17.11
Do you mean, Ischomachus, that the weaker the soil the less seed should be put into it? Yes, of course, Socrates; and you agree when you say that your invariable custom is to make the burden light that is to be borne by the weak.
17.12
But the hoers, now, Ischomachus, why do you put them on the corn? I presume you know that in winter there is a heavy rainfall? Of course. Let us assume, then, that part of the corn is waterlogged and covered with mud, and some of the roots are exposed by flooding. And it often happens, you know, that in consequence of rain weeds spring up among the corn and choke it.
17.13
All these things are likely to happen. Then don’t you think that in such circumstances the corn needs prompt succour? Certainly. What should be done, do you think, to succour the part that is under the mud? The soil should be lifted. And the part that has its roots exposed? It should be earthed up.
17.14
What if weeds are springing up, choking the corn and robbing it of its food, much as useless drones rob bees of the food they have laid in store by their industry? The weeds must be cut, of course, just as the drones must be removed from the hive.
17.15
Don’t you think, then, that we have good reason for putting on men to hoe? No doubt; but I am reflecting, Ischomachus, on the advantage of bringing in an apt simile. For you roused my wrath against the weeds by mentioning the drones, much more than when you spoke of mere weeds.
18.1
However, I continued, after this comes reaping, I fancy. So give me any information you can with regard to that too. Yes—unless I find that you know just what I do about that subject too. You know, then, that the corn must be cut. I know that, naturally. Are you for standing with your back to the wind when you cut corn, or facing it? Not facing it, no! I think it is irritating both to the eyes and to the hands to reap with cornstalks and spikes blowing in your face.
