in your approaching the
God in prayer, lest haply he should refuse your sacrifice when he hears
the blasphemy which you utter, and make you partake of other evils
as well. The wisest plan, therefore, seems to me that you should keep
silence; for your 'highmindedness'--to use the mildest term which men
apply to folly--will most likely prevent you from using the prayer of
the Lacedaemonians. You had better wait until we find out how we should
behave towards the Gods and towards men.

ALCIBIADES: And how long must I wait, Socrates, and who will be my
teacher? I should be very glad to see the man.

SOCRATES: It is he who takes an especial interest in you. But first of
all, I think, the darkness must be taken away in which your soul is now
enveloped, just as Athene in Homer removes the mist from the eyes of
Diomede that

'He may distinguish between God and mortal man.'

Afterwards the means may be given to you whereby you may distinguish
between good and evil. At present, I fear, this is beyond your power.

ALCIBIADES: Only let my instructor take away the impediment, whether it
pleases him to call it mist or anything else! I care not who he is; but
I am resolved to disobey none of his commands, if I am likely to be the
better for them.

SOCRATES: And surely he has a wondrous care for you.

ALCIBIADES: It seems to be altogether advisable to put off the sacrifice
until he is found.

SOCRATES: You are right: that will be safer than running such a
tremendous risk.

ALCIBIADES: But how shall we manage, Socrates?--At any rate I will set
this crown of mine upon your head, as you have given me such excellent
advice, and to the Gods we will offer crowns and perform the other
customary rites when I see that day approaching: nor will it be long
hence, if they so will.

SOCRATES: I accept your gift, and shall be ready and willing to receive
whatever else you may proffer. Euripides makes Creon say in the play,
when he beholds Teiresias with his crown and hears that he has gained it
by his skill as the first-fruits of the spoil:--

'An auspicious omen I deem thy victor's wreath: For well thou knowest
that wave and storm oppress us.'

And so I count your gift to be a token of good-fortune; for I am in no
less stress than Creon, and would fain carry off the victory over your
lovers.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Alcibiades II, by An Imitator of Plato

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALCIBIADES II