Letter 139: Orion's friendly praise has made his uncle expect Procopius to teach what he does not possess.

Your uncle thinks he will do something great for your education if he must bring you letters from me; saying this, no doubt, he leads me toward writing. I admire the man's goodwill toward you, sparing not even the smallest things by which he knows he will please you. But I loved silence, blushing at myself and having nothing wise to write. As the wisest Plato also thinks, it is not possible to know what virtue is without hastening toward virtue in deeds. About what cannot be known, I would blush to speak, doing the same as someone who knows nothing of music, not even in a dream, and then claims to be some Orpheus taming beasts with a lyre. If he had to touch the strings, the boast would immediately become laughable, and everything would easily be exposed. Why then am I considered by your uncle to be what I am not by nature? You often said something to him, adorning me by the law of friendship; but he did not look at your affection. Thinking the words came from deeds, he demands that I become the kind of man you remade me in words. Now I am paying the penalty for your falsehood and exposing your words, since I cannot become a teacher of virtue. Yet since this letter is to you, go on admiring me again, so that you do not expose yourself as having lied.

Ὠρίωνι Ὁ μὲν ὑμέτερος θεῖος οἴεταί τι μέγα χαριεῖσθαι τῇ παιδεύσει τῇ σῇ, εἴ γε δεῖ γράμματα κομίσαι παρ' ἐμοῦ καὶ ταῦτα δήπου λέγων ἐπὶ τὸ γράφειν ἀνάγεται. ἐγὼ δὲ τῆς μὲν εἰς ὑμᾶς εὐνοίας τὸν ἄνδρα τεθαύμακα μηδὲ τῶν σμικροτάτων φειδόμενον ἐξ ὧν οἶδεν ὑμῖν χαριούμενος, τὴν δὲ σιωπὴν ἠγάπων ἐμαυτὸν ἐρυθριῶν καὶ σοφὸν ἔχων ἐπιστεῖλαι μηδέν. ὡς γὰρ καὶ Πλάτωνι τῷ σοφωτάτῳ δοκεῖ, οὐκ ἔστιν ἀρετὴν εἰδέναι τί, μὴ τοῖς ἔργοις πρὸς ἀρετὴν ἐπειγόμενον. ὃ δὲ μὴ ἔστιν εἰδέναι, κἂν ἐρυθριάσαιμι περὶ τούτου φθεγγόμενος καὶ ταὐτὰ ποιῶν ὥσπερ ἂν εἴ τις μουσικὴν μηδ' ὄναρ εἰδὼς εἶτά τις Ὀρφεὺς εἶναι λέγοι τὰ θηρία τῇ λύρᾳ χειρούμενος. ἀλλ' εἰ δέοι τῶν κρουμάτων ἐφάψασθαι, γέλως εὐθὺς ὁ κόμπος, καὶ πάντα δὴ ῥᾳδίως ἐλέγχεται. πόθεν οὖν ὃ μὴ πέφυκα παρὰ τῷ σῷ θείῳ νομίζομαι; ἔφης τι πρὸς αὐτὸν πολλάκις νόμῳ δὴ φιλίας ἀποσεμνύνων ἐμέ, ὁ δὲ τὸν πόθον οὐ σκοπῶν, ἀλλ' ἐκ τῶν ἔργων εἶναι τοὺς λόγους οἰόμενος, ἀπαιτεῖ γενέσθαι με τοιοῦτον οἷόν με τοῖς λόγοις ἀνέπλασας, καὶ τοῦ σοῦ ψεύδους νῦν εὐθύνας εἰσπράττομαι καὶ διελέγχω σου τοὺς λόγους, οὐκ ἔχων ἀρετῆς γενέσθαι διδάσκαλος; πλὴν ἐπειδὴ πρὸς σέ μοι τὰ γράμματα, δόκει δὴ πάλιν θαυμάζειν, ἵνα μὴ σαυτὸν ἐλέγχῃς ψευδόμενον.