at there are also innumerable other worlds, above,
below, on the right hand and on the left, before, and behind, some unlike
this one, and some of the same kind? And, as we are now at Bauli, and are
beholding Puteoli, do you think that there are in other places like these
a countless host of men, of the same names and rank, and exploits, and
talents, and appearances, and ages, arguing on the same subjects? And if
at this moment, or when we are asleep, we seem to see anything in our
mind, do you think that those images enter from without, penetrating into
our minds through our bodies? You can never adopt such ideas as these, or
give your assent to such preposterous notions. It is better to have no
ideas at all than to have such erroneous ones as these.

Your object, then, is not to make me sanction anything by my assent. If it
were, consider whether it would not be an impudent, not to say an arrogant
demand, especially as these principles of yours do not seem to me to be
even probable. For I do not believe that there is any such thing as
divination, which you assent to; and I also despise fate, by which you say
that everything is regulated. I do not even believe that this world was
formed by divine wisdom; or, I should rather say, I do not know whether it
was so formed or not.

XLI. But why should you seek to disparage me? May I not confess that I do
not understand what I really do not? Or may the Stoics argue with one
other, and may I not argue with them? Zeno, and nearly all the rest of the
Stoics, consider AEther as the Supreme God, being endued with reason, by
which everything is governed. Cleanthes, who we may call a Stoic, _Majorum
Gentium_, the pupil of Zeno, thinks that the Sun has the supreme rule over
and government of everything. We are compelled, therefore, by the
dissensions of these wise men, to be ignorant of our own ruler, inasmuch
as we do not know whether we are subjects of the Sun or of AEther. But the
great size of the sun, (for this present radiance of his appears to be
looking at me,) warns me to make frequent mention of him. Now you all
speak of his magnitude as if you had measured it with a ten-foot rule,
(though I refuse credit to your measurement, looking on you as but bad
architects.) Is there then any room for doubt, which of us, to speak as
gently as possible, is the more modest of the two? Not, however, that I
think those questions of the natural philosophers deserving of being
utterly banis