unto the fire, nor unto any other thing, that either is
merely natural, or natural and sensitive; but not rational for many
things there be that can hinder their operations. But of the mind and
understanding this is the proper privilege, that according to its own
nature, and as it will itself, it can pass through every obstacle that
it finds, and keep straight on forwards. Setting therefore before thine
eyes this happiness and felicity of thy mind, whereby it is able to pass
through all things, and is capable of all motions, whether as the fire,
upwards; or as the stone downwards, or as the cylindrus through that
which is sloping: content thyself with it, and seek not after any other
thing. For all other kind of hindrances that are not hindrances of thy
mind either they are proper to the body, or merely proceed from the
opinion, reason not making that resistance that it should, but basely,
and cowardly suffering itself to be foiled; and of themselves can
neither wound, nor do any hurt at all. Else must he of necessity,
whosoever he be that meets with any of them, become worse than he was
before. For so is it in all other subjects, that that is thought hurtful
unto them, whereby they are made worse. But here contrariwise, man (if
he make that good use of them that he should) is rather the better
and the more praiseworthy for any of those kind of hindrances, than
otherwise. But generally remember that nothing can hurt a natural
citizen, that is not hurtful unto the city itself, nor anything hurt
the city, that is not hurtful unto the law itself. But none of these
casualties, or external hindrances, do hurt the law itself; or, are
contrary to that course of justice and equity, by which public societies
are maintained: neither therefore do they hurt either city or citizen.

XXXIV. As he that is bitten by a mad dog, is afraid of everything almost
that he seeth: so unto him, whom the dogmata have once bitten, or in
whom true knowledge hath made an impression, everything almost that
he sees or reads be it never so short or ordinary, doth afford a good
memento; to put him out of all grief and fear, as that of the poet, 'The
winds blow upon the trees, and their leaves fall upon the ground. Then
do the trees begin to bud again, and by the spring-time they put forth
new branches. So is the generation of men; some come into the world, and
others go out of it.' Of these leaves then thy children are. And they
also that applaud thee s