ts again, Knakias. Let us devote this last cup to the
manes of the glorious Lysander; and then I advise you to depart, for it
is long past midnight, and our pleasure has reached its highest point.
The true host puts an end to the banquet when his guests are feeling at
their best. Serene and agreeable recollections will soon bring you hither
again; whereas there would be little joy in returning to a house where
the remembrance of hours of weakness, the result of pleasure, would
mingle with your future enjoyment." In this her guests agreed, and Ibykus
named her a thorough disciple of Pythagoras, in praise of the joyous,
festive evening.

Every one prepared for departure. The Sybarite, who had been drinking
deeply in order to counteract the very inconvenient amount of feeling
excited by the conversation, rose also, assisted by his slaves, who had
to be called in for this purpose.

While he was being moved from his former comfortable position, he
stammered something about a "breach of hospitality;" but, when Rhodopis
was about to give him her hand at parting, the wine gained the ascendancy
and he exclaimed, "By Hercules, Rhodopis, you get rid of us as if we were
troublesome creditors. It is not my custom to leave a supper so long as I
can stand, still less to be turned out of doors like a miserable
parasite!"

"Hear reason, you immoderate Sybarite," began Rhodopis, endeavoring with
a smile to excuse her proceeding. But these words, in Philoinus'
half-intoxicated mood, only increased his irritation; he burst into a
mocking laugh, and staggering towards the door, shouted: "Immoderate
Sybarite, you call me? good! here you have your answer: Shameless slave!
one can still perceive the traces of what you were in your youth.
Farewell then, slave of Iadmon and Xanthus, freedwoman of Charaxus!" He
had not however finished his sentence, when Aristomachus rushed upon him,
stunned him with a blow of his fist, and carried him off like a child
down to the boat in which his slaves were waiting at the garden-gate.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Did the ancients know anything of love
Folly to fret over what cannot be undone
Go down into the grave before us (Our children)
He who kills a cat is punished (for murder)
In those days men wept, as well as women
Lovers delighted in nature then as now
Multitude who, like the gnats, fly towards every thing brilliant
Olympics--The first was fixed 77