Hippolytus (905-932)

Ha! what is this? thy wife a corpse I see; this is passing strange; ’twas but now I left her; a moment since she looked upon the light.

How came she thus? the manner of her death?

this would I learn of thee, father. Art dumb? silence availeth not in trouble; nay, for the heart that fain would know all must show its curiosity even in sorrow’s hour. Be sure it is not right, father,

to hide misfortunes from those who love, ay, more than love thee.

O ye sons of men, victims of a thousand idle errors, why teach your countless crafts, why scheme and seek to find a way for everything, while one thing ye know not nor ever yet have made your prize,

a way to teach them wisdom whose souls are void of sense?

A very master in his craft the man, who can force fools to be wise! But these ill-timed subtleties of thine, father, make me fear thy tongue is running riot through trouble.

Fie upon thee! man needs should have some certain test set up to try his friends, some touchstone of their hearts, to know each friend whether he be true or false; all men should have two voices, one the voice of honesty, expediency’s the other,

so would honesty confute its knavish opposite, and then we could not be deceived.

Say, hath some friend been slandering me and hath he still thine ear? am I, though guiltless, banned? I am amazed indeed;