'What now shall I say of rank and power, whereby, because ye know not true power and dignity, ye hope to reach the sky? Yet, when rank and power have fallen to the worst of men, did ever an Etna, belching forth flame and fiery deluge, work such mischief? Verily, as I think, thou dost remember how thine ancestors sought to abolish the consular power, which had been the foundation of their liberties, on account of the overweening pride of the consuls, and how for that self-same pride they had already abolished the kingly title! And if, as happens but rarely, these prerogatives are conferred on virtuous men, it is only the virtue of those who exercise them that pleases. So it appears that honour cometh not to virtue from rank, but to rank from virtue. Look, too, at the nature of that power which ye find so attractive and glorious! Do ye never consider, ye creatures of earth, what ye are, and over whom ye exercise your fancied lordship? Suppose, now, that in the mouse tribe there should rise up one claiming rights and powers for himself above the rest, would ye not laugh consumedly? Yet if thou lookest to his body alone, what creature canst thou find more feeble than man, who oftentimes is killed by the bite of a fly, or by some insect creeping into the inner passage of his system! Yet what rights can one exercise over another, save only as regards the body, and that which is lower than the body—I mean fortune? What! wilt thou bind with thy mandates the free spirit? Canst thou force from its due tranquillity the mind that is firmly composed by reason? A tyrant thought to drive a man of free birth to reveal his accomplices in a conspiracy, but the prisoner bit off his tongue and threw it into the furious tyrant's face; thus, the tortures which the tyrant thought the instrument of his cruelty the sage made an opportunity for heroism. Moreover, what is there that one man can do to another which he himself may not have to undergo in his turn? We are told that Busiris, who used to kill his guests, was himself slain by his guest, Hercules. Regulus had thrown into bonds many of the Carthaginians whom he had taken in war; soon after he himself submitted his hands to the chains of the vanquished. Then, thinkest thou that man hath any power who cannot prevent another's being able to do to him what he himself can do to others?
'Besides, if there were any element of natural and proper good in rank and power, they would never come to the utterly bad, since opposites are not wont to be associated. Nature brooks not the union of contraries. So, seeing there is no doubt that wicked wretches are oftentimes set in high places, it is also clear that things which suffer association with the worst of men cannot be good in their own nature. Indeed, this judgment may with some reason be passed concerning all the gifts of fortune which fall so plentifully to all the most wicked. This ought also to be considered here, I think: No one doubts a man to be brave in whom he has observed a brave spirit residing. It is plain that one who is endowed with speed is swift-footed. So also music makes men musical, the healing art physicians, rhetoric public speakers. For each of these has naturally its own proper working; there is no confusion with the effects of contrary things—nay, even of itself it rejects what is incompatible. And yet wealth cannot extinguish insatiable greed, nor has power ever made him master of himself whom vicious lusts kept bound in indissoluble fetters; dignity conferred on the wicked not only fails to make them worthy, but contrarily reveals and displays their unworthiness. Why does it so happen? Because ye take pleasure in calling by false names things whose nature is quite incongruous thereto—by names which are easily proved false by the very effects of the things themselves; even so it is; these riches, that power, this dignity, are none of them rightly so called. Finally, we may draw the same conclusion concerning the whole sphere of Fortune, within which there is plainly nothing to be truly desired, nothing of intrinsic excellence; for she neither always joins herself to the good, nor does she make good men of those to whom she is united.'
A new modern English rendering, made from the Latin with AI assistance — a reading aid, not a scholarly edition.
"But what shall I say of high offices and power, which you, ignorant of true dignity and power, raise level with heaven? If these have fallen to the wickedest of men, what flames of Etna in eruption, what flood, would have wrought such havoc? Surely, as I think you remember, your ancestors of old wished to abolish the consular authority, which had been the beginning of liberty, because of the arrogance of the consuls—just as, because of that same arrogance, they had earlier removed the name of king from the state. But if at any time—which is very rare—these offices are conferred on the good, what is it that pleases in them but the honesty of those who use them? And so it comes about that honor accrues not to virtues from office, but to offices from virtue. But what is this power of yours, so longed-for and so glorious? Do you not consider, O earthly creatures, who it is you seem to preside over? If among mice you saw one claiming for himself a right and power over the rest, with what laughter you would be shaken! And what, if you look at the body, could you find weaker than a man, who is often killed even by the bites of tiny flies, or by the entrance of creatures creeping into his secret parts? And over what can anyone exercise any right at all, except over the body alone and over what is below the body—I mean fortune? Will you ever command a free mind? Will you remove from the state of its own peace a mind that coheres firmly within itself by sound reason? When a tyrant thought he would force a certain free man by tortures to betray his accomplices in a conspiracy made against him, the man bit through his own tongue, cut it off, and threw it into the face of the raging tyrant. Thus the tortures that the tyrant supposed to be the matter of his cruelty, the wise man made to be the matter of virtue.
But what is there that anyone can do to another, which he cannot himself suffer from another? We have heard that Busiris, who was accustomed to kill his guests, was himself slaughtered by his guest Hercules. Regulus had thrown many Carthaginians captured in war into chains, but soon he himself offered his hands to the chains of the conquered. Do you think, then, that there is any power in a man who cannot bring it about that what he himself can do to another, another cannot do to him? Besides, if there were in offices and powers themselves anything of natural and proper good, they would never fall to the worst men. For opposites are not wont to be joined together: nature refuses that contraries should be united. So, since there is no doubt that the worst men generally hold offices, this too is clear—that things are not good by their own nature which allow themselves to cling to the worst men. And this can be more rightly judged of all the gifts of fortune, which come more abundantly to the most wicked.
About these I think this should also be considered: that no one doubts a man is brave in whom he has seen bravery to be present, and that whoever has swiftness is plainly swift. So music makes musicians, medicine makes physicians, rhetoric makes rhetoricians. For the nature of each thing does what is proper to it, and is not mixed with the effects of contrary things, and indeed drives away what is opposed to it. And yet wealth cannot quench insatiable greed, nor does power make master of himself the man whom vicious lusts hold bound in chains that cannot be loosed; and dignity conferred on the wicked not only does not make them worthy, but rather betrays and exposes them as unworthy. Why does it happen so? Because you delight in calling things that are otherwise by false names, which are easily refuted by the effect of the things themselves. And so neither can those riches rightly be called riches, nor that power power, nor this dignity dignity. Finally, one may conclude the same about the whole of fortune, in which it is plain there is nothing to be desired, nothing of inborn goodness—since it neither always joins itself to the good, nor makes good those to whom it has joined itself."