Letter 3: Procopius says a requested book has not yet arrived, but promises to share it when it does.

If someone came to me and, without first telling me anything, asked whether I had a lyre and began talking about harmony, I would understand at once what was happening: I would know immediately that he was a musician. If his talk were about arms, if he spoke of battles and constantly described the fortunes of war, there would be no need to go to Delphi to learn that he was a soldier. Why do I say this? You have surely understood already, but I will say it all the same. It seems to me that the Muses truly live in your soul. Possessed by those goddesses, you have given your life over to them, and nothing amazes you except books, words, and everything that lifts the soul toward what is better. That is how you became a guest-friend to me, making, I think, a beginning of friendship worthy of yourself. If only I had not disappointed the hope you placed in me, and if only the book you ask for were in my hands. Then you would always have what you long for, and my greatest pleasure would be to seem useful to you. As it is, I swear not by Socrates' plane tree but by the words themselves that I have not yet obtained the possession, though I have desired it for a very long time. A little later, may Hermes and the Muses favor the words, it will be brought from Alexandria; that is what the people assigned to the matter have written from there. If this comes to pass, you will certainly see me coming to you unprompted to share it, as though I myself had wanted to receive it.

Πυθίῳ Εἴ μοί τις προσελθὼν οὐ πρότερον τοῦτο ποιήσας ἠξίου μανθάνειν εἰ λύραν ἔχοιμι, καὶ περὶ ἁρμονίας λόγον ἐποίει, πάντως ἂν ᾐσθόμην τὸ πρᾶγμα, καὶ ὅτι μουσικὸς οὗτος εὐθὺς ἠπιστάμην. εἰ δὲ περὶ ὅπλων ἦσαν οἱ λόγοι, καὶ μάχας ἔλεγε καὶ πολέμου τύχας ἀεὶ διηγεῖτο, οὐκ ἔδει δήπουθεν Πυθώδε ἰέναι καὶ ὅτι στρατιώτης οὗτος ἀκούειν. ἀλλὰ τί μοι βούλεται ταῦτα; πάντως μὲν ἤδη μανθάνεις, οὐδὲν δὲ ἧττον ὅμως εἰρήσεται. ἐμοὶ δοκεῖς ὡς ἄρα τὴν σὴν ψυχὴν ὄντως οἰκοῦσιν αἱ Μοῦσαι· εἶτα κάτοχος ὢν ταῖς θεαῖς βίον ἔχεις αὐταῖς ἀνειμένον, καὶ οὐδέν σοι θαυμαστὸν ὅ τι μὴ βιβλία καὶ λόγοι καὶ ὅσα ψυχὴν ἐπὶ τὸ κρεῖττον ἀνάγει. ἐντεῦθεν ἡμῖν ἐπεξενώθης, ἀρχὴν φιλίας ποιησάμενος πρέπουσαν οἶμαι σαυτῷ. ἀλλὰ γὰρ εἴθε μὴ τῆς ἐφ' ἡμῖν ἐλπίδος διήμαρτες, ἀλλ' ὅπερ αἰτεῖς βιβλίον, τοῦτο δὲ ἦν παρ' ἡμῖν. οὕτω γὰρ ἂν σὺ μὲν εἶχες ἀεὶ τὸ ποθούμενον, ἐμοὶ δὲ μέγιστον ἦν τὸ δοκεῖν ὑμῖν κεχαρίσθαι. νυνὶ δὲ ὄμνυμι οὐ τὴν πλάτανον τὴν Σωκράτους ἀλλὰ τοὺς λόγους αὐτούς, μήπω γε τετυχηκέναι τοῦ κτήματος, καίτοι πλεῖστον ἤδη χρόνον ἐρῶντα. μικρὸν δὲ ὕστερον, ἀλλὰ σὺν Ἑρμῇ καὶ Μούσαις εἰρήσθω, ἐκ τῆς Ἀλεξάνδρου κομισθήσεται. τοῦτο γὰρ ἐκεῖθεν ἡμῖν οἱ προσταχθέντες ἐπέστειλαν. ὅπερ εἰ πρὸς ἔργον ἐκβαίη, ὄψει με πάντως αὐτόματον ὑμῖν προσιόντα περὶ τοῦ μεταδοῦναι ὡς εἰ καὶ αὐτὸς λαβεῖν ἐβουλόμην.