Socrates. Welcome, Ion. Are you from your native city of Ephesus ?
Ion. No, Socrates ; but from Epidaurus, where I attended the festival of Asclepius.
Soc. And do the Epidaurians have contests of rhapsodes at the festival ?
Ion. O yes ; and of all sorts of musical performers.
Soc. And were you one of the competitors — and did you succeed ?
Ion. I obtained the first prize of all, Socrates.
Soc. Well done ; and I hope that you will do the same for us at the Panathenaea.
Ion. And I will, please heaven.
Soc. I often envy the profession of a rhapsode, Ion ; for you have always to wear fine clothes, and to look as beautiful as you can is a part of your art. Then, again, you are obliged to be continually in the company of many good poets ; and especially of Homer, who is the best and most divine of them ; and to understand him, and not merely learn his words by rote, is a thing greatly to be envied. And no man can be a rhapsode who does not understand the meaning of the poet. For the rhapsode ought to interpret the mind of the poet to his hearers, but how can he interpret him well unless he knows what he means ? All this is greatly to be envied.
Ion. Very true, Socrates ; interpretation has certainly been the most laborious part of my art ; and I believe myself able to speak about Homer better than any man ; and that neither Metrodorus of Lampsacus, nor Stesimbrotus of Thasos, nor Glaucon, nor any one else who ever was, had as good ideas about Homer as I have, or as many.
Soc. I am glad to hear you say so, Ion ; I see that you will not refuse to acquaint me with them.
Ion. Certainly, Socrates ; and you really ought to hear how exquisitely I render Homer. I think that the Homeridae should give me a golden crown.