the master.  But the ship is sinking—­what then have I to do?  I do the only thing that I can, not to be drowned full of fear, nor screaming nor blaming God, but knowing that what has been produced must also perish:  for I am not an immortal being, but a man, a part of the whole, as an hour is a part of the day:  I must be present like the hour, and past like the hour.  What difference then does it make to me how I pass away, whether by being suffocated or by a fever, for I must pass through some such means.

How then is it said that some external things are according to nature and others contrary to nature?  It is said as it might be said if we were separated from union (or society):  for to the foot I shall say that it is according to nature for it to be clean; but if you take it as a foot and as a thing not detached (independent), it will befit it both to step into the mud and tread on thorns, and sometimes to be cut off for the good of the whole body; otherwise it is no longer a foot.  We should think in some such way about ourselves also.  What are you?  A man.  If you consider yourself as detached from other men, it is according to nature to live to old age, to be rich, to be healthy.  But if you consider yourself as a man and a part of a certain whole, it is for the sake of that whole that at one time you should be sick, at another time take a voyage and run into danger, and at another time be in want, and in some cases die prematurely.  Why then are you troubled?  Do you not know, that as a foot is no longer a foot if it is detached from the body, so you are no longer a man if you are separated from other men.  For what is a man?  A part of a state, of that first which consists of gods and of men; then of that which is called next to it, which is a small image of the universal state.  What then must I be brought to trial; must another have a fever, another sail on the sea, another die, and another be condemned?  Yes, for it is impossible in such a universe of things, among so many living together, that such things should not happen, some to one and others to others.  It is your duty then since you are come here, to say what you ought, to arrange these things as it is fit.  Then some one says, “I shall charge you with doing me wrong.”  Much good may it do you:  I have done my part; but whether you also have done yours, you must look to that; for there is some danger of this too, that it may escape your notice.

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Of indifference.—­The hypothetical proposition is indifferent:  the judgment about it is not indifferent, but it is either knowledge or opinion or error.  Thus life is indifferent:  the use is not indifferent.  When any man then tells you that these things also are indifferent, do not become negligent; and when a man invites you to be careful (about such things), do not become abject and struck with admiration of material things.  And it is good for you to know your own preparation