You are right. I am going away to do just that—to make a change—of dress as well. You will soon see me without this big, shaggy beard. I shall not punish my daily life, but all will be liberty and freedom. Perhaps I shall even put on purple, to show everybody that I’ve no part in that nonsense now. Could I but spew out all that I have heard from them! I can tell you that I would not flinch from drinking hellebore, for the opposite reason to Chrysippus—to remember their doctrines no more. So it is no small favour that I owe you, Lycinus: you came and pulled me out when I was being carried away by a rough, turbid torrent, giving myself to it and going with the stream. You were a “God from the machine,” as in the play. I think I might well shave my head like free men who are saved from shipwreck, to give thanks for salvation today now that I have had so heavy a mist shaken off my eyes. If in the future I ever meet a philosopher while I am walking on the road, even by chance, I will turn round and get out of his way as if he were a mad dog.