Nigrinus (5-9)

I went on and on, and so got into the state with which you just reproached me: what he said has made me proud and exalted, and in a word, I take no more notice of trifles. I suppose I have had the same sort of experience with philosophy that the Hindoos are said to have had with wine when they first tasted it. As they are by nature more hot-blooded than we, on taking such strong drink they became uproarious at once, and were crazed by the unwatered beverage twice as much as other people. There you have it! I am going about enraptured and drunk with the wine of his discourse.

A Why, that isn’t drunkenness, it is sobriety and temperance! I should like to hear just what he said, if possible. It is far, very far from right, in my opinion, to be stingy with it, especially if the person who wants to hear is a friend and has the same interests.

B Cheer up, good soul! you spur a willing horse, as Homer says,[*] and if you hadn’t got ahead of me, I myself should have begged you to listen to my tale, for I want to have you bear witness before the world that my madness has reason in it. Then, too,

I am in the same case with lovers. In the absence of the objects of their fancy they think over their actions and their words, and by dallying with these beguile their lovesickness into the belief that they have their sweethearts near; in fact, sometimes they even imagine they are chatting with them and are as pleased with what they formerly heard as if it were just being said, and by applying their minds to the memory of the past give themselves no time to be annoyed ‘by the present. So I, too, in the absence of my mistress Philosophy, get no little comfort out of gathering together the words that I then heard and turning them over to myself. In short, I fix my gaze on that man as if he were a lighthouse and I were adrift at sea in the dead of night, fancying him by me whenever I do anything and always hearing him repeat his former words. Sometimes, especially when I put pressure on my soul, his face appears to me and the sound of his voice abides in my ears. Truly, as the comedian says, [*] “he left a sting implanted in his hearers!”

A Have done with your long prelude, “you strange fellow; begin at the beginning and tell me what he said. You irritate me more than a little with your beating about the bush.

B You are right! I must do so. But look here, _ my friend: you’ve seen bad actors in tragedy before now—yes, and in comedy too, I'll swear? I mean the sort that are hissed and ruin pieces and finally get driven off the stage, though their plays are often good and have won a prize.

A I know plenty of the sort. But what of it?

B I am afraid that, as you follow me, you may think that I present my lines ridiculously, hurrying through some of them regardless of metre, and sometimes even spoiling the very sense by my incapacity; and that you may gradually be led to condemn the play itself. As far as I am concerned, I don’t care at all; but if the play shares my failure and comes to grief on my account, it will naturally hurt me more than a little.

Please bear it in mind, then, all through the performance that the poet is not accountable to us for faults of this nature, and’ is sitting somewhere far away from the stage, completely unconcerned about what is going on in the theatre, while I am but giving you a chance to test my powers and see what sort of actor I am in point of memory; in other respects my réle is no more important than that of a messenger in tragedy. Therefore, in case I appear. to be saying something rather poor, have the excuse to hand that it was better, and that the poet no doubt-told it differently. As for myself, even if you hiss me off the stage, I shan’t be hurt at all!