§3.394ταῦτα δὲ εἰπόντος αὐτοῦ οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι ἐσέβοντο καὶ συνῄνουν, ὁ δὲ Ἀγαμέμνων ἠγρίαινεν ἐντελλόμενος νῦν τε ἀπιέναι καὶ αὖθις μὴ ἐλθεῖν, μὴ αὐτῷ τό τε σκῆπτρον καὶ τὰ τοῦ θεοῦ στέμματα οὐκ ἐπαρκέσοι· πρὶν δὲ λυθῆναι αὐτοῦ τὴν θυγατέρα, ἐν Ἄργει ἔφη γηράσειν μετὰ οὗ· ἀπιέναι δʼ ἐκέλευεν καὶ μὴ ἐρεθίζειν, >ἵνα σῶς οἴκαδε ἔλθοι.
When he said these things, the others respected him and consented, but Agamemnon was furious, commanding him to depart now and not to come again, lest the scepter and the wreaths of the god should not protect him; and he said that before his daughter was released, she would grow old in Argos with him; and he ordered him to depart and not to irritate him, so that he might go home safe.
ὁ δὲ πρεσβύτης ἀκούσας ἔδεισέν τε καὶ ἀπῄει σιγῇ, ἀποχωρήσας δὲ ἐκ τοῦ στρατοπέδου πολλὰ τῷ Ἀπόλλωνι ηὔχετο, τάς τε ἐπωνυμίας τοῦ θεοῦ ἀνακαλῶν καὶ ὑπομιμνῄσκων καὶ ἀπαιτῶν, εἴ τι πώποτε ἢ ἐν ναῶν οἰκοδομήσεσιν ἢ ἐν ἱερῶν θυσίαις κεχαρισμένον δωρήσαιτο· ὧν δὴ χάριν κατηύχετο τεῖσαι τοὺς Ἀχαιοὺς τὰ ἃ δάκρυα τοῖς ἐκείνου βέλεσιν.
And the old man, having heard this, was frightened and departed in silence, and having withdrawn from the camp, he prayed much to Apollo, calling upon the titles of the god, reminding him and demanding if he had ever gifted anything pleasing either in the building of temples or in the sacrifices of victims; in return for which things he prayed that the Achaeans should pay for his tears with the god's arrows.
οὕτως, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὦ ἑταῖρε, ἄνευ μιμήσεως ἁπλῆ διήγησις γίγνεται. μανθάνω, ἔφη.
"In this way, my friend," I said, "without imitation, simple narrative occurs." "I understand," he said.
μάνθανε τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὅτι ταύτης αὖ ἐναντία γίγνεται, ὅταν τις τὰ τοῦ ποιητοῦ τὰ μεταξὺ τῶν ῥήσεων ἐξαιρῶν τὰ ἀμοιβαῖα καταλείπῃ. καὶ τοῦτο, ἔφη, μανθάνω, ὅτι ἔστιν τὸ περὶ τὰς τραγῳδίας τοιοῦτον. ὀρθότατα, ἔφην, ὑπέλαβες, καὶ οἶμαί σοι ἤδη δηλοῦν ὃ ἔμπροσθεν οὐχ οἷός τʼ ἦ, ὅτι τῆς ποιήσεώς τε καὶ μυθολογίας ἡ μὲν διὰ μιμήσεως ὅλη ἐστίν, ὥσπερ σὺ λέγεις, τραγῳδία τε καὶ κωμῳδία, ἡ δὲ διʼ ἀπαγγελίας αὐτοῦ τοῦ ποιητοῦ—εὕροις δʼ ἂν αὐτὴν μάλιστά που ἐν διθυράμβοις— ἡ δʼ αὖ διʼ ἀμφοτέρων ἔν τε τῇ τῶν ἐπῶν ποιήσει, πολλαχοῦ δὲ καὶ ἄλλοθι, εἴ μοι μανθάνεις. ἀλλὰ συνίημι, ἔφη, ὃ τότε ἐβούλου λέγειν. καὶ τὸ πρὸ τούτου δὴ ἀναμνήσθητι, ὅτι ἔφαμεν ἃ μὲν λεκτέον ἤδη εἰρῆσθαι, ὡς δὲ λεκτέον ἔτι σκεπτέον εἶναι. ἀλλὰ μέμνημαι. τοῦτο τοίνυν αὐτὸ ἦν ὃ ἔλεγον, ὅτι χρείη διομολογήσασθαι πότερον ἐάσομεν τοὺς ποιητὰς μιμουμένους ἡμῖν τὰς διηγήσεις ποιεῖσθαι ἢ τὰ μὲν μιμουμένους, τὰ δὲ μή, καὶ ὁποῖα ἑκάτερα, ἢ οὐδὲ μιμεῖσθαι. μαντεύομαι, ἔφη, σκοπεῖσθαί σε εἴτε παραδεξόμεθα τραγῳδίαν τε καὶ κωμῳδίαν εἰς τὴν πόλιν, εἴτε καὶ οὔ. ἴσως, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἴσως δὲ καὶ πλείω ἔτι τούτων· οὐ γὰρ δὴ ἔγωγέ πω οἶδα, ἀλλʼ ὅπῃ ἂν ὁ λόγος ὥσπερ πνεῦμα φέρῃ, ταύτῃ ἰτέον. καὶ καλῶς γʼ, ἔφη, λέγεις.
"Understand, then," I said, "that the opposite of this in turn occurs when someone takes away the poet's words between the speeches and leaves the dialogue." "This too," he said, "I understand, that this is the case with tragedies." "You have understood most rightly," I said, "and I think I can now show you what I was not able to before, that of poetry and mythology, one part is entirely through imitation, as you say, namely tragedy and comedy; another is through the poet's own report—and you would find this especially in dithyrambs; and another in turn is through both, in the poetry of epics and also in many other places, if you understand me." "Yes, I comprehend," he said, "what you wanted to say then." "And indeed remember what was before this, that we said what must be said had already been spoken, but how it must be said was still to be considered." "I remember indeed." "This, then, was the very thing I was saying, that it was necessary to agree whether we shall permit the poets to make their narratives for us by imitating, or by imitating some parts and not others, and of what kind each should be, or not to imitate at all." "I divine," he said, "that you are considering whether we shall admit tragedy and comedy into the city, or not." "Perhaps," I said, "and perhaps even more than these; for I do not know yet, but wherever the argument, like a wind, carries us, there we must go." "And you speak well indeed," he said.
τόδε τοίνυν, ὦ Ἀδείμαντε, ἄθρει, πότερον μιμητικοὺς ἡμῖν δεῖ εἶναι τοὺς φύλακας ἢ οὔ· ἢ καὶ τοῦτο τοῖς ἔμπροσθεν ἕπεται, ὅτι εἷς ἕκαστος ἓν μὲν ἂν ἐπιτήδευμα καλῶς ἐπιτηδεύοι, πολλὰ δʼ οὔ, ἀλλʼ εἰ τοῦτο ἐπιχειροῖ, πολλῶν ἐφαπτόμενος πάντων ἀποτυγχάνοι ἄν, ὥστʼ εἶναί που ἐλλόγιμος; τί δʼ οὐ μέλλει; οὐκοῦν καὶ περὶ μιμήσεως ὁ αὐτὸς λόγος, ὅτι πολλὰ ὁ αὐτὸς μιμεῖσθαι εὖ ὥσπερ ἓν οὐ δυνατός; οὐ γὰρ οὖν.
"Look at this then, Adeimantus, whether our guardians must be imitative or not; or does this also follow from what went before, that each individual could practice one occupation well, but not many, and if he should attempt this, by touching upon many things, he would fail in all, so as to be of no account in any?" "How could it not be so?" "Is not, then, the same argument true about imitation, that the same person is not able to imitate many things well, just as he can one?" "No indeed."