lightens it more, than considering, during
one's whole life, that there is nothing which it is impossible should
happen; or, than considering what human nature is, on what conditions life
was given, and how we may comply with them. The effect of which is, that
we are always grieving, but that we never do so; for whoever reflects on
the nature of things, the various turns of life, and the weakness of human
nature, grieves, indeed, at that reflection; but while so grieving he is,
above all other times, behaving as a wise man: for he gains these two
things by it; one, that while he is considering the state of human nature
he is performing the especial duties of philosophy, and is provided with a
triple medicine against adversity: in the first place, because he has long
reflected that such things might befal him, and this reflection by itself
contributes much towards lessening and weakening all misfortunes; and,
secondly, because he is persuaded that we should bear all the accidents
which can happen to a man, with the feelings and spirit of a man; and
lastly, because he considers that what is blameable is the only evil; but
it is not your fault that something has happened to you which it was
impossible for man to avoid. For that withdrawing of our thoughts which he
recommends when he calls us off from contemplating our misfortunes, is an
imaginary action; for it is not in our power to dissemble or to forget
those evils which lie heavy on us; they tear, vex, and sting us--they burn
us up, and leave no breathing-time; and do you order us to forget them,
(for such forgetfulness is contrary to nature,) and at the same time
deprive us of the only assistance which nature affords, the being
accustomed to them? for that, though it is but a slow medicine (I mean
that which is brought by lapse of time), is still a very effectual one.
You order me to employ my thoughts on something good, and forget my
misfortunes. You would say something worthy a great philosopher, if you
thought those things good which are best suited to the dignity of human
nature.

XVII. Should Pythagoras, Socrates, or Plato, say to me, Why are you
dejected, or sad? Why do you faint, and yield to fortune, which, perhaps,
may have power to harass and disturb you, but should not quite unman you?
There is great power in the virtues; rouse them if they chance to droop.
Take fortitude for your guide, which will give you such spirits, that you
will despise everything tha