Page:Discourses of Epictetus volume 2 Oldfather 1928.djvu/311

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BOOK IV. I. 161-167

something else that he wished to preserve; not his paltry flesh, but the man of honour, the man of reverence, that he was. These are things which are not to be entrusted to another, not to be made subject. Later on, when he had to speak in defence of his life, he did not behave as one who had children, or a wife, did he? Nay, but as one who was alone in the world. Yes, and when he had to drink the poison, how does he act? When he might have saved his life, and when Crito said to him, "Leave the prison for the sake of your children," what is his reply? Did he think it a bit of good luck? Impossible! No, he regards what is fitting, and as for other considerations, he does not so much as look at or consider them. For he did not care, he says, to save his paltry body, but only that which is increased and preserved by right conduct, and is diminished and destroyed by evil conduct.[1] Socrates does not save his life with dishonour, the man who refused to put the vote when the Athenians demanded it of him,[2] the man who despised the Tyrants, the man who held such noble discourse about virtue and moral excellence; 165this man it is impossible to save by dishonour, but he is saved by death,[3] and not by flight. Yes, and the good actor, too, is saved when he stops at the right time, rather than the one who acts out of season. What, then, will the children do? "If I had gone to Thessaly, you would have looked after them; but when I have gone down to the house of Hades, will there be no one to look after them?"[4] See how he calls death soft names,[5] and jests at it. But if it

  1. A free paraphrase of Plato, Crito, 47 D.
  2. In the illegal action of the assembly after the battle of Arginusae. See Xenophon, Memorabilia, I. 1, 18; Plato, Apology, 32 B.
  3. A singular parallel to "He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it" (Matt. x. 39).
  4. A paraphrase of Plato, Crito, 54 A.
  5. "I have been half in love with easeful Death,
    Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rime."
    Keats, Ode to a Nightingale. 

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