After He Routed Pharnaces Ponticus At The

As Small Letters Hurt The Sight, So Do Small Matters Him That Is Too Much Intent Upon Them; They Vex And Stir Up Anger, Which Begets An Evil Habit In Him In Reference To Greater Affairs.

... Being Perpetually Charmed By His Familiar Siren, That Is, By His Geometry, He Neglected To Eat And Drink And Took No Care Of His Person; That He Was Often Carried By Force To The Baths, And When There He Would Trace Geometrical Figures In The Ashes Of The Fire, And With His Finger Draws Lines Upon His Body When It Was Anointed With Oil, Being In A State Of Great Ecstasy And Divinely Possessed By His Science.

Ought A Man To Be Confident That He Deserves His Good Fortune, And Think Much Of Himself When He Has Overcome A Nation, Or City, Or Empire; Or Does Fortune Give This As An Example To The Victor Also Of The Uncertainty Of Human Affairs, Which Never Continue In One Stay? For What Time Can There Be For Us Mortals To Feel Confident, When Our Victories Over Others Especially Compel Us To Dread Fortune, And While We Are Exulting, The Reflection That The Fatal Day Comes Now To One, Now To Another, In Regular Succession, Dashes Our Joy.

It Is Part Of A Good Man To Do Great And Noble Deeds, Though He Risk Everything.

I Confess Myself The Greatest Coward In The World, For I Dare Not Do An Ill Thing.