6. But what is done in the world? As if a man journeying to his own country should pass by an excellent inn, and the inn being agreeable to him, should stay, and abide in it. Man, thou hast forgotten thy purpose; thy journeying was not to this, but through this. _But this is pleasant._ And how many other inns are pleasant, and how many meadows? yet merely for passing through. But thy business is this, to arrive in thy native country, to remove the fears of thy kinsfolk, to do, thyself, the duties of a citizen, to marry, to beget children, to fill the customary offices. For thou art not come into this world to choose out its pleasanter places, but to dwell in those where thou wast born, and whereof thou wast appointed to be a citizen. And so in some wise it is with this matter. Since, by the aid of speech and such like deliverance, we must come to our aim, and purify the Will, and order aright the faculty which makes use of appearances; and it is necessary that this deliverance of the doctrines come to pass by a certain use of speech, and with a certain art and trenchancy of expression, there are some which are taken captive by these things themselves, and abide in them—one in the gift of speech, one in syllogisms, one in sophisms, one in some such another of these inns, and there they linger and molder away, as though they were fallen among the Sirens. 7. Man, thy business was to make thyself fit to use the appearances that encounter thee according to Nature, not missing what thou pursuest, nor falling into what thou wouldst avoid, never failing of good fortune, nor overtaken of ill fortune, free, unhindered, uncompelled, agreeing with the governance of Zeus, obedient unto the same, and well-pleased therein; blaming none, charging none, able of thy whole soul to utter these lines:— “Lead me, O Zeus, and thou, Destiny!” Then, having this for thy business, if some little matter of eloquence please thee, or certain speculations, wilt thou stay and abide in them, and elect to settle in them, forgetting all that is at home? and wilt thou say, _These things are admirable_? Who saith they are not admirable? but for passing through, like inns. What should hinder one that spoke like Demosthenes to be unfortunate? or one that could resolve syllogisms like Chrysippus to be miserable, to grieve, to envy; in a word, to be troubled and unhappy? Nothing. Thou seest now that all these things are but inns, and of no worth; but our business was another thing. When I say these things to certain persons, they think I am rejecting all care about language or speculation. But I do not reject this; I reject the endless occupation with them, the putting our hopes in them. If a man by this teaching injureth those who hear him, reckon me also among those who do this injury. For I cannot, in order to please you, see that one thing is best and chief of all, and say that another is.[5] CHAPTER XXIII. CONSTANCY.