Book 2

1.1. As we were praising ourselves, we walked toward the girl's chamber, on the pretext of listening to her playing the lyre; for I could not bear, even for a little while, to keep myself from seeing the girl. First she sang Homer's combat of the boar against the lion; then she trilled something of the gentler Muse, for the song was in praise of the rose.

1.2. If one were to strip away the modulations of the melody and speak the words bare of their harmony, the words would run thus: "If Zeus had wished to set a king over the flowers, the rose would have reigned over them. It is the ornament of the earth, the glory of the plants, the eye of flowers, the blush of the meadow.

1.3. "It breathes of love, it ushers in Aphrodite, it luxuriates in fragrant petals, it revels in its easily-stirred leaves, and its petals laugh at the West Wind." So she sang; but I seemed to see the rose upon her lips, as though someone had shut the round of the rose's cup into the shape of a mouth.

2.1. She had just finished her playing when it was again the hour of dinner. For it was then the festival of Dionysus of the vintage. The Tyrians believe Dionysus to be their own, since they also sing the legend of Cadmus;

2.2. and as the founding-tale of the festival they tell this story: that wine once did not exist among men—not the dark, fragrant kind, nor that of the Biblian vine, nor Maron's Thracian, nor the Chian from Laconia, nor the island wine of Icarus—but that all these were colonies, so to speak, of Tyrian vines, and that the first mother of all wines sprang up among them.

2.3. There was there, they say, a certain hospitable herdsman, like the Icarius of whom the Athenians tell, and he became, in this place, the father of the legend. To this herdsman Dionysus came, and the man set before him all that the earth and the wagon of oxen bear; but their drink was such as the ox too drank,

2.4. for the vine did not yet exist. Dionysus praised the herdsman's kindness and pledged him a cup of friendship; and the drink was wine. The man, having drunk it, was driven wild with pleasure, and said to the god, "Where, stranger, did you get this purple water?

2.5. "For it is not that which flows along the ground. That descends into the chest and gives a thin pleasure; but this delights the nostrils even before the mouth, and to the touch is cold, yet, leaping down into the belly, kindles a fire of pleasure from below." And Dionysus said, "This is the water of the autumn harvest." The god led the herdsman to the vine,

2.6. and taking some of the grape-clusters and at the same time pressing them and showing the vine, he said, "This is the water, and this is the spring." So it was, the Tyrian story goes, that wine came to men; and they keep that day as a festival to that god.

3.1. My father, then, in his eagerness, having prepared the dinner in every way most lavishly, set out the sacred mixing-bowl of the god, second only to that of Glaucus of Chios.

3.2. The whole work was of carved glass; and around it vines stood as a crown, planted, as it were, from the bowl itself, their clusters hanging down on every side. While the bowl was empty each cluster was an unripe grape; but if you poured wine in, little by little the cluster darkened and turned the sour grape into a ripe one. Dionysus too was wrought among the clusters, that he might tend the vine.

3.3. As the drinking went on I gazed at her now even shamelessly. Eros and Dionysus, two violent gods, seizing the soul, drive it mad to shamelessness—the one burning it with his accustomed fire, the other bringing wine as fuel; for wine is the nourishment of love. And by now she too grew bold enough to look more searchingly at me. So things went with us for ten days; and we gained nothing more than these glances, and dared nothing.

4.1. So I shared the whole matter with Satyrus and asked him to help me. He said that he had himself known of it before he learned it from me, but had shrunk from showing that he knew, since I wished to keep it hidden; for a man who loves in secret, if he is exposed by someone, hates the one who exposes him as though he were reproaching him.

4.2. "But by now," he said, "chance has provided for us. For Clio, who is trusted with her chamber, has shared her confidence with me and regards me as a lover. I will gradually bring her into such a state toward us

4.3. "that she will even help in the work. But you must test the girl not only with your eyes, but speak some sharper word as well. Then bring up the second device:

4.4. "touch her hand, press her finger, and as you press, sigh. And if, while you do this, she endures it and lets it pass, then it is your task to call her your mistress and to kiss her neck." "By Athena," I said, "you train me persuasively for the work; but I am afraid I may prove a timid and cowardly athlete of love."

4.5. "Eros, my fine fellow," he said, "will not put up with cowardice. You see how soldierly his figure is: bow and quiver and arrows and fire, all manly things, full of daring. With such a god within you, are you a coward, and afraid?

4.6. "Take care you do not give the god the lie. I will provide you a beginning. I will lead Clio away whenever I see a fitting moment for you to be able to be alone with the girl."

5.1. Having said this, he went outside the doors; and I, left to myself and spurred on by Satyrus, schooled myself to boldness toward the girl. "How long, unmanly creature, will you stay silent? Why are you a cowardly soldier of a manly god? Do you wait for the girl to come to you?" Then I added, "Why,

5.2. "wretch, do you not show some sense? Why not love whom you ought? You have within the house another girl, and a beautiful one; love her, look at her, her you may marry." So I seemed to have persuaded myself; but from below, as if out of my heart, Eros answered back: "Yes, bold one, do you take the field against me and draw up your line of battle? I fly, I shoot, I burn; how will you be able to escape me? If you guard against my bow, you cannot guard against the fire; and if you quench the flame with self-control, I will catch you with my very wing."

6.1. While I was debating thus, I came upon the girl unawares, before I knew it, and on seeing her suddenly I turned pale, then flushed red. She was alone, and not even Clio was with her. Yet, being flustered and not knowing what to say, "Greetings,

6.2. "mistress," I said. She smiled sweetly and showed by her laughter that she understood how I had said "Greetings, mistress," and said, "Yours? Do not say that." "Indeed, one of the gods has sold me to you, as he sold Heracles to Omphale." "Hermes, you mean—

6.3. "for it was to him that Zeus committed the sale," she said, and laughed at the same time. "What Hermes? Why this nonsense," I said, "when you understand clearly what I mean?" And as I was weaving words from words, chance came to my aid.

7.1. It happened that the day before this, about midday, the girl was playing the lyre, and Clio was there with her, sitting beside her, while I was walking about; and suddenly a bee from somewhere flew up and stung Clio's hand.

7.2. She cried out, and the girl, leaping up and setting down the lyre, examined the sting and at the same time comforted her, saying she should not be troubled, for she would stop her pain by chanting two words over it; for she had been taught them by an Egyptian woman for the stings of wasps and bees.

7.3. And she chanted them, and Clio said that after a little while she was relieved. Then by chance a bee, or a wasp, buzzing round, flew past my face; and I took the cue, and putting my hand to my face I pretended to have been stung and to be in pain.

7.4. The girl came up and drew away my hand and asked where I had been stung. "On the lip," I said; "but why do you not chant over it, dearest?" She came up and laid her mouth to it, as though to chant, and whispered something,

7.5. lightly touching my lips. And I kissed her in silence, stifling the sound of my kisses; and she, opening and closing the meeting of her lips at the whispering of her charm, turned the charm into kisses. And then I openly threw my arms about her and kissed her, and she, drawing back, said, "What are you doing? Are you too chanting a charm?" "I am kissing the charmer," I said, "because

7.6. "you have healed my pain." When she understood what I meant and smiled, I took courage and said, "Alas, dearest, I am wounded again, and worse; for the wound has flowed down to my heart and seeks your charm. Surely you too carry a bee upon your lips, for you are full of honey, and your kisses sting.

7.7. "But I beg you, chant over me once more, and do not run quickly through the charm, lest the wound grow savage again." And as I spoke I threw my arm about her more forcibly and kissed her more freely; and she allowed it, while seeming to forbid.

8.1. At that moment, seeing the serving-woman approaching from afar, we drew apart—I unwillingly and in distress, she, I know not how. So I had grown easier and full of hopes, and I felt the kiss sitting upon me as though it were a solid thing, and I guarded it carefully, keeping it like a treasure of pleasure.

8.2. For it is born of the fairest of the body's instruments; the mouth is the instrument of the voice, and the voice is the shadow of the soul. For when the meetings of mouths mingle, they send pleasure down through the breast and draw the souls up toward the kisses.

8.3. I do not know that I had ever before felt such delight from the heart; and then for the first time I learned that nothing rivals an amorous kiss for pleasure.

9.1. When it was the hour of dinner, we drank together again in the same way; and Satyrus served us the wine and did something to further my love. He exchanged the cups, putting mine before the girl and hers before me, and pouring wine for us both and mixing it, he handed them over.

9.2. And I, watching the part of the cup where the girl had set her lip in drinking, fitting my own to it, drank, making this a kiss by letter, as it were, and at the same time I kissed the cup.

9.3. When the girl saw this, she understood that I was kissing even the shadow of her lip. But Satyrus, understanding, exchanged the cups for us again. Then I saw the girl too imitating what I had done and drinking from the same place, and I rejoiced the more. And this happened a third time and a fourth, and for the rest of the day we pledged each other kisses in this way.

10.1. After dinner Satyrus came to me and said, "Now is the time to play the man. For the girl's mother, as you know, is unwell and is resting by herself; the girl will go for her usual walk alone, with Clio following, before she turns to sleep.

10.2. "I will lead Clio away by engaging her in conversation." Having said this, he took Clio for himself and I the girl, dividing them between us, and we lay in wait. And so it came about: Clio was drawn off, and the girl was left in the walk.

10.3. So watching for the moment when most of the daylight had faded, I came up, grown bolder from my first attack, like a soldier who has already won and now despises the war; for there were many things then that armed me with confidence—wine, love, hope, solitude. And saying nothing, but as if by a prearranged agreement, just as I was, I threw my arms about the girl and kissed her.

10.4. And as I was attempting to do something more to the purpose, some noise arose behind us; and, startled, we sprang apart. She turned away toward her chamber, and I to the other side, deeply vexed at having lost so fine a chance,

10.5. and cursing the noise. At that moment Satyrus met me with a cheerful face; for he, it seemed, had been keeping watch over all we did, lying in wait beneath one of the trees in case anyone came upon us; and it was he himself who had made the noise, having seen someone approaching.

11.1. After a few days had passed, my father set about the wedding faster than he had decided, for many dreams troubled him. He thought he was holding our wedding, but when he had just kindled the torches, the fire was put out; which made him the more eager to bring us together.

11.2. He prepared this for the next day. He had bought for the girl, for the wedding, a necklace of varied stones, and a robe wholly purple, where in other robes the place is for purple, there was gold. And the stones vied with one another.

11.3. The hyacinth was a rose set in stone; the amethyst gleamed purple near the gold; and in the middle were three stones, their colours one upon another, the three set together: black was the base of the stone, the middle body shone white against the black, and next to the white the rest blazed red, rising to a peak; and the stone, crowned with the gold,

11.4. mimicked a golden eye. The robe's purple was no commonplace dye, but such as the Tyrians tell in legend that the shepherd's dog discovered, and with which to this day they dye the robe of Aphrodite. For there was a time when the adornment of purple was unknown to men; a little shell concealed it in a winding recess.

11.5. A fisherman caught this catch; and he expected a fish, but when he saw the roughness of the shell, he railed at the catch and threw it away as refuse of the sea. A dog found the windfall and crushed it with its teeth, and the blood of the dye flowed about the dog's mouth and stained its jaw and wove the purple upon its lips.

11.6. The shepherd saw the dog's lips bloodied, and thinking the dye a wound, came up and washed it off in the sea, and the blood gleamed a brighter purple; and when he touched it with his hands, his hand too took on the purple.

11.7. So the shepherd understood the nature of the shell, that it had a drug of beauty planted in it; and taking a tuft of wool he dipped the wool into its hollow, seeking the shell's mysteries; and the wool was bloodied as the dog's jaw had been; and then he learned the home of the purple.

11.8. So taking some stones he broke open the wall of the drug and opened the shrine of the purple, and found a treasure of dye.

12.1. My father, then, was offering the preliminary sacrifices for the wedding. When I heard this, I was undone, and sought a device by which I might put off the marriage. While I was considering, suddenly there arose an uproar in the men's hall.

12.2. This was what had happened. When my father had finished sacrificing and the victims lay upon the altars, an eagle swooped down from above and snatched the offering; and though they tried to scare it off, it was no use, for the bird went off carrying its prey. This seemed not to be a good omen. So they postponed the wedding for that day; and my father, calling soothsayers and interpreters of portents, told them of the omen.

12.3. They said that he must offer a fair sacrifice to Zeus the protector of strangers, going to the sea at midnight; for the bird had happened to fly off in that direction. As for me, when this came about, I praised the eagle to the skies and said he was justly king of all birds; and before long the meaning of the portent was fulfilled.

13.1. There was a young man of Byzantium, by name Callisthenes, an orphan and rich, but a wastrel and extravagant. He, hearing that Sostratus had a beautiful daughter, though he had never seen her, wished to make her his wife. He was a lover by hearsay; for so great is the wantonness of the dissolute that they revel in love even through their ears, and suffer the same from words as those whose eyes minister to the soul once it is wounded.

13.2. So he went to Sostratus, before the war fell upon the Byzantines, and asked for the girl; but Sostratus, loathing the dissoluteness of his very life, refused him. Anger seized Callisthenes, who thought himself slighted by Sostratus, and who loved without guile; for forming for himself the girl's beauty and imagining the unseen, he was, without realizing it, in a very bad way.

13.3. So he plotted both to avenge himself on Sostratus for the slight and to fulfil his own desire. For there being a law among the Byzantines that, if anyone carried off a girl and was the first to make her his wife, his penalty was to keep her in marriage, he had this law in view. And so he sought an opportunity for the deed.

14.1. Meanwhile, the war having broken out and the girl having been sent over to us for safekeeping, he had learned all this, yet none the less held to his plot; and the following thing helped him. The Byzantines received an oracle of this sort: "There is a certain island city that has won a name from a plant, bearing at once an isthmus and a strait upon the mainland. There Hephaestus rejoices to possess gray-eyed Athena; thither I bid you carry sacrifice to Heracles."

14.2. While they were at a loss as to what the prophecy meant, Sostratus—for he was, as I said, a general in the war—said, "It is time for us to send a sacrifice to Tyre, to Heracles; for the whole of the oracle points there. The god called it 'named from a plant' because the island belongs to the Phoenicians, and the palm is a plant. Land and sea contend over it; the land draws it, but it has fitted itself to both.

14.3. "For it sits in the sea and yet has not let go the land; for a narrow neck binds it to the mainland,

14.4. "and it is, as it were, the island's throat. It is not rooted in the sea, but the water flows beneath it, and a strait lies under the isthmus; and the sight is a strange one—a city in the sea and an island on the land. As for Athena being possessed by Hephaestus, the god hinted at the olive and the fire, which among us dwell together.

14.5. "The place is sacred within an enclosure: the olive flourishes with its bright branches, and along with it fire is planted and kindles much flame about the shoots; and the soot of the fire tends the plant.

14.6. "This is the friendship of fire and plant; so Athena does not flee Hephaestus." And Chaerephon, who was a higher general than Sostratus, since he was a Byzantine on his father's side, extolling him, said, "You have expounded the whole oracle well; yet do not marvel only at the nature of fire, but at that of water too.

14.7. "I myself have seen such wonders. The water of a Sicilian spring is mingled with fire; you will see flame leaping up from below out of the spring, but to the touch the water is cold as snow, and neither is the fire quenched by the water nor the water set ablaze by the fire, but there is in the spring a truce of water and fire.

14.8. "There is also an Iberian river which, if you look at it straightway, is no better than any other river; but if you wish to hear the water speak, wait a little and open your ears wide. For if a slight wind falls upon the eddies, the water is struck like a string, and the breath becomes the water's plectrum,

14.9. "and the stream speaks like a lyre. There is also a Libyan lake that imitates Indian land, and the maidens of the Libyans know its secret, that the water holds riches. The wealth is stored down below, bound up in the mud of the waters, and there is there a spring of gold. So they dip into the water a pole smeared with pitch, and open the locks of the river.

14.10. "And the pole is to the gold what a hook is to a fish, for it catches it; and the pitch becomes the bait of the catch. For whatever of the gold's seed falls upon it, the pitch only touches it, but snatches the catch to the shore. So from a Libyan river gold is fished up."

15.1. Having said this, Sostratus sent the sacrifice to Tyre, and the city agreed. So Callisthenes contrived to become one of the sacred envoys; and quickly sailing down to Tyre and learning my father's house, he lay in wait for the women. They went out to see the sacrifice;

15.2. for it was a lavish one. Great was the procession of incense, great the interweaving of flowers. The incenses were cassia and frankincense and saffron; the flowers narcissus and roses and myrtle; and the breath of the flowers vied with the scent of the incense; and the breeze, wafted up into the air, mingled the fragrance, and there was a wind of pleasure.

15.3. The victims were many and varied, but conspicuous among them were the oxen of the Nile. For the Egyptian ox is fortunate not only in size but in colour. In size he is very great, thick in the neck, broad in the back, ample in the belly; his horn is not cheap, like the Sicilian, nor ill-shaped, like the Cyprian, but rising straight up from the temples, curving little by little on either side, brings its tips together as far apart as the bases of the horns stand; and the sight is the image of the moon coming full circle. His colour is such as Homer praises in the horses of the Thracian.

15.4. The bull walks with neck held high, as though displaying that he is king of the other oxen. And if the legend of Europa is true, it was an Egyptian ox that Zeus imitated.

16.1. Now my mother happened to be unwell at the time; and Leucippe, pretending to be ill too, stayed indoors—for it had been agreed between us that we should come together, while the rest were out—so that it fell out that my sister went forth with Leucippe's mother.

16.2. Callisthenes, never having seen Leucippe, but seeing Calligone, my sister, and thinking she was Leucippe—for he recognized Sostratus' wife—asked nothing (for he was already captivated by the sight), but pointed out the girl to one of his servants, who was most trusted by him, and ordered him to assemble pirates against her, describing the manner of the seizure. A festival was at hand, at which he had heard that all the maidens went out to the sea.

17.1. So having said this and discharged his sacred duty, he departed. He had a ship of his own, having made this provision from home in case the attempt should succeed. The other envoys sailed away, but he rode at anchor a little off the land, partly that he might seem to the citizens to be following them, partly that he might not be caught red-handed after the seizure, the vessel being near Tyre.

17.2. When he came opposite Sarapta, a Tyrian village lying on the sea, there he procured a skiff and gave it to Zeno—for that was the name of the servant whom he had made ready for the seizure.

17.3. And Zeno, being naturally strong of body and resourceful by nature, quickly found pirate fishermen from that village and indeed sailed off to Tyre. There is a small harbour of the Tyrians, a little island lying a short way off Tyre—the Tyrians call it the tomb of Rhodopis—and there the skiff lay in wait.

18.1. Before the festival which Callisthenes was expecting, the affair of the eagle and the soothsayers took place; and on the next day we made ready by night to sacrifice to the god. None of this escaped Zeno; but when it was the hour of deep evening, we went forth, and he followed.

18.2. Just as we reached the edge of the sea, he raised the agreed signal, and the skiff suddenly came sailing up, and when it drew near,

18.3. ten young men appeared in it. He had also stationed eight others in ambush on the land beforehand, who wore women's clothes and had shaved the hair from their chins, and each carried a sword under his garment; and these too brought a victim, that they might be the less suspected; and we thought they were women.

18.4. When we were piling up the pyre, suddenly with a shout they ran together and put out our torches, and as we fled in disorder from the shock, they bared their swords and seized my sister and, putting her into the boat,

18.5. leaping aboard at once, flew off like a bird. Of us, some fled, knowing and seeing nothing; others, the moment they saw, cried out, "Pirates are carrying off Calligone!" But the boat was already crossing the middle of the sea. When they touched at Sarapta, Callisthenes, seeing the signal from afar, sailed out to meet them and received the girl and at once put out to the open sea.

18.6. As for me, I drew breath, my marriage thus dissolved beyond my hopes; yet I grieved all the same for my sister, who had fallen into such a misfortune.

19.1. After letting a few days pass, I said to Leucippe, "How long, dearest, are we to stop at kisses? Let us now add something more amorous. Come, let us lay upon one another the bond of fidelity. For if Aphrodite once initiates us into her mysteries, no other god will

19.2. "prove stronger than she." Chanting this often, I persuaded the girl to receive me by night in her chamber, with the help of Clio, who was her chamber-maid. Her chamber lay thus:

19.3. It was a great place with four rooms, two on the right, two on the other side; a passage in the middle divided the rooms, and at the head of the passage a single door was set.

19.4. The women had this for their lodging; and of the inner rooms the girl and her mother had each taken those opposite one another, while of the two outer ones toward the entrance, the one was Clio's, next to the girl's, and the other was a storeroom.

19.5. The mother, when she put Leucippe to bed, always locked the passage door from within; and another person from outside locked it too and threw the keys in through the opening; and she, taking them, kept them, and toward dawn called the man appointed for this and threw the keys back, so that he might open up.

19.6. So Satyrus, having contrived to have keys made just like these, tried the opening and, finding it possible, persuaded Clio, with the girl's knowledge, to put no obstacle in the way of the scheme. These then were the arrangements.

20.1. Now there was among them a servant, meddlesome and talkative and greedy and everything one could name, by name Conops. This man seemed to me to be watching from afar what we were doing; and especially—which was indeed the case—suspecting that something might be done by us at night, he kept awake far into the evening, with the doors of his room thrown open,

20.2. so that it was hard to escape his notice. Satyrus, then, wishing to bring him into friendship, often jested with him and called him "Gnat" and mocked his name with a laugh. And Conops, knowing Satyrus' design, pretended to jest back himself, but put into his sport the implacability of his mind.

20.3. So he said to him, "Since you mock even my name, come, let me tell you a fable about a gnat."

21.1. "The lion often blamed Prometheus, that he had moulded him great and beautiful and armed his jaw with teeth and strengthened his feet with claws and made him stronger than the other beasts. 'And yet such as I am,' he said, 'I fear the cock.'

21.2. "And Prometheus, standing over him, said, 'Why do you blame me without cause? For you have all that is mine, all that I could mould; it is your own soul that is weak in this one thing.' So the lion wept for himself and blamed his own cowardice and at last wished to die.

21.3. "While he was in this mind he met an elephant, and greeting him stood talking with him. And seeing him perpetually moving his ears, he said, 'What ails you, and why

21.4. "'does your ear never rest even a little?' And the elephant, a gnat chancing just then to fly past him, said, 'Do you see this little buzzing thing? If it gets into me by the road of my hearing, I am dead.' And the lion said, 'Why then should I still die, being so great and more fortunate than the elephant, by as much as the cock is mightier than the gnat?' Do you see how much strength the gnat has, that it can frighten even an elephant?"

21.5. Satyrus, understanding the malice beneath his words, said with a quiet smile, "Listen now to a tale of mine too, about a gnat and a lion, which I heard from one of the philosophers; and I make you a present of the elephant in the fable.

22.1. "A boastful gnat once said to a lion: 'Do you think you are king over me too, as over the other beasts? But you are neither fairer than I, nor braver, nor greater. First, what is your strength?

22.2. "'You tear with your claws and bite with your teeth. Does not a fighting woman do the same? And what size or beauty adorns you? A broad chest, thick shoulders, and much mane about your neck. But do you not see the shame behind you? My size is the whole air, as far as my wing carries me, and my beauty the tresses of the meadows; for these are like robes

22.3. "'which I put on whenever I wish to stop my flight. And as for my courage, it would be ridiculous to recount it; for I am wholly an instrument of war. With a trumpet I draw up for battle, and my mouth is at once trumpet and weapon, so that I am both flute-player and archer; and I become my own arrow and bow; for my wing shoots me through the air, and falling like an arrow I make the wound; and the man struck cries out suddenly and looks for the one who wounded him; and I, though present, am not present, and at once flee and stay and ride circles about the man on my wing, and laugh to see him dancing about his wounds.

22.4. "'But why words? Let us begin the fight.' And as he spoke he fell upon the lion and leapt at his eyes and whatever else of his face was hairless, flying round and at the same time piping with his buzz. The lion grew furious and turned about in every direction and snapped at the empty air, but the gnat made his rage all the more his sport and wounded him on the very lips.

22.5. "And the lion bent toward the painful spot, doubling back to where the wound had been struck; but the gnat, like a wrestler preparing his body for the grapple, slipped away from the lion's teeth, flying through the very midst of the closing jaws.

22.6. "And the teeth clashed empty of their prey upon one another. By now the lion was worn out fighting shadows against the air with his teeth, and stood slack with rage; and the gnat, flying about his mane, piped a song of victory.

22.7. "But making the circle of his flight wider out of excessive want of taste, he was caught, before he knew it, entangled in a spider's threads, and his falling did not escape the spider. When he could no longer flee, in his distress he said, 'Ah, the folly of it! I challenged a lion, and a little spider's web has caught me.'"

Having said this, Satyrus added, "It is time now for you too to fear the spiders," and laughed.

23.1. And after letting a few days pass, knowing that Conops was a slave to his belly, he bought a drug for deep sleep and invited him to a feast. Conops suspected some trick and at first hung back; but when his worthy belly compelled him, he was persuaded.

23.2. And when he came to Satyrus and, after dining, was about to leave, Satyrus poured the drug into the last cup for him; and he drank it, and a little while after—only long enough to reach his own room—fell down and lay there, sleeping the drug's sleep.

23.3. Satyrus ran to me and said, "Your Cyclops lies sleeping; see that you prove a good Odysseus." Even as he spoke we came to the doors of my beloved; and he stayed behind, while I went in, Clio receiving me without a sound. I was trembling with a double tremor, of joy and of fear at once.

23.4. For the fear of the danger threw the soul's hopes into confusion, but the hope of success cast pleasure over the fear; so that my hope was afraid, and my fearful part rejoiced. But just as I had gone inside the girl's chamber, something of this sort happened concerning the girl's mother; for a dream chanced to trouble her.

23.5. She thought a robber, holding a naked sword, seized her daughter and carried her off, and laying her on her back, cut open her belly down the middle with the sword, beginning from below at the private parts. So, troubled with terror, she leapt up as she was and ran to her daughter's chamber—for it was near—just as I had lain down.

23.6. And I, hearing the noise of the doors opening, at once sprang up, and she was at the bedside. Understanding the disaster, I leapt out and rushed through the doors at a run, and Satyrus received me trembling and confounded; then we fled through the dark and came to our own room.

24.1. She first fell down in a swoon, then, recovering, struck Clio across the temple as hard as she could, and seizing her by the hair, at the same time wailed to her daughter, saying, "You have destroyed my hopes, Leucippe.

24.2. "Alas, Sostratus! In Byzantium you fight for the marriages of others, and in Tyre you are conquered, and someone has plundered your daughter's marriage. Wretch that I am, I never expected to see such a wedding of yours.

24.3. "Would that you had stayed in Byzantium, would that you had suffered this outrage by the law of war, would that even a conquering Thracian had outraged you; the calamity would have borne no reproach, because of the necessity. But now,

24.4. "ill-starred girl, you are disgraced in your very misfortune. The phantoms of dreams led me astray, and I did not see the truer dream; now you have been more wretchedly cut open in the belly; this is a more luckless gash than the sword's. I did not even see the one who outraged you, nor do I know what chance brought my calamity. Alas for my troubles! Was he even a slave?"

25.1. The girl took courage, since I had escaped, and said, "Do not revile my virginity, mother; no deed has been done by me to deserve such words, nor do I know who this was, whether spirit or hero or robber.

25.2. "I lay terrified, unable even to cry out for fear; for fear is a fetter of the tongue. One thing only I know: no one

25.3. "has shamed my virginity." So Pantheia fell down again and groaned, while we, left to ourselves, considered what was to be done; and it seemed best to flee, before day came and Clio, put to the torture, told the whole.

26.1. So, having resolved thus, we set to work; and pretending to the doorkeeper that we were going to a mistress, we went to the house of Clinias. It was now the middle of the night, so that the doorkeeper opened to us only with difficulty. And Clinias—for he had his chamber in an upper story—hearing us talking, ran down in alarm.

26.2. And at that moment we saw Clio behind us, running in haste; for she had resolved on flight. So at the same time Clinias heard from us what we had suffered, and we from Clio how she had fled, and again Clio from us what we meant to do.

26.3. So going inside the doors we told Clinias what had happened and that we had decided to flee. Clio said, "I too will go with you; for if I wait for dawn, death awaits me—sweeter than the tortures."

27.1. So Clinias took my hand and led me far from Clio and said, "I think I have found the best plan: to smuggle her away, but for us to wait a few days, and then, if it still seems good, to pack up and depart.

27.2. "For at present the girl's mother does not know whom she caught, as you say, and there will be no informer once Clio is out of the way; and perhaps you may even persuade the girl to flee with you." He said too that he himself would be a partner in the journey.

27.3. This was approved; and he handed Clio over to one of his servants, ordering her to be put aboard a vessel, while we, remaining with him, took thought for what was to come; and in the end it was decided to make trial of the girl, and if she should be willing to flee with us, to act thus; but if not, to stay where we were, giving ourselves up to fortune. So having slept what little remained of the night, toward dawn we returned again to the house.

28.1. Pantheia, then, rising, made ready for the torture of Clio and ordered her to be summoned. When she was nowhere to be found, she went again to her daughter and said, "Will you not tell me the contriving of the drama? Look,

28.2. "Clio too has fled." The girl took still more courage and said, "What more am I to say to you, and what greater proof of the truth am I to bring? If there is any test of virginity,

28.3. "test me." "This too is all that was lacking," said Pantheia, "that we should be wretched even before witnesses." Saying this, she sprang outside.

29.1. Leucippe, left to herself and filled with her mother's words, was in every kind of mood. She was distressed, ashamed, angry: distressed at being detected, ashamed at being reproached, angry at being disbelieved. Now shame and grief and anger are three waves of the soul.

29.2. For shame, flowing in through the eyes, undoes the freedom of the eyes; grief, spreading about the breast, melts away the soul's vital fire; anger, baying about the heart, floods the reason with the foam of madness.

29.3. The father of all these is speech, and it is like a bow shooting at a mark and hitting it and sending its missiles, its varied arrows, against the soul. One is the arrow of abuse, and the wound it makes is anger; another is the proof of misfortunes, and from this arrow comes grief; another is the reproach of faults,

29.4. and the wound they call shame. It is peculiar to all these arrows that their wounds are deep, but their shafts draw no blood. There is one cure for all of them: to ward off the shooter with the same missiles; for the word that is the arrow of one tongue is healed by the arrow of another tongue; for it stays the anger of the heart and quenches the grief of the soul.

29.5. But if one is forced by a superior to keep his retaliation silent, the wounds grow more painful through silence; for the throes of the waves stirred by speech, not having spat out their foam, swell and seethe, pent up within themselves.

30.1. Meanwhile I had sent Satyrus to the girl to make trial of the flight. And she, before he could speak, said to Satyrus, "I beg you, by the gods of strangers and of this land, snatch me away from my mother's eyes, wherever you please;

30.2. "but if you go off and leave me, I will weave a noose and so let go my soul." When I heard this, I cast off most of my anxiety. And letting two days pass, when my father chanced to be away, we made ready for the flight.

31.1. Satyrus still had a remnant of the drug with which he had put Conops to sleep; and serving us, he secretly poured it into the last cup which he brought to Pantheia; and she, rising, went off to her chamber and at once slept.

31.2. Leucippe had another chamber-maid, whom Satyrus drowned in the same drug—for he had pretended to be in love with her too, ever since he had begun coming to the chamber—and he went on to a third quarry, the doorkeeper; and him too he had struck down with the same draught.

31.3. A carriage stood ready for us before the gates, which Clinias had provided, and he was there before us, waiting upon it himself. When all were asleep, about the first watch of the night, we went forth without a sound, Satyrus leading Leucippe by the hand.

31.4. For Conops too, who had been keeping watch over us, happened that day to be away, attending on his mistress. So Satyrus opened the doors and we went forth; and when we reached the gates, we mounted the carriage.

31.5. We were six in all: we two, and Clinias, and two of his servants. So we drove the road toward Sidon, and after about two parts of the night we reached the city, and at once made our way toward Berytus, thinking to find a ship at anchor there.

31.6. And we were not disappointed; for when we came to the harbour of Berytus, we found a vessel putting out, just about to cast off its stern-cables. So without asking where it was sailing, we transferred ourselves from land to sea; and the time was a little before dawn. The ship was sailing for Alexandria, the great city of the Nile.

32.1. At first I rejoiced to see the sea, while the vessel was not yet in the open but still riding in the harbour. But when the wind seemed fair for putting out, there was much uproar about the ship, the sailors running to and fro, the helmsman giving orders,

32.2. the ropes being hauled. The yard swung round, the sail was let down, the ship put out, the anchors were drawn up, the harbour was left behind. We watched the land from the ship withdrawing little by little, as though it were itself sailing. There was a chant and much prayer, as men called on the saving gods and uttered words of good omen for a prosperous voyage. The wind rose more strongly, the sail bellied out and drew the ship on.

33.1. There happened to be a young man tented near us, who, when it was the hour of breakfast, courteously asked us to breakfast with him. Satyrus too brought out our provisions; so, putting what we had into the common store, we shared the meal, and presently conversation too.

33.2. I spoke first: "Whence are you, young man, and what should we call you?" "I am Menelaus," he said, "Egyptian by birth. And what of you?" "I am Clitophon,

33.3. "this is Clinias, both Phoenicians." "What then is the cause of your journey?" "If you tell us yours first, you shall hear ours as well."

34.1. So Menelaus said, "The sum of my exile is a malign love and an unlucky hunt. I was in love with a beautiful boy, and the boy was fond of hunting. I held him back much, but could not master him; and as I could not persuade him, I followed him to the hunt myself.

34.2. "So we both hunted on horseback, and at first had good fortune,

34.3. "pursuing the smaller game. But suddenly a boar sprang out of the wood, and the boy gave chase; and the boar turned his jaw and came running straight to meet him, and the boy did not turn aside, though I shouted and cried out, 'Pull the horse, change the reins, the beast is dangerous!' And the boar, springing forward, ran hard as if against the boy.

34.4. "And they were rushing together; and trembling seized me as I saw it, and fearing the beast might reach the horse first and strike it, I fitted my javelin to its thong and, before I had taken careful aim at the mark, sent the missile; and the boy, running across, intercepted the throw.

34.5. "What soul do you think I had then, if indeed I had any soul at all? And, more pitiable still, he stretched out his hands to me while still a little breathing, and embraced me, and dying did not hate me, the wretch who had killed him, but gave up his soul, twined about the right hand that had slain him.

34.6. "So the boy's parents brought me to court, and I went not unwillingly; for coming forward I made no defence, but assessed death against myself. The judges, taking pity, condemned me to three years' exile; and this now being at an end, I am putting back again to my own land."

34.7. Clinias wept as he spoke, on the pretext of Patroclus, but in truth remembering Charicles; and Menelaus said, "Do you weep for my troubles, or has something of the kind brought you out too?" So Clinias, with a groan, told of Charicles and the horse, and I told my own story.

35.1. Seeing Menelaus very downcast at the memory of his own affairs, and Clinias shedding tears at the recollection of Charicles, and wishing to draw them from their grief, I brought in a topic that held an amorous diversion; for Leucippe was not present, but was sleeping in the recesses of the ship.

35.2. So I said to them, smiling, "How far Clinias gets the better of me! For he wanted to speak against women, as was his wont. And he might speak more easily now, having found a partner in love.

35.3. "For I do not know how it is that love for males is so much in vogue now." "Why," said Menelaus, "is not this far better than the other? For boys are simpler than women, and their beauty is the sharper goad to pleasure."

35.4. "How sharper," I said, "when it has but peeped out and is gone, and gives the lover no enjoyment, but is like the draught of Tantalus?

35.5. "For often, in the very drinking, it has fled, and the lover has gone off without finding a drink; and what is still being drunk is snatched away before the drinker is satisfied; and a lover cannot go from a boy with his pleasure unmixed with pain, for it leaves him still thirsting."

36.1. And Menelaus said, "You do not know, Clitophon, the chief point of pleasure. For the unsated is always longed for. What is in longer use withers its delight by satiety, but what is snatched away is always new and blooms the more; for its pleasure does not grow old, and the more it is diminished by time,

36.2. "the more it stretches to greatness by longing. And the rose, for this reason, is fairer than the other plants, because its beauty flees quickly. For I hold that two kinds of beauty roam among men, the one heavenly, the other common.

36.3. "But the heavenly is vexed at being bound in a mortal frame and seeks to flee quickly to heaven; the common is cast down below and lingers about bodies. And if we must take a poet as witness to the heavenly ascent of beauty, hear Homer saying of him 'whom the gods caught up to pour wine for Zeus, for the sake of his beauty, that he might be among the immortals.'

36.4. "But no woman ever went up to heaven for beauty. And yet Zeus has had to do with women. But Alcmene's lot is grief and exile, Danae's a chest and the sea, Semele became fuel for fire; but if he falls in love with a Phrygian boy, he gives him heaven, that he may dwell with him and have him as cupbearer of the nectar; and she who was formerly servant of that honour is thrust out—for she was, I think, a woman."

37.1. So I took him up and said, "And yet the beauty of women seems rather to be heavenly, inasmuch as it does not perish quickly. For the imperishable is near the divine, but what moves in corruption, imitating mortal nature, is not heavenly but common.

37.2. "Zeus fell in love with a Phrygian boy and brought the Phrygian up to heaven; but the beauty of women brought Zeus himself down from heaven. For a woman's sake Zeus once lowed like a bull, for a woman's sake once danced as a Satyr, and made himself gold for another woman.

37.3. "Let Ganymede pour the wine, but let Hebe drink among the gods, that a woman may have a boy for her servant. I pity, too, his seizing. A flesh-eating bird came down upon him, and he, snatched up, is outraged and is like one being crucified; and the sight is most shameful—a boy hanging from talons.

37.4. "But Semele was brought up to heaven not by a flesh-eating bird but by fire; and do not marvel if one ascends to heaven through fire—thus Heracles ascended. And if you laugh at Danae's chest, how do you keep silent about Perseus? For Alcmene this one gift suffices, that for her sake Zeus stole three whole days of sun.

37.5. "But if we must leave the legends aside and speak of the very pleasure in the act, I am indeed a novice with women, so far at least as to have had to do with those who are sold to Aphrodite; another, perhaps, more initiated, might say something more; yet I shall speak, even though my experience is but moderate.

37.6. "A woman's body, then, is soft in the embrace, and her lips tender to kisses. And for this reason she holds the body in her arms wholly fitted into her flesh, and somehow, as one lies close, she enfolds him in pleasure.

37.7. "She stamps her kisses upon the lips like seals, and she kisses with art and makes the kiss sweeter. For she does not wish to kiss with the lips only, but joins her teeth too, and feeds about the mouth of her lover, and bites the kisses.

37.8. "And at the height of Aphrodite she is maddened with pleasure, and gapes as she kisses and is frenzied; and the tongues at this time visit one another in fellowship and strive, as they can, to kiss too; and you increase the pleasure by opening your kisses.

37.9. "And as the woman comes to the end of Aphrodite, she is wont to pant from the fiery pleasure, and the panting, with its amorous breath, leaping up to the lips of the mouth, meets the wandering kiss as it seeks to go down below;

37.10. "and the kiss, turning back with the panting and mingled with it, follows and strikes the heart; and the heart, stirred by the kiss, throbs. And were it not bound to the inward parts, it would have followed, drawn up by the kisses. But the kisses of boys are untaught, their embraces unschooled, their Aphrodite idle, their pleasure nothing."

38.1. And Menelaus said, "But you seem to me to be no novice, but an old hand at Aphrodite; such a flood of women's subtleties you have poured over us. Now hear in your turn the case for boys.

38.2. "In a woman everything is counterfeit, both her words and her looks; and if she seems to be beautiful, it is the elaborate device of unguents; her beauty is of perfumes, or of dyed hair, or even of kisses. But if you strip her of these many wiles, she is like the jackdaw of the fable stripped of its feathers.

38.3. "But the beauty of a boy is not watered by the scents of perfumes nor by deceitful and alien odours; and the sweat of boys smells sweeter than all a woman's unguents.

38.4. "It is permitted them, even before the embrace of Aphrodite, to come together in the wrestling-school and to clasp one another openly, and the embraces bring no shame, and no softness of flesh weakens the embraces of Aphrodite, but the bodies meet hard against one another and contend for pleasure.

38.5. "And his kisses have no womanish craft nor work any wanton deceit upon the lips, but he kisses as he knows how, and the kisses are not of art but of nature. This is the image of a boy's kiss: if nectar were congealed and became a lip, you would have such kisses. And kissing him you could have no satiety, but the more you are filled, the more you thirst still to kiss, and you could not draw your mouth away, until for very pleasure you fled the kisses."