est laeta Panpertas.  Senec. Ep. 2.  

THE PHILOSOPHY OF EPICTETUS.  
THere are some things which have their dependence on us. 
Sect. 1.  As Opinion, Inclination, Desire, Aversion; in a word, all our Operations. There are others also which have no dependence on us. As the Body, Wealth, Reputation, Sovereignty, and whatever comes not within the Sphere of our Action.  
That which hath its dependence on us, 
Sect. 2.  is, of its own Nature, Free, and cannot be obstructed, nor forbidden by any one. On the contrary, That which hath not its dependence on us, is weak, servile, easily obstructed, and subject to another.  
Remember then, 
Sect. 3.  that if you take to be Free, that which, of its own natures is Servile; and if you consider what is subject to another, as a thing proper to yourself; Remember, I say, that you will meet with great obstructions, and that you will be disturbed in all your designs, that you will be exposed to a thousand disquiets, and in fine, that you will charge your misfortunes upon the Gods and Men. But, on the contrary, if you are persuaded that that only belongs to you which really does so, and can consider, as alienated from you, that which in effect is so, assure yourself, that nothing will be able to divert you from what you have proposed to yourself, that you will not attempt any thing with a kind of violence to yourself, that you will not blame or accuse any one, that no body will give you any Check, that you will have no enemies; and in fine, that you will never be subject to the least regret.  
If you are desirous of goods so great as these are, 
Sect. 4.  know, it is not sufficient, 
With Politan and Wolfius I put 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 out of the Text in this passage.  for the attaining of them, that they be in some measure desired; but it is also requisite, that you be readily disposed to a renunciation of certain thing, and, for a time, to a deprivation of some others. For, if not satisfied with that whereof you are possessed, you are ambitious of advancement into Charges, or the acquisition of Wealth, remember, you will absolutely lose the assured means, whereby Liberty and Felicity are acquirable, and that haply, after all, you will be defeated of what you courted with so much earnestness.  
When you meet with any displeasing occurrence, 
Sect. 5.  accustom yourself to this reflection, that it is not such as it seems to be, and that it is only a pure imagination. When you shall have made that reflection, examine what it may be, and make your advantage of the rules you have for that purpose. Consider whether it be any of those things which have their dependence on you. For otherwise if it have not any, be immediately satisfied, that it concerns you not.  
Know, 
Sect. 6.  that the End of Desire is the obtaining of what is desired, and that the End of Aversion is, that one fall not into that which he would eschew. And as he is Unfortunate who is frustrated of what he wishes; so he is miserable who falls into that which he would most a void. If therefore you have an aversion only for what hath its dependence on you, as for false Opinions, be assured, that you will never fall into that which you hate. But if you have an aversion for that which depends not on you, as for Diseases, Death, or Poverty, question not but you will become Miserable; since it is not in your power to avoid them, and that you will infallibly fall into them.  
If you are desirous to be Happy, 
Sect. 7.  never have any repugnance for that which hath not its dependence on you, but direct all your aversion against that which is obstructive to the nature of the things dependent on your Liberty. Moreover, make no sudden wishes of any thing with too much earnestness; For if you desire things not dependent on yourself, it is impossible but you must be frustrated thereof; and if you desire those which have their dependence on yourself, know, that you are not sufficiently taught what is necessary for the desiring of them out of a virtuous regard. If therefore you would do well, approach them so as that you be able to withdraw yourself from them, when you shall think fit. But let all this be done with discretion and reservedness.  
The true expedient to avoid being ever troubled, 
Sect. 8.  is, to consider all the things that are for our pleasure, or for our advantage, or such as for which we have any affection, as they are in themselves. We must begin to examine even to the least important. 
I hear follow Simplicius, who instead of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 puts 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  For example, when you remove an earthen vessel, bethink yourself that it is an earthen vessel, which you do remove, and that it may be easily broken. For having made this reflection, if it chances to break, you will not be troubled at it. In like manner, if you love your Son, or your Wife, reflect that the person you love is of humane race; for by that means, if they come to die, you will not be surprised at it.  
Before you undertake any work, 
Sect. 9  examine of what kind it is. If you have resolved to go into a Bath, before you set forth, represent to yourself all the insolences that are committed in those places. They there cast water at one; they force him out of his place; he is subject to affronts; he may lose his clothes. Make no question but you would more safely execute what you undertake, if you say to yourself; I will go into the Bath, but I will also keep to the course of Life, which I have proposed to myself. Observe this Maxim in all your enterprises. For by that means, if any obstruction or disgrace happens to you, as you bathe yourself, it will be without disturbance to you, and you will presently say, I came not hither only to bathe myself, but I came also with a resolution not to do any thing contrary to my settled course of life, which I should not observe, if I endured the impertinences committed hear with any kind of regret or dissatisfaction.  
The disturbances which men are in 
Sect. 10.  proceed not from the things themselves; but only from the opinions they conceive of them. For example, to speak rightly of it, Death is not any Evil; since that if it were such it would have appeared dreadful and unpleasing to Socrates, as well as to other men. No no, it is only the Opinion men have of death which renders it dreadful. When therefore we are any way disturbed, or troubled, we have none to quarrel at, but ourselves and our Opinions.  
It is a great discovery of ignorance and a brutish disposition to be reproaching others with their miseries. 
Sect. 11.  He begins to enter into the way of wisdom, who charges only himself with his own misfortune. But he is come to the perfection of wisdom, who neither chargeth himself nor others.  
Never make any ostentation of the excellency which is in another. 
Sect. 12.  If a Horse could say, that he is a beautiful Creature, it were supportable in his mouth. But when you make it your brag that you have an excellent well-shaped Horse can you tell what you do? you boast of what belongs not to you. What is there then that is yours? The use of what falls under your sight. 
A Sentiment somewhat hard.  And hence it comes, that if you look on things conformably to their nature, and make such judgements of them as you ought, then shall it be lawful for you to make your brags thereof; inasmuch as your exultation is for a good, whereof you are effectually possessed.  
If you go to Sea, and the Ship come 
Sect. 13.  to Land at some place, you are at liberty to go out of it, to take in fresh water; nay if you have a mind to gather of the Shells you meet with in your way, no body will hinder you. But it is still expected that your thoughts should be upon the Ship, and that you should be attentive to the masters call; for you must be ready to leave all, least upon your neglect, he might order you to be cast into the Vessel with your hands and feet bound like a beast. The same is to be said in the case of humane Life. If God is pleased to give you a Wife, or Children, it is permitted you to take them, and to have your enjoyments of them. But if it happen that God calls you, you must leave them without any further thoughts of them, and make haste to the Vessel. And if you are already well advanced in age, have a care you be not at any great distance from it, out of a fear you be not ready, when you shall be called.  
Never desire that things should happen as you would have them; but endeavour to make your wishes compliant with the emergencies. By this means, what ever comes to pass will be conformable to your wishes.  
Sickness is an impediment to the Body, 
Sect. 15.  but not so to the Will. For example, when a man is Lame, it is an obstruction to his feet in going; but that hinders not his Will to do what it is inclined to, if it does not undertake any thing but what it is able to compass. Make the same consideration of all the things that happen, and you will find, that it is not you that are incommodated by them, and that it is always some other.  
In whatever shall happen to you, 
Sect. 16.  be mindful to consider, what means you have to secure yourself against it. If, for example you see a beautiful Youth, or a fair Virgin, bethink yourself, that you have Temperance, which is a powerful preservative against Beauty. If you are obliged to undertake something not to be overcome without much labour and hardship, have your recourse to Patience. If you have received any injury, arm yourself with Constancy. For if you accustom yourself always to act after this manner, occurrent Objects will have no prevalence over you.  
Never say that you have lost any thing, 
Sect. 17.  but let it be your constant saying, that you have restored it. When your Son or your Wife die, say not that you have lost them, but say rather that you have restored them to him who had bestowed them on you. But when some part of your Inheritance is taken away from you, must it be said in like manner, that you have restored it? you think haply that you ought not to use that kind of expression, because he is some wicked person who hath deprived you of it? As if it concerned you, by whose means your Land returns to him who had given it you. As long therefore as you shall have it at your own disposal, look on it as if it were another's, and part with it, as little troubled, as Travelers are when they leave the Inns where they had lodged.  
If you are desirous to make any advancement in the study of Virtue, 
Sect. 18.  wean your mind from those sorts of Imaginations. If I be not careful of my affairs, I shall not have where with all to subsist. If I chastise not my Son, he will prove undutiful. Learn that it is better to die of hunger, and preserve a greatness of courage, and tranquillity of mind to the last gasp, than to live in abundance, with a Soul full of disturbance and torment. Learn, I say, that you ought rather to suffer your Son to become undutiful and wicked, than to become yourself unhappy. In a word you must prefer the serenity of your own mind before all concerns. But to attain that, it is precedently requisite, that you make trial of yourself even to things that are most inconsiderable. For example, if your Oil be spilt, or your Wine stolen out of your Cellar, make this reflection and say in yourself; At this rate must a Man purchase Tranquillity and Constancy. And indeed nothing is got without some pains, and it is necessary, that what we have should cost us something. Do the like when you call your Servant. Imagine, that he is not ready, and that if he were, he will not haply do any thing of what you desire of him. Howe'er it be, have a care that he has not the power to put you into any indignation, and to cause any disturbance in your mind, when he hath an humour to do it.  
Never be troubled that you should pass for an extravagant person in the Apprehensions of the Multitude, 
Sect. 19  only upon their observance of your contempt of external things. Nor be ever desirous of being accounted a man of excellent endowments. If it unexpectedly happen, that people make any account of you, than most mistrust yourself; in as much as it is extremely hard to be attentive to what is external, and to stick close to a resolution correspondent to Nature, and the course of Life which you have proposed to yourself; and it must needs come to pass, that following the one you will be forced to relinquish the other.  
If you desire that your Wife, 
Sect. 20.  your Children, and your Friends should live always, you are at a loss of judgement; for it is as much as to wish that what hath not any dependence on you, should be absolutely dependent on you, and that what is another's should belong to you. In like manner, if you expect that your Son should commit no misdemeanour, you are no less ridiculous. For it is as much as to wish, that Vice should not be Vice. If therefore you would never be frustrated of your desires, desire only those things which are dependent on yourself.  
He is truly Master of all things, 
Sect. 21.  in whose power it is to retain such as he will, and to reject such as are displeasing to him. Whoever then hath a design to be free after this manner, must accustom himself not to have any desire, nor any aversion for such things as are dependent on another: for if he act otherwise, he will certainly fall into Servitude.  
Remember that your demeanour in Life must be such, 
Sect. 22.  as if you were at a great Feast. If any Dish be presented to you, you may decently help yourself what you think fit of it. If it be designed only to pass by you, far be it from you to stop it, and to put your hand rashly into it. Expect patiently till it return to you again. Thus ought you to behave yourself towards your Children, towards your Wife, towards the Magistrates, towards Riches, and towards all other things of that nature. For by this means, you will become worthy to be entertained at the Table of the Gods. But if you are so generous as to refuse even that which is presented to you, you will not only deserve admission to the table of the Gods, but you will be worthy also to participate of their power. And it was for this kind of demeanour that Diogenes and Heraclitus were reputed divine men, as indeed they were.  
When you shall observe any one sighing, 
Sect. 23.  either upon a remembrance that his son is gone abroad to travel, or that he hath lost what he was possessed of, be not surprised at the Object and imagine not the person to be really unhappy, for the loss of things not within his disposal. But make this distinction within yourself, and presently say; It is not that Accident which afflicts the man; for there are others concerned in the like that are not any way disturbed thereat; it is the opinion which he hath conceived thereof that torments him. Then use your utmost endeavours to undeceive him, and to recover him out of evil Opinion. Nay, if you think it convenient, you may pretend sadness, and a certain fellow-feeling of his affliction. But have a care that Grief do not effectually seize your heart, while you think only to personate it.  
Remember yourself, 
Sect. 24.  that you are to act here the part which the Master of the Revels hath been pleased to assign you. If your part be short, be short in the acting of it; if it be long, be content to go through with it. If he have appointed you to do that of a poor Man, endeavour to acquit yourself in the action as well and as naturally as you can. If fine, if he have imposed upon you that of a Prince, or a Lame person, or a Tradesman, it is your concern, to act according to what is assigned you, and hath been directed by another.  
If it chance that you hear a Crow croaking, 
Sect. 25.  be not the least troubled at it. But let this be your immediate reflection, I am not the person threatened by that Crow; it may haply be my Body, or the little Estate I am possessed of, or my Reputation, or my Children, or my Wife, for as to my own part, there is not any thing but presages happiness to me; in regard that, of whatever shall happen, it depends only on myself to make all the advantage I can.  
You may be invincible, 
Sect. 26.  if you undertake not any engagement, but such as you are assured of the success thereof, and where the obtaining of the Victory depends only on yourself.  
If you observe any one advanced to Dignities, 
Sect. 27.  or in favour and credit, be not surprised at the outward appearance of it, and say not, that he is therefore happy. For since the true tranquillity of the mind consists in our wishes only of what depends on ourselves, the lustre of Grandeurs ought not to raise any envy or jealousy in us. Nor should you entertain any ambition of being a Senator, a Consul, or an Emperor, the only business you are to mind, is Freedom. That aught to be the ultimate end of all your pretensions. Now to attain that, there is but one way, which is, to slight whatever depends not on us.  
Remember also it is not either he who injuries you, 
Sect. 28.  nor yet he who smites you that offends you, but it is the Opinion you have conceived thereof. When therefore any one shall occasion your being angry, know, that not he, but your own Opinion hath incensed you. Accordingly you aught to be very careful that you be not transported by your passion; for if you delay it for ever so little a while, you will the more easily overcome it.  
Let Death, 
Sect. 29.  Banishment, and all those other things, which the greatest part of Men put into the number of Evils, be your daily Meditation; but let your thoughts be particularly fixed on Death. For by this means you will never have any mean and servile consideration, nor ever wish any thing with passion.  
If you have a design to perfect yourself in the study of Philosophy, 
Sect. 30.  prepare yourself, before you undertake any thing, to endure the derision of all the World. It will be said to you, How are you become a Philosopher of a sudden? Whence came you by that severe aspect? Laugh at all that, conditionally that what is said be not true, and that you have not that gravity, wherewith you are reproached. Do you only demean yourself so towards what seems best to you, that nothing be able to divert you from it, and continue constant thereto, as if God had appointed you to do so. If you persist in the same resolution, and prove constant in the same estate, you will become the object of their admiration who before derided you. If on the contrary you flag, and if once you give way to any change of resolution, all you have done will only occasion others to repeat their derisions of you.  
Suffer not your mind to be distracted with imaginations of this kind, 
Sect. 31.  that you will not be considered, and that you will not be respected, and honoured. For if it were an evil not to receive honour, the consequence would be, that it were in the power of another to make us unhappy. Which cannot be, in regard that the same reason which exempts us from being involved in Vice, by the act of another, exempts us also from being involved in evil, by the act of another. Is it a thing at our disposal to be advanced to sovereign dignities, or, to be invited to great Feasts, or in fine, to be possessed of all the other goods not dependent on us? No, it is clearly out of our reach. How then can you say, that you shall live in Disesteem and Ignominy, if you have not the enjoyment of these kinds of things? How, I say, can you complain, that you shall not be respected, when you are to confine all your desires, and all your pretensions, within yourself, and what depends on you, where you are allowed to exalt yourself as much as you please? You will haply reply, if I live so, I shall never be in a condition to serve my Friends. Ah! How are you mistaken! How do you imagine that this proposition is to be understood, a man is obliged to assist his Friends? 'tis not thereby meant, that he is to supply them with Money, or to make them Citizens of Rome, since that is not in our power, and that it is impossible for one to bestow that on another which he hath not himself. I foresee the answer you will make me, to wit, that a Man is to use all industry to raise himself to wealth and credit, that he may be able to relieve his Friends in their necessities. But if you can show me a way whereby they may be attained without hazarding the loss of virtuous Inclination, Sincerity, and Generosity, I promise you that I will attempt always to do it. If then you expect from me that I should hazard the loss of my own goods, to endeavour the acquisition of others for you, which are not true goods, consider whether you are not unjust and unreasonable. Reflect then, whether you ought not to make greater account of a sincere, virtuous, and faithful Friend than of Money? Do therefore all that lies in your power to preserve these qualities in me, and never press me to do any thing which may reduce me into a capacity of losing them. You may yet possibly make this further reply, that by this means you will not be able to serve your Country. But what do you mean by those words? 'Tis true, you will not be able to adorn it with Triumphal Arches or public Baths. They are not Smiths who furnish the City with Shoes, nor hath it Arms from Shoemakers. 'Tis well that every one act according to his profession? What do you imagine that you contribute nothing of advantage to your Country, when you supply it with an Inhabitant, who is a person of Worth and Integrity? Know, that you could not have done it a greater service. No more than henceforth of that Discourse. Say not that you are of no account in your City. It matters not what rank you are in, provided you mind the improvement of Honour and Fidelity in it. Do you imagine you will be advantageous to your Country, if you quit the purfuit of Virtues? Imagine to yourself what benefit it can receive from you, when you shall become Impudent and Perfidious.  
Take it not ill, 
Sect. 32.  to see any one placed at Table above you, or saluted before you, or to find people inclined to follow his advice, rather than yours: for if the things are good, you ought to be glad they happen to him; if on the contrary they are bad, you should not have any regret at their not befalling yourself. Besides, remember, that since you profess not to do aught for the attainment of external things, it is no miracle if they happen not to you, and that others persons, who have used their utmost endeavours to attain them, are preferred before you. Nor indeed is it just, that he who stirs not out of his House should be of equal credit with him who spends most of his time in Visits, and is perpetually at the gates of Grandees. It is not, I say, reasonable, that he who cannot he induced to commend any one, should be equally considered with him, who bestows excessive praises on the most inconsiderable Actions. He certainly must be an unjust, and withal an insatiable person, who desires to have these sorts of goods for nothing, and without buying them, at the price they cost. Be it supposed, for example, that Lettuces are to be sold, and that they are worth a halfpenny, if any one gives that rate, he may have them. But if you will not give any thing for them, you shall go without them. Shall this render your condition worse than that of the other? By no means; for if he hath the Lettuces, you have your Mony. The case is the same as to those we speak of. If you are not invited to a Feast, it argues you have not paid your Club. The Founder of the Feast sells it for flatteries, for compliance, and for submissions. If you are desirous to be admitted thereto, resolve to purchase it at the price set upon it. For to pretend to these things, without doing what is necessary for the obtaing of them, argues Covetuousness and want of Judgement. Do you imagine also, that, if you lose that Supper, you have nothing in requital? Assure yourself you have somewhat that is much more excellent. You have not praised him whom you had no mind to praise. You have not born with his insolence, wherewith he treats such as come to his Table, this is the advantage you have made.  
We may understand what Nature desires by the sentiment we have of the things which concern us not. 
Sect. 33.  When our neighbour's Servant break a Glass, we presently say, it is an ordinary accident. You should demean yourself so, when your own is broken, and be as cold and indifferent, as you were when your neighbours was broken. Apply this also to greater matters. When your neighbour's Wife or Child dies, no body says there is any thing in it but what is natural. But when that accident happens to ourselves, we break forth into lamentations and clamours; Ah! How unhappy am I, Ah! What a wretched person am I? And yet we should remember ourselves, that we ought to be such upon this emergency as we are when the same thing happens to another.  
The nature of Evil is, in the World, 
Sect. 34.  as a Mark, which is set there to direct us into the right way, and not to put us out of it.  
If any one should deliver up your Body to the first person he met, 
Sect. 35.  that he might do what he pleased with it, I am confident you would not take it well, and that you would be displeased thereat. And in the mean time you are not ashamed to expose your Soul to the fantastic humour of all the World. For as soon as any reviling word is said to you, you are troubled, and transported with grief and indignation. Do not therefore undertake any thing, without considering beforehand what ought to precede, and what must be the consequence of such an enterprise; for if you act otherwise, it will come to pass, that haply your design will prove fortunate at the beginning, and that you will take a pleasure therein. But be assured, that you will afterwards be ashamed of it, and that, sooner or later, you will have occasion to repent you of it.  
No doubt it would be a great satisfaction to you to gain the Victory at the Olympic Games. 
Sect. 36.  I assure you, it should be as much my desire as yours. For when all's done, we must acknowledge that it is a very gallant thing. But if you have that design, it is requisite, that you consider what is precedent, and what is consequent to such an enterprise. When you shall have made that reflection, take notice of what you ought to observe. Accustom yourself to keep within your own rank; Not to eat, but upon necessity; To abstain from all sorts of delicate, and picquant sauces; Never to drink out of humour or wantonness; Nay, to forbear the drinking of Wine, if you are not commanded to do it; To do your exercise at the appointed hours, in hot weather, in cold weather, not suffering any thing to divert you from it. In fine, You must resign up yourself to the Master of the Exercises, as to a Physician. And then you may enter the Lists. But you must also direct your apprehensions to all the things which may happen, one while, of hurting your Hands, and your Feet, and another of having your Mouth full of Dust, sometimes of being well Cudgeled, and after all this struggling, you also run the hazard of getting the worst. Now if nothing of all this startle you, and that you still persist in your former design, than you may venture into the Ring. For if you demean yourself otherwise, it will happen to you, as to those little Children, who now take up them to be Wrestlers, than Pipers, than Fencers, than Trumpeters, and then actors of Tragedies, undertaking all sorts of Professions, though they are incapable of exercising any. So you will be a Wrestler, a Gladiator, an Orator, a Philosopher, and of all this nothing. You will imitate, like an Ape, whatever you see done by others, and you will slightly quit one thing, to embrace another. Would you know the cause of it? 'Tis this, that you undertake all without recollection, and that you are inconsiderately inclined thereto, and that you comply only with the sudden sallies of your own fantastic humour. You behave yourself like those who have an itching inclination to be Philosophers, when they hear some one say, Ah, how excellently was that said Socrates! Who could raise an argument to that height, and press it with so much vigour as he!  
O man, 
Sect. 37.  be who you will, if you are desirous to compass your designs, consider beforehand what you would do, and see, whether that which you undertake be conformable to your nature or not. If you are desirous to venture at the Exercises, as Wrestling or the like, consider whether your Arms are strong enough, and whether your Limbs and Reins are fit, and well-set for it; in regard that this man is naturally designed to one thing, and that, to another. When you shall have taken a resolution to become a Philosopher, if you think to eat, and drink, and act the delicate person, as you did before, you will be extremely mistaken. You must resolve to be vigilant, to be industrious, to forsake your Friends, to be slighted, sometimes by a Servant, to see all others more honoured, and in greater credit than you with eminent Persons, Magistrates, Judges, and in any affair whatsoever. Reflect then on all these difficulties, and consider whether you had not rather enjoy Tranquillity of Mind, Freedom, and Constancy. For if you make not this reflection, I must mind you of having a care, that you follow not the example of those little Children I spoke of before, and be one while a Philosopher, soon after a Receiver of the public Taxes, than an Orator, and in fine a Lieutenant to Caesar. Believe me, all these employments will not fadge well together. It is requisite you take it into your consideration, that you are but one Man, and that it is necessary, you should be absolutely good, or absolutely bad. For, in a word, you must either only prosecute the cultivation of your Mind and Reason, or apply yourself to the pursuit of external things, and absolutely addict yourself thereto. For it is impossible for a man to do both together. That is to say, it is necessary that you either keep within the Sphere of a Philosopher, or come into the common class of the meaner sort of People.  
All the Devoirs and Respects we render aught to be suitable to the quality of the persons who receive them. 
Sect. 38.  If it be a Father, our Devoir obliges us to have a care of him, and to comply with him in all things. If he reviles you, if he smite you, all must be supported with patience. But, will you haply say, my Father is a wicked Man? What matters it? That excuse is not allowable. When Nature gave you a Father, she was not engaged to give you a good one. In like manner, when your Brother injures you, be not over intentive to what he does to you, but consider the obligations of your own duty, and how you are to demean yourself towards him, that so you may do nothing but what is conformable to Nature. Thus will it come to pass, that no Man will have the power to offend you, if you will it not, and if any do you an injury, it proceeds only from this, that you imagine it done to you. Make the same judgement of all the rest. You will come to understand what are the Devoirs of a Neighbour, of a Citizen, of a Military General, and of all others, if you accustom yourself to consider what they are.  
Know, 
Sect. 39  that the principal point of Religion consists in having right sentiments of the Gods. As for instance, to believe they really are, that they govern the World, with goodness and justice, that they are to be obeyed, that men ought to acquiess in what they do, and indisputably follow their Orders, as proceeding from a most excellent and most accomplished intelligence. For, thus principled, you will never charge them with aught, and you will not complain that they have deserted you. But this is not a thing to be attempted, if you do not slight whatever is not dependent on you, and if you do not place all Good and all Evil, in that which absolutely depends on you. For if you imagine, that any other thing is Good or Evil, it must needs come to pass, that you will be often frustrated of what you wish, that you will fall into what you endeavour to shun, and that you will blame and have an aversion for those, who have caused you that misfortune. Accordingly, as it is natural for all Animals to shun what is hurtful to them, and to have an aversion for all such as are able to do them any mischief; So have they the same propension, to embrace what is beneficial to them, and to cherish all those who can do them any good. So that it is impossible, that a person who believes he hath received any damage, should admit of a joynt-exultation with the other, who hath done it him, nor that the displeasure he hath received should give him any joy. Thence it comes that the Son sometimes reviles his Father, because he gives him not that which hath the denomination of Good amongst Men. And this also was the occasion of the War between Etcocles and Polynices; because their imagination was fixed on this, that Sovereignty was a Good. Thence it comes also, that the Husbandman, the Pilot, the Merchant, and those who loose their Wives, or their Children, speak injuriously of the Gods. Odinarily Piety and Profit meet together. From that reason does it proceed, that he who is careful not to wish and shun any thing, but what he ought to shun, or wish, makes it his study at the same time to be a Pious and a Just man. Besides every Man is obliged to make his Oblations and Sacrifices according to the custom of the Country where he lives, with much Modesty, avoiding avarice and prodigality, and doing it also with all the purity, and all the diligence requisite thereto.  
When you go to a Foreteller of things to come, 
Sect. 40.  no doubt, but you are ignorant of what is to happen. For it is, to be informed by him, that you consult him. But, to know whether that which shall happen will be good or bad, you have no need of the Foreteller, because you know it already, if you are a Philosopher. For if it be not somethìng dependent on yourself, as it must necessarily be, since you are not ignorant of the success of it, you may confidently affirm, that it is neither good nor bad. When therefore you go to consult the Fortune-teller, be not prepossessed with either Desire or Aversion; otherwise you will never approach him without trembling. Hold it for a Maxim, that every Event is indifferent, that it can never give any obstruction to what you had purposed to do, and, whatever it may be, that it is always in your power to apply it to a good use. Approach the Gods therefore with a resolute and assured mind, and look on them as such as are able to give you good counsels. When they have returned you any answer, follow it exactly. Consider who they are whom you have consulted, and that you cannot forbear obeying them without a contempt of their power and incurring their displeasure. The things, about which we are to consult the Oracle, are those, as Socrates affirmed, the whole consideration whereof is attributed purely to hazard, and which cannot be foreseen, either by Reason, or any other Art whatsoever. So that when the question is concerning the defence of your Country, or of your Friend, there is no necessity of going to the Soothsayer; inasmuch as if the Soothsayer tell you, that the entrails of the Victim presage ill success, it is an infallible sign, either that you will die, or that you will be crippled, or that you will be banished, which might haply divert you from the design you were engaged in. In the mean time Reason advises, that you should relieve your Friend and Country, even with the hazard of your Life. Make your applications then to a greater Oracle. Go to the Pythian Priest, who drove out of the Temple a Man, who sometime before had waved relieving one of his Friends, then ready to be murdered.  
It is requisite that you prescribe to yourself a certain course of Life, 
Sect. 41.  and a Law, to be inviolably observed by you, wherever you may be; whether your conversation be amongst Men, or that you are privately retired from all company.  
Keep silence, 
Sect. 42.  as much as you can. Never speak any thing but what is absolutely necessary, and to do that, spend as few words as you can. When any occasion of speaking shall present itself, amuse not yourself in discoursing either of the Gladiators, or the Circean Exercises, or of the Olympic Games, or of eating, or of drinking, or of any of all those impertinencies, which are the Subjects of most people's Discourses. But above all things, be careful, in your Conversation, to avoid both Praise and Dispraise, and making Comparisons between any.  
When you are amongst your Friends, 
Sect. 43.  if their communication be of any thing which is not decent, use all the endeavours you can to bring them to a change of Discourse; and if you are amongst persons unacquainted with you, speak not a word.  
As to Laughter, 
Sect. 44.  let not yours be either too long, or too frequent, or too lould. Never swear, if you can possibly avoid it, and if you are forced thereto; do beforehand all that lies in your power, to be dispensed from it.  
Avoid the great Treatments of the People. 
Sect. 45.  If you are accidentally engaged to be at any of them, make immediately a reflection on yourself, and be vigilant and circumspect over your Actions, lest you insensibly participate of the demeanour of the People. For you are to know, that it is impossible, when your Companion is defiled, but that you must be defiled also, if you rub against him, though you were pure and clean before.  
Of all accommodations relating to the Body, 
Sect. 46.  as Meat, Drink, Clothing, Houses, Servants, take only so much as necessity requires, and the Mind stand; in need of, in order to its well-being, and reject whatever contributes to Luxury and Delicacy.  
Endeavour all you can to abstain from the pleasure of Women till you are Married. 
Sect. 47.  And when you have got one, use her honourably, and as the Law prescribes. But though you come into that course of Life, think not you have any cause to make any ostentation of it, and to reprehend those who live otherwise.  
If it be told you, 
Sect. 48.  that some body hath spoken evil of you, amuse not yourself to refute what he hath said; only make answer, that he knows not all your vices, and that he would have said much more, if he had been acquainted therewith.  
There is no necessity of frequenting theatres. 
Sect. 49.  But when occasion requires your going thither, let your demeanour there be such, as may discover you have no design to please any but yourself: That is, that you wish things may be done as they are, and that he should gain the Victory who really deserves it. For by that means all will fall out as you would have it, and you will not be moved at any occurrence. Above all things, refrain from the clamours, satisfactions, and surprises of the People. When you are come away thence, amuse not yourself in discoursing of what had passed there. Of that there is no advantage, nor does it any way contribute to your improvement. If you do otherwise, you will make it appear that you were an admirer of the Show, and that you are fallen into the same passions, which are observable in the meaner sort of People.  
Frequent not the Lectures of Poets and Orators. 
Sect. 50.  When your presence is desired at any of them, do all you can, to be exempted. But when you are there, be sure to demean yourself with a decent Gravity. Let there be a certain stayedness and constancy in your actions. And above all, be it your care, to avoid being importunate or troublesome to any one.  
When you shall have aught to do with a Person of Quality, 
Sect. 51.  bethink yourself, before you undertaken any thing, what Socrates or Zeno would have done, upon the like occasion. If you observe that rule, question not but what you shall do will be rational.  
When you are to go to speak with some great Lord, 
Sect. 52.  imagine to yourself, that you will not meet with him at home, or that he will not be spoken withal, or that the doors will not be opened to you, or that he will slight you. But if, notwithstanding all this, there be a necessity of your going to him, it is consequently requisite, that your patiently endure whatever will happen, that you murmur not in yourself, and, in fine, that you say not, This man hath the carriage of a great Lord. This is a popular kind of expression, and fit only for Persons minding only external things.  
When you are in Company, 
Sect. 53.  let not your discourse run upon your own commendable Actions, nor the hazards you have been engaged in You are not to imagine, that others should take a pleasure, in hearing you talk, equal to the satisfaction you conceive in speaking to them.  
Never make it your business to find others occasion of Laughter. 
Sect. 54.  For besides that it is the right way of falling into popular behaviour, it abates much of the esteem and respect which might otherwise be had for you.  
It is dangerous discoursing of things that are not decent. 
Sect. 55.  When therefore any thing of that kind is advanced in your presence, you ought, if you think it convenient and have the opportunity, to reprove the raiser of such a discourse, or at least assure him by your silence or the blushing of your countenance, that you take no pleasure in any communication of that nature.  
If you conceive the Idea of some pleasure, 
Sect. 56.  it is expected you should, upon that emergency, retain the same moderation which you express in other things. Let it be your first care, that you be not carried away with that Idea. Examine it in yourself, and take the leisure to make your reflections on it. Then consider the difference there is between the time, during which you have the satisfaction of that pleasure, and that wherein, after you satisfaction therein, you will repent you of it, and find fault with yourself for so doing. Oppose also thereto, the satisfaction it will be to you, if you abstain from it. But though you might enjoy these sorts of pleasure without any selfereproach, yet should you not absolutely resign yourself thereto, nor suffer yourself to be overcome by the caresses, the charms, and insinuations, which are the ordinary attendants of Voluptuousness. Bethink yourself that the internal joy which you will receive upon the gaining of such a Victory, is some what that is much more excellent than any thing of that kind.  
When you are once fully resolved to do any thing, 
Sect. 57  fear not to be seen in it, even though the People were ready to make the worst constructions of it. For if what you do be a Good, you are to defy all apprehensions, since you cannot be reproved without injustice. But, on the contrary, if it be an Evil, you ought not only to avoid begin seen, but you are also obliged to desist from your enrerprise.  
As these words, It is day, It is night, 
Sect. 58.  are most certain and true, if you divide them by the disjunctive particle 
* As, it is day, or it is night.  Or; and are absolutely false, if you knit them together with the conjunctive particle 
† it is day, and it is night. This place is a Rock, from which I have got off as well as I could. I must confess, this Comparison is some what strange; but it is to be lmputed to Epictetus.  And: So when you are at a Feast, and that you take a pleasure in the best Messes that are brought to the Table, if you particularly regard your body, you do somewhat that is most excellent for your body. If you also consider the community and equality, which ought to be observed amongst the Guests, you do a very undecent action. When therefore any one invites you to Dinner, you ought not only to regard your appetite, and what you love best, but you are further obliged, to express a certain deference and respect towards the preson by whom you are treated.  
If you undertake any Employment which is above your abilities, 
Sect. 59  besides the hazard of your coming off with discredit, it will occasion your negligence of some other, whereof you might have acquitted you self perfectly well.  
When you walk, you are careful enough to avoid treading on the which may happen to be in your way. 
Sect. 60.  So ought you, in Life, to be no less cautious, that the superior part of your soul be not injured by any brutish Passions, or false Opinions. For you will with much greater facility compass your designs, if you observe this Maxim in whatever you undertake.  
The body ought to be the standard of Wealth, as the Foot is the measure of the Shooe. 
Sect. 61.  Observe this rule well, and you will never be at any great distance from Mediocrity, nor the limits prescribed thereby. If you neglect it, you will unquestionably tumble down the precipice. For as, when you have once had the curiosity of getting Shoes after the newest fashion, and such as exceed the measure of your Feet, you will afterwards be of an humour to have them gilt, and then to have them of Purple, or embroidered, with much cost and workmanship: So in the business of wealth, when you have once exceeded the limits of Mediocrity, there is then no stinting of you, but you are insensibly transported into all manner of Luxury and Excess.  
As soon as young Maids are arrived to the age of fourteen years, 
Sect. 62.  Men begin to call them their Mistresses. This raising an apprehension in them, that Nature hath disposed them into the World for them, and that it must be their endeavour to humour them, they thereupon make it their main business to dress and trick up themselves and place all their expectations in their ornaments. It is therefore requisite they should be brought to apprehend, that these honours and civilities are rendered them, only upon the account of their Modesty, Discretion, and respectful Carriage.  
To be over much addicted to Corporeal things is ever the argument of a mean Soul. 
Sect. 63.  As for instance, to be assiduous in Exercises, to drink and eat much, to be excessively addicted to Women, and to spend too much time in the other functions of the body. All this is to be done as it were in haste, and without any great attention; all our earnest cares were are to reserve for the Mind.  
When any one injures you by word or deed, 
Sect. 64.  remember, that he would not have done so, if he had not had an imagination that he ought to have done it. Do you think he could quit his own sentiment to follow yours? If he does not make a sound judgement of things, and be accordingly mistaken, he suffers the trouble and prejudice arising thereby. When a man judges that a true Thing is false, because it is obscure and immersed in darkness, this judgement injures not the truth. He who makes such a judgement injures none but himself. If you follow this Maxim, when any one shall revile you, you will patiently endure it; For you will always say in yourself, this Man thinks that what he does it well done.  
Every thing hath two faces, whereof one is supportable, 
Sect. 65.  the other in supportable. For example, when your Brother injures, look not on him as he is injurious to you. For what he does, if it be so taken, cannot be endured. Consider him rather as he is your Brother, with whom you have had a joynt-education. And so you will take it after another manner, which may render his action supportable.  
These kinds of Propositions are not consequent one to the other; 
Sect. 66.  I am wealthier that you are, therefore, I am the honester man. I am more eloquent than you are, therefore I am the more virtuous man. But these Arguments are good: I am wealthier than you are, therefore my wealth is more considerable than yours. I am more eloquent than you are, therefore my way of speaking is more excellent than yours. So that this should give you very little trouble, since eloquence and wealth ought not to be the object of your care.  
If you meet with any one in the Bath, 
Sect. 67.  who hath soon done washing himself, say not that he washes not himself well, but say that he makes much haste to wash himself. In like manner, if any one drink much, say not that he does ill in drinking at that rate, but say simply, that he drinks much. For, how came you to understand that he did ill, that you should pass such a Judgement of him? If you are thus reserved in your sentiments you shall penetrate into the thoughts of another, and your thoughts shall be conformable to those of others.  
What place or company soever you are in, 
Sect. 68  never say that you are a Philosopher, and amuse not yourself in declaring before Ignorant Persons what Maxims you follow. Do you only perform what they enjoin you. When a man is at a Feast, it is not seasonable to talk of the Manner of eating decently. He must eat decently without speaking of it. Socrates was a person, who was never guilty of any Ostentation. Nor ever was there any person that supported it from others with so much constancy. When some out of mere contempt of him and his doctrine, came and entreated him to conduct them to some other Philosophers, and to give them his recommendation to them; so far was he from giving them any repulse, that, with much civility, he went along with them to those other Philosophers. So little was he troubled, that the Doctrine of others should be preferred before his own. If it happen then that any one speak of some Axiom of Philosophy before ignorant persons, be you silent as long as you can, in regard it is somewhat to he feared, that you may cast up what you have not yet well digested. If any one reproach you with Ignorance, and you are not any way moved at it, know that you have already attained some part of what your precepts enjoin you. Sheep do not vomit up the Food or Grass they have eaten, but, in requital, are thereby fatted up, and supply their Owners with Milk and Wool. In like manner ought not you to amuse yourself in entertaining ignorant persons with your Precepts, because it is a sign you have not well digested them. They are rather to be instructed by your Actions.  
If you have learned to satisfy your body with little, 
Sect. 69.  forbear making any ostentation of it. If you have brought yourself to a custom of drinking only water, 
I here follow the sense of Simplicius, yet doubt whether it be that of Epictetus. I think Epictetus would only say, That a man should not amuse himself to go and embrace Statues in the midst of W●nter, to be admired by the People, as Diogenis the Cynic did, as Laertius affirms.  think not that you are to boast of it. And if you would sometimes exercise yourself in a thing requiring much pains and labour, do it privately, and be not desirous that others should see you, in imitation of those, who being persecuted by persons of authority, run and embrace Statues, to get the people together, and in that posture cry out, that they have suffered violence. Whoever seeks glory by such means seeks only the outside of it, and loses the fruit both of Patience and Frugality; inasmuch as he places the end of these excellent virtues in the opinion of the multitude. Certainly, all Affectation in this particular is frivolous and of no advantage. If you would accustom yourself to Patience, take fair water into your mouth, when you are extremely thirsty, and having spurted it out immediately, without swallowing so much as one drop, tell not any body of it.  
It argues a meanness of spirit and ignorance in any man, 
Sect. 70.  never to expect Good or Evil from himself; but to expect is always from some thing not dependent on him. On the contrary, it is the characteristic of a Philosopher, not to expect his Good or Evil, but from himself.  
The signs whereby it may be known whether a man makes any proficiency 
Sect. 71.  in study and virtue, are these, Not to reprove, not to commend, not to blame, and not to accuse any one, not to boast of what he is, or what he knows; to be his own accuser, when he is hindered or forbidden to do something, to laugh in his sleeve at those persons who commend him; not to be angry when any find fault with him; but to imitate those, who having not perfectly recovered their health, walk gently for fear of stirring the humours; to have an absolute power over his desires; not to have any aversion but for what is repugnant to the nature of those things which depend on him; not to wish any thing passionately; not to be concerned whether he be accounted an Ignorant or a Knowing person; in fine, to be distrustful of himself, as of a domestic Enemy, whose ambushes he is always afraid of.  
When any one makes it his brag, 
Sect. 72.  that he can explicate the Books of Chrysippus, let this be your reflection, that it Chrysippus had not written obscurely, this other person had had nothing to brag of. Yet is not this that which I seek after, my design is to study Nature, and to follow Her. When I am told then, that Chrysippus is her interpreter, my recourse is to him, and if I understand him not, I seek out some other body that can explicate him to me. Hitherto have I not done anything that is excellent or commendable. For, when I shall have met with any one that is able to explicate that Philosopher to me; yet the main thing is yet pressed, which is, the putting of his Precepts into practice. If I make no further progress than to admire the explication of Chrysippus, all amounts only to this, that where I was a Philosopher before, I am now become a Grammarian. All the difference is, that instead of Homer, I explicate Chrysippus. And thence it must come, that I am much more ashamed I cannot do actions suitable to his Precepts, than I am at my not understanding of him.  
OBSERVE what we have delivered as inviolable Laws, 
Sect. 73.  which you cannot not transgress without impiety and trouble not yourself, concerning all that might have been said; since that depends not on you.  
How long will you defferre applying yourself to such excellent things, 
Sect. 74.  and putting in practice such important instructions? When will you give over violating the Laws of right reason? you have heard the Precepts which you ought to embrace, and I am inclined to believe, that you have already embraced them; but give others some assurance of it. What other Master do you yet expect, till whose coming you defer your reformation? Bethink yourself, that your youth is past, and that you are come to the age of a man. If you neglect these Precepts, and if you make them not your Directories of your Manners, you will put it off from day to day, and from time to time make additional and reiterated resolutions, and so your life will slide away so insensibly as that it will not be perceivable, whether you have made any progress in the study of Virtue or not. In fine, your life and your death will not be distinguishable from that of the meanest person among the Populace. Now therefore, without any further delay, embrace the life of a man aiming at proficiency and perfection. Look upon whatever seems best to you, as an intrangressible Law. If any thing laborious, if any thing delightful, if any thing glorious, if any thing disgraseful presents itself, remember it is time to enter the lists in order to an engagement, that the Olympic Exercises are come, and that there is no thinking of any retreat. Bethink yourself, that your Establishment is concerned in either the losing or gaining of the Victory. By this means was it that Socrates came to that point of Wisdom which was justly attributed to him, by presenting himself to all occasions, and not harkening to any advice but that of Reason. For your part then who are not yet a Socrates, you ought to live as a man desirous of becoming as wise as Socrates.  
The chiefest and most necessary part of Philosophy is that which treats of the use of the Precepts, 
Sect. 75.  for example, Not to lie. The second, that which treats of Demonstration; for example, Of the reason why men ought not to lie. And the third is that which confirms and examines the two other parts; for example, it shows, why such a thing is Demonstration. It teaches also, what Demonstration. is, what, Consequence, Dispute, Verity, Falsity, and all the rest. The third part is necessary for the second, and the second is so for the First. But the First, as I have already said, is the most necessary of all, and therefore that is the part whereunto a man is particularly to apply himself. And yet our course is quite otherwise. We only stick to the third part, we spend all our Study and Time therein, and we absolutely neglect the First. Thence it comes that we fall short, when we are to prove by sound Demonstrations, that men ought not to lie; and yet we cannot forbear lying daily and hourly.  
At the beginning of all your enterprises have these words always in your mouth? 
Sect. 76.   
Guide me, great love, to th' period of my Eatè;  
That cursed crew I will not imitate,  
Whose Vanity and Insolence defy  
Thy sacred Laws and shy Authority.  
But their seluced presumption fruitless grows,  
Thy sovereign Power nothing can oppose:  
A sudden check of Destiny undermines  
The Impious man, and all his lewd designs.  
You will sometimes also have occasion to say these words. 
Sect. 77.   
Who can, with what's not to be shunned comply,  
Surveys the secrets of the Deity.  
But, above all, be mindful of these excellent and admirable words, 
Sect. 78.  spoken by Socrates to his Friend Crito, during his imprisonment.  
If the Great Gods, dear Friend, have minuted  
The dreadful Tempest which hangs o'er my head,  
If, of my Death, the dire Decree be l' gned,  
I acquiesce, with a submissive mind.  
ay, of my Life, would not prolong the date,  
Beyond the stinted limits of my Fate:  
Of my few days, 
Anitus and Melitus.  my Enemies dispose,  
'Tis in their Power their hasty course to close:  
To that my Body, mortal, needs must bend,  
But still my mind their malice does transcend:  
And though I, to their Rage, a Victim fall,  
My Faith and Virtue know no Euneral.  
FINIS.    


THE TABLET OF CEBES OR, THE EMBLEM OF HUMANE LIFE.  Juv. Sat. I. 
Quicquid agunt Homines, Votum, Timor, Ira, Voluptas,  
Gaudia, Discursus, nostri est farrago Libelli.   

ADVERTISEMENT.  
TO This little Abbridgment of the Philosophy of Epictetus, I have added the Tablet, or Emblem of Humane Life, attributed to Cebes, in regard they are two Masterpieces of Antiquity, which custom hath rendered in a manner inseparable. This latter is an excellent draught of Humane Life, done by one of the most expert Masters that ever were. This Philosopher lived four hundred and sixty years, or thereabouts before the Birth of our Saviour. He was born at Thebes, in Beotia, and the Disciple of Socrates. Diogenes Laertius affirms, that he writ three Dialogues, two whereof are lost. So that we have remaining but only this, which he entitled the Tablet or Representation of Humane Life. Yet are there some Critics, as Wolfius, who affirm it is not his, because there is mention made in it of Plato, who lived at the same time. But this conjecture is groundless, inasmuch as it would follow by the same reason, that Plato must not have made the Dialogue of the Immortality of the Soul, since mention is made there of Cebes. Howe'er it be, thus far we are certain, that this is a most excellent and most ancient Piece. For Tertullian observes, that Tertullian the Lawyer his Kinsman, published an explication of it. The general reputation it hath continued in, for the space of twenty Ages, that it hath been in the World, hath been so extraordinary, that it hath been translated into most Languages. It hath been my fortune to have met with fifteen different Versions in the Latin tongue. Velsius, Odaxius, Wolfius and Caselius, have taken most pains about this Work, but particularly Velsius. For he hath writ a large Commentary upon this Tablet, containing in a manner all the Moral Philosophy of the Platonists. Mascardi rendered it into the Italian, and Salmasius hath some time since given us an ancient Arabian Paraphrase of it, and a Latin Version of John Elichman, one of the most knowing Persons of his Age in the Oriental Tongues. But the Author of that Paraphrase hath committed a strange fault, and such as I think considerable enough not to be omitted here. He imagined, that the Ancient man, who makes an explication of this Tablet or Representation, was called Hercules; upon no other ground, than that Cebes, cries out in some places, O Hercules; which is only an exclamation ordinary amongst the Greeks and Latins, when they were surprised at any thing. Nothing more common in our Books.  
For the better direction of the Reader, and greater ease of his Memory, there is at the end of this little Book, a piece of Sculpture, exhibiting the Emblem itself, and a short Explication, by way of Figures, in the Cut, answerable to others in the Leaf next adjoining thereto, that the Description of it might be the more familiar.  

THE EXPLICATION Of the TABLE.  
1 THE Gate of the Enclosure of Humane Life.  
2 Genius.  
3 Imposture.  
4 Opinions, Appetites and Pleasures.  
5 Fortune.  
6 The Inconsiderate.  
7 Incontinence, Luxury, Rapine, and Flattery.  
8 Laboriousness.  
9 Sadness.  
10 Misery.  
11 Mourning.  
12 Rage.  
13 The House of Misfortune.  
14 Repentance.  
15 True Opinion.  
16 False Opinion.  
17 False Doctrine.  
18 Poets, Orators, Geometritians, etc.  
19 Incontinence, Luxury, and Opinion.  
20 The way to true Doctrine.  
21 Continence and Patience.  
22 True Doctrine.  
23 Truth and Persuasion.  
24 Science and the Virtues.  
25 Felicity.  
26 The first pleasure of the Wise Man.  
27 The Cowardly, who have lost courage    

CEBES' TABLET, OR, THE EMBLEM OF HUMANE LIFE.  
AS we were walking in the Temple of Saturn, and viewing the several Presents which had been offered there, among other things, we took particular notice, at the entrance of it, of a certain Draught, or Picture, very remarkable, as well for the Manner of it, as the Subject. We could not imagine what it might be, nor of what Antiquity. For though what was represented therein had in some measure the resemblance of a City, or a Camp, yet was it not indeed either of the two. It was a great Enclosure, within which there were two other Enclosures, whereof one was larger than the other. Near the Gate leading into the first, there were several Persons drawn, and within it might be observed an assembly of Women. But at the entrance might be seen an ancient Man standing, drawn in the posture of one, who seemed to have some directions to give those who entered into the Enclosure.  
After we had a long time taken a prospect of that Emblematical Representation, and were at a loss, what to think of it, there happened to be standing by us a very ancient Man, whose curiosity had engaged him upon the Survey of that Piece, as ours had us. This good Man had well observed all our Actions, and thereupon addressed himself to us in this Discourse.  
It is no wonder, my Friends, if you find it so hard a matter to guests at the explication of that Picture. There are few persons, even of this Country, who know the meaning of it. This Present was not made by any of the Inhabitants of this City A stranger, came heretofore into this Country, a person no less recommendable for the excellency of his Apprehension, than for his deep Wisdom. That man, in all his words and in all his actions imitated the course of life of Pythagoras and Parmenides. He it was who dedicated this Temple, and that Emblematical Picture to Saturn.  
I asked him, whether he had any acquaintance with that Person. Yea, said he, I have been an admirer of him a long time. For though he were but a young Man, yet could he discourse of all things very pertinently. I have heard him oftentimes discoursing upon the subject of this Picture. I entreat you, as you love the immortal Gods, Cried I, to give us an explication of it, if your convenience will permit it. You will infinitely oblige us, for we are extremely desirous to know what it signifies. With all my heart said he. But it is necessary, that I give you an Advertisement beforehand, of the danger whereto you expose yourselves. For if, when I shall have related these things to you, you perfectly comprehend them, you will become Wise and Happy; if not, you will be ignorant and stupid, and you will lead a wicked and a wretched Life. This Emblem hath some correspondence with that which was proposed by 
* A Sorceriss who had the face of a young Maid, and in the rest of her body resembled a Lyon.  Sphinx; whoever could not explicate what she said was by her put to death: On the contrary, she saved his life, who found out the explication of it. The same thing is to be affirmed of this Picture. For Extravagance is like a Sphinx among Men, obscurely proposing what is good, bad, and indifferent. If any one be not able to discern them, she kills him not immediately at a blow, as the Sphinx did; but she treats him with greater cruelty. For she puts him to death by degrees, as those who are put upon the Rack. In like manner, if any one attains the knowledge of these things, besides his clearing himself from that misfortune, Extravagance vanishes, and he is perfectly happy all the rest of his days. I conjure you therefore, said he, by the Love you bear yourselves, to give your greatest attention to what I am going to relate to you. Just Gods! cried I, what impatience have you raised in us, to be informed of these things, if they are such as you represent them! Make no question of it, replies he. I entreat you then, said I to him, to deliver us out of this impatience, and to be assured, that we too much fear the danger wherewith you threaten us, and that we have also too high an esteem for so noble a reward, to suffer the least of your words to escape our attention.  
Having thereupon taken a little walking-stick in his hand, and directing it to the Emblem, do you see, said he, that large Enclosure? Yes, we do see it, said We.  
It is necessary, said he, that you first know, that that Place is called Life, and that the persons whom you see standing there near the Gate, are such as are to enter into it. As to the Old Man, whom you see raised above all the others, holding a Paper in one hand, and making a sign with the other, he is called Genius. He giveth directions to those who enter, what they ought to do, when they shall come into Life, and shows them the Way they are to take, in order to their happy being therein. I pray tell me, said I, where is that Way, and what is to be done to come into it. Do you not perceive, said he, that, towards the Gate, through which all those persons pass, there is a Throne, on which there sits a Woman, who is painted and seems to have many attractions to persuade? What you say is true, said I; she hath also a Cup in her hand. How do you call her?  
She is called Imposture, replied he, because she generally deceives all Men. What is her employment? It is, replied he, to present all those who enter into Life with a certain Drink, whereby she inebriates them With Error and Ignorance.  
What happens afterwards? As soon as they have taken of that Drink, they enter into Life, said he.  
Can none be exempted from taking of it? None. Only some drink more of it, others, less. Do you not see further, that, within the Gate, added the Old Man, there are certain Women, who seem to be highly engaged in a mad debauch? If you observe them well, you will find they are in postures much different one from another. Those are Opinions, Concupiscences, and Voluptuousness. Now when those Persons of whom I have spoken, come to enter into Life, those Women are transported with joy, they embrace them with the greatest kindness imaginable, and prevail so far as to draw them to them. And whether do they conduct them? They conduct Some to the Port of safety, and others, to Precipices. Which Fate attends them, because they were poisoned by Imposture.  
That is a very strange Drink that you tell us of, replied I. That is not all, added he. For though they promise all, that they will conduct them to happy Life, and furnish them with the means of attaining it, yet many suffer themselves to be miss out of the right way, and inconsiderately run of all sides, by reason of the Error and Ignorance, they have taken, at their entrance into Life,  
Inform me, I pray, who is that Woman exalted upon a Ball? she seems to be blind, and distracted. You are in the right, replied he. Her name is Fortune, she is not only blind, but she is also deaf, and mad. She runs up and down, takes away from one, giveth to another, And it will not be long after she hath bestowed something on this Man, ere she gets it away again, and disposes it into other hands. Whatever she does discovers her temerity and inconstancy. Accordingly, her humour is extremely well represented to us by the posture she is in. For if she be placed upon a Ball, it is to show, that there is not any assurance in the presents she makes us, and that there needs but a small matter to ruin him, who puts any confidence in her.  
Those whom you see standing by her, and endeavouring to catch what she casts away, are called the Inconsiderate. Why, said I, are they so different one from another? some of them, seem to be transported with gladness, and others, to be in a dreadful despair?  
Those, said he, whom you see so jocund, are the Persons, who have received some favour from Fortune, and thence it comes, that they honour her with the name of Good Fortune. Those, on the contrary, who are so dejected, and stretch out their Arms, represent the Persons from whom she hath taken away what she had given them, and accordingly they call her Ill Fortune. What presents, replied I, can she make them, that they should be so jocund, after the receipt thereof, and what can she take away from the others, that should put them into so great a Consternation? It is that, replied he, which we ordinarily imagine to be the true Goods, as Wealth, Reputation, Nobility, Children, Sovereignty, Kingdoms, and all the other things of that nature. But we shall have occasion to speak of them elsewhere. Let us now go on with the explication of our Picture.  
Do you not observe, that when some have passed that Gate, there is above it another Enclosure beyond which there are certain Women, who may be noted by their dresses to be of ill demeanour? I observe them very well, replied I  
Those, said he, are named Incontinence, Luxury, Rapine, and Flattery. They are there set, as it were Sentinels, to take notice of those who have received any favour from Fortune, and when they can meet with any one, they are extremely glad. They embrace him, and treat him with great kindness; they promise him a pleasant Life, and exempted from all kind of trouble and crosses. In fine, if they can persuade him, and if he once resigns himself up to pleasures, that Life is indeed delightful to him for a time; but it will not be long after he hath tasted of its enjoyments, ere he will be of a contrary Opinion, and find nothing but bitterness in it, and when he begins to come to himself, he is too late convinced, that he hath not enjoyed any true pleasure, that he hath ruined himself, and that people laugh at him. For when he hath squandered away all that Fortune had bestowed on him, he becomes a Slave to those Strumpets, and is reduced to a necessity of undertaking all sorts of wicked actions, even to those that are most prejudicial to himself, and such as hurry him to the precipice of destruction. As for example, to Steal, to commit Sacrilege by the robbing of Temples, to betray his best Friends, in a word, to commit all sorts of crimes and unrighteous Acts. In fine, when he is come to the height of his wickedness, he is delivered up into the hands of Punishment. Who is that Woman you speak of? Do you not perceive behind there, a little Door, and a narrow and very obscure Dungeon, at which may be seen the glimpse of certain Women that are nasty, and covered only with dirty rags and tatters? Yea, replied I, I do see them very well. She who hath a whip in her hand, says the Old man, is called Punishment. She who hath her head bending down towards her knees, is Sadness. And the other, that tares her hair, is called Misery. And for the deformed and dreadful-look'd-man, who stands near those Women, and who is lean and stark-naked, he is called Mourning. That other Woman, who is behind him, is his Sister, named Rage, or Despair. To these horrid Monsters is this miserable man first delivered, that he may lead a Life with them, in Punishments and Torments. A while after, he is dragged into another House, which is no less terrible than the former. It is that of Misfortune. There must he spend the remainder of his days, in perpetual calamities. What becomes of him at last, said I? If it happen, replied he, that he makes his applications to Repentance, she recovers him out of that unhappy condition, she works a change in his opinion and will, and re-excites in him a desire of applying himself to True Doctrine; though Opinion may afterwards conduct him sometimes to False Doctrine. So that if he follow the Opinion which guides him to True Doctrine, she cleanses him of his former errors, and he becomes happy for the remainder of his days. But if on the contrary he be still seduced by False Doctrine, he will run the hazard of a relapse into his former sentiments, and return into the same condition, wherein he was before.  
But who is that False Doctrine you speak of, said I? Do you not perceive that other Enclosure said he? I do, said I. On the outside of it, said he, towards the Gate there stands a Woman advantageously dressed, yet seems to betray something of modesty. She it is whom the greatest part of Men, and particularly those who are excellent for their internal Endowments, call Doctrine, though she never was such, and that that name is falsely attributed to her. And yet those who are desirous to be happy, and come to True Doctrine, do first take their way to her. Not but that there is another Way, but that this is the more ordinary. As to the Men, whom you see walking in that Enclosure, they are the followers of that False Doctrine, who are seduced and deceived with an imagination of her being the True Doctrine. They are known by the names of Poets, Orators, Logicians, Musicians, Arithmeticians, Geometricians, Astrologers, Epicureans, Peripatetics, Critics, and all the others, of that qualification.  
Who are those Women, who seem to run to and fro, and with whom you said a while since that Incontinence was? How come they within that second Enclosure? you are not mistaken, replied he; they are indeed the very same. They sometimes advance so far. But they come not thither so oft as they do within the first Enclosure. Nay sometimes Opinions get in there. For those whom you see there have still within them some remainders of the Drink which Imposture had presented them withal. They are still attended by Ignorance and Extravagance, and they will never quit those inconsiderate Opinions, and will not be disengaged from those other vicious inclinations, till such time as having forsaken that False Doctrine, they enter into the way of True Science, to take an Antidote, for the disburthening themselves of all their evil Opinions, and the dispelling of their Ignorance, and the other vices wherewith they are infected. For as long as they shall continue in false Opinion, they will never be able to recover their Liberty, nor oppose the least evil, by the means of those sorts of Sciences. I pray tell me, where is the Way which conducts men to True Doctrine. Do you perceive, said he, at the top of the Mount, a certain place, which is desert, and not inhabited. Very well answered I. You see also, continued he, a little Gate, before which there is a Way, wherein there are few persons to be met, because it seems to be inaccessible, by reason of its cragginess and difficulty of ascent? I see all that, said I; you are much in the right. when you say that way is very hardly passable. If you look very narrowly, a little beyond it, there is an extraordinary high Hill, whereof the way is very narrow, and come passed of all sides with precipices? Very true.  
You are to know, that that is the Way which conducts to True Doctrine, and is, as you may observe, very hard to be discovered. But do you consider also, that, upon that Hill, there is a great and high Rock, very steepy all about, on which there are two Women, strong and robust, which stretch out their Arms to all? I see them very well, how are they called? One is called Continence; the other, Patience. They are Sisters. The reason of their stretching forth their hands so willingly to such persons as present themselves, is to exhort those who are in their Way to take heart, and not to put a check to their progress, out of any discouragement; and it is also to advertise them, that they have not long to suffer, ere they come into the right way.  
I would fain know, when with much difficulty they have got to that Rock, how they will be able to ascend any higher; for I can perceive no path, nor tract in which they may go? Those two Women, replied he, come down from the top of the Rock towards them, and draw them up, where they give them the convenience to rest themselves, and take their breath. Then they give them courage and new strength, and promise them that they will be their guides to bring them to True Doctrine. In fine they show them, that the way to her is pleasant, easy, and free from all misfortune.  
But, added he, do you perceive, near that little Copse of Wood, a Place, which is no less divertive, as well by reason of the great lightsomeness of it, as for that it represents a delightful Meadow? You see also in the middle, another Enclosure, and another Gate? It is very right, replied I. That place is called the Seat and Mansion of the Blessed. It is there the Virtues and Felicity have established their Throne.  
O how pleasant does that place seem to be! cried I. Do you not farther observe, said he, that towards the Gate, there is a Woman very modestly clad, of a grave look, and who yet is extremely beautiful, though she be well advanced in years? she is not made standing on a Ball, as Fortune is; on the contrary, she sitsses down upon a square stone, which is firm and immovable. On both sides of her are two Women, who in likelihood are her Daughters. What you say is true. She in the midst, replied he, is True Doctrine, and the two others are named Truth and Persuasion. She is seated on a square stone, to show Travellers, that the way which leads to her is firm, and secure, and to raise in those, who receive any presents from her hands, an apprehension that her gifts are as certain as those of Fortune are unconstant, and that they shall never be disturbed in the enjoyment of their Goods. What is she able to give? Assurance and quiet in their possessions replied he. But what is the excellency of those presents? They have the virtue of assuring Men, that there shall not happen to them the least dissatisfaction in Life. O ye just Gods! what attractive gifts are these? But how comes it, said I, that True Doctrine is set without the Enclosure? It is to cure those who come to her, and to administer to them a certain Medicine, to the end that, being purged, she may conduct them to the Virtues. How can that be done replied I? I do not comprehend what you say. You will comprehend it within a short time, replied he. The case here is the same as with a man cast down by a great sickness, whom they are conducting to a Physician. First of all the Physician makes use of Purgatives, Whereby all the ill humours he hath in the Body may be disloged; then he restores him by degrees to his strength, and in fine recovers him to his former health. But if the sick person will not obey him, no wonder if he relapse into the violence of his Disease.  
'Tis enough, answered I, what your meaning is, I now fully understand. In like manner, continued he; if any one put himself into the hands of True Doctrine; she treats him, and gives him of a drink, whereby she communicates her virtue to him, that, being purged, and having disburdened himself of all that was evil, as for instance, the Ignorance and Error he had taken of Imposture, and all other Vices, wherewith he had been filled in the first Enclosure, as Arrogance, Avarice, Wrath, Covetuousness, and Incontinence, she may bring him to Science, and the other Virtues. Who are those Women, said I?  
What, said he, do you not see, replied he, that within that Gate, there is a company of fair Ladies, very plainly clothed, and yet have all the attractions and all the modesty could be wished in them? I see them very well, replied I; but I pray tell me their names. The chiefest of them is Science; her other Sisters are Fortitude, Justice, Integrity, Temperance, Modesty, Liberality, Continence, and Meekness, beautiful Ladies indeed! cried I. What hopes ought we not now to conceive? You may hope any thing, added he, if, perfectly comprehending what I have said, you confirm it by your practice.  
We shall endeavour it to the utmost of our power, replied I Which if you do, answered he, you will be assuredly happy.  
But when they have taken this man into their protection, what becomes of him? Whither do they dispose of him? They conduct him to their Mother, who is named Felicity. Do you observe the Way leading up to the Mountain, which is as it were a Citadel in the midst of the other Enclosures? Do you also take notice, that at the entrance of it there is a very beautiful Woman, seated on a Throne, very neatly clad, yet without affectation, and Crowned with Flowers? I see her. Know then that she represents Felicity, replied he? Now when any one comes up to the place of her abode, she and all the other Virtue's Crown him, as they do those who have gained great Victories. What Battles hath he gained for that, said I? Very great ones, replied he. He hath surmounted, and quelled the dreadful Monsters, which did him a thousand mischiefs, and brought him into slavery. But those noble Victories have made him Master of himself, and those very Monsters, whom he obeyed before, are now become his slaves. What Monsters, are those? First, Error and Ignorance. What do you not think that they are Monsters? I do, replied I, and very dreadful ones. Next, replied he, there are Grief, Sadness, Avarice, Incontinence, and all the other Vices of that kind. Then hath he an absolute power over them, and does not obey them, as he did before. O illustrious Actions! O remarkable Victory! But, I pray, tell me, what Virtue hath that Crown wherewith he is adorned? O my dear Friend, replies the Old Man, how powerful is that Crown? He who is once adorned therewith becomes perfectly happy, and grounds not his hopes upon the happiness of another. They are settled in himself. O the noble way of conquering, cried I! But when he is Crowned, what does he? or whether goes he?  
The Virtues bring him back to the place whence he came, and make him see, how unhappy and miserable they are who continue in it, what miscarriages they fall into in Life, how far they are out of the way to Felicity, and how they are led away Captives by their enemies; some, by Incontinence; others, by Avarice; others; by Vanity; and by all the other Vices, wherein they are so entangled, that it is impossible for them to get out of them. So that, for the remainder of their days, they are in perpetual distractions, not able to find out the way, which conducts them to True Doctrine; because they have forgot the percepts and directions, which the Genius had given them, at their first entrance into Life. What you say seems to me to be very true, but I have yet one difficulty to propose. Why do the Virtues show him the place whence he came? It is, replied he, because he had no certain and real knowledge of what passes there; and that, by reason of the Error and Ignorance, which he had been presented with, by Imposture; he was mistaken in the discerning of Good and Evil. Whence it came to pass, that he led an unhappy Life, and like that of those who had continued in it. But having acquired the true Science of things, he hath this happiness, and this advantage, that he may, at his own ease, consider the miseries of others, without the least apprehension of being exposed thereto himself.  
When he hath exercised his contemplation upon all that, what becomes of him? He goes up and down, which way he pleases. There is no place, where he is not in safety, as much as if he were in the 
* The entrance of it was so difficult that it seemed habitable only by the Gods. See Pomp. Mela de sit. Orb.  Corycian Cave. For whither soever he goes, he is assured, that he shall always live irreproachably, that all people will entertain him, and that with such pleasure and satisfaction, as a sick person does his Physician. How, said I, is he no longer afraid of those Women whom you call Monsters, since he is excepted from all those Evils, which men are subject to through their means?  
He absolutely defies them, replied he. He shall be no longer tormented, either by Grief, or Vexation, or Incontinence, or Avarice, or Indigence, or any other Monster; because he hath an absolute power over them, nay hath a certain Sovereignty over the Evils, whereby he was persecuted before. And as those who have been once stung by a Viper, ordinarily carry about them a Preservative, to secure themselves against the Venom of all other Serpents; so is it not in the power of any thing to hurt him any more; because he always hath the remedy about him.  
What you say is admirable, but; I pray, inform me, who they are, whom I perceive coming down from the Hill; some are Crowned, and betray their joy in their very countenances; others, on the contrary, have their heads and hips all bruised, and are detained Prisoners by those Women? They who are Crowned, replied he, are such as have been preserved by True Doctrine, therefore do they discover their alacrity, and joy. As for the others, who have no Crowns; some of them having been rejected by True Doctrine return from her, Miserable and Unhappy; and the others having spent all their courage, after they had got up as far as Patience, take their way back again, and inconsiderately wander up and down through desolate places. The Women, who follow them, are Affliction, Despair, Ignominy, and Ignorance. If it be as you say, there are no Evils whereby they are not persecuted.  
That is also true, replied he; but there is yet more in it: when they are come back within the first Enclosure, towards Voluptuousness and Incontinence, they do not accuse themselves of having done amiss, nay, on the contrary, they rail at True Doctrine, they look on all that follow her, as unfortunate and miserable persons, who are got out of the way which ought to be followed, and who have lost the Goods, whereof they imagined themselves possessed. What may those Goods be? said I. To tell you in a word, replied he, it is Debauchedness and Incontinence. For they place the chief Good, in eating and drinking, as Beasts, do.  
I pray, tell me, how you call those Women, who are so cheerful and so jocund in their return? They are Opinions, who, having conducted, to True Doctrine, those who are now among the Virtues, are returning back to bring others thither, and to give others an assurance, that such as they have conducted thither are perfectly happy.  
Do they go quite to the Virtues, said I? No, for Opinion is not permitted to come up to Science they do not conduct any further than to True Doctrine, and as soon as they have recommended any one into her hands, they immediately return, to find out others. Wherein they may be compared to those Vessels, which are filled with other Merchandizes, as soon as they are unloaden of what they had before. It must be confessed, that you make what you say very comprehensible, said he; but you have not yet explicated to me what directions the Genius gives those who enter into Life. Only this; said he, that they be courageous. Do you therefore, my Friends, take courage. For I will give you satisfaction even to the least particulars, so that nothing shall escape your knowledge. Certainly, said I, we are extremely obliged to you.  
Whereupon directing his hand again towards the Picture. Do you see, said he, that Woman who is blind, and who stands upon the Ball, whom erewhile we called Fortune? We see her very well. The Genius, replied he, gives them this advertisement, that no credit is to be given to what she says, and absolutely charges them, not to consider what proceeds from her, as any thing certain and stable; since that, in fine, nothing hinders her depriving us of what she gives us, to dispose it into other hands, since it is one of her ordinary pranks. For that reason is it also, that he advises them, not to be overcome by her Presents, not to betray any extraordinary joy, when they happen to us, and, in like manner, not to be dejected, when they are taken away from us; not to afford them our praise, or dispraise, and to have this conceit of her, that she does not any thing by the dictate of reason; but always inconsiderately, and by chance. Thence he also advises us not to admire any thing she does, and not to imitate those deceitful Bankiers, who having received other men's Money, are as glad, as if it were their own, and are angry when it is called for in from them, as if some great injury were done them: not remembering that it was put into their hands, only for the Creditors convenience to take it in, when he pleased. Thus doth the Genius direct us to look on the Favours of Fortune, and to be always mindful, that it is her custom, to take away again whatever she gives, to restore sometimes more than she had ever bestowed, and to carry away; after all that, not only what she had lately given, but all a man was possessed of before. Hence is it, that he advises them, to accept of the Goods she gives, and immediately to make their recourse to True Doctrine, who will absolutely secure the possession thereof, if they can be but preserved, till they have come up quite to her. For this Doctrine is nothing else but the true Science of such things as are beneficial, and the assured and clear possession thereof. Hence is it, that he minds them of making their applications as soon as they can to her. And if it happen, that they meet with Incontinence or Voluptuousness, he Councils them to get out of their company with the soon, and not to credit what they say, till they come to False Doctrine. For he enjoins them to continue there a while, and to take of her what she pleases, as it were by the way, and without making any halt, that they may hasten thence towards True Doctrine. And these are the Instructions which the Genius gives; if any one slights them, or comprehends them not as he ought to do, he becomes a wicked person, and perishes miserably.  
This is the Riddle, my Friends, which you see represented in that Emblem. If now you are desirous to put any question to me, for the better understanding of every thing in particular, I am as willing to give you all the satisfaction I can, and not to conceal any thing from you.  
You say very well, replied I; but if you are so pleased, tell us, what the Genius enjoins them to receive from False Doctrine? Those things, replied he, which seem necessary to Life, as Learning, and other things relating to Study, which Plato affirmed had certain curbs to prevent young people from being inclined otherwise. Not that they are absolutely necessary in order to an arrival to True Doctrine; for we are not meliorated thereby. Without them, we may come to the perfection of Virtue, but they facilitate our acquest of it, and are not without some advantage. We may, indeed, acquire the knowledge of what is unknown to us, by the means of an Interpreter, explicating to us what we understand not: yet is it better to be acquainted with the Language, and not to stand in need of an Interpreter. So, without these Sciences, nothing obstructs our attaining of Virtue. 'Tis true, they are Ornaments, and excellent Directories, whereby we are illuminated in the pursuit of it; but it follows not, that they, who are endued therewith, are in a better condition, or have a greater bent to goodness, since they are deceived, as well as others, in the knowledge of Good and Evil, and, many times, defiled with all manner of Vices and Misdemeanours. No, no, continued he; nothing hinders, but that he; who is come to Learning by Study, and hath attained all the Sciences, may be as much inclined to Debauchery, Avarice, Incontinence, Injustice, Unfaithfulness, and Extravagance, as another. This we are convinced of, by daily experience. Why then should they assume any advantage to themselves above others, in order to their melioration, upon the account of those Sciences? I think we have already sufficiently shown, by what we have said, that there is no likelihood of any such thing. It may be, those persons imagine they are in a better condition than others, because they are within the second Enclosure, and consequently at a less distance from True Doctrine. But what advantage is it to them, that they are not at so great a distance from her, as the others, since we sometimes find those persons, who were with Incontinence, come up, from the first Enclosure, to the third, and ascend even to True Doctrine, leaving those Learned men behind them. How then can it be imagined, that they should have any Prerogative, since that, many times, with all their Sciences, they are longer than the others, ere they take into the right Way, and discover more difficulty in Learning what they ought to know, in order to their arrival thereto. For they, who are in the second Enclosure, though there were nothing else to be objected against them, profess a knowledge of what they know not: and while they continue in that sentiment, it is impossible they should ever come to True Doctrine. I believe, you also perceive, that the Opinions come from the first Enclosure towards them. Thence comes it, that they are no better than the others, if Repentance do not accompany them, and if they admit not a persuasion of their not having True Science, but that they are still seduced by False Doctrine. For while they remain in that condition, it is impossible they should ever become happy. Therefore, my Friends, you are seriously to endeavour the practice of these Instructions, and to reflect on them, till you have converted them into a habit. Let them be the subject of your most earnest meditation, assuring yourselves, that your thoughts cannot be too much fixed upon them, All the rest is, in comparison, nothing considerable, nay it is rather to be looked on as of no advantage, and superfluous. Be mindful then to do what I tell you; for otherwise, all you have already understood will not be any way beneficial to you.  
We shall not be negligent in the doing of it, said I to him: yet give us this further explication, why you put not into the number of Goods, those things which men receive from Fortune, as Life, Health, Wealth, Reputation, Children, Victory, and all other concerns of that kind? Tell us also, why you put not into the number of Evils, those things which are contrary thereto? To be free with you, all you have told us, as to that particular, seems to us a Paradox. I beseech you, take the pains to tell us what you think of it. With all my heart, replied the Old Man. Do you think, said he, that Life is a Good, in him, that does not live Well? No, replied I; on the contrary, I hold it to be an Evil for him. But as Life seems to me to be an Evil, in those who live Ill; so do I imagine it to be a Good, in those who live Well.  
That cannot be, replied he, for it is impossible, that the same thing should be both good and bad, inasmuch as it would be, by that means, beneficial and hurtful, the object of desire and aversion, at the same time; which is a contradiction. But let us say more, let us acknowledge, that there is a great difference between living, and living ill. The wicked Life is always an Evil, and Life, indefinitely speaking, cannot be such. Is not that your meaning? It is so, replied I. The consequence than will be, replied he, that Life is never an Evil, since that, if it were such, it would follow, that there must be somewhat of Evil in those who live Well, since they would have Life, which were an Evil; a position not maintainable. As therefore Life is common to both Good and Bad, it must be necessarily inferred, that, of itself, it is neither good nor bad. It may be compared to Caustics and Incisions, which may be beneficial to the indisposed, and hurtful to those who are in health. But that you may the better comprehend this truth, consider in yourself, whether you would not prefer a noble and a generous Death, before a wicked, and an infamous Life? I am confident you would not make any pause at it, and that you would embrace Death. No question of it, replied I. Then by consequence, said he, Death is no Evil, since it is sometimes more advantageous to die than to live. The same thing is to be said concerning sickness and health. There are certain times, and certain occurrences, wherein health would be prejudicial to us. And to make it appear that it is so, let us make the same consideration of Wealth. Do we not daily see, that some very rich men live a lewd and miserable Life? No, no, continued he, Wealth contributes nothing to happy Life; but, on the contrary, the wealthiest, for the most part, are the most unhappy. Let us then conclude, that it is not Wealth, but True Doctrine that begets an inclination to goodness. And thence it justly follows, that Riches are not to be numbered among Goods, inasmuch as they do not make men better, or more happy. So that, as they are hurtful to those who cannot tell how to use them, so can they not be accounted Goods, since it is sometimes advantageous to be without them. If therefore there be any one that knows how to make good use of them, he shall live happy; if not, he shall be miserable.  
In fine, to sum up all in a word, that which creates disorder and confusion in the minds of men, is, the Opinion they have, of these kinds of things. Some eat them, as the source of all Evils, and others seek after them, as true Goods, imagining that by their means only they may become happy. Nay they are so fixed in this persuasion, that to attain these, they make no difficulty of committing the greatest enormities, and most detestable actions. Which happens to them, because they know not the nature of true Good. 
* This I take out of the Latius Version of Odaxius.  They know not, that, from Evil, there never proceeds any good. They consider not that most men have acquired their wealth and possessions, by the means of their Crimes, as by Perfidiousness, Robberies, Murders, Rapine, and other enormous actions. If therefore it be true, that no Good proceeds from Evil, and yet that Riches are many times the production of Crimes, it inevitably follows, that Riches cannot be called Goods. Again, Good and Evil are incompatible; and as it is impossible to acquire Wisdom and Justice by bad actions, so will it not ever be granted, that Extravagance and Injustice can proceed from any good cause. Since therefore it is true, that nothing hinders but that Riches, Glory, Victory, and other things of that kind, may happen to us by lawful ways, let us make this conclusion, that, of themselves, they are neither good nor evil, and that, properly speaking, not any thing but Wisdom, is a Good, and nothing but Folly that is Evil.    

A TABLE OF What things are most remarkable in this TREATISE.  

A Grippinus. pag. 20.  
Ambition the cause of all Misfortunes. p. 27.  
Arrian. p. 2, 3, 4, etc. reduced Epictetus's Philosophy to writing. p. 7. Is master to Antoninus Pins. 40.  
Aversion. p. 62.  
St. Augustine's Character of Epictetus. p. 34.  
Aulus Gellius. p. 3▪ 7, 8, 9 38, 39, 46.  
Arabic Paraphrase of Cebes's Tablet. p. 124.  
Cebes's Tablet, a Representation of Humane Life. p. 122.  
Caselius. p. 123.  
Celsus. p. 13.  
Duty of Children. p. 90.  
Commentaries of Epictetus. p. 41.  
Constancy. p. 69. 71.  
Demonax. p. 4.  
Desire. p. 62.  
Diogenes. p. 74.  
Diog. Laertius. p. 17. 110.  
Dion chrysostom. p. 3.  
Edict against the Philosophers. p. 3. 43.  
Elichman. p. 126.  
Epaphroditus Captain of Nero's Lifeguard. p. 1. Breaks Epictetus's Leg. p. 17.  
Epictetus' born at Hierapolis. p. 1. a Slave to Epaphroditus. p. 2. Obtains his liberty. p. 4. Was not married. ibid. Always poor. p. 5. His Modesty. ibid. Humility. p. 6. Wrote nothing. ibid. Is a Lover of neatness. 8. A Cripple. 9 His contempt of great Persons. 11. His admirable Constancy. 13. Is a Stoic. p. 22. An imitator of Socrates, Zeno, and Diogenes. 23. An enemy to the Pyrrhonians. 24. Is nice in point of Friendship. p. 29. His sentiments concerning the Deity, and the immortality of the Soul. 34, 35. Wherein he dissented from the Stoics. His friendship with Favorinus and Herod the Sophist. 38. Of his death. p. 43.  
Epictetus's life and death written by Arrian. p. 41.  
Epictetus's stile like that of Socrates. p. 23.  
Epicureans blamed. p. 4.  
Epictetus's Lamp. p. 38.  
Error. p. 135.  
Eteocles and Polynices. p. 30.  
Eusebius. p. 3. 47, 48.  
Favourites. p. 11.  
Friendship wherein it consists. p. 31.  
Genebrard. p. 40.  
Genius. p. 134.  
Hadrian. p. 4.  
Helen. p. 25.  
Helvidius commended by Epictetus. p. 18, 19  
Hercules. p. 18.  
Hierapolis. p. 1.  
Humility. p. 6.  
St. Jerome. p. 35.  
Of the Iliad. p. 25.  
Ignorance. p. 135.  
Imposture. p. 135, 153.  
Lateranus commended by Epictetus. p. 16.  
Laughter. p. 101.  
Leonidas. p. 9  
Life compared to a Banquet. p. 73.  
Life compared to a Walk. p. 104.  
Lipsius. p. 40.  
Lucian. 4. 38.  
Lycurgus. p. 22.  
Macrobius. p. 9  
Marcus Aurelius. p. 38. 41.  
Marks of a wise man. p. 111.  
Marriage not consistent with the state of perfection. p. 4.  
Mascardi. p. 124.  
Menelaus. p. 25, 31.  
Of Opinion and Fortune. p. 24.  
Opinions the cause of our misfortunes. p. 64, 74.  
Origen. p. 12.  
Ostentation. p. 66.  
Paris. 25, 31.  
Patience. p. 69.  
Philarchus. p. 41.  
Planudes. p. 9  
Plato. p. 27.  
Plutarch. p. 20.  
Pomponius Mela. p. 154.  
Politian. p. 61.  
Prayer. p. 117.  
Pyrrho. p. 21.  
Religion. p. 91, etc.  
Remedies against all accidents. p. 68  
Reservedness in judging others. 108.  
Resolution. p. 102.  
Rufus. p. 28.  
Salmasius. p. 43, etc. 126.  
Self-distrust. p. 71.  
Seneca. p. 36.  
Sickness. p. 68  
Silence. p. 96.  
Simplicius. 13, 40, 64, 110.  
The saying of Socrates to Crica. p. 117.  
Soothsayers. p. 93.  
Spartian. p. 34, 40.  
Sphinx. p. 132.  
Stobaeus. p. 42.  
Suetonius. p. 3.  
Suidas. p. 42.  
Temperance. p. 68  
Tertullian. p. 123.  
Themistius. p. 38.  
Theatres. p. 98.  
Things dependent or not dependent on us. p. 59, 60.  
Virtue p. 70. Exhortation thereto. p. 114.  
Vespasian. p. 19  
Vincentius Obsopaeus. p. 9  
Vulgar apprehensions. p. 78.  
Wolsius. p. 36, 42, 61, 122.    

Errata.  
PAge 11. Line 12. r. Populace. p. 39 l. 21. r. presumptuous. p. 50. l. 3. r. this is. p. 65. l. 11. here. p. 80. l. 14. r. all ways. p. 87. l. 13. r. upon them. p. 97. l. 3. r. loud. p. 104. l. 12. r. Nails which. p. 107. l. 12. r. injures you. p. 143. l. 5. r. come- p. 144. l. 7: r. tract. p 158. l. 2. r. said 1.  
FINIS.