<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.tlg019.perseus-eng4:7-9</requestUrn>
            </request>
            <reply>
                <urn>urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg019.perseus-eng4:7-9</urn>
                <passage>
                    <TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><text xml:lang="eng"><body><div type="translation" n="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg019.perseus-eng4" xml:lang="eng"><div type="textpart" subtype="section" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg019.perseus-eng4:" n="7"><p><label>Micyllus</label> Gold upon gold was there; picture if you can that glorious lightning-flash! What is it that Pindar says about gold? Can you help me to it? He says water is best, and then very properly ‘proceeds to sing the praises of gold; it comes at the beginning of the book, and a beautiful ode it is.</p><p><label>Cock</label> What about this?</p><p><l>Chiefest of all good we hold </l><l>Water: even so doth gold,</l><l>Like a fire that flameth through the night,</l><l>Shine mid lordly wealth most lordly bright.</l></p><p><label>Micyllus</label> The very words; I could fancy that Pindar had seen my vision. And now, my philosophic cock, I will proceed to details. That I did not dine at home last night, you are already aware; the wealthy Eucrates had met me in the morning, and told me to come to dinner after my bath at his usual hour.

</p></div><div type="textpart" subtype="section" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg019.perseus-eng4:" n="8"><p><label>Cock</label> Too well do I know it, after starving all day long. It was quite late before you came home—half-seas over—and

<pb n="v.3.p.110"/>

gave me those five beans; rather short commons for a cock who has been an athlete in his day, and contended at Olympia, not without distinction.</p><p><label>Micyllus</label> Well, so when I got back, and had given is the beans, I went to sleep, and Through the ambrosial night a dream divine—

ah, divine indeed!—</p><p><label>Cock</label> Wait: let us have Eucrates first. What sort of a dinner wasit? Tell me all about it. Seize the opportunity: dine once more in waking dream; chew the cud of prandial reminiscence.

</p></div><div type="textpart" subtype="section" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg019.perseus-eng4:" n="9"><p><label>Micyllus</label> I thought all that would bore you; however, if you are curious, all right. I had never dined at a great house in my life before, when yesterday, in a lucky hour for me, I fell in with Eucrates. After saluting him respectfully as usual, I was making off—not to bring discredit on him by walking at his side in my shabby clothes—when he spoke to me: ‘Micyllus,’
he said, ‘it is my daughter’s birthday to-day, and I have invited a number of friends to celebrate it. One of them, I hear, is indisposed, and will not be able to come; you can take his place, always provided that I do not hear from him, for at present I do not know whether to expect him or not.’ I made my bow, and departed, praying that ague, pleurisy, and gout might light upon the invalid whose appetite I had the honour to represent. I thought bath-time would never come; I could not keep my eyes off the dial: where was the shadow now?
could I go yet? At last it really was time: I scraped the dirt off, and made myself smart, turning my cloak inside out, so that the clean side might be uppermost.</p></div></div></body></text></TEI>
                </passage>
            </reply>
            </GetPassage>