To Seleucus. (356 AD)
By admitting your wrong in not writing, you have stripped yourself of the right to accuse. For I now belong to the party of those who retaliate, not those who offend — since retaliation is sanctioned by law.
Besides, my silence was precisely what would move you to write. Had I written to you while you sent nothing, you would have luxuriated in your ease and I would have gone on wanting what I desired. As it is, by not writing I punished you, and with my silence I put an end to yours.
When you claim to have become "barbarized," you are clearly being ironic and slandering your Muse [Mēnas], whom I am sure still attends you. Just as I would not tolerate cicadas claiming they had become barbarians — creatures whose very nature as cicadas stems from their love of music — so Seleucus will never convince me that his eloquence has deteriorated.
Whether you labor at your speeches or not, you are winged by words. This, I believe, is nature's gift to you: to flow always, and with beauty at that. The proof is this very letter, written with consummate art.
By admitting your wrong in not writing, you have stripped yourself of the right to accuse. For I now belong to the party of those who retaliate, not those who offend — since retaliation is sanctioned by law.
Besides, my silence was precisely what would move you to write. Had I written to you while you sent nothing, you would have luxuriated in your ease and I would have gone on wanting what I desired. As it is, by not writing I punished you, and with my silence I put an end to yours.
When you claim to have become "barbarized," you are clearly being ironic and slandering your Muse [Mēnas], whom I am sure still attends you. Just as I would not tolerate cicadas claiming they had become barbarians — creatures whose very nature as cicadas stems from their love of music — so Seleucus will never convince me that his eloquence has deteriorated.
Whether you labor at your speeches or not, you are winged by words. This, I believe, is nature's gift to you: to flow always, and with beauty at that. The proof is this very letter, written with consummate art.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.