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Only consider at what price you sell your own free will, O man!—if only that you may not sell it for a trifle. The highest greatness and excellence perhaps seem to belong to others, to such as Socrates. Why, then, as we are born with a like nature, do not all, or the greater number, become such as he? Why, are all horses swift? Are all dogs sagacious? What, then, because my gifts are humble shall I neglect all care of myself? Heaven forbid! Epictetus may not surpass Socrates,—granted; but could I overtake him it might be enough for me. I shall never be Milo, and yet I do not neglect my body; nor Croesus, and yet I do not neglect my property; nor should we omit any effort from a despair of arriving at the highest.
How, from the doctrine that god is the father of mankind, we may proceed to its consequences.
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If a person could be persuaded of this principle as he ought, that we are all originally descended from God, and that he is the father of men and gods, I conceive he never would think of himself meanly or ignobly. Suppose Caesar were to adopt you, there would be no bearing your haughty looks; and will you not feel ennobled on knowing yourself to be the son of God? Yet, in fact, we are not ennobled. But having two things united in our composition, a body in common with the brutes, and reason in common with the gods, many incline to this unhappy and mortal kindred, and only some few to that which is happy and divine. And, as of necessity every one must treat each particular thing according to the notions he forms about it, so those few who suppose that they are made for faith and honor and a wise use of things will never think meanly or ignobly concerning themselves. But with the multitude the case is contrary. For what am I? A poor contemptible man, with this miserable flesh of mine? Miserable indeed; but you have likewise something better than this poor flesh. Why, then, overlooking that, do you pine away in attention to this?
