Letter 119: Pancratius lives in the mother-city of letters and should send poems home to Procopius.

Aeschylus says that the best man wants not to seem good, but to be good, when he chooses to praise someone. Such a man you have appeared to me: not displaying only that common friendship that lasts while people are present, and not measuring goodwill by place, but eager to be better and to conquer yourself. For this reason forgetfulness does not know how to steal you from my mind. Something Socratic always comes over me, and I say, "If I do not know Pancratius, I have forgotten myself." Your tongue dances with the Muses, and virtue has made your sacred soul its own, like a precinct no vice may enter. You are happy, then, in bearing such marks, and you inhabit the city that is the common mother of letters: the city for which the Seasons, longing for her, made truce with one another; which the sea washes gently; which the Nile embraces as it pours around her like a beloved; where groves, trees, and fields stand on every side, and varied graces strike the eyes. God will increase your happiness and grant it as the reward of virtue. Share your prosperity with your friends. Cheer me with the good things that come from your tongue, and send your poems from your home to mine. It is not right for works that could bring great benefit if shown to others to remain hidden.

Παγκρατίωι Οὐ γὰρ δοκεῖν ἄριστος ἀλλ' εἶναι θέλει φησὶν Αἰσχύλος, ἐπαινεῖν τινα προελόμενος. τοιοῦτος ἡμῖν ἀνεφάνης, οὐ τοῦτο δὴ τὸ κοινὸν μέχρι τοῦ παρεῖναι φιλίαν ἐπιδεικνύς, οὐδὲ μετρῶν τῷ τόπῳ τὴν εὔνοιαν, ἀλλὰ κρείτ των εἶναι καὶ σαυτὸν νικᾶν ἐπειγόμενος. εἰκότως ἄρα σε τῆς ἐμῆς διανοίας οὐκ οἶδεν ὑποκλέπτειν ἡ λήθη, ἀλλ' ἔπεισί τί μοι Σωκρατικὸν ἀεὶ λέγειν, ὡς "εἰ ἐγὼ Παγκράτιον ἀγνοῶ, καὶ ἐμαυτοῦ ἐπιλέλησμαι", οὗ χορεύει μὲν ἡ γλῶττα ταῖς Μούσαις, ἀρετὴ δὲ καθάπερ τέμενος ἄβατον κακίᾳ τὴν ἱερὰν ψυχὴν ᾠκειώσατο. τοιγαροῦν εὐδαίμων μὲν αὐτὸς τοιαῦτα φέρων γνωρίσμα τα, καὶ πόλιν οἰκεῖς τὴν κοινὴν τῶν λόγων μητέρα, ἣν Ὧραι ποθοῦσαι κατὰ ταύτην ἀλλήλαις ἐσπείσαντο, ἣν προσκλύζει πράως ἡ θάλασσα, καὶ Νεῖλος ἐναγκαλίζεται καθάπερ ἐρωμένῃ περιχυθείς, καὶ πανταχόθεν ἄλση καὶ δένδρα καὶ λήια, καὶ τοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖς ποικίλαι προσβάλλουσι χάριτες. ἀλλ' ὑμῖν μὲν τὴν εὐδαιμονίαν θεὸς ἐπαυξήσει, καὶ μισθὸν τῆς ἀρετῆς δωρη σάμενος. "μετάδος δὲ φίλοισι σοῖσι σῆς εὐπραξίας", τοῖς ἐκ γλώττης ἀγαθοῖς εὐφραίνων ἡμᾶς, καὶ πέμπων οἴκοθεν οἴκαδε πρὸς ἡμᾶς τὰ ποιήματα. οὐ γὰρ δίκαιον λανθάνειν ἃ τοῖς ἄλλοις ἐπιδειχθέντα πλείστην οἴσει τὴν ὄνησιν.