§3καίτοι γʼ οὐδὲν οὕτως ἡ φύσις εὐερκῶς κεχαράκωκε τῶν ἐν ἡμῖν ὡς τὴν γλῶτταν, βαλομένη φρουρὰν πρὸ αὐτῆς τοὺς ὀδόντας, ἵνʼ, ἐὰν ἐντὸς κατατείνοντος
ἡνία σιγαλόεντα
τοῦ λογισμοῦ μὴ ὑπακούῃ μηδʼ ἀνειλῆται, δήγμασιν αὐτῆς κατέχωμεν τὴν ἀκρασίαν αἱμάττοντες.
And yet Nature has fortified nothing of what is in us so securely as the tongue, having set the teeth before it as a guard, so that, if indeed, when reason within pulls tight the "shining reins," the tongue does not obey nor withdraw, we may hold back its intemperance by biting it even to bleeding.
ἀχαλίνων
γὰρ οὐ ταμιείων οὐδʼ οἰκημάτων ἀλλὰ ʽ
στομάτων τὸ τέλος δυστυχίαν
ὁ Εὐριπίδης φησίν. οἱ δʼ οἰκημάτων μὲν ἀθύρων καὶ βαλλαντίων ἀδέσμων μηδὲν ὄφελος οἰόμενοι τοῖς κεκτημένοις εἶναι, στόμασι δʼ ἀκλείστοις καὶ ἀθύροις ὥσπερ τὸ τοῦ Πόντου διὰ παντὸς ἔξω ῥέουσι χρώμενοι, πάντων ἀτιμότατον ἡγεῖσθαι τὸν λόγον ἐοίκασιν.
For Euripides says that "of unbridled, not storehouses nor dwellings, but of mouths, the end is misfortune." But those who think that dwellings without doors and purses without clasps are of no use to their possessors, yet use mouths that are unlocked and without doors, flowing outward continually like the water of the Pontus, seem to regard speech as the most worthless of all things.
ὅθεν οὐδὲ πίστιν ἔχουσιν ἧς πᾶς λόγος ἐφίεται·
Hence they do not even possess credibility, which all speech desires; for its own end is this, to produce belief in those who hear.
τὸ γὰρ οἰκεῖον αὐτοῦ τέλος τοῦτʼ ἐστί, πίστιν ἐνεργάσασθαι τοῖς ἀκούουσιν ἀπιστοῦνται δʼ οἱ λάλοι, κἂν ἀληθεύωσιν.
But babblers are disbelieved, even if they speak the truth.
ὥσπερ γὰρ ὁ πυρὸς εἰς ἀγγεῖον κατακλεισθεὶς. τῷ μὲν μέτρῳ πλείων εὑρίσκεται τῇ δὲ χρείᾳ μοχθηρότερος, οὕτω λόγος εἰς ἀδόλεσχον ἐμπεσὼν ἄνθρωπον πολὺ ποιεῖ τοῦ ψεύδους ἐπίμετρον, ᾧ διαφθείρει τὴν πίστιν.
For just as wheat shut up in a vessel is found to be greater in bulk but inferior for use, so speech falling into a babbling person produces a large addition of falsehood, by which he destroys credibility.
§4ἔτι τοίνυν τὸ μεθύειν πᾶς ἄνθρωπος αἰδήμων καὶ κόσμιος φυλάξαιτʼ ἄν· μανίᾳ γὰρ ὁμότοιχος μὲν ἡ ὀργὴ κατʼ ἐνίους ἡ δὲ μέθη σύνοικος· μᾶλλον δὲ μανία τῷ μὲν χρόνῳ ἥττων, τῇ δʼ αἰτίᾳ μείζων, ὅτι τὸ αὐθαίρετον αὐτῇ πρόσεστι.
Furthermore, every self-respecting and orderly man would guard against getting drunk; for according to some, anger is a next-door neighbor to madness, and drunkenness cohabits with it; or rather, drunkenness is shorter in duration than madness, but greater in its cause, because it is voluntary.
τῆς δὲ μέθης οὐθὲν οὕτω κατηγοροῦσιν ὡς τὸ περὶ τοὺς λόγους ἀκρατὲς καὶ ἀόριστον
"
οἶνος γάρ τʼ ἐφέηκε πολύφρονά περ μάλʼ ἀεῖσαι,
καὶ θʼ ἁπαλὸν γελάσαι καί τʼ ὀρχήσασθαι ἀνῆκε. "
καίτοι τὸ δεινότατον, ᾠδὴ καὶ γέλως καὶ ὄρχησις, οὐδὲν ἄχρι τούτων.
And people accuse drunkenness of nothing so much as of the unbridled and limitless character of its words: "For wine impels even the very wise to sing, and prompts him to laugh softly, and to dance." And yet, though these are serious, singing, laughing, and dancing are nothing up to this point.
"καί τι ἔπος προέηκεν, ὅπερ τʼ ἄρρητον ἄμεινον"
τοῦτʼ ἤδη δεινὸν καὶ ἐπικίνδυνον καὶ μή ποτε τὸ ζητούμενον παρὰ τοῖς φιλοσόφοις λύων ὁ ποιητὴς οἰνώσεως καὶ μέθης διαφορὰν εἴρηκεν, οἰνώσεως μὲν ἄνεσιν μέθης δὲ φλυαρίαν.
"And he lets slip some word, which were better left unsaid." This is indeed dangerous and terrible, and perhaps the poet, solving the question discussed among philosophers, has stated the difference between wine-drinking and drunkenness: the former brings relaxation, the latter babbling.
τὸ. γὰρ ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ τοῦ νήφοντος ἐπὶ τῆς γλώττης ἐστὶ τοῦ μεθύοντος, ὡς οἱ παροιμιαζόμενοι φασιν.
For what is in the heart of the sober man is on the tongue of the drunkard, as the proverb-mongers say.
ὅθεν ὁ μὲν Βίας ἔν τινι πότῳ σιωπῶν καὶ σκωπτόμενος εἰς ἀβελτερίαν ὑπό τινος ἀδολέσχου,
καὶ τίς ἄν
ἔφη
δύναιτο μωρὸς ὢν ἐν οἴνῳ σιωπᾶν; Ἀθήνησι δέ τις ἑστιῶν πρέσβεις βασιλικοὺς ἐφιλοτιμήθη σπουδάζουσιν αὐτοῖς συναγαγεῖν εἰς ταὐτὸ τοὺς φιλοσόφους·
Hence Bias, keeping silence at a certain banquet and being mocked for stupidity by a certain babbler, said, "And what fool could keep silent over wine?" And at Athens, someone hosting the king's ambassadors made it his ambition to bring the philosophers together to the same place at their earnest request.
χρωμένων δὲ τῶν ἄλλων κοινολογίᾳ καὶ τὰς συμβολὰς ἀποδιδόντων, τοῦ δὲ Ζήνωνος ἡσυχίαν ἄγοντος, φιλοφρονησάμενοι καὶ προπιόντες οἱ ξένοι
περὶ σοῦ δὲ τί χρὴ λέγειν
ἔφασαν
ὦ Ζήνων τῷ βασιλεῖ; κἀκεῖνος
ἄλλο μηθέν
εἶπεν
ἢ ὅτι πρεσβύτης ἐστὶν ἐν Ἀθήναις παρὰ πότον σιωπᾶν δυνάμενος. οὕτω τι βαθὺ καὶ μυστηριῶδες ἡ σιγὴ καὶ νηφάλιον, ἡ δὲ μέθη λάλον· ἄνουν γὰρ καὶ ὀλιγόφρον, διὰ τοῦτο καὶ πολύφωνον.
While the others engaged in conversation and contributed their share of talk, and Zeno kept quiet, the foreigners, friendly and offering him a toast, said, "But what must we report about you, Zeno, to the king?" And he said, "Nothing else than that there is an old man in Athens who is able to keep silent while drinking." So deep and mysterious and sober a thing is silence, and drunkenness is talkative; for it is mindless and senseless, and therefore full of voices.
οἱ δὲ φιλόσοφοι καὶ ὁριζόμενοι τὴν μέθην λέγουσιν εἶναι λήρησιν πάροινον· οὕτως οὐ ψέγεται τὸ πίνειν, εἰ προσείη τῷ πίνειν τὸ σιωπᾶν· ἀλλʼ ἡ μωρολογία μέθην ποιεῖ τὴν οἴνωσιν.
And the philosophers, even in defining drunkenness, say that it is "babbling over wine"; so drinking is not blamed, if silence is added to drinking; but foolish talk makes wine-drinking into drunkenness.
ὁ μὲν οὖν μεθύων ληρεῖ παρʼ οἶνον, ὁ δʼ ἀδόλεσχος πανταχοῦ ληρεῖ, ἐν ἀγορᾷ ἐν θεάτρῳ ἐν περιπάτῳ ἐν μέθῃ μεθʼ ἡμέραν νύκτωρ·
Thus, the drunkard babbles over wine, but the babbler babbles everywhere: in the marketplace, in the theater, on the walk, in drunkenness, by day, by night.
ἔστι δὲ θεραπεύων τῆς νόσου βαρύτερος, συμπλέων τῆς ναυτίας ἀηδέστερος, ἐπαινῶν τοῦ ψέγοντος ἐπαχθέστερος.
And he is more burdensome than a physician treating a disease, more unpleasant than seasickness to a fellow-passenger, more oppressive when praising than one who blames.
ἥδιόν γέ τοι πονηροῖς ὁμιλοῦσιν ἐπιδεξίοις ἢ χρηστοῖς ἀδολέσχαις.
At any rate, men associate more pleasantly with clever knaves than with virtuous babblers.
ὁ μὲν γὰρ Σοφοκλέους Νέστωρ τὸν Αἴαντα τραχυνόμενον τῷ λόγῳ πραΰνων ἠθικῶς τοῦτʼ εἴρηκεν
"οὐ μέμφομαί σε· δρῶν γὰρ εὖ κακῶς λέγεις· "
πρὸς δὲ τὸν ἀδολέσχην οὐχ οὕτως ἔχομεν, ἀλλὰ πᾶσαν ἔργου χάριν ἡ τῶν λόγων ἀκαιρία διαφθείρει καὶ ἀπόλλυσι.
For Sophocles' Nestor, soothing Ajax when he was rough in speech, says in a character-revealing way, "I do not blame you; for though you do well, you speak ill." But toward the babbler we do not feel this way, but the untimeliness of his words ruins and destroys every grace of his deeds.