terest portion of the lot of the unhappy.
Philosophy shows that much is still left for which he may be
thankful. None enjoy perfect satisfaction with their lot. But
happiness depends not on anything which Fortune can give. It is to
be sought within.--CH. V. All the gifts of Fortune are external;
they can never truly be our own. Man cannot find his good in
worldly possessions. Riches bring anxiety and trouble.--CH. VI.
High place without virtue is an evil, not a good. Power is an empty
name.--CH. VII. Fame is a thing of little account when compared
with the immensity of the Universe and the endlessness of
Time.--CH. VIII. One service only can Fortune do, when she reveals
her own nature and distinguishes true friends from false.

BOOK II.

I.

Thereafter for awhile she remained silent; and when she had restored my
flagging attention by a moderate pause in her discourse, she thus began:
'If I have thoroughly ascertained the character and causes of thy
sickness, thou art pining with regretful longing for thy former fortune.
It is the change, as thou deemest, of this fortune that hath so wrought
upon thy mind. Well do I understand that Siren's manifold wiles, the
fatal charm of the friendship she pretends for her victims, so long as
she is scheming to entrap them--how she unexpectedly abandons them and
leaves them overwhelmed with insupportable grief. Bethink thee of her
nature, character, and deserts, and thou wilt soon acknowledge that in
her thou hast neither possessed, nor hast thou lost, aught of any worth.
Methinks I need not spend much pains in bringing this to thy mind,
since, even when she was still with thee, even while she was caressing
thee, thou usedst to assail her in manly terms, to rebuke her, with
maxims drawn from my holy treasure-house. But all sudden changes of
circumstances bring inevitably a certain commotion of spirit. Thus it
hath come to pass that thou also for awhile hast been parted from thy
mind's tranquillity. But it is time for thee to take and drain a
draught, soft and pleasant to the taste, which, as it penetrates within,
may prepare the way for stronger potions. Wherefore I call to my aid the
sweet persuasiveness of Rhetoric, who then only walketh in the right way
when she forsakes not my instructions, and Music, my handmaid, I bid to
join with her singing, now in lighter, now in graver strain.

'What is it, then, poor mor