of my cloak, I should not be dragged off; that if ten men should have laid hold of me and cast me into prison, I should not be cast in?  Have I learned nothing else then?  I have learned to see that everything which happens, if it be independent of my will, is nothing to me.  I may ask, if you have not gained by this.  Why then do you seek advantage in anything else than in that in which you have learned that advantage is?

Will you not leave the small arguments ([Greek:  logaria]) about these matters to others, to lazy fellows, that they may sit in a corner and receive their sorry pay, or grumble that no one gives them anything; and will you not come forward and make use of what you have learned?  For it is not these small arguments that are wanted now; the writings of the Stoics are full of them.  What then is the thing which is wanted?  A man who shall apply them, one who by his acts shall bear testimony to his words.  Assume, I intreat you, this character, that we may no longer use in the schools the examples of the ancients, but may have some example of our own.

To whom then does the contemplation of these matters (philosophical inquiries) belong?  To him who has leisure, for man is an animal that loves contemplation.  But it is shameful to contemplate these things as runaway slaves do; we should sit, as in a theatre, free from distraction, and listen at one time to the tragic actor, at another time to the lute-player; and not do as slaves do.  As soon as the slave has taken his station he praises the actor and at the same time looks round; then if any one calls out his master’s name, the slave is immediately frightened and disturbed.  It is shameful for philosophers thus to contemplate the works of nature.  For what is a master?  Man is not the master of man; but death is, and life and pleasure and pain; for if he comes without these things, bring Caesar to me and you will see how firm I am.  But when he shall come with these things, thundering and lightning, and when I am afraid of them, what do I do then except to recognize my master like the runaway slave?  But so long as I have any respite from these terrors, as a runaway slave stands in the theatre, so do I. I bathe, I drink, I sing; but all this I do with terror and uneasiness.  But if I shall release myself from my masters, that is from those things by means of which masters are formidable, what further trouble have I, what master have I still?

What then, ought we to publish these things to all men?  No, but we ought to accommodate ourselves to the ignorant ([Greek:  tois idiotais]) and to say:  “This man recommends to me that which he thinks good for himself.  I excuse him.”  For Socrates also excused the jailer who had the charge of him in prison and was weeping when Socrates was going to drink the poison, and said, “How generously he laments over us.”  Does he then say to the jailer that for this reason we have sent away the women?  No, but he says it to his friends who were able to hear (understand) it; and he treats the jailer as a child.