The reasoning faculty alone considers both itself and all other powers, and judges of the appearance of things.  And, as was fit, this most excellent and superior faculty, the faculty of a right use of the appearances of things, is that alone which the gods have placed in our own power, while all the other matters they have placed not in our power.  Was it because they would not?  I rather think that if they could, they had granted us these, too; but they certainly could not.  For, placed upon earth, and confined to such a body and such companions, how was it possible that we should not be hindered by things without us?

But what says Jupiter?  “O Epictetus, if it were possible, I had made this little body and possession of thine free, and not liable to hindrance.  But now do not mistake; it is not thine own, but only a finer mixture of clay.  Since, then, I could not give thee this, I have given thee a certain portion of myself—­this faculty of exerting the powers of pursuit and avoidance, of desire and aversion, and, in a word, the use of the appearances of things.  Taking care of this point, and making what is thy own to consist in this, thou wilt never be restrained, never be hindered; thou wilt not groan, wilt not complain, wilt not flatter anyone.  How then!  Do all these advantages seem small to thee?  Heaven forbid!  Let them suffice thee, then, and thank the gods.”

But now, when it is in our power to take care of one thing, and apply ourselves to it, we choose rather to encumber ourselves with many—­body, property, brother, friend, child, slave—­and thus we are burdened and weighed down.  When the weather happens not to be fair for sailing, we sit screwing ourselves and perpetually looking out for the way of the wind.

What then is to be done?

To make the best of what is in our power, and take the rest as it naturally happens.

And how is that?

As it pleases God.

To a reasonable creature, that alone is unsupportable which is unreasonable; everything reasonable may be supported.  When Vespasian had sent to forbid Priscus Helvidius going to the senate, he answered, “It is in your power to prevent my continuing a senator, but while I am one I must go.”

“Well, then, at least be silent there.”

“Do not ask my opinion, and I will be silent.”

“But I must ask it.”

“And I must speak what appears to me to be right.”

“But if you do I will put you to death.”

“Did I ever tell you that I was immortal?  You will do your part, and I mine; it is yours to kill, and mine to die intrepid; yours to banish me, mine to depart untroubled.”

What good, then, did Priscus do, who was but a single person?  Why, what good does the purple do to the garment?  What but the being a shining character in himself, and setting a good example to others?  Another, perhaps, if in such circumstances Caesar had forbidden his going to the senate, would have said, “I am obliged to you for excusing me.”  But such a one Caesar would not have forbidden, well knowing that he would either sit like a statue, or, if he spoke, he would say what he knew to be agreeable to Caesar.