But I do not quite understand all this. You speak of a man endeavouring to leave his friend's house, and not succeeding. If he wished to go, what prevented him? Had he not the use of his limbs?
BELPHEGOR.
Yes, but he could not persuade them to carry him away.
RECAB.
That I cannot comprehend; if I wish to fly, my wings never refuse to flap, and if I would walk I am not obliged to use any oratory with my feet. You tell me that a man sometimes sits still against his own consent, and cannot prevail upon his own limbs to convey him where he would go.
BELPHEGOR.
Yes, there is this singularity in human nature, that a man holds a very precarious power over himself, and is often inexorable to his own reasoning. There are a few peremptory men, who keep themselves in absolute subjection; but the generality maintain an uncertain dominion, and many have very little authority with themselves; so that most men are all their lives doing one thing and trying to do another. Some have recourse to every sort of artifice and enticement in procuring from themselves what they wish to be done, and it is remarkable that a man is very easily deceived by a plot of his own devising. There is nothing that mortifies him more than to be deceived by another man, but he submits to be cheated by himself without a murmur. He is sharp-sighted and suspicious against all others, but towards himself is wonderfully credulous, notwithstanding the experience that he has had of his own arts. But you will understand this better when you have seen living men.
RECAB.
I hope so, for I now find it very abstruse. Here, I see, is a most resolute paving stone, for the intention it declares is, "To abandon all my vices next year."