10–11
PHILO
Heavens, Lycinus, it’s a learned academy, this dinner party that you are telling of! Philosophers almost to a man. Good for Aristaenetus, I say, because in celebrating the greatest festival day that there is, he thought fit to entertain the most learned men in preference to the rest of the world, and culled the bloom, as it were, of every school, not including some and leaving out others, but asking all without discrimination.
LYCINUS
Why, my dear fellow, he is not one of the common run of rich men; he is interested in culture and spends the better part of his time with these people.
Well, we dined peacefully at first, and were served with all sorts of dishes, but I don’t suppose there is any need of enumerating them—the sauces and pastries and ragouts. There was everything, and plenty of it. Meanwhile Cleodemus bent over to Ion and said: “Do you see the old man?””—meaning Zenothemis: I was listening, you know. “How he stuffs himself with the dainties and has covered his cloak with soup, and how much food he hands to his attendant standing behind him! He thinks that the others do not see him, but he forgets the people at his back. Point it out to Lycinus, so that he can testify to it.’ But I had no need of Ion to point it out, for I had seen it all from my coign of vantage some time ago.
