So strong is the fly that when she bites she
wounds the skin of the ox and the horse as well as
that of man. She even torments the elephant by
entering his wrinkles and lancing him with her
proboscis as far as its length allows. In mating,
love, and marriage they are very free and easy.
The male is not on and off again in a moment,
like the cock; he covers the female a long time.
She carries her spouse, and they take wing together,
mating uninterruptedly in the air, as everyone
knows. A fly with her head cut off keeps alive a
long time with the rest of her body, and still retains
the breath of life.

 
You may be sure I propose to mention the most
important point in the nature of the fly. It is, I
think, the only point that Plato overlooks in his
discussion of the soul and its immortality. When
ashes are sprinkled on a dead fly, she revives and
has a second birth and a new life from the beginning. This should absolutely convince everyone
that the fly’s soul is immortal like ours, since after
leaving the body it comes back again, recognises
and reanimates it, and makes the fly take wing. It
also confirms the story that the soul of Hermotimus
of Clazomenae would often leave him and go away



 

by itself, and then, returning, would occupy his
body again and restore him to life.

 

Knowing not labour and living at large, the. fly
enjoys the fruits of the toil of others, and finds a
bounteous table set everywhere. Goats give milk
for her, bees work for flies and for men quite as
much as for themselves, and cooks sweeten food for
her. She takes precedence even of kings in eating,
and walks about on their tables sharing their feasts
and all their enjoyment.

 

She does not make a nest
or habitation in any one place, but taking up a
roving, Scythian life on the wing, finds bed and
board wherever night chances to overtake her. But
in the dark, as I have said, she does nothing: she
has no desire for stealthy actions and no thought
of disgraceful deeds which would discredit her if
they were done by daylight.
 
The story goes that long ago there was a human
being called Muia, a girl who was very pretty, but
talkative, noisy, and fond of singing. She became a
‘rival of Selene by falling in love with Endymion, and
as she was for ever waking the boy out of his sleep
by chattering and singing and paying him visits, he
became vexed at her, and Selene in anger turned
her into the fly we know.
 The story explains the word μυῖα, “fly,” as having been
originally the name of a girl. 
So, in remembrance of
Endymion, she begrudges all sleepers their repose,
especially those of tender years; and even her
biting and bloodthirstiness is not a sign of savagery,
but of love and friendship. She gets what


 

satisfaction she can, and culls something of the bloom of
beauty.