Lucian Rhetorum praeceptor 9

[9] On the instant, then, you will be approached by a vigorous man with hard muscles and a manly stride, who shows heavy tan on his body, and is bold-eyed and alert. He is the guide of the rough road, and he will talk a lot of nonsense to you, the poor simpleton. In exhorting you to follow him, he will point out the footprints of Demosthenes and of Plato, and one or two more—great prints, I grant you, too great for men of nowadays, but for the most part dim and indistinct through lapse of time; and he will say that you will have good fortune and will contract a lawful marriage with Rhetoric if you follow these footprints like a rope-dancer; but if you should make even a slight mis-step, or set your foot out of them, or let your weight sway you somewhat to one side, you will fall from the direct road that leads to the marriage. Then he will tell you to imitate those ancient worthies, and will set you fusty models for your speeches, far from easy to copy, resembling sculptures in the early manner such as those of Hegesias and of Critius and Nesiotes ¹ —wasp-waisted, sinewy, hard, meticulously definite in their contours. And he will say that hard work, scant sleep, abstention from wine, and untidiness are necessary and indispensable; it is impossible, says he, to get over the road without them. What is most vexatious of all, even the time which he will prescribe to you for the journey will be very long——many years, for he counts not by days and months, but by whole Olympic cycles, ² so that you will be foredone in advance as you listen and will forswear your project, bidding a fond farewell to the good fortune that you expected. Besides, he demands no small fee for all these hardships; in fact, he would not guide you unless he should get a huge sum in advance.

[9] A strong severe-looking man will at once come up to you; he has a firm step, a deeply sunburnt body, a decided eye and wide-awake air; it is the guide of the rough track. This absurd person makes foolish suggestions that you should employ him, and points you out the footmarks of Demosthenes, Plato, and others; they are larger than what we make, but mostly half obliterated by time; he tells you you will attain bliss and have Rhetoric to your lawful wife, if you stick as closely to these as a rope-walker to his rope; but diverge for a moment, make a false step, or incline your weight too much either way, and farewell to your path and your bride. He will exhort you to imitate these ancients, and offer you antiquated models that lend themselves as little to imitation as old sculpture, say the clean-cut, sinewy, hard, firmly outlined productions of Hegesias, or the school of Critius and Nesiotes; and he will tell you that toil and vigilance, abstinence and perseverance, are indispensable, if you would accomplish your journey. Most mortifying of all, the time he will stipulate for is immense, years upon years; he does not so much as mention days or months; whole Olympiads are his units; you feel tired at the mere sound of them, and ready to relinquish the happiness you had set your heart upon, And as if this was not enough, he wishes to be paid handsomely for your trouble, and must have a good sum down before he will even put you in the way.