gave the Goddess credit for being able to do very well without
sacrifices from me.' And in the matter of the Mysteries, his reason
for not following the usual practice was this: if the Mysteries
turned out to be bad, he would never be able to keep quiet about it
to the uninitiated, but must dissuade them from the ceremony;
while, if they were good, humanity would tempt him to divulge them.
The Athenians, stone in hand already, were at once disarmed, and
from that time onwards paid him honour and respect, which
ultimately rose to reverence. Yet he had opened his case with a
bitter enough reproof: 'Men of Athens, you see me ready garlanded;
proceed to sacrifice me, then; your former offering [Footnote:
i.e., Socrates.] was deficient in this formality.'

I will now give some specimens of his pointed and witty sayings,
which may begin with his answers to Favorinus. The latter had heard
that he made fun of his lectures, and in particular of the
sentimental verses with which they were garnished, and which
Demonax thought contemptible, womanish, and quite unsuited to
philosophy. So he came and asked him: 'Who, pray, are you, that you
should pour scorn upon me?' 'I am the possessor of a critical pair
of ears,' was the answer. The sophist had not had enough;
'_You_ are no infant,' he went on, 'but a philosopher, it
seems; may one ask what marks the transformation?' 'The marks of
manhood,' said Demonax.

Another time the same person came up and asked him what school of
philosophy he belonged to. 'Who told you I was a philosopher?' was
all he said. But as he left him, he had a good laugh to himself,
which Favorinus observing, demanded what he was laughing at; 'I was
only amused by your taking a man for a philosopher because he wears