Then there is the cup called the thericlean cup; this kind is depressed at the sides, sufficiently deep, having short ears, as being of the class of cup called κύλιξ.1 And, perhaps, it is out of a thericlean cup that Alexis, in his Hesione, represents Hercules to be drinking, when he speaks thus— [p. 750]
And when he had, though scarcely, come t' himself,And that the thericlean cup belongs to the class κύλιξ is plainly stated by Theophrastus, in his History of Plants. For speaking of the turpentine-tree, be says—“And thericlean cups (κύλικες θηρίκλειοι) are turned of this wood, in such a manner that no one can distinguish them from earthenware ones.” And Thericles the Corinthian is said to have been the first maker of this kind of cup, and he was a potter originally, and it is after him that they have their name; and he lived about the same time as Aristophanes the comic poet. And Theopompus speaks of this cup, in his Nemea, where he says—
He begg'd a cup of wine (κύλικα), and when he'd got it,
He drank down frequent draughts, and drain'd it well;
And, as the proverb says, the man sometimes
Is quite a bladder, and sometimes a sack.
A. Come hither you, you faithful child of Thericles,But Cleanthes, in his treatise on Interpretation, says—“And as for all these inventions, and whatever others there are of the same kind, such as the thericlean cup, the deinias, the iphicratis, it is quite plain that these, by their very names, indicate their inventors. And the same appears to be the case even now. And if they fail to do so, the name must have changed its meaning a little. But, as has been said before, one cannot in every case trust to a name.” But others state that the thericlean cup has its name from the skins of wild beasts (θηρίων) being carved on it. And Pamphilus of Alexandria says that it is so called from the fact of Bacchus disturbing the beasts (τοὺς θῆρας) by pouring libations out of these cups over them. [p. 751]
You noble shape, and what name shall we give you
Are you a looking-glass of nature? If
You were but full, then I could wish for nothing
Beyond your presence. Come then—
B. How I hate you,
You old Theolyta.
A. Old dost thou call me, friend?
B. What can I call you else? but hither come,
Let me embrace you; come to your fellow-servant:
Is it not so?
A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . you try me.
B. See here I pledge you in fair friendship's cup.
A. And when you've drunk your fill, then hand the cup
Over to me the first.