“Ye gods forbid (exclaimed the sage playfully) that I should steal a proselyte! From Zeno too? It might cost me dear.—What are you thinking of?” he resumed, after a pause.
“I was thinking,” replied Theon, “what a loss for man that you are not teacher in the gardens in place of the son of Neocles.”
“Do you know the son of Neocles?” asked the sage.
“The gods forbid that I should know him more than by report! No, venerable stranger; wrong me not so much as to think I have entered the gardens of Epicurus. It is not long that I have been in Athens, but I hope, if I should henceforth live my life here, I should never be seduced by the advocate of vice.”
“From my soul I hope the same. But you say you have not long been in Athens—You are come here to study philosophy.”
“Yes; my father was a scholar of Xenocrates; but when he sent me from Corinth, he bade me attend all the schools, and fix with that which should give me the highest views of virtue.”
“And you have found it to be that of Zeno.”
“I think I have: but I was one day nearly gained by a young Pythagorean, and have been often in danger of becoming one of the academy.”
“You need not say in danger: For though I think you choose well in standing mainly by Zeno, I would have you attend all the schools, and that with a willing ear. There is some risk in following one particular sect, even the most perfect, lest the mind become warped and the heart contracted. Yes, young man! it is possible that this should happen even in the portico. No sect without its prejudices and its predilections.”
“I believe you say true.”