Kitap 3
10
Now is your time for a fever. Bear it well. For thirst; bear it well. For hunger; bear it well. Is it not in your power? Who shall restrain you? A physician may restrain you from drinking, but he cannot restrain you from bearing your thirst well. He may restrain you from eating, but he cannot restrain you from bearing hunger well. But I cannot follow my studies. And for what end do you follow them, slave? Is it not that you may be prosperous, that you may be constant, that you may think and act conformably to Nature? What restrains you, but that, in a fever, you may keep your Reason in harmony with Nature? Here is the test of the matter. Here is the trial of the philosopher; for a fever is a part of life, as is a walk, a voyage, or a journey. Do you read when you are walking? No, nor in a fever. But when you walk well, you attend to what belongs to a walker; so, if you bear a fever well, you have everything belonging to one in a fever. What is it to bear a fever well? Not to blame either God or man, not to be afflicted at what happens, to await death in a right and becoming manner, and to do what is to be done. When the physician enters, not to dread what he may say; nor, if he should tell you that you are doing well, to be too much rejoiced; for what good has he told you? When you were in health, what good did it do you? Not to be dejected when he tells you that you are very ill; for what is it to be very ill? To be near the separation of soul and body. What harm is there in this, then? If you are not near it now, will you not be near it hereafter? What, will the world be quite overturned when you die? Why, then, do you flatter your physician? Why do you say, If you please, sir, I shall do well? Why do you furnish an occasion to his pride? Why do not you treat a physician, with regard to an insignificant body,—which is not yours, but by nature mortal,—as you do a shoemaker about your foot, or a carpenter about a house? It is the season for these things, to one in a fever. If he fulfils these, he has what belongs to him. For it is not the business of a philosopher to take care of these mere externals,—of his wine, his oil, or his body,—but of his Reason. And how with regard to externals? Not to behave inconsiderately about them.
