“Willingly give thyself up to fate, allowing her to spin thy thread into whatever thing she pleases.” (iv. 34.)

And here, in a very small matter—­getting out of bed in a morning—­is one practical application of the formula:—­

“In the morning when thou risest unwillingly, let these thoughts be present—­’I am rising to the work of a human being. Why, then, am I dissatisfied if I am going to do the things for which I exist, and for which I was brought into the world?  Or have I been made for this, to lie in the bedclothes and keep myself warm?’ ’But this is more pleasant.’ Dost thou exist, then, to take thy pleasure, and not for action or exertion?  Dost thou not see the little plants, the little birds, the ants, the spiders, the bees, working together to put in order their several parts of the universe?  And art thou unwilling to do the work of a human being, and dost thou not make haste to do that which is according to thy nature?” (v. 1.) ["Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise!”]

The same principle, that Nature has assigned to us our proper place—­that a task has been given us to perform, and that our only care should be to perform it aright, for the blessing of the great Whole of which we are but insignificant parts—­dominates through the admirable precepts which the Emperor lays down for the regulation of our conduct towards others.  Some men, he says, do benefits to others only because they expect a return; some men even, if they do not demand any return, are not forgetful that they have rendered a benefit; but others do not even know what they have done, but are like a vine which has produced grapes, and seeks for nothing more after it has produced its proper fruit.  So we ought to do good to others as simple and as naturally as a horse runs, or a bee makes honey, or a vine bears grapes season after season, without thinking of the grapes which it has borne.  And in another passage, “What more dost thou want when thou hast done a service to another?  Art thou not content to have done an act conformable to thy nature, and must thou seek to be paid for it, just as if the eye demanded a reward for seeing, or the feet for walking?”

“Judge every word and deed which is according to nature to be fit for thee, and be not diverted by the blame which follows...but if a thing is good to be done or said, do not consider it unworthy of thee.” (v. 3.)

Sometimes, indeed, Marcus Aurelius wavers.  The evils of life overpower him.  “Such as bathing appears to thee,” he says, “oil, sweat, dirt, filthy water, all things disgusting—­so is every part of life and everything” (viii. 24); and again:—­“Of human life the time is a point, and the substance is in a flux, and the perception dull, and the composition of the whole body subject to putrefaction, and the soul a whirl, and fortune hard to divine, and fame a thing devoid of judgment.”  But more often he retains