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was a matter of two octaves; for I have seen the portrait of Pyrrhus. But in spite of that he had acquired the conviction that he was a perfect replica of Alexander's beauty. To be sure, I have been uncomplimentary to Pyrrhus in comparing you with him in this matter, but what followed would be quite in character with you. When Pyrrhus was in this state of mind and had this conviction about himself, everyone without exception concurred with him and humoured him until an old foreign woman in Larissa told him the truth and cured him of drivelling. Pyrrhus showed her portraits of Philip, Perdiccas, Alexander, Cassander and other kings, and asked her whom he resembled, quite certain that she would fix upon Alexander; but, after delaying a good while, she said, “Batrachion, the cook”: and as a matter of fact there was in Larissa a cook called Batrachion who resembled Pyrrhus.

As for you, I cannot say which of the profligates that hang about the actors in the pantomimes you resemble; I do know very well, however, that everyone thinks you are still downright daft over that likeness. It is no wonder, then, since you are such a failure at likenesses, that you want to make yourself resemble men of learning, believing those who praise you so.

But why do I talk beside the point? The reason for your craze about books is patent, even if I in my blindness failed to see it long ago. It is a bright idea on your part (you think so, anyhow), and you base no slight expectations upon the thing in case the emperor, who is a scholar and holds learning in especial esteem, should find out about it; if he should hear that you are buying books and making