unprincipled, inconstant: now overpowered by one impression, now
by another. Ask not the usual questions, Were they born of the
same parents, reared together, and under the same tutor; but ask
this only, in what they place their real interest--whether in
outward things or in the Will. If in outward things, call them
not friends, any more than faithful, constant, brave or free:
call them not even human beings, if you have any sense. . . . But
should you hear that these men hold the Good to lie only in the
Will, only in rightly dealing with the things of sense, take no
more trouble to inquire whether they are father and son or
brothers, or comrades of long standing; but, sure of this one
thing, pronounce as boldly that they are friends as that they are
faithful and just: for where else can Friendship be found than
where Modesty is, where there is an interchange of things fair
and honest, and of such only?

LXXXIII

No man can rob us of our Will--no man can lord it over that!

LXXXIV

When disease and death overtake me, I would fain be found
engaged in the task of liberating mine oew Will from the assaults
of passion, from hindrance, from resentment, from slavery.
Thus would I fain to be found employed, so that I may say to
God, "Have I in aught transgressed Thy commands? Have I in aught
perverted the faculties, the senses, the natural principles that
Thou didst give me? Have I ever blamed Thee or found fault with
Thine administration? When it was Thy good pleasure, I fell sick--
and so did other men: by my will consented. Because it was Thy
pleasure, I became poor: but my heart rejoiced. No power in the
State was mine, because Thou wouldst not: such power I never
desired! Hast Thou ever seen me of more doleful countenance on
that account? Have I not ever drawn nigh unto Thee with cheerful
look, waiting upon Thy commands, attentive to Thy signals? Wilt
Thou that I now depart from the great Assembly of men? I go: I
give Thee all thanks, that Thou hast deemed me worthy to take
part with Thee in this Assembly: to behold Thy works, to
comprehend this Thine administration."
Such I would were the subject of my thoughts, my pen, my
study, when death overtakes me.

LXXXV

Seemeth it nothing to you, never to accuse, never to blame
either God or Man? to wear ever the same countenance in going
forth as in coming in? This was the secret of Socrates: yet he
never said that he knew or taught anything. . . . Who amongst you
makes this his aim? Were it indeed so, you would gladly endure