Sos. It is a good commencement; for to-day,
Deceit wins friendship and truth enemies.
Sim. Some three years since a certain woman came
Hither from Andros, and here made abode.
Want and neglect of relatives coerced
Her to that step—she—young and beautiful—
Sos. I fear this Andrian woman brings ill luck.
Sim. Modest and prudent at the first, and gained
By toil a pittance by the wool and loom.
When lovers came, their purses in their hands,
With her as with the rest of human kind,
Whose tendencies are prone to luxury,
Hostile to toil—she unsupported fell—
At first submissive but to one or two,
And then she opened house to visitors:
Among the rest, by others led, my son.
Then said I to myself—behold him caught;
Then I waylaid their servants, and I asked,
Holloa, my lad—tell me which one possessed
Chrysis, for so she called herself, last night?
Sos. What said they?
Sim. They replied—or Phædrus,
Clinias, or Niceratus; for these three
Made court alike to her! Ahah! quoth I,
"And Pamphilus, what doth he there?" "Eh, what?
He sups and pays his shot." I was rejoiced,
For still it held the same—no Pamphilus.
And I thought him a proof—and an example
Of wisdom in a youth, one firm enough
To mingle in the world and in its ways,
And not to trip—to such a one we may
