taking a branch, saved the remnants of his life. Where now is Apelles, where is the eloquent Demosthenes, so that the one, giving body to your labors, and the other, in turn, fitting together the sinews of your thoughts, might raise up your living image? O Scipio, be silent; a law has been written to call the Scipios Heraclians. The decree is common; now it is permitted for slaves alone to legislate safely against their masters. Ratify, O most mighty one, the law with your seal; you have a conscience, you have no suspicion, you have countless arrows testifying for you, you have innate collaborators in your wounds, you have contests as eloquent advocates, you have noble contests as stenographers who write the law not with a false script, but with red letters, as is fitting; for your own blood will suffice for the scribes. Plutarch, be silent, as you write your Parallel Lives; why do you labor so much and collect generals? Describe the master, and you write of them all. For Plutarch, wishing to exalt the son of Philip and snatch him up to the heights, hastened to show all how contrary and opposing fortunes held him back; for he was not unaware, being a skilled chronicler, that if he should write of him as fortunate, he would grant the victory to fortune instead of him; but your general, O Plutarch, had more than fortune—he had effective allies. Who, then, an army full of Persian fear, among whom flight was a battle without risk and had finally become second nature from habit, persuaded with arms and equipped with words, and transforming the cowardice in them, showed their lack of courage to be boldness, if not your spirit and your power had roused them, who like motionless stones were weighing down the earth with their fruitless burdens? Where are the painters of Athens before this, who painted the general Timotheus sleeping during the battles, and then Fortune from here and there handing over the cities? For it would be necessary for them now to paint the opposite: Fortune everywhere sleeping for you, or rather contending against your labors, and you a general of a doubly-dangerous battle, having toiled both against fortunes and against barbarians. From where did your hair, that golden-imitating mane, change to an opposite color? The snow of cares dyed it. And where did the whiteness of your limbs move? Did the heat of the sun burn it away? Not unlikely, but still I surmise, that as the sweats of labors were poured forth, the whiteness passed into your heart. The battles against tyrants were not enough for you, whom your all-powerful judgment destroyed faster than reason and almost before fortune, if there is indeed any fortune of tyranny; the entanglements and confusions, one after another, of manifold cares, both civil and foreign and barbarian, were not enough for you; the affairs of the army were not enough for you, but you came to such a desire of pious insatiability, that you passed even within the entrails of lawless Persia. What generals or Stagirites did you have when you went into the land of the fortunate barbarians? Your reason was not contracted, considering the infinite distances of the road, seeing especially also the sinews of battle, wealth, flowing out to the barbarians; the pity of a mother, breathing an inborn flame, did not hold you back; nor did your children then, the soul-guiding pearls of life, held back by soul-binding affection, restrain you; you were not cautious of troublesome diseases, nor the fortunes working against us on our account <if I must call sins fortunes,> but as if bodiless and alone seeming to have either a bronze body or an iron heart, you departed, you marched, you armed yourself again, one against all. O philanthropic zeal, superior to every active necessity. What extension of hand, O general, bearing, and what foundation reaching to the clouds having found, did you stretch yourself out, so as to reach and pull down the fortune of the fire-worshipper Chosroes, raised to the highest peak? Indeed it is clear that your hand was easily stretched out from the moisture of piety, and a certain rock higher than the heavens, Christ, stood near you as a foundation, through whom you cast down the enemy, lifted up in evils, from the clouds into Tartarus. What path did you pass, not being afflicted, of the whole earth impiously inflamed? For Chosroes, rashly worshipping fire, did not have it for saving, but for burning. How then

κλάδον λαβὼν ἔσωσε τοῦ βίου τὰ λείψανα. ποῦ νῦν Ἀπελλῆς, ποῦ λαλῶν ∆ημοσθένης, ὅπως ὁ μέν σου σωματώσας τοὺς πόνους, ὁ δ' αὖ τὰ νεῦρα τῶν λογισμῶν ἁρμόσας, ἔμπνουν ἀναστήσωσι τὴν σὴν εἰκόνα; ὦ Σκηπίων, σίγησον· ἐγράφη νόμος τοὺς Σκηπίωνας Ἡρακλείωνας λέγειν. κοινὸν τὸ δόγμα· νῦν ἀκινδύνως μόνον ἔξεστι δούλοις νομοθετεῖν πρὸς δεσπότας. κύρωσον, ὦ κράτιστε, τὸν νόμον τύπῳ· ἔχεις συνειδός, οὐκ ἔχεις ὑποψίαν, ἔχεις ἄμετρα μαρτυροῦντά σοι βέλη, ἔχεις συνεργοὺς ἐμφύτους τὰ τραύματα, ἔχεις ἀγῶνας εὐφραδεῖς συνηγόρους, ἔχεις ἀγῶνας εὐγενεῖς ταχυγράφους οἳ τὸν νόμον γράφουσιν οὐ γραφῇ νόθῳ, ἀλλ' ἐξ ἐρυθρῶν, ὡς προσήκει, γραμμάτων· τὸ σὸν γὰρ αἷμα τοῖς γραφεῦσιν ἀρκέσει. Πλούταρχε, σίγα, τοὺς Παραλλήλους γράφων· τί πολλὰ κάμνεις καὶ στρατηγοὺς συλλέγεις; τὸν δεσπότην ἔκφραζε, καὶ γράφεις ὅλους. ἤδη γὰρ ὁ Πλούταρχος ἐξᾶραι θέλων τὸν τοῦ Φιλίππου καὶ πρὸς ὕψος ἁρπάσαι, ἔσπευδε δεῖξαι πᾶσιν ὡς ἐναντίαι κατεῖχον αὐτὸν ἀντιπράττουσαι τύχαι· οὐκ ἠγνόει γάρ, δεινὸς ὢν λογογράφος, ὡς εἴπερ αὐτὸν εὐτυχοῦντα συγγράφοι, δώσει τὸ νικᾶν ἀντ' ἐκείνου τῇ τύχῃ· ἀλλ' εἶχεν, ὦ Πλούταρχε, τῆς τύχης πλέον ὁ σὸς στρατηγὸς δραστικοὺς τοὺς συμμάχους. τίς δὲ στρατὸν γέμοντα Περσικοῦ φόβου, παρ' οἷς τὸ φεύγειν ἦν ἀκίνδυνος μάχη φύσις τε λοιπὸν ἐξ ἔθους ἐγίνετο, ἔπεισεν ὅπλοις καὶ καθώπλιζεν λόγοις καὶ τὴν ἐν αὐτοῖς δειλίαν μεθαρμόσας εὐτολμίαν ἔδειξε τὴν ἀτολμίαν, εἰ μὴ τὸ σὸν φρόνημα καὶ τὸ σὸν κράτος ἤγειρεν αὐτούς, ὡς ἀκινήτους λίθους τὴν γῆν βαροῦντας τοῖς ἀκάρποις φορτίοις; ποῦ τῶν Ἀθηνῶν οἱ πρὸ τούτου ζωγράφοι οἱ τὸν στρατηγὸν Τιμόθεον ἐν ταῖς μάχαις κοιμώμενον γράφοντες, εἶτα τὴν Τύχην ἐκεῖθεν ἔνθεν ἐνδιδοῦσαν τὰς πόλεις; δέον γὰρ αὐτοῖς νῦν ἐναντίως γράφειν, τὴν μὲν Τύχην σοι πανταχοῦ κοιμωμένην, μᾶλλον δὲ τοῖς σοῖς ἀντερίζουσαν πόνοις, σὲ δὲ στρατηγὸν διπλοκινδύνου μάχης καὶ πρὸς τύχας καμόντα καὶ πρὸς βαρβάρους. πόθεν μετῆλθεν εἰς βαφὴν ἐναντίαν ἡ τῶν τριχῶν σου χρυσομίμητος κόμη; ἔβαψεν αὐτὴν ἡ χιὼν τῶν φροντίδων. καὶ ποῦ μετέστη τῶν μελῶν ἡ λευκότης; πύρωσις αὐτὴν ἀντανεῖλεν ἡλίου; ἀπεικὸς οὐδέν, ἀλλ' ὅμως στοχάζομαι, ἐν τῷ διαχεῖσθαι τοὺς ἱδρῶτας τῶν πόνων ἡ λευκότης μετῆλθεν εἰς τὴν καρδίαν. οὐκ ἤρκεσάν σοι πρὸς τυράννους αἱ μάχαι, οὓς ἡ παναλκὴς ἐξεπόρθησε κρίσις θᾶττον λογισμοῦ καὶ σχεδὸν πρὸ τῆς τύχης, εἴπερ τίς ἐστι καὶ τυραννίδος τύχη· οὐκ ἤρκεσάν σοι φροντίδων πολυτρόπων ἐμφυλίων τε καὶ ξένων καὶ βαρβάρων ἄλλαι μετ' ἄλλας συμπλοκαὶ καὶ συγχύσεις· οὐκ ἤρκεσάν σοι τοῦ στρατοῦ τὰ πράγματα, ἀλλ' εἰς τοσαύτην εὐσεβοῦς ἀπληστίας ὄρεξιν ἦλθες, ὥστε καὶ τῶν ἐγκάτων ἐντὸς παρελθεῖν τῆς ἀθέσμου Περσίδος. ποίους στρατηγοὺς ἢ Σταγειρίτας ἔχων ἐπῆλθες εἰς γῆν εὐτυχούντων βαρβάρων; οὐ τὰς ἀπείρους τῆς ὁδοῦ διαστάσεις ὁ σὸς λογισμὸς ἐννοῶν συνεστάλη, βλέπων μάλιστα καὶ τὰ νεῦρα τῆς μάχης, τὸν πλοῦτον, ἐκρεύσαντα πρὸς τοὺς βαρβάρους· οὐ μητρὸς οἶκτος πυρσὸν ἔμφυτον πνέων ἐπέσχεν ὑμᾶς· οὐ τὰ τέκνα σου τότε, οἱ ψυχαγωγοὶ μαργαρῖται τοῦ βίου, στοργῇ δεθέντα ψυχικῇ παρεκράτουν· οὐκ εὐλαβήθης τὰς ἐνοχλούσας νόσους, οὐ τὰς δι' ἡμᾶς ἀντιπραττούσας τύχας <εἰ χρὴ καλεῖν με τὰς ἁμαρτίας τύχας,> ἀλλ' ὡς ἄσαρκος καὶ μόνος δοκῶν ἔχειν ἢ σῶμα χαλκοῦν ἢ σιδηρᾶν καρδίαν ἀπῆλθες, ἐστράτευσας, ὡπλίσω πάλιν εἷς ἀντὶ πάντων. ὦ φιλάνθρωπος ζέσις πάσης ἀνάγκης δραστικῆς ὑπερτέρα. ποίαν, στρατηγέ, χειρὸς ἔκτασιν φέρων, ποίαν δὲ μέχρι τῶν νεφῶν εὑρὼν βάσιν σεαυτὸν ἐξέτεινας, ὥστε σε φθάσαι καὶ τὴν πρὸς ἄκρον ὕψ<ος> ἠρμένην τύχην τοῦ πυρσολάτρου Χοσρόου κατασπάσαι; ἦ δῆλον ὡς ἡ χεὶρ μὲν ἐκ τῶν ἰκμάδων τῆς εὐσεβείας εὐκόλως ἐτείνετο, πέτρα δέ σοί τις οὐρανῶν ὑπερτέρα ὁ Χριστὸς ἐγγὺς εἰς βάσιν παρίστατο, δι' οὗ τὸν ἐχθρὸν ἐν κακοῖς ἐπηρμένον ἐκ τῶν νεφῶν καθεῖλες ἐν τῷ Ταρτάρῳ. ποίαν παρῆλθες μὴ τεθλιμμένος τρίβον τῆς γῆς ἁπάσης δυσσεβῶς πεφλεγμένης; τὸ πῦρ γὰρ εἰκῇ προσκυνῶν ὁ Χοσρόης οὐκ εἰς τὸ σώζειν εἶχεν, ἀλλ' εἰς τὸ φλέγειν. πῶς οὖν