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It happened that the temple of Minerva in Lacedaemon called Chalcioecus was robbed, and nothing but an earthen pitcher left behind; which caused a great concourse of people, where every one spent his verdict about the empty pitcher. Gentlemen, says one, pray give me leave to tell ye my opinion concerning this pitcher. I am apt to believe, that these sacrilegious villains, before they ventured upon so dangerous an attempt, drank each of them a draught of hemlock juice, and then brought wine along with them in this pitcher; to the end that, if it were their good hap to escape without being apprehended, they might soon dissolve and extinguish the strength and vigor of the venom by the force of the wine unmixed and pure; but if they should be surprised and taken in the fact, that then they might die without feeling any pain under the torture of the rack. Having thus said, the people, observing so much forecast and contrivance in the thing, would not be persuaded that any man could have such ready thoughts upon a bare conjecture, but that he must know it to be so. Thereupon, immediately gathering about him, one asked who he was; another, who knew him; a third, how he came to be so much a philosopher. And at length, they did so sift and canvass and fetch him about, that the fellow confessed himself to be one of those that committed the sacrilege.
