The Anatomy of Melancholy

But if you resist and try to “repel force with force,” as the world generally does, to obtain redress for yourself, or if you have given just cause for offence, then it is no injury but a deserved punishment: you have earned as much. “You began it; the crime that originated with you falls back upon you. You have sinned; be still,” as Ambrose remonstrates with Cain in book 3 of On Abel and Cain.

Dionysius of Syracuse, during his exile, was kept waiting outside a door. “This must be borne patiently; perhaps we did something similar when we held an honoured position.” He wisely endured it and placed the blame where it belonged: on the pride and contempt he had formerly shown others in his prosperity.

Cicero’s maxim is that “people should not take most grievously those troubles they have brought upon themselves through their own fault.” As the saying goes, what you do comes back to you: they have themselves to thank.

For whoever does wrong must expect to be wronged in return. “Even a fly has a spleen, and an ant has its own bile”: the smallest fly has a spleen, and a little bee a sting.

An ass destroyed a goldfinch’s nest; the little bird pecked its chafed back in revenge. And the bumblebee in the fable threw the eagle’s eggs down from Jupiter’s lap.

In Plutarch, Brasidas put his hand into a mouse’s nest and hurt her young; she bit his finger. “I see now,” he said, “that no creature is so contemptible that it will not take revenge.”

This is the law of retaliation, and it is in the nature of all things to act so. If you want to live peacefully yourself, do no wrong to others; if someone wrongs you, bear it and endure it patiently.

For, as our apostle says, “This deserves approval: when someone, mindful of God, endures sorrow and suffers undeserved wrong. What credit is it if you patiently endure a beating for your faults? But if you do good, suffer wrong and bear it patiently, this finds favour with God; for this, indeed, is what we are called to.”

“Whoever does not bear wrongs bears witness against himself, by his impatience, that he is not good.” As Gregory maintains, a man who cannot endure injuries testifies against his own goodness. It is the nature of wicked men to inflict injuries, just as it is the character of all good men to bear them patiently.

“Wickedness yields to no kindness.” The wolf in the emblem suckled at the goat, as the shepherd wished, but kept a wolf’s nature all the same: a knave will remain a knave.

Injury, on the other hand, is a good man’s page, his “faithful Achates,” following him everywhere like a servant. Besides, “wretched is the fortune that has no enemy”: the man without enemies is in a miserable position. Enmity cannot be avoided, and therefore should be endured with all the more patience.