[
394a]
And the old man on hearing this was frightened and
departed in silence, and having gone apart from the camp he prayed at length
to Apollo, invoking the appellations of the god, and reminding him of and
asking requital for any of his gifts that had found favor whether in the
building of temples or the sacrifice of victims. In return for these things
he prayed that the Achaeans should suffer for his tears by the god's shafts.
It is in this way, my dear fellow,” I said, “that
[
394b]
without imitation simple narration
results.” “I understand,” he said.
“Understand then,” said I,
“that the opposite of this arises when one removes the words of
the poet between and leaves the alternation of speeches.”
“This too I understand,” he said,
“—it is what happens in tragedy.”
“You have conceived me most rightly,” I said,
“and now I think I can make plain to you what I was unable to
before, that there is one kind of poetry and tale-telling which works wholly
through imitation,
[
394c]
as you remarked,
tragedy and comedy; and another which employs the recital of the poet
himself, best exemplified, I presume, in the dithyramb
1; and there is again that which employs both, in epic poetry
and in many other places, if you apprehend me.” “I
understand now,” he said, “what you then
meant.” “Recall then also the preceding statement that
we were done with the 'what' of speech and still had to consider the
'how.'” “I remember.”
[
394d]
“What I meant then was just this, that we must
reach a decision whether we are to suffer our poets to narrate as imitators
or in part as imitators and in part not, and what sort of things in each
case, or not allow them to imitate
2 at all.” “I
divine,” he said, “that you are considering whether we
shall admit tragedy and comedy into our city or not.”
“Perhaps,” said I, “and perhaps even more than
that.
3 For I
certainly do not yet know myself, but whithersoever the wind, as it were, of
the argument blows,
4 there
lies our course.”
[
394e]
“Well said,” he replied. “This then,
Adeimantus, is the point we must keep in view, do we wish our guardians to
be good mimics or not? Or is this also a consequence of what we said before,
that each one could practise well only one pursuit and not many, but if he
attempted the latter, dabbling in many things, he would fail of distinction
in all?” “Of course it is.” “And
does not the same rule hold for imitation, that the same man is not able to
imitate many things well as he can one?” “No, he is
not.” “Still less, then, will he be able to combine