<GetPassage xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0" xmlns="http://chs.harvard.edu/xmlns/cts">
            <request>
                <requestName>GetPassage</requestName>
                <requestUrn>urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg015.perseus-eng2:1-8</requestUrn>
            </request>
            <reply>
                <urn>urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg015.perseus-eng2:1-8</urn>
                <passage>
                    <TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><text><body><div type="translation" n="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg015.perseus-eng2" xml:lang="eng"><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg015.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="1"><p>

They say you had all kinds of sport yesterday,
Lycinus, at the house of Aristaenetus, at dinner, and
that several speeches on philosophy were made, out
of which quite a quarrel arose. Unless Charinus was
lying, the affair even ended in wounds and the party
was finally broken up by the shedding of blood.</p><p><label>LYCINUS</label>
Now how did Charinus know that, Philo? He did
not dine with us.</p><p><label>PHILO</label>
He said that Dionicus, the doctor, told “him.
Dionicus, I suppose, was one of the guests.</p><p><label>LYCINUS</label>
Yes, to be sure ; but even he was not there for all
of it, from the very beginning: it was late and the
battle was about half over when he came on the
scene, a little before the wounds. So I am surprised
that he could give a clear account of any of it, as he
did not witness what led up to the quarrel that
ended in bloodshed.

</p></div><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg015.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="2"><p><label>PHILO</label>
True, Lycinus; and for that very reason Charinus
told us, if we wanted to hear the truth of it and all
the details, to come to you, saying that Dionicus


<pb n="v.1.p.415"/>

himself had said that he was not there for all ot it,
but that you knew exactly what had happened and
could actually recite the speeches, being, as you are,
an attentive and not a careless listener to such
discussions. So do hurry and give us this most
delightful entertainment—-for none, I am sure, could
»be more delightful, at least to me, especially as we
‘shall enjoy a peaceful and bloodless entertainment,
without intemperance and out of range of missiles,
whether it was old men or young who misconducted
themselves at dinner, led on by strong drink to do
and say what they should not.

</p></div><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg015.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="3"><p><label>LYCINUS</label>
It was rather a silly affair, Philo, and yet you want
me to publish it abroad and tell what happened when
heads were turned with wine, when it all should be
forgotten and the whole business put down'to a god— .
Dionysus, I mean, who scarcely permits anyone to
remain uninitiated in his rites and a stranger to his
revels. Don’t you think it rather bad form to
enquire into such matters minutely? The proper
thing is to leave them behind you in the diningroom when you go away. As you know, there is a
saying from the poets: “I hate to drink with him
that hath a memory.”
<note xml:lang="eng" n="1">Author unknown : quoted also by Plutarch (Prooemium to
Quaest. Sympos.). See also Index to Corpus Paroemiogr. Gr.</note>
And Dionicus did not do
right, either, to blab it all to Charinus and besprinkle philosophers with the copious dregs of their
stale cups. As for me—get out with you! I shan’t
tell you anything of the kind !</p></div><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg015.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="4"><p><label>PHILO</label>
That is all put on, Lycinus. But you needn’t have
acted that way with me, for I know very well that



<pb n="v.1.p.417"/>

you are much more eager to talk than I to listen, and
I have an idea that if you had nobody to listen to
you, you would enjoy going up to a pillar or a statue
and pouring it all out in a stream, without a pause.
In fact, if I should wish to go away now, you would
not let me go untold, but would hold me and follow
me and entreat me. And now I am going to take
my turn at putting on. (Turns to‘another friend.) If
you like, let’s go and find out about it from someone
else. (To Lyctnus.) You may keep your story to
yourself!</p><p><label>LYCINUS</label>
Don’t get angry! I will tell you, since you
are so anxious, but don’t you tell a lot of people.</p></div><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg015.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="5"><p><label>PHILO</label>
If I have not forgotten all I know of you, Lycinus,
you will do that better than I can, and you will
lose no time in telling everybody, so that I shan’t be
needed.

</p><p>

But first tell me one thing—was it to
celebrate the wedding of his son Zeno that
Aristaenetus entertained you ?</p><p><label>LYCINUS</label>
No, he was marrying his daughter Cleanthis to
the son of Eucritus the banker, the lad who is
studying philosophy.</p><p><label>PHILO</label>
A very good-looking lad, to be sure; still immature, though, and hardly old enough to be married.</p><p><label>LYCINUS</label>
But he could not find anyone who suited him
better, I suppose. As this boy seemed to be
mannerly and had taken an interest in philosophy,


<pb n="v.1.p.419"/>

and also as he was the only son of Eucritus, who is
rich, he preferred him to all the rest as a husband
for his daughter.</p><p><label>PHILO</label>
You give a very good reason in saying that Eucritus
is rich. But come, Lycinus, who were the people
at dinner ?

</p></div><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg015.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="6"><p><label>LYCINUS</label>
Why should I tell you all of them? The philosophers and literary men, whom, I suppose, you
are most eager to hear about, were Zenothemis, the
old man of the Porch,
<note xml:lang="eng" n="1">The Porch: where Zeno the Stoic used to teach.</note> and along with him Diphilus,
whom they call “Labyrinth,” tutor of Aristaenetus’
boy Zeno. From the Walk
<note xml:lang="eng" n="2">The Walk (xepfxaros) in the Lyceum, where the Peripatetics had their meeting-place.</note> there was Cleodemus—
you know him, the mouthy, argumentative fellow,
whom his pupils call “Sword” and “Cleaver.”
Hermon the Epicurean was there too, and as he
came in the Stoics at once began to glower at him
and turn their backs on him; it was clear that they
loathed him as they would a parricide or a man
under a curse. These men had been asked to
dinner as Aristaenetus’ own friends and associates, and
also the grammarian Histiaeus and the rhetorician
Dionysodorus.

</p></div><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg015.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="7"><p>

Then, too, on account of Chaereas, the
bridegroom, Ion the Platonic philosopher, who is his
teacher, shared the feast—a grave and reverend
person to look at, with great dignity written on his
features. Indeed, most people call him “Rule,” out
of regard for the straightness of his thinking. When
he came in, they all arose in his honour and received
him like a supernatural being; in short it was a regular
divine visitation, the advent of Ion the marvellous.




<pb n="v.1.p.421"/>


</p></div><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg015.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="8"><p>

By that time we had to take our places, for almost
everyone was there. On the right as you enter, the
women occupied the whole couch, as there were
a good many of them, with the bride among them,
very scrupulously veiled and hedged in by the
women. Toward the back door came the rest of the
company according to the esteem in which each was
held.

</p></div></div></body></text></TEI>
                </passage>
            </reply>
            </GetPassage>