mother who brought them out of nothingness into being, who granted
them to look upon all these fair sights, and to partake of all those
blessings which the gods bestow on man, things so priceless in our
eyes that one and all we shudder at the thought of leaving them, and
states have made death the penalty for the greatest crimes, because
there is no greater evil through fear of which to stay iniquity.

You do not suppose that human beings produce children for the sake of
carnal pleasure[1] merely; were this the motive, street and bordell
are full of means to quit them of that thrall; whereas nothing is
plainer than the pains we take to seek out wives who shall bear us the
finest children.[2] With these we wed, and carry on the race. The man
has a twofold duty to perform: partly in cherishing her who is to
raise up children along with him, and partly towards the children yet
unborn in providing them with things that he thinks will contribute to
their well-being--and of these as large a store as possible. The
woman, conceiving, bears her precious burthen with travail and pain,
and at the risk of life itself--sharing with that within her womb the
food on which she herself is fed. And when with much labour she has
borne to the end and brought forth her offspring, she feeds it and
watches over it with tender care--not in return for any good thing
previously received, for indeed the babe itself is little conscious of
its benefactor and cannot even signify its wants; only she, the
mother, making conjecture of what is good for it, and what will please
it, essays to satisfy it;[3] and for many months she feeds it night
and day, enduring the toil nor recking what return she shall receive
for all her trouble. Nor does the care and kindness of parents end
with nurture; but when the children seem of an age to learn, they
teach them themselves whatever cunning they possess, as a guide to
life, or where they feel that another is more competent, to him they