yet I do not mean to laugh at him, but only to speak
the truth. I say, then, that he is exactly like the masks of Silenus,
which may be seen sitting in the statuaries' shops, having pipes and
flutes in their mouths; and they are made to open in the middle, and
there are images of gods inside them. I say also that he is like
Marsyas the satyr. You will not deny this, Socrates, that your face is
like that of a satyr. Aye, and there is a resemblance in other points
too. For example, you are a bully--that I am in a position to prove by
the evidence of witnesses if you will not confess. And are you not a
flute-player? That you are, and a far more wonderful performer than
Marsyas. For he indeed with instruments charmed the souls of men by
the power of his breath, as the performers of his music do still; for
the melodies of Olympus are derived from the teaching of Marsyas, and
these, whether they are played by a great master or by a miserable
flute-girl, have a power which no others have; they alone possess the
soul and reveal the wants of those who have need of gods and
mysteries, because they are inspired.

"But you produce the same effect with the voice only, and do not
require the flute; that is the difference between you and him. When we
hear any other speaker, even a very good one, his words produce
absolutely no effect upon us in comparison, whereas the very fragments
of you and your words, even at second-hand, and however imperfectly
repeated, amaze and possess the souls of every man, woman, and child
who comes within hearing of them. And if I were not afraid that you
think me drunk, I would have sworn to as well as spoken of the
influence which they have always and still have over me. For my heart
leaps within me more than that of any Corybantian[68] reveler, and my
eyes rain tears when I hear him. And I observe that many others are
affected in the same way. I have heard Pericles and other great
orators, but tho I thought that they spoke well, I never had any
similar feeling; my soul was not stirred by them, nor was I angry at
the thought of my own slavish state. But this Marsyas has often
brought me to such a pass that I have felt as if I could hardly endure
the life which I am leading (this, Socrates, you admit); and I am
conscious that if I did not shut my ears against him, and fly from the
voice of the siren, he would detain me until I grew old sitting at his
feet. For he makes me confess that I ought not to live