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.