Antiphilos got into a scrape that called for some very good friend. A slave of his, Syros by name and a Syrian by nation, joined himself to a gang of temple-robbers, and, entering the temple of Anoubis in their company, stole from the god two golden goblets, a caduceus-this also of gold some dog-headed gods in silver, and other booty of the sort, which was all stored with Syros. They were caught selling some article and imprisoned, and when they were stretched on the wheel they straightway confessed the whole. Being led forth, they came to Antiphilos's house and brought out the booty, which was lodged under a bed in a dark corner. Both Syros and his master were immediately bound, Antiphilos being seized in the middle of his professor's lecture. Nobody rescued him, but even those who had been his companions turned away from the man who was said to have robbed Anoubis, and they counted it an impiety in themselves if they had ever drunk or feasted with him. His other slaves, two in number, cleared everything out of the house, and ran off.

The unhappy Antiphilos had accordingly been in durance a long time, with the reputation of being the most abandoned malefactor in the prison, and the Egyptian jailer, a superstitious man, considered that he was pleasing and avenging the god by bearing heavily on Antiphilos. If he ever defended himself, declaring that he had never done anything of the sort, he was thought utterly shameless, and hated the more. Presently he fell ill and suffered a great deal, naturally, for he slept on the ground, and at night he could not stretch out his legs because they were in the stocks. For by day the collar and a handcuff on the left-hand were enough, but at night they must needs bind him completely. Moreover, the illstench of the place, the stifling atmosphere created by so many prisoners confined in the same room, cramped for space and hardly breathing, the clang of iron, the scarcity of sleep-all these things were oppressive and unendurable to a man who was unused to them, and had had no experience of such a squalid life.

When he had begun to despair, and would not even take food, Demetrios arrived one day, ignorant of all these events. When he learned how things stood he came running forthwith to the prison, but he was not admitted then, for it was evening, and the jailer had locked the door some time before and gone to sleep, bidding his slaves to keep guard. But early in the morning he got in, after many supplications, and, passing along, sought Antiphilos for a long time, whose sufferings had made him unrecognizable. Making the round he examined each of the prisoners, as people do who are searching in the ranks for their own dead, already disfigured by death. And if he had not called his name, "Antiphilos Deinomenous!" it would have been some time before he recognized him, so greatly was he changed by the horrors he had experienced. But when Antiphilos heard the voice he called in reply, and, as the other approached, he parted his hair, filthy and matted with dirt, and drew it back from his face and showed who he was. Both the friends fell swooning at the unexpected sight, but presently Demetrios raised himself and Antiphilos too, and inquired of him exactly how everything stood. He bade him be of good courage, and, tearing his cloak in two, he wrapped himself in one half and the other he gave to Antiphilos, stripping off the dirty, ragged clouts he wore.

After this he kept him company, caring for him and serving him in every way. He hired himself to the merchants at the docks from daybreak till noon, and earned a good wage as a stevedore. Then, leaving his work, he handed over part of his earnings to the jailer, whom he thus rendered gentle and peaceable, and the rest sufficed him for his friend's maintenance. Through the day he used to stay with Antiphilos, cheering him up; but when night fell he would rest close by the door on a little bed he had made, with leaves thrown on it. Some time, then, they passed in this way, Demetrios being free of entry and Antiphilos finding his misfortunes easier to bear.

But after a certain robber died in the prison, apparently of poison, a strict guard was instituted, and no permissions whatever were granted to those who asked to visit the prison. In these circumstances Demetrios was in despair and grief, and, having no other means of being near his friend, he went to the governor and denounced himself as having a share in the undertaking against Anoubis. At this statement he was forthwith taken off to prison and brought to Antiphilos, for by many prayers to the jailer he contrived by his authority to be fastened next to his friend in the same stocks. It was then he showed most plainly the tenderness he had for him by disregarding his own sufferings. And yet he fell ill himself, but he suffered the less because his mind was bent on securing rest for his friend. So they bore their troubles lightly, being together.

After a while an event happened, as follows, which put an end to their misfortunes. One of the prisoners provided himself with a file from some source or other, and, with many of the captives for accomplices, sawed off the chain to which they were fastened in a row, their wooden collars being hung on it, and set them all free. They had no difficulty in killing the guards, who were few in number, and then scattered in all directions as each best could, most of them being taken again afterwards. But Demetrios and Antiphilos stayed on the spot, and even held Syros, who was in the act of running off. When day broke and the governor of Egypt heard what had happened, he despatched men to pursue the runaways; but sending for Demetrios and his friend he freed them from their fetters, and praised them for having been the only ones who did not make off. However, they were not the men to be satisfied with this dismissal. On the contrary, Demetrios cried aloud with indignation that it would be a great injustice if they were to appear to be criminals who had been liberated out of pity or by way of commendation for not having run away, and finally he compelled the magistrate to make a careful examination of the matter. When he had informed himself of their innocence he dismissed them with eulogies, expressing great admiration for Demetrios in particular, and condoling with them on the punishment which they had unjustly borne. He made them each a present out of his own pocket, two thousand dollars to Antiphilos and twice as much to Demetrios.

Antiphilos is still living in Egypt, but Demetrios left his four thousand dollars also with him and went off into Egypt among the Bramins, saying only this to Antiphilos, that his conduct in leaving him so soon would surely be excusable; he had no need of the money as long as he kept his present character of being able to do with little, and Antiphilos had no need of a friend now that his affairs were going smoothly. Such are Grecian friends, Toxaris, and if you had not already slandered us by saying that we pride ourselves on our phrases, I should have related to you the many noble arguments that Demetrios used in court, not defending himself at all, but Antiphilos, actually with tears and supplications, until Syros was flogged into acquitting them both.

My story, then, is told of this handful of good and true friends out of the many that memory first supplied me with, so I will now descend from the post of orator and leave the floor to you. But you had better be careful to make your Scythians out no worse than these, but a good deal better, unless you want to lose your right hand. You must speak up like a man, for it would be an absurd experience for you if, after having praised Orestes and Pylades like a professional orator, you should prove an indifferent speaker in behalf of the Scythians.

Toxaris It is all very well that you spur me on to speak! Don't you care whether you lose your tongue by defeat in the contest? But I will begin directly without any of your phrase-making; that is not our way in Scythia, particularly when the deeds speak louder than the words that tell of them. You need not expect me to follow you in elaborating the praises of a hero who married a plain wife without a dowry, or another who gave two thousand dollars as a wedding-present to a friend's daughter, or even one who offered himself for imprisonment with the certainty of a speedy release. For all these are trifles, and not one of them calls for exertion or courage.

But I will tell you of many a murder and war and death for the sake of a friend, to show that it is childish to compare your case with ours in Scythia. Still, your feeling is reasonable enough, and it is natural that you should eulogize these small matters, for you have no great occasions for displaying friendship, sunk in peace as you are, just as calm weather furnishes no opportunity to learn a pilot's quality. You need a storm for that. But with us one war follows on the heels of another, and we are either riding against some one else, or retiring before invaders, or falling to and fighting about pasturage or booty. In these emergencies, above all others, a man needs stanch friends. Accordingly, we cement friendships in the most enduring way, deeming them our only invincible weapons.

In the first place, I should like to describe to you our manner of acquiring friends. We do not do it over our cups as you do, or because a certain man happens to be a playfellow or a neighbor; but when we see a good man of great ability, we all strive for him, and we think it proper to win a friend as you do a wife, courting him a long time and taking all similar measures not to meet with a disappointment in friendship or figure as rejected aspirants. And when at length one has been chosen as his friend, the next step is a contract and a mighty oath that they will live together and, if need be, die for one another. This is the manner of the oath: we cut our fingers and let the blood trickle into a cup and then we dip our sword-points in it and, desisting from this at the same moment, we drink. When once we have done this, nothing can thereafter put us asunder. Three at most are permitted to enter into such a contract, since a man with many friends seems as bad to us as a woman with many lovers or husbands, and we think his friendship will no longer be so sure when it is parcelled among many tendernesses.

I will begin with the recent adventures of Dandamis. When his friend Amizokes was carried off as a prisoner of war by the Sauromatians— but first I will take our national oath for you, since that was our original agreement. I swear by the Wind and by the Sword, Mnesippos, that I will tell you nothing false about Scythian friends.

Mnesippos I did not insist on an oath from you, Toxaris; but you did well not to swear by any god.

Toxaris What do you mean? Don't you think that the Wind and the Sword are gods? Are you, perhaps, unaware that nothing is greater to men than life and death? So whenever we swear by the Wind and the Sword we swear by the Wind as the source of life and the Sword because it brings death.

Mnesippos If that is your reason you might have plenty of other gods like the Sword: the arrow and the spear and the hemlock and the noose, and the like. For this god Death has many forms, and offers innumerable roads lead ing his way.

Toxaris See now how captious you are! What a lawyer's trick it is to break in in the midst and spoil my speech! I held my tongue while you were talking.

Mnesippos I'll not do it again, Toxaris, your reproof was very just. So go on with confidence just as if I were not present to hear you. I will be as silent as that.

Toxaris It was the fourth day of friendship between Dandamis and Amizokes, that is, since they had drunk each other's blood, when the Sauromatians invaded our country with ten thousand horsemen and an army of foot reported to be three times as many. Since they fell upon us when we were not expecting an invasion, they put all our troops to flight, killing many of the warriors and capturing the survivors, except a few who were quick enough to swim across the river to where the other half of our camp was with part of the wagons. For our leaders had seen fit for some reason or other to encamp us in that way on both banks of the Tanais. They next proceeded to drive off our flocks, secure the prisoners, pillage the tents and seize the wagons, most of which they captured, men and all, and they insulted our wives and concubines under our very eyes, which nearly maddened us.

Now Amizokes was taken prisoner, and as they were leading him off he called upon his friend by name, cruelly bound as he was, and reminded him of the cup of blood. When Dandamis heard him he did not hesitate an instant, but swam across to the enemy with all of us looking on. The Sauromatians, lifting their darts, set on him as if to kill him, but he shouted the word "Ziris!" When a man says this word the enemy do not kill him, but receive him as a messenger about exchange of prisoners. So he was led to the commander, and of him he demanded his friend. The commander asked for a ransom, saying the prisoner should not go forth unless he got a great price for him. "All that I possessed," said Dandamis, "has been pillaged by you. But if, stripped as I am, I can in any way pay the price, I am at your service. Command what you will. If you like, take me in his stead, and use me as you see fit." "There is no need," said the Sauromatian, "to keep the whole of you, particularly as you came saying 'Ziris!' but lay down a part of what you have, and you may take your friend." Dandamis asked what he wanted, and the other demanded his eyes. He instantly presented them to be cut out, and when this had been done, and the Sauromatians were in possession of the ransom, he received Amizokes and went away leaning on him, and together they swam across and returned to us saved.

This event put heart into all the Scythians, and they no longer considered themselves worsted by the Sauromatians, seeing that the enemy had not carried off our greatest good, but that our noble disposition was left to us and our constancy in friendship. And the same thing frightened the Sauromatians extremely, for they calculated what sort of men we would be to fight with when we were prepared if we showed such endurance when we were surprised. So when night came they left most of the flocks, and burned the wagons and retreated. But Amizokes could no longer bear to see at the price of Dandamis's blindness, so he, too, put out his own eyes, and they were both permitted a quiet life by the Scythian commonwealth, and supported at the public expense with every honor.

What could you tell to match this, Mnesippos, if I should let you count up ten more in addition to your five, and not on oath, either, so that you might add plenty of inventions? And yet I gave you the bare facts. If you had told a story like this I know very well how much cleverness you would have mixed in your tale, what prayers Dandamis offered, and the manner of blinding him, and what he said and how he went off again, and how the Scythians received him with blessings, and the other devices you are wont to employ on your audience.

But now hear of another man, equally admirable: Belittas, a cousin of this Amizokes. When he saw his friend Basthes dragged from his horse by a lion-they happened to be hunting together —and that the lion had already clutched him and clung to his throat tearing him with his claws, he leaped down from his own horse, fell upon the beast from behind, and dragged him over, diverting his rage to himself. He passed his fingers between the animal's teeth, and tried his best to drag Basthes out of his jaws until the lion let him go, half dead already, and, turning upon Belittas, grappled with him and slew him too. But even as he was dying he found time to strike the lion in the breast with his sword, so that they all died together, and we buried them, digging two graves near together, one for the friends and one opposite for the lion.

My third case, Mnesippos, shall be the friendship of Makentes, Lonchates, and Arsakomas. This Arsakomas fell in love with Mazaia, daughter of Leukanor, king of the Bosporians, when he went as an envoy in the matter of the tribute which the Bosporians pay us periodically, and which was then three months overdue. Mazaia was a tall, beautiful girl, and Arsakomas, seeing her at dinner, became enamored and fell into a bad way about her. He had finished the business of the tribute, and the king had given him his answer, and was feasting him by way of dismissal. Now it is the custom on the Bosporos for suitors to propose for girls at dinner, stating the qualifications which render them desirable parties. On this occasion there happened to be a great many aspirants at the dinner, kings and kings' sons, and Tigrapates was there, the monarch of the Lazians, and Adyrmachos, the ruler of Machlyëne, with many others. Each suitor is obliged to announce himself and tell why he has come a-wooing, and then to eat his dinner quietly, sitting among the others. But when dinner is over he must ask for a wine-glass and pour out a libation on the table, and propose for the girl, setting forth his advantages of birth, or wealth, or influence, in the most favorable light.

In accordance with this custom many had poured out the libation and made their proposals, counting up their kingdoms and riches; and last of all Arsakomas called for a glass, and instead of pouring out a libation-for it is not our practice to pour out our wine, indeed it is held an impiety towards the god - he emptied the glass at a draught, and said: "Your majesty, give me your daughter Mazaia to hold as my wife. I am a better match than these others as far as wealth and possessions go." Leukanor was amazed, for he knew that Arsakomas was poor, and a commoner of the Scythians, and he inquired: "How much cattle have you, Arsakomas, or how many wagons? For these are the things you Scythians are rich in.” "Nay," said Arsakomas, “I have neither wagons nor herds, but I have two friends so noble and brave that no other Scythian can match them." A shout of laughter rose at these words, and no account was taken of his offer, for they thought he was drunk. In the early morning Adyrmachos, who had been chosen from the other suitors, made ready to conduct his bride to the Maiotis among the Machlyëans.