[3,75] ἦπού γε δουλείαν δουλεύειν φαίη τις ἂν πάνυ ἰσχυράν. εἰ γὰρ καὶ σμικρὸν ἀμελήσειε καὶ παραβαίη τῆς αὑτοῦ τάξεως, οὐδὲν κωλύει πάντα μὲν οὐρανόν, πᾶσαν δὲ γῆν, πᾶσαν δὲ θάλατταν οἴχεσθαι, πάντα δὲ τοῦτον τὸν εὐειδῆ καὶ μακάριον κόσμον τὴν αἰσχίστην καὶ χαλεπωτάτην ἀκοσμίαν φανῆναι. (76) νῦν δέ, ὥσπερ ἐν λύρᾳ φθόγγων ἁπτόμενος ἐμμελῶς, οὐδέποτε ἐξίσταται τῆς καθαρᾶς τε καὶ ἄκρας ἁρμονίας, μίαν ἀεὶ καὶ τὴν (77) αὐτὴν ἀπιὼν ὁδόν. ἐπεὶ δὲ δεῖται μὲν ἀλέας ἡ γῆ ὥστε γεννῆσαι τὰ φυόμενα καὶ ὥστε αὐξῆσαι καὶ ὥστε ἐπιτελέσαι, δεῖται δὲ τὰ ζῷα καὶ σωτηρίας ἕνεκα τῶν σωμάτων καὶ ἡδονῆς τῆς κατὰ φύσιν, δεόμεθα δὲ πάντων μάλιστα ἡμεῖς, ἅτε πλείστης χρῄζοντες βοηθείας, θέρος ἐποίησεν ἀεὶ {καὶ} μᾶλλον, ἐγγυτέρω προσιὼν τῆς ἡμετέρας οἰκήσεως, ἵνα πάντα μὲν φύσῃ, πάντα δὲ θρέψῃ, πάντα δὲ τελειώσῃ, θείαν δὲ καὶ θαυμαστὴν παράσχῃ τοῖς ἀνθρώποις (78) εὐφροσύνην τε καὶ ἑορτήν. ἐπεὶ δὲ αὖ πάλιν τἄλλα τε καὶ ἡμεῖς ἐν χρείᾳ γιγνόμεθα τῆς ἐναντίας κράσεως· δεῖται μὲν γὰρ ὑπὸ τοῦ ψύχους τὰ σώματα συνίστασθαι, δεῖται δὲ πυκνώσεως τὰ φυτά, δεῖται δὲ ὄμβρων ἡ γῆ· πάλιν ἄπεισιν ἀφ´ ἡμῶν ἀφιστάμενος τὸ μέτριον. (79) οὕτω δὲ πάνυ ἀσφαλῶς καὶ ἀραρότως τηρεῖ τοὺς ὅρους πρὸς τὸ ἡμῖν συμφέρον, ὥστε εἴτε προσιὼν ὀλίγον ἐγγυτέρω γένοιτο, πάντα ἂν συμφλέξειεν, εἴτε ἀπιὼν μικρὸν ὑπερβάλοι, πάντα ἂν ἀποψυγείη τῷ κρύει.

[3,75] Verily one might say that he endures a servitude most exacting; for, if he were to be careless but for a moment and leave his appointed track, absohutely nothing would prevent the whole heavens, the whole earth, and the whole sea from going to wrack and ruin, and all this fair and blissfuI order from ending in the foulest and most dread disorder. But now, as though touching the strings of the lyre with an artist's touch, he never swerves from his pure and exquisite harmony, ever moving along his one recurrent track. And since the earth needs warmth to bring forth her produce, to give it increase, and to bring it to perfection, since animals need it likewise both for the preservation of their bodies and for their natural pleasure, and since we, being so utterly dependent in our helplessness, need it above all others, he brings on summer step by step as he approaches nearer and nearer to our habitation, that he may give growth to everything, nourish everything, perfect everything, and spread a divine and wondrous feast of good cheer before man. (78) But when, on the other hand, we and all other things come to need the opposite temperature—for our bodies need to be braced up by cold, plants need hardening, and the earth needs rain—he goes away from us again, withdrawing a moderate distance; and with such perfect nicety of adjustment does he observe his bounds with respect to our advantage that, if in his approach he got a little nearer, he would set everything on fire, and if he went a little too far in his departure, everything would be stiffened with frost.