Upon my word, a very temple of the Muses, peopled mainly with the learned! I congratulate Aristaenetus on choosing for his guests on so auspicious an occasion these patterns of wisdom; he skimmed the cream off every sect in a most catholic spirit.

Well, we fell to, quietly at first, on the ample and varied fare, But you do not want a catalogue of soups and pastry and sauces; there was plenty of everything. At this stage Cleodemus bent down to Ion, and said: ‘Do you see how the old man’ (this was Zenothemis; I could overhear their talk) ‘is stuffing down the good things—his dress gets a good deal of the gravy—and what a lot he hands back to his servant? he thinks we cannot see him, and does not care whether there will be enough to go round, Just call Lycinus’s attention to him.’ This was quite unnecessary, as I had had an excellent view of it for some time.

Just after Cleodemus had said this, in burst Alcidamas the cynic. He had not been asked, but put a good face upon it with the usual ‘No summons Menelaus waits.’ The general opinion clearly was that he was an impudent rogue, and various people struck in with what came to hand: ‘What, Menelaus, art distraught?’ or, ‘It liked not Agamemnon, Atreus’ son,’ and other neat tags suited to the occasion; but these were all asides; no one ventured to make them audible to him. Alcidamas is a man uncommonly ‘good at the war-cry’; he will bark you louder than any dog of them all, literal or metaphorical; my gentlemen all knew he was their better, and lay low.