7.1. NIGER, a citizen of ours, was lately come from school, after he had spent some time under the discipline of a renowned philosopher, but had learned nothing but those faults by which his master was offensive and odious to others, especially his habit of reproving and of carping at whatever upon any occasion chanced to be spoke in company. And therefore, when we were at supper one time at Aristio’s, not content to assume to himself a liberty to rail at all the rest of the preparations as too profuse and extravagant, he had a pique at the wine too, and said that it ought not to be brought to table strained, but that, observing Hesiod’s rule, we ought to drink it new out of the vessel, while it has its natural strength and force. Moreover, he added that this way of purging wine takes the strength from it, and robs it of its natural heat, which, when wine is poured out of one vessel into another, evaporates and dies. Besides he would needs persuade us that it showed too much of a vain curiosity, effeminacy, and luxury, to convert what is wholesome into that which is palatable. For as the riotous, not the temperate, use to cut cocks and geld pigs, to make their flesh tender and delicious, even against Nature; just so (if we may use a metaphor, says he) those that strain wine geld and emasculate it, whilst their squeamish stomachs will neither suffer them to drink pure wine, nor their intemperance to drink moderately. Therefore they make use of this expedient, to the end that it may render the desire they have of drinking plentifully more excusable. So they take all the strength from the wine, leaving the palatableness still; as we use to deal with those with whose constitution cold water does not agree, to boil it for them. For they certainly take off all the strength from the wine, by straining of it. And this is a great argument, that the wine deads, grows flat, and loses its virtue, when it is separated from the lees, as from its root and stock; for the ancients for very good reason called wine lees, as we use to signify a man by his head or soul, as the principal part of him. So in Greek, grape-gatherers are said τρυγᾶν, the word being derived from τρύξ, which signifies lees; and Homer in one place calls the fruit of the wine διατρύγιον, and the wine itself high-colored and red,—not pale and yellow, such as Aristio gives us to supper, after all goodness is purged out of it.
7.1. Νίγρος ὁ πολίτης ἡμῶν ἀπὸ σχολῆς ἀφῖκτο συγγεγονὼς ἐνδόξῳ φιλοσόφῳ χρόνον οὐ πολύν, ἀλλʼ ἐν ὅσῳ τὰ τάνδρὸς οὐ καταλαμβάνοντες ἀνεπίμπλαντο τῶν ἐπαχθῶν ἀπʼ αὐτοῦ μιμούμενοι τὸ ἐπιτιμητικὸν καὶ ἐλέγχοντες ἐπὶ παντὶ πράγματι τοὺς συνόντας. ἑστιῶντος οὖν ἡμῖἱς Ἀριστίωνος, τὴν τʼ ἄλλην χορηγίαν ὡς πολυτελῆ καὶ περίεργον ἐμέμφετο καὶ τὸν οἶνον οὐκ ἔφη δεῖν ἐγχεῖσθαι διηθημένον, ἀλλʼ, ὥσπερ Ἡσίοδος ἐκέλευσεν, ἀπὸ τοῦ πίθου πίνεσθαι τὴν σύμφυτον ἔχοντα ῥώμην καὶ δύναμιν. ἡ δὲ τοιαύτη κάθαρσις αὐτοῦ πρῶτον μὲν ἐκτέμνει τὰ νεῦρα καὶ τὴν θερμότητα κατασβέννυσιν· ἐξανθεῖ γὰρ καὶ ἀποπνεῖ διερωμένου πολλάκις· ἔπειτα περιεργίαν καὶ καλλωπισμὸν ἐμφαίνει καὶ τρυφὴν εἰς τὸ ἡδὺ καταναλίσκουσα τὸ χρήσιμον. ὥσπερ γὰρ τὸ τοὺς ἀλεκτρυόνας ἐκτεμεῖν καὶ τοὺς χοίρους, ἁπαλὴν αὐτῶν παρὰ φύσιν τὴν σάρκα ποιοῦντας καὶ θήλειαν, οὐχ ὑγιαινόντων ἐστὶν ἀνθρώπων ἀλλὰ διεφθαρμένων ὑπὸ λιχνείας· οὕτως, εἰ δεῖ μεταφορᾷ χρησάμενον λέγειν, ἐξευνουχίζουσι τὸν ἄκρατον καὶ ἀποθηλύνουσιν οἱ διηθοῦντες, οὔτε φορεῖν ὑπʼ ἀσθενείας οὔτε πίνειν τὸν μέτριον δυνάμενοι διὰ τὴν ἀκρασίαν· ἀλλὰ σόφισμα τοῦτʼ ἐστὶν αὐτοῖς καὶ μηχάνημα πολυποσίας ἐξαιροῦσι δὲ τοῦ οἴνου τὸ ἐμβριθές, τὸ λεῖον ἀπολιπόντες, ὥσπερ οἱ τοῖς ἀκρατῶς ἔχουσι πρὸς ψυχροποσίαν ἀρρώστοις ἀφεψημένον διδόντες· ὅ τι γὰρ στόμωμα τοῦ οἴνου καὶ κράτος ἐστί, τοῦτʼ ἐν τῷ διυλίζειν ἐξαιροῦσι καὶ ἀποκρίνουσι. μέγα δὲ τεκμήριον ἡ διαφθορὰ καὶ τὸ μὴ διαμένειν, ἀλλʼ ἐξίστασθαι καὶ μαραίνεσθαι, καθάπερ ἀπὸ ῥίζης κοπέντα τῆς τρυγός· οἱ δὲ παλαιοὶ καὶ τρύγα τὸν οἶνον ἄντικρυς ἐκάλουν, ὥσπερ ψυχὴν καὶ κεφαλὴν τὸν ἄνθρωπον εἰώθαμεν ἀπὸ τῶν κυριωτάτων ὑποκορίζεσθαι, καὶ τρυγᾶν λέγομεν τοὺς δρεπομένους τὴν ἀμπελίνην ὀπώραν, καὶ διατρύγιόν που Ὅμηρος εἴρηκεν, αὐτὸν δὲ τὸν οἶνον αἴθοπα καί ἐρυθρὸν εἴωθε· καλεῖν· οὐχ ὡς Ἀριστίων ἡμῖν ὠχριῶντα καὶ χλωρὸν ὑπὸ τῆς πολλῆς καθάρσεως παρέχεται.
7.2. Then Aristio smiling presently replied: Sir, the wine I bring to table does not look so pale and lifeless as you would have it; but it appears at first sight to be mild and well qualified. But for your part, you would glut yourself with night wine, which raises melancholy vapors; and upon this account you cry out against purgation, which, by carrying off whatever might cause melancholy or load men’s stomachs, and make them drunk or sick, makes it mild and pleasant to those that drink it, such as heroes (as Homer tells us) were formerly wont to drink. And it was not dark-colored wine which he called αἶθοψ, but clear and transparent; for otherwise he would never have called brass αἶθοψ, after he had given it the epithets man-exalting and resplendent. Therefore as the wise Anacharsis, discommending some things that the Grecians enjoined, commended their coals, because they leave the smoke without doors, and bring the fire into the house; so you judicious men might blame me for some other reason than this. But what hurt, I pray, have I done to the wine, by taking from it a turbulent and noisome quality, and giving it a better taste, though a paler color? Nor have I brought you wine to the table which, like a sword, hath lost its edge and vigorous relish, but such as is only purged of its dregs and filth. But you will say that wine not strained hath a great deal more strength. Why so, my friend? One that is frantic and distracted has more strength than a man in his wits; but when, by the help of hellebore or some other fit diet, he is come to himself, that rage and frenzy leave him and quite vanish, and the true use of his reason and health of body presently comes into its place. In like manner, purging of wine takes from it all the strength that inflames and enrages the mind, and gives it instead thereof a mild and wholesome temper; and I think there is a great deal of difference between gaudiness and cleanliness. For women, while they paint, perfume, and adorn themselves with jewels and purple robes, are accounted gaudy and profuse; yet nobody will find fault with them for washing their faces, anointing themselves, or platting their hair. Homer very neatly expresses the difference of these two habits, where he brings in Juno dressing herself:—With sweet ambrosia first she washed her skin,And after did anoint herself with oil.So much was allowable, being no more than a careful cleanliness. But when she comes to call for her golden buttons, her curiously wrought ear-rings, and last of all puts on her bewitching girdle, this appears to be an extravagant and idle curiosity, and betrays too much of wantonness, which by no means becomes a married woman. Just so they that sophisticate wine by mixing it with aloes, cinnamon, or saffron bring it to the table like a gorgeous-apparelled woman, and there prostitute it. But those that only take from it what is nasty and no way profitable do only purge it and improve it by their labor. Otherwise you may find fault with all things whatsoever as vain and extravagant, beginning at the house you live in. As first, you may say, why is it plastered? Why does it open especially on that side where it may have the best convenience for receiving the purest air, and the benefit of the evening sun? What is the reason that our cups are washed and made so clean that they shine and look bright? Now if a cup ought to have nothing that is nasty or loathsome in it, ought that which is drunk out of the cup to be full of dregs and filth? What need is there for mentioning any thing else? The making corn into bread is a continual cleansing; and yet what a great ado there is before it is effected! There is not only threshing, winnowing, sifting, and separating the bran, but there must be kneading the dough to soften all parts alike, and a continual cleansing and working of the mass till all the parts become edible alike. What absurdity is it then by straining to separate the lees, as it were the filth of the wine, especially since the cleansing is no chargeable or painful operation?
7.2. καὶ ὁ Ἀριστίων γελάσας οὐκ ὠχριῶντʼ εἶπεν ὦ τᾶν, οὐδʼ ἀναίμον,, ἀλλὰ μειλίχιον καὶ ἡμερίδην, ἀπὸ τῆς ὄψεως αὐτῆς πρῶτον. σὺ δʼ ἀξιοῖς τοῦ νυκτερινοῦ καὶ μελαναιγίδος ἐμφορεῖσθαι, καὶ ψέγεις τὴν κάθαρσιν ὥσπερ χολημεσίαν διʼ ἧς τὸ βαρὺ καὶ μεθυστικὸν ἀφιεὶς καὶ νοσῶδες ἐλαφρὸς καὶ ἄνευ ὀργῆς; ἀναμίγνυται ἡμῖν, οἷον Ὅμηρός φησι πίνειν τοὺς ἥρωας αἴθοπα γὰρ οὐ καλεῖ τὸν ζοφερόν, ἀλλὰ τὸν διαυγῆ καὶ λαμπρόν· οὐ γὰρ ἂν ὁ λέγων εὐήνορα καὶ νώροπα χαλκὸν αἴθοπα προσηγόρευεν. ὥσπερ οὖν ὁ σοφὸς Ἀνάχαρσις ἄλλʼ ἄττα τῶν Ἑλλήνων μεμφόμενος ἐπῄνει τῶν ἀνθρακέων ὅτι τὸν καπνὸν ἔξω καταλιπόντες οἴκαδε πῦρ κομίζουσιν· οὕτως ἡμᾶς ἐφʼ ἑτέροις ἂν ψέγοιτε μᾶλλον οἱ σοφοὶ ὑμεῖς. εἰ δὲ τοῦ οἴνου τὸ ταρακτικὸν καὶ ὀχλῶδες ἐξωθούμενοι καὶ ἀποσκεδάσαντες, αὐτὸν δʼ εὐφραίνοντες οὐ καλλωπίσαντες οὐδʼ ὥσπερ σιδήρου στόμωμα καὶ ἀκμὴν ἀποκόψαντες, ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον ὥσπερ ἰὸν ἢ ῥύπον ἀποκαθήραντες προσφερόμεθα, τί πλημμελοῦμεν; ὅτι νὴ Δία πλέον ἰσχύει μὴ διηθούμενος. καὶ γὰρ ἄνθρωπος, ὦ φίλε, φρενετίζων καὶ μαινόμενος· ἀλλʼ ὅταν ἐλλεβόρῳ χρησάμενος ἢ διαίτῃ καταστῇ, τὸ μὲν σφοδρὸν ἐκεῖνο καὶ σύντονον οἴχεται καὶ γέγονεν ἐξίτηλον, ἡ δʼ ἀληθινὴ δύναμις καὶ σωφροσύνη παραγίγνεται τῷ σώματι· οὕτω δὴ καὶ ἡ κάθαρσις τοῦ οἴνου τὸ πληκτικὸν ἀφαιροῦσα καὶ μανικόν, εἰς πραεῖαν ἕξιν καὶ ὑγιαίνουσαν καθίστησι. περιεργίαν δʼ οἶμαι πάμπολυ διαφέρειν καθαριότητος· καὶ γὰρ αἱ γυναῖκες φυκούμεναι καὶ μυριζόμεναι καὶ χρυσὸν φοροῦσαι καὶ πορφύραν περίεργοι δοκοῦσι· λουτρὸν δὲ καὶ ἄλειμμα καὶ κόμης θρύψιν οὐδεὶς αἰτιᾶται. χαριέντως δὲ τὴν διαφορὰν ὁ ποιητὴς ἐπιδείκνυσιν ἐπὶ τῆς κοσμουμένης Ἥραςἀμβροσίῃ μὲν πρῶτον ἀπὸ χροὸς ἀθανάτοιολύματα πάντα κάθηρεν, ἀλείψατο δὲ λίπʼ ἐλαίῳμέχρι τούτων ἐπιμέλεια καὶ καθαριότης ἐστιν· ὅταν δὲ τὰς χρυσᾶς περόνας ἀναλαμβάνῃ καὶ τὰ διηκριβωμένα τέχνῃ ἐλλόβια καὶ τελευτῶσα τῆς περὶ τὸν κεστὸν ἅπτηται γοητείας, περιεργία τὸ χρῆμα καὶ λαμυρία μὴ πρέπουσα γαμετῇ γέγονεν. οὐκοῦν καὶ τὸν οἶνον οἱ μὲν ἀλόαις χρωτίζοντες ἢ κινναμώμοις καὶ κρόκοις ἐφηδύνοντες ὥσπερ γυναῖκα καλλωπίζουσιν εἰς τὰ συμπόσια καὶ προαγωγεύουσιν οἱ δʼ ἀφαιροῦντες τὸ ῥυπαρὸν καὶ ἄχρηστον ἐξ αὐτοῦ θεραπεύουσι καὶ καθαίρουσιν. ἐπεὶ πάντʼ ἂν εἴποις ταῦτα περιεργίαν, ἀρξάμενος ἀπὸ τοῦ οἴκου· τί γὰρ οὕτω κεκονίαται; τί δʼ ἀνέῳγε τοῦ περιέχοντος ὅθεν ἂν μάλιστα πνεῦμα λαμβάνοι καθαρὸν καὶ τοῦ φωτὸς ἀπολαύοι περιιόντος ἐπὶ τὰς δύσεις; τί δὲ τῶν ἐκπωμάτων ἕκαστον ἐκτέτριπται καὶ διέσμηκται πανταχόθεν ὥστε λάμπειν καὶ περιστίλβειν; ἢ τὸ μὲν ἔκπωμʼ ἔδει μὴ ῥύπου μηδὲ μοχθηρίας ὀδωδὸς εἶναι, τὸ δʼ ἐξ αὐτοῦ πινόμενον εὐρῶτος ἢ κηλίδων ἀναπεπλῆσθαι; καὶ τί δεῖ τἄλλα λέγειν; ἡ γὰρ αὐτοῦ τοῦ πυροῦ διαπόνησις εἰς τὸν ἄρτον οὐδὲν ἕτερον ἢ κάθαρσις οὖσα, θέασαι μεθʼ ὅσης γίγνεται πραγματείας· οὐ γὰρ μόνον ὑποσκαφισμοὶ καὶ διαττήσεις καὶ ἀποκρίσεις καὶ διακρίσεις εἰσὶ τῶν σιτίων καὶ τῶν ἀλλοτρίων, ἀλλʼ ἡ τρῖψις ἐκθλίβουσα τοῦ φυράματος τὸ τραχὺ καὶ ἡ πέψις ἐξικμάζουσα τὸ ὑγρὸν καθαίρουσι καὶ συστέλλουσι τὴν ὕλην εἰς αὐτὸ τὸ ἐδώδιμον. τί οὖν ἄτοπον, εἰ καὶ τοῦ οἴνου τὸ τρυγῶδες ὡς κρίμνον ἢ σκύβαλον ἡ διήθησις ἐξαιρεῖ, μήτε δαπάνης τινὸς τῇ καθάρσει μήτʼ ἀσχολίας πολλῆς προσούσης;
8.1. THERE is a certain sacrifice of very ancient institution, which the chief magistrate or archon performs always in the common-hall, and every private person in his own house.’Tis called the driving out of bulimy; for they whip out of doors some one of their servants with a bunch of willow rods, repeating these words, Get out of doors, bulimy; and enter riches and health. Therefore in my year there was a great concourse of people present at the sacrifice; and, after all the rights and ceremonies of the sacrifice were over, when we had seated ourselves again at the table, there was an enquiry made first of all into the signification of the word bulimy, then into the meaning of the words which are repeated when the servant is turned out of doors. But the principal dispute was concerning the nature of it, and all its circumstances. First, as for the word bulimy, it was agreed upon by all to denote a great and public famine, especially among us who use the Aeolic dialect, putting π for β. For it was not called by the ancients βούλιμος but πούλιμος, that is, πολὺς λιμὸς, much hunger. We concluded that it was not the same with the disease called Bubrostis, by an argument fetched out of Metrodorus’s Ionics. For the said Metrodorus informs us that the Smyrnaeans, who were once Aeolians, sacrificed to Bubrostis a black bull cut into pieces with the skin on, and so burnt it. Now, forasmuch as every species of hunger resembles a disease, but more particularly bulimy, which is occasioned by an unnatural disposition of the body, these two differ as riches and poverty, health and sickness. But as the word nauseate (ναυτιπαν) first took its name from men who were stomach-sick in a ship, and afterwards custom prevailed so far that the word was applied to all persons that were any way in like sort affected; so the word bulimy, rising at first from hence, was at last extended to a more large and comprehensive signification. What has been hitherto said was a general club of the opinions of all those who were at table.
8.1. θυσία τις ἔστι πάτριος, ἣν ὁ μὲν ἄρχων ἐπὶ τῆς κοινῆς ἑστίας δρᾷ τῶν δʼ ἄλλων ἕκαστος ἐπʼ οἴκου· καλεῖται δὲ βουλίμου ἐξέλασις· καὶ τῶν οἰκετῶν ἕνα τύπτοντες ἀγνίναις ῥάβδοις διὰ θυρῶν ἐξελαύνουσιν, ἐπιλέγοντες ἔξω Βούλιμον ἔσω δὲ πλοῦτον καὶ ὑγίειαν ἄρχοντος οὖν ἐμοῦ, πλείονες ἐκοινώνουν τῆς θυσίας· κᾆθʼ ὡς ἐποιήσαμεν τὰ νενομισμένα καὶ πάλιν κατεκλίνημεν, ἐζητεῖτο πρῶτον ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ τοῦ ὀνόματος ἔπειτα τῆς φωνῆς, ἣν ἐπιλέγουσι τῷ διωκομένῳ, μάλιστα δʼ ὑπὲρ τοῦ πάθους καὶ τῶν κατʼ αὐτὸ γιγνομένων. τὸ μὲν οὖν βούλιμον λιμὸν ἐδόκει μέγαν ἢ δημόσιον ἀποσημαίνειν, καὶ μάλιστα παρʼ ἡμῖν τοῖς Αἰολεῦσιν ἀντὶ τοῦ β τῷ π χρωμένοις· οὐ γὰρ βούλιμον, ἀλλὰ πούλιμον, οἷον πολὺν ὄντα λιμόν, ὀνομάζομεν. ἐδόκει δʼ ἡ βούβρωστις ἕτερον εἶναι· τὸ δὲ τεκμήριον ἐλαμβάνομεν ἐκ τῶν Μητροδώρου Ἰωνικῶν· ἱστορεῖ γάρ, ὅτι Σμυρναῖοι τὸ παλαιὸν Αἰολεῖς ὄντες θύουσι Βουβρώστει ταῦρον μέλανα, καὶ κατακόψαντες αὐτόδορον ὁλοκαυτοῦσιν. ἐπεὶ δὲ πᾶς μὲν ἔοικεν ὁ λιμὸς νόσῳ, μάλιστα δʼ ὁ βούλιμος, ἐπιγίγνεσθαι, παθόντος παρὰ φύσιν τοῦ σώματος, εἰκότως ἀντιτάττουσιν ὡς μὲν ἐνδείᾳ τὸν πλοῦτον ὡς δὲ νόσῳ τὴν ὑγίειαν. ὡς δὲ ναυτιᾶν ὠνομάσθη μὲν ἐπὶ τῶν ἐν νηὶ καὶ κατὰ πλοῦν τὸν στόμαχον ἐκλυομένων, ἔθει δʼ ἴσχυκεν ἤδη καὶ κατὰ τῶν ὁπωσοῦν τοῦτο πασχόντων ὄνομα τοῦ πάθους εἶναι· οὕτως ἄρα καὶ τὸ βουλιμιᾶν ἐκεῖθεν ἀρξάμενον ἐνταῦθα διέτεινε. ταῦτα μὲν οὖν ἔρανον κοινὸν ἐκ πάντων συνεπλήρουν λόγων.
8.2. But after we began to enquire after the cause of this disease, the first thing that puzzled us was to find out the reason why bulimy seizes upon those that travel in the snow. As Brutus, one time marching from Dyrrachium to Apollonia in a deep snow, was endangered of his life by bulimy, whilst none of those that carried the provisions for the army followed him; just when the man was ready to faint and die, some of his soldiers were forced to run to the walls of the enemies’ city, and beg a piece of bread of the sentinels, by the eating of which he was presently refreshed; for which cause, after Brutus had made himself master of the city, he treated all the inhabitants very mercifully. Asses and horses are frequently troubled with bulimy, especially when they are loaden with dry figs and apples; and, which is yet more strange, of all things that are eaten, bread chiefly refreshes not only men but beasts; so that, by taking a little quantity of bread, they regain their strength and go forward on their journey.
8.2. ἐπειδὴ δʼ ἡπτόμεθα τῆς αἰτίας τοῦ πάθους, πρῶτον μὲν ἠπορήθη τὸ μάλιστα βουλιμιᾶν τοὺς διὰ χιόνος πολλῆς βαδίζοντας, ὥσπερ καὶ Βροῦτος ἐκ Δυρραχίου πρὸς Ἀπολλωνίαν ἰὼν ἐκινδύνευσεν ὑπὸ τοῦ πάθους· ἦν δὲ νιφετὸς πολὺς καὶ τῶν τὰ σιτία κομιζόντων οὐδεὶς ἐξηκολούθει· λιποθυμοῦντος οὖν αὐτοῦ καὶ ἀπολιπόντος, ἠναγκάσθησαν οἱ στρατιῶται προσδραμόντες τοῖς τείχεσιν ἄρτον αἰτῆσαι παρὰ τῶν τειχοφυλάκων πολεμίων· καὶ λαβόντες εὐθὺς ἀνεκτήσαντο τὸν Βροῦτον· διὸ καὶ φιλανθρώπως ἐχρήσατο πᾶσι κύριος τῆς πόλεως γενόμενος. πάσχουσι δὲ τοῦτο καὶ ἵπποι καὶ ὄνοι, καὶ μάλισθʼ ὅταν ἰσχάδας ἢ μῆλα κομίζωσιν. ὃ δὲ θαυμασιώτατόν ἐστιν, οὐκ ἀνθρώπους μόνον ἀλλὰ καὶ κτήνη μάλιστα πάντων ἐδωδίμων ἀναρρώννυσιν ἄρτος ὥστε, κἂν ἐλάχιστον ἐμφάγωσιν, ἰῶνται καὶ βαδίζουσι.
8.3. After all were silent, I (who had observed that dull fellows and those of a less piercing judgment were satisfied with and did acquiesce in the reasons the ancients gave for bulimy, but to men of ingenuity and industry they only pointed out the way to a more clear discovery of the truth of the business) mentioned Aristotle’s opinion, who says, that extreme cold without causes extreme heat and consumption within; which, if it fall into the legs, makes them lazy and heavy, but if it come to the fountain of motion and respiration, occasions faintings and weakness. When I had said that, some of the company opposed it, others held with me, as was natural.
8.3. γενομένης δὲ σιωπῆς, ἐγὼ συννοῶν ὅτι τὰ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων ἐπιχειρήματα τοὺς μὲν ἀργοὺς καὶ ἀφυεῖς οἷον ἀναπαύει καὶ ἀναπίμπλησι, τοῖς δὲ φιλοτίμοις καὶ φιλολόγοις ἀρχὴν ἐνδίδωσιν οἰκείαν καὶ τόλμαν ἐπὶ τὸ ζητεῖν καὶ ἀνιχνεύειν τὴν ἀλήθειαν, ἐμνήσθην τῶν Ἀριστοτελικῶν ἐν οἷς λέγεται, ὅτι, πολλῆς περιψύξεως γενομένης ἔξωθεν, ἐκθερμαίνεται σφόδρα τὰ ἐντὸς καὶ πολὺ σύντηγμα ποιεῖ· τοῦτο δʼ, ἐὰν μὲν ἐπὶ τὰ σκέλη ῥυῇ, κόπους ἀπεργάζεται καὶ βαρύτητας, ἐὰν δʼ ἐπὶ τὰς τῆς κινήσεως καὶ τῆς ἀναπνοῆς ἀρχάς, ἀψυχίαν ἢ καὶ ἀσθένειαν. ὅπερ οὖν εἰκός, τοῦ λόγου λεχθέντος, ἐπεραίνετο, τῶν μὲν ἐπιφυομένων τῷ δόγματι τῶν δʼ ὑπερδικούντων.
8.4. At length says Soclarus: I like the beginning of this reason very well, for the bodies of travellers in a great snow must of necessity be surrounded and condensed with cold; but that from the heat within there should arise such a consumption as invades the principle of respiration, I can no way imagine. I rather think, says he, that abundance of heat penned up in the body consumes the nourishment, and that failing, the fire as it were goes out. Here it comes to pass, that men troubled with this bulimy, when they are ready to starve with hunger, if they eat never so little meat, are presently refreshed. The reason is, because meat digested is like fuel for the heat to feed upon.
8.4. Σώκλαρος δὲ τὴν ἀρχὴν ἔφη τοῦ λόγου κάλλιστα κεῖσθαι· περιψύχεσθαι γὰρ ἱκανῶς καὶ πυκνοῦσθαι τὰ σώματα τῶν βαδιζόντων διὰ χιόνος· τὸ δὲ σύντηγμα τὴν θερμότητα ποιεῖν καὶ τοῦτο καταλαμβάνειν τὰς ἀρχὰς τῆς ἀναπνοῆς αἰτηματῶδες εἶναι μᾶλλον οὖν δοκεῖν αὐτῷ τὴν θερμότητα συστελλομένην καὶ πλεονάζουσαν ἐντὸς ἀναλίσκειν τὴν τροφήν, εἶτʼ, ἐπιλειπούσης καὶ αὐτὴν, ὥσπερ πῦρ ἀπομαραίνεσθαι· διὸ πεινῶσι σφόδρα καὶ βραχὺ παντελῶς ἐμφαγόντες εὐθὺς ἀναλάμπουσι· γίγνεται γὰρ ὥσπερ ὑπέκκαυμα τῆς θερμότητος τὸ προσφερόμενον.
8.5. But Cleomenes the physician would have the word λιμός (which signifies hunger) to be added to the making up of the word βούλιμος without any reason at all; as πίνειν, to drink, has crept into καταπίνειν, to swallow; and κύπτειν, to incline, into άνακύπτειν to raise the head. Nor is bulimy, as it seems, a kind of hunger, but a fault in the stomach, which concurring with heat causes a faintness. Therefore as things that have a good smell recall the spirits of those that are faint, so bread affects those that are almost overcome with a bulimy; not that they have any need of food (for the least piece of it restores them their strength), but the bread calls back their vigor and languishing spirits. Now that bulimy is not hunger but a faintness, is manifest from all laboring beasts, which are seized with it very often through the smell of dry figs and apples; for a smell does not cause any want of food, but rather a pain and agitation in the stomach.
8.5. Κλεομένης δʼ ὁ ἰατρὸς ἄλλως ἔφη τῷ ὀνόματι τὸν λιμὸν συντετάχθαι δίχα τοῦ πράγματος, ὥσπερ τῷ καταπίνειν τὸ πίνειν καὶ τῷ ἀνακύπτειν τὸ κύπτειν· οὐ γὰρ εἶναι λιμόν, ὥσπερ δοκεῖ, τὴν βουλιμίαν, ἀλλὰ πάθος ἐν τῷ στομάχῳ διὰ συνδρομὴν θερμοῦ λιποψυχίαν ποιοῦν. ὥσπερ οὖν τὰ ὀσφραντὰ πρὸς τὰς λιποθυμίας βοηθεῖν, καὶ τὸν ἄρτον ἀναλαμβάνειν τοὺς βουλιμιῶντας, οὐχ ὅτι τροφῆς ἐνδεεῖς εἰσι μικρὸν γοῦν παντάπασι λαβόντες ἀναζωπυροῦσιν, ἀλλʼ ὅτι τὸ πνεῦμα καὶ τὴν δύναμιν ἀνακαλεῖται καταφερομένην. ὅτι δʼ ἔστι λιποθυμία καὶ οὐ πεῖνα, μηνύει τὸ τῶν ὑποζυγίων· ἥ τε γὰρ τῶν ἰσχάδων ἀποφορὰ καὶ ἡ τῶν μήλων ἔνδειαν μὲν οὐ ποιεῖ, καρδιωγμὸν δέ τινα μᾶλλον καὶ νὴ Δίʼ εἴλιγγον.
8.6. These things seemed to be reasonably well urged; and yet we thought that much might be said in the defence of the contrary opinion, and that it was possible enough to maintain that bulimy ariseth not from condensation but rarefication of the stomach. For the spirit which flows from the snow is nothing but the sharp point and finest scale of the congealed substance, endued with a virtue of cutting and dividing not only the flesh, but also silver and brazen vessels; for we see that these are not able to keep in the snow, for it dissolves and evaporates, and glazes over the outmost superficies of the vessels with a thin dew, not unlike to ice, which this spirit leaves as it secretly passes through the pores. Therefore this piercing spirit, like a flame, seizing upon those that travel in the snow, seems to burn their outsides, and like fire to enter and penetrate the flesh. Hence it is that the flesh is more rarefied, and the heat is extinguished by the cold spirit that lies upon the superficies of the body; therefore the body evaporates a dewy thin sweat, which melts away and decays the strength. Now if a man should sit still at such a time, there would not much heat fly out of his body. But when the motion of the body doth quickly heat the nourishment, and that heat bursts through the thin skin, there must necessarily be a great loss of strength. Now we know by experience, that cold hath a virtue not only to condense but also to loosen bodies; for in extreme cold winters pieces of lead are found to sweat. And when we see that bulimy happens where there is no hunger, we may conclude that at that time the body is rather in a fluid than condensed state. The reason that bodies are rarefied in winter is because of the subtility of the spirit; especially when the moving and tiring of the body excites the heat, which, as soon as it is subtilized and agitated, flies apace, and spreads itself through the whole body. Lastly, it is very possible that apples and dry figs exhale some such thing as this, which rarefies and attenuates the heat of the beasts; for different things have a natural tendency as well to weaken as to refresh different creatures.
8.6. ἡμῖν δὲ καὶ ταῦτα μετρίως ἐδόκει λέγεσθαι, καὶ ἀπὸ τῆς ἐναντίας ἀρχῆς δυνατὸν εἶναι, μὴ πύκνωσιν ἀλλʼ ἀραίωσιν ὑποθεμένοις, διασῶσαι τὸ πιθανόν· τὸ γὰρ ἀπορρέον πνεῦμα τῆς χιόνος ἐστὶ μὲν οἷον ἀθὴρ τοῦ πάγου καὶ ψῆγμα λεπτομερέστατον, ἔχει δέ τι τομὸν καὶ διαιρετικὸν οὐ σαρκὸς μόνον ἀλλὰ καὶ ἀργυρῶν καὶ χαλκῶν ἀγγείων ὁρῶμεν γὰρ ταῦτα μὴ στέγοντα τὴν χιόνα· πνεομένη γὰρ ἀναλίσκεται καὶ τὴν ἐκτὸς ἐπιφάνειαν τοῦ ἀγγείου νοτίδος ἀναπίμπλησι λεπτῆς καὶ κρυσταλλοειδοῦς, ἣν ἀπολείπει τὸ πνεῦμα διὰ τῶν πόρων ἀδήλως ἀπερχόμενον τοῦτο δὴ τοῖς βαδίζουσι διὰ χιόνος ὀξὺ καὶ φλογοειδὲς προσπῖπτον ἐπικάειν δοκεῖ τὰ ἄκρα τῷ τέμνειν καὶ παρελθεῖν τῇ σαρκί, καθάπερ πῦρ· ὅθεν ἀραίωσις γίγνεται περὶ τὸ σῶμα πολλὴ καὶ ῥεῖ τὸ θερμὸν ἔξω διὰ τὴν ψυχρότητα τοῦ πνεύματος, καὶ περὶ τὴν ἐπιφάνειαν σβεννύμενον ἱδρῶτα δροσώδη διατμίζει καὶ λεπτόν, ὥστε τήκεσθαι καὶ ἀναλίσκεσθαι τὴν δύναμιν. ἐὰν μὲν οὖν ἡσυχάζῃ τις, οὐ πολλὴ τοῦ σώματος ἀπέρχεται θερμότης· ὅταν δὲ τὴν μὲν τροφὴν τοῦ σώματος ἡ κίνησις εἰς τὸ θερμὸν ὀξέως μεταβάλλῃ τὸ δὲ θερμὸν ἔξω φέρηται, διακρινομένης τῆς σαρκός, ἀθρόαν ἀνάγκη τῆς δυνάμεως ἐπίλειψιν γενέσθαι. ὅτι δὲ τὸ ἐκψύχεσθαι οὐ πήγνυσι μόνον ἀλλὰ καὶ τήκει τὰ σώματα, δῆλόν ἐστιν ἐν μὲν γὰρ τοῖς μεγάλοις χειμῶσιν ἀκόναι μολίβδου διατηκόμεναι τό τε τῆς ἐφιδρώσεως καὶ τὸ πολλοῖς μὴ πεινῶσι συμπίπτειν τὴν βουλιμίασιν ἀραίωσιν κατηγορεῖ μᾶλλον καὶ ῥύσιν ἢ πύκνωσιν τοῦ σώματος. ἀραιοῦνται δὲ χειμῶνος μέν, ὥσπερ εἴρηται, τῇ λεπτότητι, ἄλλως δὲ τοῦ κόπου καὶ τῆς κινήσεως ἀποξυνούσης τὴν ἐν τῷ σώματι θερμότητα· λεπτὴ γὰρ γενομένη καὶ κοπιῶσα ῥεῖ πολλὴ καὶ διασπείρεται διὰ τοῦ σώματος. τὰ δὲ μῆλα καὶ τὰς ἰσχάδας εἰκὸς ἀποπνεῖν τι τοιοῦτον, ὥστε τῶν ὑποζυγίων τὸ θερμὸν ἀπολεπτύνειν καὶ κατακερματίζειν· ἄλλα γὰρ ἄλλοις ὥσπερ ἀναλαμβάνειν καὶ καταλύεσθαι πέφυκεν.
9.1. IT was the subject once of a discourse, why, when there are several sorts of liquids, the poet should give every one of them a peculiar epithet, calling milk white, honey yellow, wine red, and yet for all this bestow no other upon oil but what it hath in common with all other liquids. To this it was answered that, as that is said to be most sweet which is perfectly sweet, and to be most white which is perfectly white (I mean here by perfectly that which hath nothing of a contrary quality mixed with it), so that ought to be called perfectly humid whereof never a part is dry; and this is proper to oil.
9.1. ἠπορήθη ποτὲ καὶ διὰ τί πολλῶν ὑγρῶν ὄντων τὰ μὲν ἄλλα τοῖς ἰδίοις ἐπιθέτοις ὁ ποιητὴς εἰώθει κοσμεῖν, τὸ γάλα τε λευκὸν καὶ τὸ μέλι χλωρὸν καὶ τὸν οἶνον ἐρυθρὸν καλῶν, τὸ δʼ ἔλαιον ἀπὸ κοινοῦ τοῦ πᾶσι συμβεβηκότος μόνον ἐπιεικῶς ὑγρὸν προσαγορεύει. εἰς τοῦτʼ ἐλέχθη, ὅτι ὡς γλυκύτατόν ἐστι τὸ διʼ ὅλου γλυκύ, καὶ λευκότατον τὸ διʼ ὅλου λευκόν· διʼ ὅλου δὲ τοιοῦτόν ἐστιν, ᾧ μηδὲν ἐμμέμικται τῆς ἐναντίας φύσεως· οὕτω δὴ καὶ τὸ ὑγρὸν μάλιστα ῥητέον, οὗ μηθὲν μέρος ξηρόν ἐστι· τοῦτο δὲ τῷ ἐλαίῳ συμβέβηκε.
9.2. First of all, its smoothness shows the evenness of its parts; for touch it where you please, it is all alike. Besides, you may see your face in it as perfectly as in a mirror; for there is nothing rough in it to hinder the reflection, but by reason of its humidity it reflects to the eyes the least particle of light from every part of it. As, on the contrary, milk, of all other liquids, does not return our images, because it hath too many terrene and gross parts mixed with it; again, oil of all liquids makes the least noise when moved, for it is perfectly humid. When other liquids are moved or poured out, their hard and grosser parts fall and dash one against another, and so make a noise by reason of their roughness. Moreover, oil only is pure and unmixed; for it is of all other liquids most compact, nor has it any empty spaces and pores between the dry and earthy parts, to receive what chances to fall upon it. Besides, because of the similitude of parts, it is closely joined together, and unfit to be joined to any thing else. When oil froths, it does not let any wind in, by reason of the contiguity and subtility of its parts; and this is also the cause why fire is nourished by it. For fire feeds upon nothing but what is moist, for nothing is combustible but what is so; for when the fire is kindled, the air turns to smoke, and the terrene and grosser parts remain in the ashes. Fire preys only upon the moisture, which is its natural nourishment. Indeed water, wine, and other liquors, having abundance of earthy and heavy parts in them, by falling into fire part it, and by their roughness and weight smother and extinguish it. But oil, because purely liquid, by reason of its subtility, is overcome by the fire, and so changed into flame.
9.2. πρῶτον μὲν ἡ λειότης αὐτοῦ τὴν ὁμαλότητα τῶν μορίων ἐπιδείκνυται· διʼ ὅλου γὰρ αὑτῷ συμπαθεῖ πρὸς τὴν ψαῦσιν. ἔπειτα τῇ ὄψει παρέχει καθαρώτατον ἐνοπτρίσασθαι· τραχὺ γὰρ οὐδέν ἐστιν ὥστε διασπᾶν τὴν ἀνταύγειαν, ἀλλʼ ἀπὸ παντὸς μέρους διʼ ὑγρότητα καὶ σμικρότατον ἀνακλᾷ τὸ φῶς ἐπὶ τὴν ὄψιν· ὥσπερ αὖ τοὐναντίον, τὸ γάλα τῶν ὑγρῶν μόνον οὐκ ἐσοπτρίζει, πολλῆς ἀναμεμιγμένης αὐτῷ γεώδους συστάσεως. ἔτι δὲ κινούμενον, ἥκιστα ψοφεῖ ψἑἶζῖ τῶν ὑγρῶν· ὑγρὸν γάρ ἐστι διʼ ὅλου· τῶν δʼ ἄλλων ἐν τῷ ῥεῖν καὶ φέρεσθαι τὰ σκληρὰ καὶ γεώδη μέρη προσκρούσεις λαμβάνοντα καὶ πληγὰς ψοφεῖ διὰ τραχύτητα. καὶ μὴν μόνον ἄκρατητον διαμένει καὶ ἄμικτον· ἔστι γὰρ πυκνότατον οὐ γὰρ ἔχει μεταξὺ τῶν ξηρῶν καὶ γεωδῶν ἐν αὑτῷ μερῶν κενώματα καὶ πόρους, οἷς δέξεται τὸ παρεμπῖπτον ἀλλὰ διʼ ὁμοιότητα τῶν μερῶν εὐάρμοστόν ἐστι καὶ συνεχές· ὅταν δʼ ἀφρίζῃ τοὔλαιον, οὐ δέχεται τὸ πνεῦμα διὰ λεπτότητα καὶ συνέχειαν. τοῦτο δʼ αἴτιον καὶ τοῦ τρέφεσθαι τὸ πῦρ ὑπʼ αὐτοῦ· τρέφεται μὲν γὰρ οὐδενὶ πλὴν ὑγρῷ, καὶ τοῦτο μόνον καυστόν ἐστιν· ἐκ γοῦν τῶν ξύλων ὁ μὲν ἀὴρ ἄπεισι καπνὸς γενόμενος, τὸ δὲ γεῶδες ἐκτεφρωθὲν ὑπολείπεται· μόνον δʼ ὑπὸ τοῦ πυρὸς τὸ νοτερὸν ἀναλοῦται· τούτῳ γὰρ τρέφεσθαι πέφυκεν. ὕδωρ μὲν οὖν καὶ οἶνος καὶ τὰ λοιπά, πολλοῦ μετέχοντα τοῦ θολεροῦ καὶ γεώδους, ἐμπίπτοντα τὴν φλόγα διασπᾷ καὶ τῇ τραχύτητι, καὶ τῷ βάρει θλίβει καὶ κατασβέννυσι· τὸ δʼ ἔλαιον, ὅτι μάλιστα εἰλικρινῶς ὑγρόν ἐστι, διὰ λεπτότητα μεταβάλλει καὶ κρατούμενον ἐκπυροῦται.
9.3. It is the greatest argument that can be of its humidity, that the least quantity of it spreads itself a great way; for so small a drop of honey, water, or any other liquid does not extend itself so far, but very often, by reason of the dry mixed parts, is presently wasted. Because oil is ductile and soft, men are wont to make use of it for anointing their bodies; for it runs along and spreads itself through all the parts, and sticks so firmly to them that it is not easily washed off. We find by experience, that a garment wet with water is presently dried again; but it is no easy matter to wash out the spots and stains of oil, for it enters deep, because of its most subtile and humid nature. Hence it is that Aristotle says, the drops of diluted wine are the hardest to be got out of clothes, because they are most subtile, and run farther into the pores of the cloth.
9.3. μέγιστον δʼ αὐτοῦ τῆς ὑγρότητος τεκμήριον ἡ ἐπὶ πλεῖστον ἐξ ὀλιγίστου διανομὴ καὶ χύσις· οὔτε γὰρ μέλιτος οὔθʼ ὕδατος οὔτʼ ἄλλου τινὸς ὑγροῦ βραχὺς οὕτως ὀπὸς ἐπίδοσιν λαμβάνει τοιαύτην, ἀλλʼ εὐθὺς ἐπιλείπων καταναλίσκεται διὰ ξηρότητα. τὸ δʼ ἔλαιον, ὅλκιμον πανταχῆ καὶ μαλακόν, ἄγεται περὶ τὸ σῶμα χριομένοις καὶ συνεπιρρεῖ πορρωτάτω διʼ ὑγρότητα τῶν μερῶν μηκυνομένων, ὥστε καὶ παραμένειν δυσεξίτηλον. ὕδατι μὲν γὰρ βρεχθὲν ἱμάτιον ἀποξηραίνεται ῥᾳδίως, ἐλαίου δὲ κηλῖδας οὐ τῆς τυχούσης ἐστὶ πραγματείας ἐκκαθῆραι· μάλιστα γὰρ ἐνδύεται τῷ μάλιστα λεπτὸν καὶ ὑγρὸν εἶναι. καὶ γὰρ οἶνον κεκραμένον δυσχερέστερον ἐξαιροῦσι τῶν ἱματίων, ὡς Ἀριστοτέλης φησίν, ὅτι λεπτότερός ἐστι καὶ μᾶλλον ἐνδύεται τοῖς πόροις.
10.1. AT supper we were commending Aristio’s cook, who, amongst other dishes that he had dressed very curiously, brought a cock to table just killed as a sacrifice to Hercules, as tender as though it had been killed a day or two before. When Aristio told us that this was no wonder, —seeing such a thing might be very easily done, if the cock, as soon as he was killed, was hung upon a fig-tree, —we began to enquire into the reason of what he asserted. Indeed, I must confess, our eye assures us that a fig-tree sends out a fierce and strong spirit; which is yet more evident, from what we have heard said of bulls. That is, a bull, after he is tied to a fig-tree, though never so mad before, grows presently tame, and will suffer you to touch him, and on a sudden all his rage and fury cool and die. But the chiefest cause that works this change is the sharp acrimonious quality of the tree. For of all trees this is the fullest of sap, and so are its figs, wood, and bark; and hence it comes to pass, that the smoke of fig-wood is most offensive to the eyes; and when it is burned, its ashes make the best lye to scour withal. But all these effects proceed from heat. Now there are some that say, when the sap of this tree thrown into milk curds it, that this effect does not arise from the irregular figures of the parts of the milk, which the sap unites and (as it were) glues into one body, the smooth and globose parts being squeezed out, but that by its heat it loosens the unstable and watery parts of the liquid body. And we may use as an argument the unprofitableness of the sap of this tree, which, though it is very sweet, yet makes the worst liquor in the world. For it is not the inequality in the parts that affects the smooth part, but what is cold and raw is contracted by heat. And salt helps to produce the same effect; for it is hot, and works in opposition to the uniting of the parts just mentioned, causing rather a dissolution; for to it, above all other things, Nature has given a dissolving faculty. Therefore the fig-tree sends forth a hot and sharp spirit, which cuts and boils the flesh of the bird. The very same thing may be effected by placing the flesh upon a heap of corn, or near nitre; the heat will produce the same that the fig-tree did. Now it may be made manifest that wheat is naturally hot, in that wine, put into a hogshead and placed among wheat, is presently consumed.
10.1. ὁ Ἀριστίωνος εὐημέρει παρὰ τοῖς δειπνοῦσι μάγειρος, ὡς τὰ τʼ ἄλλα χαριέντως ὀψοποιήσας καὶ τὸν ἄρτι τῷ Ἡρακλεῖ τεθυμένον ἀλεκτρυόνα παραθεὶς ἁπαλὸν ὥσπερ χθιζόν, νεαρὸν ὄντα καὶ πρόσφατον. εἰπόντος; οὖν τοῦ Ἀριστίωνος, ὅτι τοῦτο γίγνεται ταχέως, εἰ σφαγεὶς εὐθὺς ἀπὸ τῆς συκῆς κρεμασθείη, τὴν αἰτίαν ἐζητοῦμεν. ὅτι μὲν δὴ πνεῦμα τῆς συκῆς ἄπεισιν ἰσχυρὸν καὶ σφοδρόν, ἥ τʼ ὄψις ἐκμαρτυρεῖ καὶ τὸ περὶ τῶν ταύρων λεγόμενον, ὡς ἄρα συκῇ προσδεθεὶς ὁ χαλεπώτατος, ἡσυχίαν ἄγει καὶ ψαύσεως ἀνέχεται, καὶ ὅλως ἀφίησι τὸν θυμὸν ὥσπερ ἀπομαραινόμενον. τὴν δὲ πλείστην αἰτίαν καὶ δύναμιν ἡ δριμύτης εἶχε· τὸ γὰρ φυτὸν ἁπάντων ὀπωδέστατον, ὥστε καὶ τὸ σῦκον αὐτὸ καὶ τὸ ξύλον καὶ τὸ θρῖον ἀναπεπλῆσθαι· διὸ καόμενόν τε τῷ καπνῷ δάκνει μάλιστα καὶ κατακαυθέντος ἡ τέφρα ῥυπτικωτάτην παρέχει κόνιν· ταὐτὰ δὲ πάντα θερμότητος. καὶ τὴν πῆξιν ἐμποιεῖν τῷ γάλακτι τὸν ὀπὸν οἴονταί τινες, οὐ σκαληνίᾳ σχημάτων περιπλέκοντα καὶ κολλῶντα τὰ μέρη τοῦ γάλακτος, ἐκθλιβομένων ἐπιπολῆς τῶν λείων καὶ περιφερῶν, ἀλλὰ καὶ ὑπὸ θερμότητος ἐκτήκοντα τοῦ ὑγροῦ τὸ ἀσύστατον καὶ ὑδατῶδες. τεκμήριον δὲ καὶ τὸ ἄχρηστον γλυκὺ εἶναι τὸν ὀπόν, ἀλλὰ πωμάτων φαυλότατον· οὐ γὰρ τὸ λεῖον ὑπὸ τῶν σκαληνῶν, ἀλλὰ τὸ ψυχρὸν ἔστη καὶ ἄπεπτον ὑπὸ τῆς θερμότητος. καὶ πρὸς τοῦτο συνεργοῦσιν οἱ ἅλες· θερμοὶ γάρ εἰσι· πρὸς δὲ τὴν λεγομένην περιπλοκὴν καὶ σύνδεσιν ἀντιπράττουσι διάλυσιν διαλύειν γὰρ μάλιστα πεφύκασι. θερμὸν οὖν πνεῦμα καὶ δριμὺ καὶ τμητικὸν ἀφίησιν ἡ συκῆ· καὶ τοῦτο θρύπτει καὶ πεπαίνει τὴν σάρκα τοῦ ὄρνιθος. ταὐτὸ δὲ πάσχει καὶ πυρῶν ἐντεθεὶς σιρῷ καὶ νίτρῳ συνημμένος, ὑπὸ θερμότητος. ὅτι δ’ ὁ πυρὸς ἔχει τι θερμόν, τεκμαίρονται τοῖς ἀμφορεῦσιν, ὧν ἐντιθεμένων εἰς σιρὸν ἐξαναλίσκεται ταχέως ὁ οἶνος.