(83) Lit. "Heracles!" "Zounds!"
The Syr. I do not say they want to murder him, but wheedle him away with bribes to pass his nights with them.
Soc. And if that happened, you on your side, it appears, believe the boy will be corrupted?
The Syr. Beyond all shadow of a doubt, most villainously.
Soc. And you, of course, you never dream of such a thing. You don't spend nights with him?
The Syr. Of course I do, all night and every night.
Soc. By Hera, what a mighty piece of luck (84) for you—to be so happily compounded, of such flesh and blood. You alone can't injure those who sleep beside you. You have every right, it seems, to boast of your own flesh, if nothing else.
(84) Cf. Plat. "Symp." 217 A.
The Syr. Nay, in sooth, it is not on that I pride myself.
Soc. Well, on what then?