CHAPTER THE NINTIETH.

Some of the public, who were loafing in the portico, threw stones at the
reciting Eumolpus and he, taking note of this tribute to his genius,
covered his head and bolted out of the temple. Fearing they might take
me for a poet, too, I followed after him in his flight and came to the
seashore, where we stopped as soon as we were out of range. "Tell me,"
I demanded, "what are you going to do about that disease of yours?
You've loafed with me less than two hours, and you've talked more often
like a poet than you have like a human being! For this reason, I'm not
at all surprised that the rabble chases you with rocks. I'm going to
load my pockets with stones, too, and whenever you begin to go out of
your head, I'm going to let blood out of it!" His expression changed.
"My dear young man," said he, "today is not the first time I have had
such compliments showered upon me; the audience always applauds me in
this fashion, when I go into the theatre to recite anything, but I'll
abstain from this sort of diet for the whole day, for fear of having
trouble with you." "Good," I replied, "we'll dine together if you'll
swear off crankiness for the day." (So saying,) I gave the housekeeper
the orders for our little supper (and we went straight off to the baths.)




CHAPTER THE NINETY-FIRST.

(There) I catch sight of Giton laden with towels and scrapers, leaning,