The workes of Lucius Annæus Seneca, both morrall and naturall Containing, 1. His bookes of benefites. 2. His epistles. 3. His booke of prouidence. 4. Three bookes of anger. 5. Two bookes of clemencie. 6. His booke of a blessed life. 7. His booke of the tranquilitie of the minde. 8. His booke of the constancie of a wiseman. 9. His booke of the shortnesse of life. 10. Two bookes of consolation to Martia. 11. Three bookes of consolation to Heluia. 12. His booke of consolation to Polibius. 13. His seuen bookes of naturall questions. Translated by Tho. Lodge, D. in Physicke.

EPIST. LXVI.

That CLARANVS is old, but liuely, and that in bodie he was deformed, but in minde honest. He careth not for the house wherein he dwelleth. The diffence of goods a∣mong the Stoicks, and that all things are equall. What then? Are ioy and patience the same? They are so in regard of vertue, not of matter. And that externall things also giue not any augmentation of good. These things handleth he copiously, distinct∣ly and excellently. O let vs reade it, and apply the same.

I Haue seene Claranus my companion in studie, whom of long time before I had not seene. Thou expectest not, in my opinion, that I should tell thee he is old, but at least as yet hath he his spi∣rits liuely and vigorous, and such as striue with his little body. To speake the truth, Nature hath done amiss••, to lodge so faire a minde in so foule an hostrie. Or else, it may be, she had an intent to teach vs, that the strongest and blessedest minde might hide it selfe vnder any skin, what∣soeuer•• Yet hath he ouercome all impediments, and through the contempt of himselfe hath he attained ••o farre, as to contemne all other things. In my opi∣nion, he deceiued himselfe, that said,

Vertue is farre more gracious, getting place Vnder the conuert of a comely face.

For she hath no need of any forren ornament, she deriueth her dignitie from her selfe, and maketh the bodie which she possesseth, holy and sacred. Truely I began to behold my friend Claranus very neerely, and in my iudgement hee seemeth very faire, and as well learned in bodie, as confirmed in minde. A great man may issue from a sheepe-coate, and a vertuous and faire soule may be clo∣sed in a deformed and base bodie. And Nature, in my opinion, expressely cau∣seth some to be borne after this manner, to make vs see, that vertue may be lod∣ged in all places, if possibly shee could haue brought foorth naked soules, shee would haue done it. But now doth shee farre more disproportioned in na∣ture, notwithstanding ouercome these impediments. Claranus, as I suppose, was made to serue for a patterne, and to let vs see, that the soule cannot be defi∣led by the deformitie of the bodie, and that the bodie may receiue ornam••nt by the beautie of the soule. But although we haue remained very few day••s to∣gether, yet notwithstanding diuers discourses passed betweene vs, which I will orderly digest, and afterwards send vnto thee. The first day the question was, how goods should be equall, since there was a three-fold condition of them. Some of these goods, as our Philosophers say, are placed in the first ranke, name∣ly, ioy, peace, and felicitie of the Country. The other are in the second, which neuer make themselues knowne, but in a miserable subiect, as patience in the middest of torments, and temperance in a great sicknesse. We desire that the first should befall vs euery day, and the second when need requireth. There is also a third sort, as to walke modestly and grauely, to carrie a modest counte∣nance, and vse the gestures and behauiours of a wise man. How is it then, that these goods may be equall among themselues, since we are to desire the one, and depart from the other? If we will distinguish, let vs returne to the first, and consider what it is. A soule that fixeth his eyes vpon the truth, that knoweth that which she ought to eschew or desire, that priseth all things, not by opinion, but by the lawes of Nature, that intermixeth it selfe a middest this great vniuers, and ••ixeth her contemplation vpon the effects thereof, that is, incessantly occu∣pied in thinking and doing, that is, as great as she is vehement, that suffereth not her selfe to be ouercome, neither by aduerse, or pleasing things, that submitteth not, neither to the one nor to the other fortune, that is, eminent aboue all things that may happen or befall her, that is, faire with a good grace, that hath her strength accompanied with health and sobrietie, that is, neuer affrighted nor astonished, whom no violence can shake, whom Fortune cannot raise or de∣presse. Such is the vertue of the soule, such is her face, if she might expresse her selfe at once, and might wholly and at once discouer her selfe to our sight: yet many differences hath she in her selfe, which discouer themselues in the diuer∣sitie of life, and his actions; and yet becommeth she neither more great nor more small then she is. For the soueraigne good may not decrease, neither hath ver∣tue power to goe back-ward, yet changeth she in diuers qualities, and confor∣meth her selfe according to the habit of those things she will do. She changeth and trans••igureth into her likenesse all that which she toucheth; she maketh the actions, amities, and sometime whole houses where she entereth, and which she hath vnder her gouernment, honorable: all that which she manageth, she maketh amiable, admirable, and resplendent; & therfore her force and greatnes cannot be raised higher, because that which is greatest cannot receiue encrease. Thou shalt finde nothing more iust, then that which is iust, nothing more true, then that which is true; nothing more temperate, then that which is tempe∣rate. Constancie findeth nothing that may aduance it, no more then Confi∣dence,

veritie, or Faith. What thing is that, which may be added to a perfect thing? Nothing nor if any thing might be annexed, it is not perfect: therefore not to Vertue also, for if any thing might be annexed, it were deficient. Hone∣stie also cannot receiue any augmentation. For honestie is in the same ranke with other things, which I haue spoken of But what shall we say of that which is decent, of that which is iust, and of that which is lawfull? Thinkest thou not that they are of the same forme, and comprehended vnder certaine limits. To haue power to encrease, is a signe of an imperfect thing. All sorts of good are subiect to the same lawes, the priuate and publike pro••it are ioyned toge∣ther, and truely inseparable in such sort, that one may not separate that which is praise-worthie, from that which is to be desired. Vertues therefore are equall and alike betweene themselues, as also their effects are, and all men to whom they befall. But the vertues of vegitables and liuing creatures, because they are mortall, fraile; fluxible, and vncertaine, arise and fall, and therefore are they not esteemed in the same reckoning. But humane vertues haue but one onely measure. For there is but one right and simple reason. Nothing is more diuine then that which is diuined, nor more celestiall then that which is celestiall. As touching mortall things, we see that they are sometimes high, sometimes low, that sometimes they are abased and encreased, exhausted and replenished. And therefore in so vncertaine a condition they are vnequall; but things that are di∣uine, are of the same nature. But reason is no other thing but a part of the di¦uine spirit, infused and plunged in our humane bodies: if therefore reason be di∣uine, and that there is not any good without reason, all goods of what kinde so∣euer are diuine; but there is no difference betwixt diuine things, therefore not betweene goods. Ioy therefore, and a stout and obstinat sufferance in torments are equall, for in both there is the same greatnes of minde, but in the one more remisse and relenting, in the other more withstanding and intent. What? thin∣kest thou not his vertue is great, that s••outly entereth his enemies citie, as his that patiently sustaineth the siege? Scipioes courage is great, which holdeth Num••ntia, so closely besieged and beleagred, that constrained that inuincible na∣tion, to make away themselues by their owne hands: and great is the minde of of those besieged, that know that nothing is shut vp from him to whom death is open, and that expireth in the embracing of his libertie. The like equall are the rest also among themselues, tranquillity, simpliciticy, liberality constan∣cie, equanimity, sufferance: for in all these, there is but one vertue that maketh the minde vpright and immutable. What then? is there no difference betwixt ioy and the inflexible patience of paines: none at all in regard of the vertues themselues, much in respect of those things, in which both the vertues are ex∣emplified. For in the one there appearth a recreation and repose of spirit, in the other a griefe contrarie to nature. These subiects then are the meanes, which receiue betweene them a great difference. But the vertue is equall both in the one, and in the other. The matter changeth not the vertue. That which is distastefull and difficult cannot make it worse, neither that which is ioyfull and agreeable better. It followeth then, that both the one and the other of these goods are equall. For this man cannot beare himselfe more vertuously in his ioy, nor the other in his torments, and truely two things in which nothing may be bettered, are equall. For if those things which are placed out of vertue, ei∣ther can diminish or encrease the same, that ceaseth to be one good which is ho∣nest. If thou grant this, all honestie perisheth. Why? I will tell thee: Because there is nothing honest, that is, done either by an vnwilling man, or by him

that is enforced: all honestie is voluntarie; if thou mixe with it slothfulnesse, complaints, refusals, and feare, he hath lost all that is good in it selfe, to please himselfe. It cannot be honest, which is not free, for that which feareth is in bondage. But that which is honest is equally assured, and full of peace and re∣pose. If he refuseth any thing, if he weepeth, if he iudgeth that it is euill, hee entereth into some perturbation, and feeleth a great discord in his soule. For on the one side, the appearance of good calleth him, & on the other the feare of euill retireth him. Thus he that will do any thing with honor, ought to iudge, that nothing of that which opposeth it selfe against his wil, is euil, although it be incommodious. All that which is honest, ought to be effected, without another mans command or constraint. It is pure and sincere, and no waies intermedled with any other euill. I know well what a man may answere me heere. Thou endeuourest to perswade vs this, that there is no difference whether any man be in ioy, or lie in torture, and wearie his executioner. I might answere that which Epicurus saith, That a wise man would crie out with a loude voice, al∣though he were ••o asted in Phalaris bull: O how sweet is this torment, and how little appertaineth it to me? Why wonderest thou, if I say, that the good of him that is seated in the middest of a banquet, and of that other, which remaineth and standeth firme and constant amiddest the torments, are equall, whereas (which is farre more incredible) Epicurus saith) that it is a sweet thing to be tor∣tured. But I answere thereunto, that there is a great difference betwixt ioy and dolour. For if I should be put to my choice, I would demand the one, and flie the other: the one is amicable to Nature, the other is contrarie. As long as they are esteemed after this rate, they are very different betweene themselues: but when we come vnto vertue, both the one and the other are equall, as well that which maketh his way by ioy, as the other that maketh it by sorrow. Vexati∣on, griefe, and whatsoeuer other incommoditie are of no moment, for they are surmounted by Vertue. Euen as the clearenes of the Sunne extinguisheth the lesser lights: euen so paines, afflictions and iniuries, are dissipated and abated by vertue; which, in what place soeuer shee shineth, extinguisheth all that which appeareth not to be enlightned by her. And those paines and incom∣modities that fall vpon vertue, haue no more power ouer her, then a little raine ouer the sea. But to the end thou mayest beleeue that this is true, a good man will runne without any cunctation to euery faire thing, although the hang∣man be there, the torture be prepared, the fire be enkindled, hee perseuereth, he will not bethinke him of that he must suffer, but on that which he ought to doe. He will cast himselfe vpon an honest thing, as betwixt the armes of a good man, he will make account that it is profitable, assured, and full of good happe. An honest thing therefore shall haue the same place and credit with him, al∣though it be heauie and troublesome, as a good man should haue, although he were poore, banished and sicke. Well then, set me on one side a good man full of riches, and on the other side, one that hath nothing at all, and yet notwith∣standing, hath all things in himselfe; the one shall bee as good a man as the o∣ther, although their fortunes be different. The same reckoning ought a man to make in all things, as he doth of men: Vertue is as laudable in a healthfull and free bodie, as in a sicke and imprisoned. Thy vertue then shall be no lesse praise∣worthie, if Fortune hath conserued thy bodie in health, & without harme, then if it were maimed in some member. Otherwise it were to praise the Master by his mens liueries. For al these things on which Fortune exerciseth her power are base and seruile, as are riches, the bodie & honors, they are weak, fraile, mortall,

and possessed with vncertaintie. Contrariwise, the workes of vertue are free and inuincible, the which are not to be wished for more, when they are sauou∣red by any flattering fortune, nor lesse also when they are followed with some disaster. That which we call friendship towards men, is a desire and couetous∣nesse towards good things. I suppose thou wouldst not rather prise a good rich man for his wealth; then thou wouldest do a poore man, nor a strong and migh••tie man, then a feeble and weake man. By the same reason, thou wouldest not rather wish a faire and peaceable thing, then that thing which is painfull and la∣borious. And if it be so of the two that should be equally good, thou haddest rather like of him that should be neate and perfumed, then him that should be slouenly and vncombed: In fine, thou wouldest come thus farre, that thou wouldest more loue a man that were complete in all his members, that had ne∣uer beene hurt, then a weake and spur-blinde fellow. Briefly, by little and little thy disdaine would increase so farre, that of the two that should be equally sage and iust, thou haddest rather haue him that were faire locked and frisled, then him that is disguised and balde. When the vertue both of the one and the o∣ther is equall, the inequalitie of other things appeareth not. Because all these o∣ther things are not partes, they are but accessaries. For who is hee that would make so iniust an esteem amongst his children, that he would make better reck∣ning of him that were whole, then of him that were sick: of him that were great and high of stature, more then of him that were low and little? Wilde beas••s di∣stinguish not their yong ones, they couch themselues on the ground to nourish them altogether: birds doe equally distribute their meat to their young Vlysses maketh as great hast to see his rockes of Ithaca, as Agamemnon his noble walles of Mecaenae. For no man loueth his countrey because it is great, but because it is his owne. But whereto tend these things? To the end that thou mayest know, that vertue carrieth an equall eye and regard on all her workes, as on her pro∣per children, that she loueth all of them alike, and those farre more tha feele a∣nie paine, because the loue of fathers extendeth more towards those, on whom they haue most compassion. In like manner vertue beareth not lesse affection to those her workes, which she seeth suffer more affliction and torment, but fol∣lowing the custome of good parents, she embraceth and cherisheth them the more. But why is it that one good cannot be greater then another? Because there is nothing more apt then that which is apt, nor nothing more full then that which is full. Thou canst not say that this is more like vnto a thing then that, consequently there is nothing more honest then that which is honest. So then, if the nature of vertue be all alike, all the three sorts of goods are equall. And therfore I say that it is all one to be moderate in ioy, and moderate in pain. Ioy surmounteth not the constancie of the soule, that deuoureth his complaints vnder the crueltie of a hang-man. The one of these goods are to be desired, the other to be admired; yet both of them are equall: for all that which is ill is co∣uered vnder the cloake of a more greate good. He that should be of an opini∣on that these two things were not equall, he should shew that he would neuer cast his eyes vpon vertue, and that hee onely regarded exterior things. True goods haue the same waight and greatnesse, both the one and the other. But the false are vaine and deceiueable. Therefore it is that those goods that seeme so faire and so great to the exterior eye, deceiue vs when they are brought to their touch and waight. This is true, my Lucilius, all that which reason and vertue praiseth and priseth, it is firme, it is eternall, it maketh the soule assured, and lifteth it vp to heauen, to remaine there euerlastingly. But the goods which

we commend without reason, and that haue their onely being in vulgar iudge∣ment, doe but fill them with winde, that reuiue in them. Contrariwise, that which a man feareth as euill, doth but affright our minds, and terrifie the same no otherwise then apprehension of some danger troubleth beasts. All these things then doe recomfort the soule, or torment it without reason: for neyther is the one worthie of any ioy, nor the other of any feare. There is nought but onely reason, which is immutable and constant in her iudgement; for shee o∣beyeth not, but commandeth the senses. Reason is equall with reason, as right to that which is right. Vertue then is the like; for she is nought else but right reason. All vertues are rightfull reasons, if they be rightfull they are equall. Such as the reason is, such are the actions. Therefore all are equall: for since they are like vnto reason, they are also like betweene themselues. And those a∣ctions terme I equall betweene themselues, which are vpright and honest. But yet they shall be much different, by reason of the varying of the matter, which is now more ample, now more sparing, now more worthie, now more ignoble, now pertayning to many, now vnto few. And notwithstanding in all those things, that which is the best is equall. Euen as amongst good men, all are equall as they are good men, yet haue they some differences in age, the one is elder, the other younger; they haue difference in bodie, the one is faire, the other defor∣med; they differ in fortune, this is rich, that is poore: he is gratious, powerfull, knowne to Cities and Nations, this vnknowne to many and obscure. But in that they are good, they are equall. The sense iudgeth not of good and euill: it knoweth what is profitable, and is ignorant of that which is vnprofitable: hee cannot giue his aduice, but of that which is represented before his eyes: he can∣not foresee those things that are to come to passe, neither haue remembrance of that which is forepassed; lesse knoweth he that which may ensue: notwithstan∣ding, thereupon dependeth the order and successe of things, and all the constan∣cie of life, which should be right and perfect. Reason then is it that iudgeth of good and euill, that maketh no account of forraine matters, which come exter∣nally, and that thinketh that those things which are neither good nor euill, to be some small and light increasing•• all good to him is in the mind. Moreouer, there are certaine things which she placeth in the first ranke, to which she pur∣posely commeth, as to a victorie, to wise children and well borne, and the health of his countrey. There are other goods of the second degree, which are not knowne but in aduersities, as to suffer a sicknesse or banishment patiently. And certaine other indifferent, which neuerthelesse are more friendly then contrary to nature: as to walke modestly, and to keepe a graue countenance when a man sitteth. For it is a thing as naturall to sit as to stand, or to walke. But the two first are much different the one from the other; for the first are according to nature, that is to say, to reioyce at the pietie of his children, and the felicitie of his coun∣trey. The second are against nature; to sustaine torments with a great constan∣cie and endure thirst, when as the infirmitie burneth the entrailes. What shall it then be? Is there any thing contrarie to nature that may be called good? No truely. But this good is often found in a thing which is enemie to nature: for to be hurt, to be dried and consumed in the fire, to be afflicted with a sicke∣nesse is against nature, but to conserue a mans soule in such harmonie, that she is not wearied to suffer torments, this is friendly to nature. What is reason then? It is an imitation of nature. What is mans chiefest good? It is to doe all things according to natures will. It is vndoubted (saith he) that a peace which hath neuer beene interrupted, is better then that which hath beene gotten with effu∣sion

of bloud. There is no doubt (saith he) but that health which neuer hath beene shaken, is better and more happie, then that we haue recouered perforce, and by a long patience of a sickenesse that threatned vs with death: In like man∣ner it is not to be doubted, but that ioy is a greater good, then a soule subiect to suffer torments, wounds, and fire, yet are these things nothing. For those things that happen casually receiue a great difference, because they are esteemed by the pro••ite of those that receiue them. The intention and end of good men is to consent vnto nature. She is equall in all. When as the whole Senate followeth the opinion of one man: a man cannot say, This man is better aduised then the other; for all of them haue followed that opinion. I say the same by ver∣tues; all of them consent vnto nature: I say the same by good men; all o•• them consent vnto nature. One is dead young, another olde: some one moreouer is dead in infancie, that hath enioyed no other good then to haue the onely sight of life: all these were equally subiect to die, although death hath suffered some of them to liue more long, and that to others she hath cut off the threed of life, euen in the flower of their age, and hath interrupted the beginnings and birth of some other. One dieth in the middest of his supper, to another his sleepe and death hath beene but one, and some also haue been strangled amiddest the em∣braces of their minions. Adde also to these, those that are dead by the sword, or haue beene slaughtered by the sting of Serpents, or that haue beene crushed to death vnder some ruine, or that are dead through a long conuulsion of their sinewes, that by little and little hath tortured them. A man may say that the end of some is better, and of others is worse. But the death of them all is equall. The meanes whereby they come thereunto are diuers; but the point where they ended is but one. There is not any death more great, the one then the o∣ther: for she hath one and the same measure in all persons, that is to put an end to life. I say the like of goods; one of these goods nourisheth it selfe, betwixt pleasures and delights, and the other sealeth nothing but aduersities and disa∣sters. Some one hath gouerned at his pleasure the sweetnes of a good fortune, and another hath euer borne the force of a tyrannie: yet both the one and the other goods are wholly equall, although the one hath not martched but by plaine and easie pathes, and the other by places both tedious and dangerous. In briefe, the end of all is wholly a like. They are goods, they are praise-worthy, they follow vertue and reason: vertue maketh all things equall amongst them∣selues, which she acknowledgeth. It behooueth thee not, amongst those opi∣nions which I hold, to wonder hereat. In Epicurus opinion there are two sorts of goods, wherof this happie and soueraigne good is composed, which are, that the bodie be without paine, and the soule without passion and perturbation. Th••se goods increase not when they are compleate: for which way may that increase which is full? The bodie is without griefe; what may be added to this indolencie? The soule is peaceable, and in assured repose; what may be added to this tranquillitie? Euen as the cleere skie and the heauen appearing in his brightnesse cannot r••ceiue any more accomplished beautie: so the estate of a man that hath care of his bodie and of his soule, and will compound his good by the meanes, both of the one and the other, is wholly perfect; it hath attained the fulnesse of his desire, if he feeleth no tempest in his soule, nor trouble in his bodie. If anie other forraine contentments befall vs, they augment not any wayes this soueraigne good, but in a sort season the same, and make it pleasing. For this intirely perfect good of humane nature, contenteth it selfe with the placabilitie of bodie & soule: I will alleadge you from Epicurus himselfe, a diui∣sion

of goods wholly like vnto ours. For there are some with him that he had rather should happen vnto him, that is to say the repose of the bodie, free from all paine, and the contentment of the soule that may reioyce in the contempla∣tion of her goods. There are others which he praiseth and approueth, although he could not wish, they should befall him, as that patience which I spake of late in a great sicknesse, and extreame dolours, which Epicurus supposed his last and fortunatest day of his life. For he said that he suffered torments in his bladder and in his vlcerated bellie, which could not receiue a more greate increase of dolour. And yet he esteemed that day the most happie. But nothing can make a man happie, but him that enioyeth the soueraigne good. There is then amidst Epicurus goods, such as thou wouldest not feele: but since fortune willeth that it must be so, we must embrace, prise, and praise the same as the greatest goods. A man cannot say but that the good which hath giuen a period to a happie life; and for which Epicurus in his last wordes, hath giuen thankes, is not euen and e∣quall with the greatest goods. Permit me yet further, my Lucilius, to speake more boldly to thee: if any goods may be greater then others, I had rather fol∣low those that were displeasant, then those that are gratious and delicate. For it is more honour to ouercome such things as are difficult, then to moderate those that are ioyfull. I know well by the same reason that it may be effected, that some one may entertaine his felicitie modestly, and his calamitie constant∣ly. As valiant ought he to be esteemed that hath all night stood Sentinell in the Trenches, although the enemie hath not sallied to force the Campe, as hee that after his legges haue beene cut off, hath entertained the combate on his knees, and hath neuer forsaken his weapons. We say to those that ordinarily returne from the field, conquered with bloud, God increase your vertue. Therefore it is that I would alwayes praise those goods farre more continually, which are become constant by a continuall exercise, and that haue combated against for∣tune. Should I make doubt rather to praise that roasted and maimed hand of Mutius, then the most healthsomest hand of the most valiant man that is he stood vpright, contemning his enemies and the flames, he beheld his hand that consumed and dropped thorow his enemies Torch, vntill at last Porsena enuied the glorie of him, at whose griefe in the beginning he took pleasure, and caused to his great disgust, the sire to be taken from him. Why should I not account this good amiddest the first and principall? Why should I not esteeme it farre more then those, which some enioy in so much securitie, without feare of for∣tune, since it is a thing more rare to haue ouercome an enemie with a dried and wasted hand, then with a whole and well armed? But why, wilt thou say, woul∣dest thou desire this good? Wherefore not? for there is not any one can do the like•• but he that can wish the same. Should I wish rather to yeeld my feete to be softly rubbed by one of mine olde varlets, or to some woman, or to some one that from a man should become a woman, to stretch the ioynts of my little toes? Why should I not thinke Mutius more happie for managing the fire, in such sort as if he had stretched out his hand to any man•• to rubbe him softly? He salued all the offence he had done, hee made an end of the warre disarmed and lame, and with that maimed hand he ouercame two Kings.