adhered to that one which, in my opinion, Socrates himself followed;
and argue so as to conceal my own opinion, while I deliver others from
their errors, and so discover what has the greatest appearance of
probability in every question. And the custom Carneades adopted with
great copiousness and acuteness, and I myself have often given in to it
on many occasions elsewhere, and in this manner, too, I disputed
lately, in my Tusculan villa; indeed, I have sent you a book of the
four former days' discussions; but the fifth day, when we had seated
ourselves as before, what we were to dispute on was proposed thus:

V. _A._ I do not think virtue can possibly be sufficient for a happy
life.

_M._ But my friend Brutus thinks so, whose judgment, with submission, I
greatly prefer to yours.

_A._ I make no doubt of it; but your regard for him is not the business
now: the question is now, what is the real character of that quality of
which I have declared my opinion. I wish you to dispute on that.

_M._ What! do you deny that virtue can possibly be sufficient for a
happy life?

_A._ It is what I entirely deny.

_M._ What! is not virtue sufficient to enable us to live as we ought,
honestly, commendably, or, in fine, to live well?

_A._ Certainly sufficient.

_M._ Can you, then, help calling any one miserable who lives ill? or
will you deny that any one who you allow lives well must inevitably
live happily?

_A._ Why may I not? for a man may be upright in his life, honest,
praiseworthy, even in the midst of torments, and therefore live well.
Provided you understand what I mean by well; for when I say well, I
mean with constancy, and dignity, and wisdom, and courage; for a man
may display all these qualities on the rack; but yet the rack is
inconsistent with a happy life.

_M._ What, then? is your happy life left on the outside of the prison,
while constancy, dignity, wisdom, and the other virtues, are
surrendered up to the executioner, and bear punishment and pain without
reluctance?

_A._ You must look out for something new if you would do any good.
These things have very little effect on me, not merely from their being
common, but principally because, like certain light wines that will not
bear water, these arguments of the Stoics are pleasanter to taste than
to swallow. As when that assemblage of virtues is committed to the
rack, it raises so reverend a spectacle before our eyes that happiness
seems to hasten on tow