_Her_. Surely not; else should I have been on the summit, with
nothing left between me and bliss; but I am only starting yet, Lycinus.

_Ly_. Ah, but Hesiod, your own authority, tells us, Well begun is
half done; so we may safely call you half-way by this time.

_Her_. Not even there yet; that would indeed have been much.

_Ly_. Where _shall_ we put you, then?

_Her_. Still on the lower slopes, just making an effort to get on;
but it is slippery and rough, and needs a helping hand.

_Ly_. Well, your master can give you that; from his station on the
summit, like Zeus in Homer with his golden cord, he can let you down his
discourse, and therewith haul and heave you up to himself and to the
Virtue which he has himself attained this long time.

_Her_. The very picture of what he is doing; if it depended on him
alone, I should have been hauled up long ago; it is my part that is still
wanting.

_Ly_. You must be of good cheer and keep a stout heart; gaze at the
end of your climb and the Happiness at the top, and remember that he is
working with you. What prospect does he hold out? when are you to be up?
does he think you will be on the top next year--by the Great Mysteries,
or the Panathenaea, say?

_Her_. Too soon, Lycinus.