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to have Him gracious, one who has never done or even thought anything terrible, as a disciple of the Word. And Christ, the advocate of the Word, stood by me, helping the advocate of words, who knows how to save strangers from lions, and to cool the fire for the refreshment of young men, and to make a sea monster an oratory for the pious; He it was who glorified me in a foreign tribunal. Then terrible envy of my affairs swells, as they draw me towards some Paul and Apollos, men who were neither ever incarnate for us, nor shed their blood in a precious passion; from whom we are named, not from the one who saved us; by whom all things are shaken and convulsed—as if in other respects the Church were running a smooth course. How could a ship or a city, how could an army or even the full complement of a chorus, how could a friendly house stand, when what is harmful has more power than what prevails? This, then, is what Christ’s people were suffering at that time; for before being firmly fixed and obtaining freedom of speech, before being released from childish swaddling clothes, not yet perfectly established on its foundation, a noble offspring was cut down, cast down, torn apart before the eyes of its parents by wolves hungry for my childlessness. For it was not bearable that a man most poor, shriveled, stooping, and poorly clad, wasted away by the restraints of the belly and by tears, and by fear of the future, as well as by the misfortunes of others, not even comely in appearance, a foreigner, a wanderer, hidden in the darkness of the earth, should carry more weight than the strong and the beautiful. For these things were pretty much heard from them: “We flatter, but you do not; we honor thrones, you honor reverence; rich seasonings are dear to us, to you frugality, and while eating the salt of luxury you spit out the bitter brine of arrogance. We are slaves to the times and the desires of the people, always giving our vessel to the wind, and in the manner of chameleons and octopuses, always giving many colors to our words. But you are to us an anvil that cannot be hammered, of the haughty brow. As if there were one faith forever, you greatly narrow the dogma of truth, always walking the awkward path of reason. And from where do you get the power, my good man, with a chattering tongue to draw the people, and to strike accurately those who think evil in their much-divided error, being a two-fold thing to your friends and to strangers, to the one a magnet, to the other a sling?” If these things are not evils, as indeed they are not, why are you vexed as if suffering something outrageous? But if they are, and this appears so to you alone, judge righteously as one standing by God to card me, the one who stumbles, but leave the people alone, who has done no wrong except to love me and to be overcome by my teachings. The first things, indeed, I was able to bear. For even if the novelty startled me a little, as a sound suddenly falling upon the ears, or to the inexperienced the speed of lightning's flash, yet I was still unwounded and strong enough to bear all things; and hope, being for a state of freedom, that the same suffering would not befall me again, persuaded me to endure the misfortune more easily. But the evils which came upon us again from these things—oh, how could I express my labors? O provider of evils, envious demon, how did you have the strength to fulfill so great an evil? Not blood, nor frogs, nor a cloud of gnats, nor dog-fly, nor any destruction of cattle, nor boils, nor hail, nor locusts, nor darkness, nor death of the firstborn, the last of evils, bent us (for these are the proclaimed plagues of the savage Egyptians). {and in addition the wave of the Red Sea that overwhelmed the people.} What pushed us? The fickleness of the Egyptians. And how it pushed us, it is worthwhile to say; for this might become an eternal monument of our evils. There was once a certain effeminate man in our city, an Egyptian phantom, a rabid evil, a dog, a little dog, a servant of the crossroads, a borer, a mute bane, a monstrous sea-creature, fair with dark hair, with curly-straight hair— some things old, others newly devised; for art is a second creator. The greatest work of women, or rather of men, is to twist the philosopher's golden goat-skin cloak. Let the wise bear the women's cosmetics on their faces; for why are they alone wise in unseemly and evil beauty, which is a public notice, even when silent, of their character, as if there were not Maximi even among men? The haircut revealed this, which had been hidden until now. Such are the wonders we have from the wise men of today, that nature is a two-fold thing, and that they divide their appearance most wretchedly between both sexes, long hair for women, a staff for men. From which

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ἵλεων ἔχειν, ὁ δεινὸν οὐδὲν πώποτ' οὐδ' εἰργασμένος οὐδ' ἐννοήσας ὡς μαθητὴς τοῦ λόγου. καί μοι παρέστη τοῦ λόγου συνήγορος Χριστὸς βοηθῶν τῷ συνηγόρῳ λόγων, ὃς καὶ λεόντων οἶδεν ἐκσῴζειν ξένους καὶ πῦρ δροσίζειν εἰς ἀναψυχὴν νέων, κῆτος δὲ ποιεῖν εὐσεβῶν εὐκτήριον· οὗτός μ' ἐδόξασ' ἐν ξένῳ κριτηρίῳ. Ἔπειτα δεινὸς τῶν ἐμῶν οἰδεῖ φθόνος εἰς Παῦλον ἑλκόντων με κἀπολλώ τινα, τοὺς μήτε σαρκωθέντας ἡμῖν πώποτε μήτ' ἐκχέαντας αἷμα τιμίου πάθους· ἀφ' ὧν καλούμεθ', οὐχὶ τοῦ σεσωκότος· οἷς συνδονεῖται πάντα καὶ συσσείεται- ὡς εὐδρομούσης τἆλλα τῆς ἐκκλησίας. πῶς δ' ἄν ποτ' ἢ ναῦς ἢ πόλις, πῶς δ' ἂν στρατός ἢ καὶ χοροῦ πλήρωμα, πῶς δ' οἶκος φίλος σταίη πλέον τὸ βλάπτον ἢ κρατοῦν ἔχων; τοῦτ' οὖν ἔπασχε τηνίχ' ὁ Χριστοῦ λεώς· πρὶν γὰρ παγῆναι καὶ τυχεῖν παρρησίας, πρὶν ἐκλυθῆναι σπαργάνων τῶν παιδικῶν, οὔπω τελείως τὴν βάσιν ἐρηρεισμένος, ἐκόπτετ', ἐρριπτεῖτο, ἐσπαράσσετο ἐν ὄψεσιν τεκόντων εὐγενὴς τόκος ἀτεκνίαν πεινῶσι τὴν ἐμὴν λύκοις. οὐ γὰρ φορητὸν ἄνδρα τὸν πενέστατον, ῥικνόν, κάτω νεύοντα καὶ δυσείμονα, γαστρὸς χαλινοῖς, δάκρυσιν τετηκότα φόβῳ τε τοῦ μέλλοντος, ὡς δ' ἄλλων κακοῖς, οὐδ' εὐφυῶς ἔχοντα τῆς προσόψεως, ξένον, πλανήτην, γῆς σκότῳ κεκρυμμένον τῶν εὐσθενούντων καὶ καλῶν πλέον φέρειν. Σχεδὸν γὰρ αὐτῶν ταῦτα ἐξηκούετο· «θωπεύομεν, σὺ δ' οὐχί· τιμῶμεν θρόνους, σὺ δ' εὐλάβειαν· ἀρτύσεις ἡμῖν φίλαι, σοὶ δ' εὐτέλεια, καὶ τρυφῆς ἔσθων ἅλας τῆς ὀφρυώδους ἁλμυρὸν καταπτύεις. δουλεύομεν καιροῖς τε καὶ λαῶν πόθοις ἀεὶ διδόντες τῷ πνέοντι τὸ σκάφος, χαμαιλεόντων τε τρόπον καὶ πολυπόδων πολλὰς τιθέντες τοῖς λόγοις ἀεὶ χρόας. σὺ δ' ἡμὶν ἄκμων ἀνήλατος, τῆς ὀφρύος. ὥσπερ μιᾶς γε πίστεως οὔσης ἀεί στενοῖς τὸ δόγμα τῆς ἀληθείας σφόδρα, σκαιὰν βαδίζων πάντοτε τοῦ λόγου τρίβον. πόθεν δέ σοι, βέλτιστε, καὶ γλώσσῃ λάλῳ τὸν λαὸν ἕλκειν, τοὺς δὲ βάλλειν εὐστόχως κακῶς φρονοῦντας ἐν πολυσχιδεῖ πλάνῃ, διπλοῦν τιν' ὄντα τοῖς φίλοις καὶ τοῖς ξένοις, τοῖς μὲν λίθον μάγνητα, τοῖς δὲ σφενδόνην;» Ταῦτ' εἰ μὲν οὐκ' ἔσθ', ὥσπερ οὐκ' ἔστιν, κακά, τί δυσχεραίνεις ὥς τι πάσχων ἔκτοπον; εἰ δ' ἔστι καὶ σοὶ τοῦτο φαίνεται μόνῳ, κρῖνον δικαίως ὡς θεοῦ παραστάτης ξαίνειν με τὸν πταίοντα, τὸν λαὸν δ' ἔα, ὃς οὐδὲν ἠδίκηκεν ἢ στέργων ἐμέ ἡττημένος τε τῶν ἐμῶν διδαγμάτων. Τὰ πρῶτα μὲν δὴ καὶ φέρειν οἷός τε ἦν. εἰ γάρ με καὶ τὸ καινὸν ἐπτόει βραχύ, ὡς ἀθρόως τις ὠσὶν ἐμπεσὼν ψόφος ἢ τοῖς ἀπείροις ἀστραπῆς αὐγῆς τάχος, ἀλλ' ἦν ἔτ' ἀπλὴξ καὶ φέρειν πάντα σθένων· ἥ τ' ἐλπὶς οὖσα πραγμάτων ἐλευθέρων, τοῦ μὴ πάλιν μοι ταὐτὸ συμπεσεῖν πάθος, ἔπειθε ῥᾷον διαφέρειν τὴν συμφοράν. ἃ δ' ἦλθεν ἡμῖν αὖθις ἐκ τούτων κακά- ὢ πῶς ἂν ἐκφράσαιμι τοὺς ἐμοὺς πόνους; ὢ τῶν κακῶν ποριστά, δαῖμον βάσκανε, πῶς ἴσχυσας τοσοῦτον ἐκπλῆσαι κακόν; οὐχ αἷμά μ' οὐδὲ βάτραχος, οὐ σκνιπῶν νέφος οὐδὲ κυνόμυια οὔτε τις κτηνῶν φθορά, οὐ φλυκτίς, οὐ χάλαζ', οὐκ ἀκρίς, οὐ σκότος, οὐ πρωτοτόκων ὄλεθρος, ἔσχατον κακῶν, ἔκαμψεν ἡμᾶς (ταῦτα γὰρ τῶν ἀγρίων Αἰγυπτίων μάστιγες ἐκβοώμεναι). {καὶ πρός γ' Ἐρυθρᾶς κῦμα συγκλύσαν λεών.} τί δ' ὦσεν ἡμᾶς; κουφότης Αἰγυπτίων. ὡς δ' ὦσεν, εἰπεῖν ἄξιον· στήλη γὰρ ἄν αὕτη γένοιτο τῶν κακῶν αἰωνία. Ἦν τίς ποθ' ἡμῖν ἐν πόλει θηλυδρίας, Αἰγύπτιον φάντασμα, λυσσῶδες κακόν, κύων, κυνίσκος, ἀμφόδων ὑπηρέτης, ἄρις, ἄφωνον πῆμα, κητῶδες τέρας, ξανθὸς μελάνθριξ, οὖλος ἁπλοῦς τὴν τρίχα- τὰ μὲν παλαιά, τὰ δ' ἀρτίως εὑρημένα· τέχνη γάρ ἐστι δημιουργὸς δευτέρα. πλεῖστον γυναικῶν ἔργον, εἴτ' οὖν ἀρρένων, χρυσοῦν, ἑλίσσειν τὴν φιλόσοφον σισόην. τὰ τῶν γυναικῶν ἐν προσώποις φάρμακα σοφοὶ φερόντων· εἰς τί γὰρ μόναι σοφαί τὴν ἀπρεπῆ τε καὶ κακὴν εὐμορφίαν, ἣ πρόγραμμ' ἐστὶ καὶ σιωπῶν τοῦ τρόπου, ὡς οὐκ ἐχόντων Μαξίμους καὶ ἀρρένων; ἡ κουρὰ τοῦτ' ἔδειξε λανθάνον τέως. τοιαῦτα θαύμαθ' ἡμὶν ἐκ τῶν νῦν σοφῶν, διπλοῦν τιν' εἶναι τὴν φύσιν τὸ σχῆμά τε ἀμφοῖν μερίζειν τοῖν γενοῖν τρισαθλίως, κόμην γυναιξίν, ἀνδράσιν βακτηρίαν. ἐξ ὧν