"What's your name?"
"Papirian, a Roman citizen."
"Well, understand, my dear Papirian, I bear no grudge against you ...
on the contrary, remain Galilean...."
The old man fell at the Emperor's feet and kissed them.
"Forty years have I been teaching grammar.... I know Homer and Hesiod
better than anyone else...."
"What do you want..." asked Augustus sternly.
"Sir, I have six children!... Don't rob me of my last crust!... My
pupils like me; ask them if I teach anything harmful!"
Emotion prevented Papirian from continuing his speech, and he pointed
to his pupils, who, not knowing where to put their hands, stood
together staring and blushing.
"No, my friends," said the Emperor gently but firmly. "The law is
just. To my mind it is absurd that Christian teachers, in explaining
Homer, should expound away the gods of whom Homer sang. If you believe
that our wise men composed mere fables on the subject of our gods, you
should go to your churches, and expound Matthew and Luke!... And
note, Galileans, all is done in your own interest...."