His agued soul, and his untutored age
Looked from a crabbed eye upon the world.
For him I would not have a second time
Foregone Athenian groves, but youth that keeps
An open door to Wisdom as to Folly,
May even of Virtue make at last a guest.
Dion. My hope is born again, now you are here.
When I have seen pick-thank philosophers
At ear of Dionysius, seeding his mind—