nourish the ignorant with the ringing sound of honest words. Socrates was a true lover, if ever there was one, and Alcibiades, who lay down under the same tunic with him, did not get up unstruck. Don't be surprised: Patroclus in fact, was not loved by Achilles just because he was seated before him, "waiting for Achilles to finish his song."5 It was lust that mediated their friendship. Achilles, moaning upon the death of Patroclus, lets his unchecked passion burst out with the power of truth when he says, "My tears mourn the holy union of our thighs."6
And, by the way, it seems to me those dubbed "revelers"7 by the Greeks are nothing but professional lovers. Some might call this a shameful thing to say, but at least it is the truth, by Aphrodite of Cnidus!
Lycinus:I will not let you, dear Theomnestus, launch into a third speech just as this holiday is drawing to a close. I would only hear the beginning, the rest never to reach my ears. Come, let us not tarry any further, but head for the marketplace: the pyre of Hercules is about to be put to the torch. The show is not devoid of interest, and brings to mind his sufferings on Oeta.8