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but when he had laid in plenty of the sinews of war and thought that he was well off for reputation, he became supercilious and vain and neglected me, or rather deserted me completely. Having conceived an inordinate affection for that bearded man in the mantle, Dialogue, who is said to be the son of Philosophy and is older than he is, he lives with him. Showing no sense of shame, he has curtailed the freedom and the range of my speeches and has confined himself to brief, disjointed questions: and instead of saying whatever he wishes in a powerful voice, he fits together and spells out short paragraphs, for which he cannot get hearty praise or great applause from his hearers, but only a smile, or a restrained gesture of the hand, an inclination of the head, or a sigh to point his periods. That is the sort of thing this gallant gentleman fell in love with, despising me! They say, too, that he is not at peace with this favourite, either, but insults him in the same way.
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Is he not, then, ungrateful and subject to punishment under the laws that concern desertion, inasmuch as he so disgracefully abandoned his lawful wife, from whom he received so much and through whom he is famous, and sought a new arrangement, now of all times, when I alone am admired and claimed as patroness by everyone? For my part I hold out against all those who court me, and when they knock at my door and call my name at the top of their lungs, I have no desire either to open or to reply, for I see that they bring with them nothing but their voices. But this man even then does not come back to me: no, he keeps his eyes upon his favourite. Ye gods, what good does he expect to get from him, knowing that he has nothing but his short cloak? I have finished, gentlemen of the jury. But I beg you, if he wishes to make his defence in my style of speaking, do not permit that, for it -would be unkind to turn my own weapon against me; let him defend himself, if he can, in the style of his favourite, Dialogue.
