us; how these, too, may be healed, how removed; and if aught should need perfecting, to perfect it according to the reason of the case. 2. Ye see now how that Cæsar seemeth to have given us a great peace; how there are no longer wars nor battles nor bands of robbers nor of pirates, but a man may travel at every season, and sail from east to west. But can he give us peace from fever? or from shipwreck? or from fire? or earthquake? or lightning? ay, or from love? _He cannot._ Or from grief? _He cannot._ Or from envy? _He cannot._ Briefly, then, he cannot secure us from any of such things. But the word of the philosophers doth promise us peace even from these things. And what saith it? _If ye will hearken unto me, O men, wheresoever ye be, whatsoever ye do, ye shall not grieve, ye shall not be wroth, ye shall not be compelled or hindered, but ye shall live untroubled and free from every ill._ Whosoever hath this peace, which Cæsar never proclaimed (for how could he proclaim it?), but which God proclaimed through His word, shall he not suffice to himself when he may be alone? for he beholdeth and considereth, _Now can no evil happen to me; for me there is no robber, no earthquake; all things are full of peace, full of calm; for me no way, no city, no assembly, no neighbor, no associate hath any hurt_. He is supplied by one, whose part that is, with food, by another with raiment, by another with senses, by another with natural conceptions. And when it may be that the necessary things are no longer supplied, that is the signal for retreat: the door is opened, and God saith to thee, _Depart_. ——“Whither?” To nothing dreadful, but to the place from whence thou camest—to things friendly and akin to thee, to the elements of Being. Whatever in thee was fire shall go to fire; of earth, to earth; of air, to air; of water, to water;[2] no Hades, nor Acheron, nor Coeytus, nor Phlegethon, but all things are full of Gods and Powers.[3] Whoso hath these things to think on, and seeth the sun and the moon and the stars, and rejoiceth in the earth and the sea, he is no more solitary than he is helpless. ——“What, then, if one come and find me alone and slay me?” Fool! not thee, but thy wretched body. 3. Thou art a little soul bearing up a corpse. 4. What solitude, then, is there any longer, what lack? Why do we make ourselves worse than children, which, when they are left alone, what do they?—they take shells and sand and build up somewhat, and then throw it down, and again build up something else, and so they never lack pastime. And shall I, if ye sail away from me, sit down and weep for that I am left alone and solitary? Shall I have no shells nor sand? But children do these things through their folly, and we through our wisdom are made unhappy. CHAPTER X. AGAINST THE CONTENTIOUS AND REVENGEFUL.