Book VI, 63

Weary Menedemus, his old eyes misty, dedicates to thee, Hermes (and feed ever thy labourer), these implements of his calling, the round lead full of black matter giving birth to lines, the ruler that with a sharp edge, rotating on its axis, and fixed to a holder held in the hand, keeps the pens very straight, the receptacle of the black writing fluid, his well-cut reed-pens split at the top, the rough stone that sharpens and improves the pens when they are worn and the writing is too scratchy, and the flat steel penknife with sharp point.