13
I am not alone in my opinion, Pythagoras. You yourself, when you were Euphorbos, decked your locks with gold and silver when you went to fight the Achaians, actually in battle, where it was a better plan to carry iron than gold; but even there you thought you must wreathe your hair with gold before you fought. And in my judgment that is why Homer said your hair was like the Graces, because "it was tightly bound with gold and with silver." For it is plain that it looked much more goodly and delightful when it was braided with the gold and vied with it in splendor. Still it does not make much difference, Goldlocks, whether you, who were only Panthoos's son, honored gold or not. But the father of all men and gods, the son of Kronos and Rhea, when he fell in love with that Argolian girl, knew no lovelier form to assume, and no better way to break through the guard of Akrisios-you know, of course, that he turned into gold, and poured through the roof to be with his beloved. So why should I go on to tell you anything more about it, saying how many wants gold fills, and how it makes its owners handsome and clever and powerful, adds glory and reputation to them, and sometimes brings them in a twinkling from obscurity and contempt to prominence and fame.
14
Now, you know my neighbor and fellow-craftsman, Simon, who dined with me not long ago; that time in the holidays when I made a bean soup with two slices of sausage in it.
14
I know the little snub-nosed creature. He picked up the earthen cup, the only one we had, and carried it off under his arm. I saw him, Mikyllos.
14
Then was he that stole it, and afterwards called so many gods to witness his innocence! But why did you not cry out and tell of him then, Cock, when you saw us being robbed?
14
I crowed, which was all I could do then. But what has Simon done? I thought you had something to say about him.
