Or if that is not satisfactory, here is another plan even better. Get it all out of the house as quick as you can, not reserving a penny for yourself, and distribute it to the poor—five shillings to one, five pounds to another, a hundred to a third; philosophy might constitute a claim to a double or triple share. For my part—and I do not ask for myself, only to divide it among my needy friends—I should be quite content with as much as my scrip would hold; it is something short of two standard bushels; if one professes philosophy, one must be moderate and have few needs—none that go beyond the capacity of a scrip.
Very right, Thrasycles. But instead of a mere scripful, pray take a whole headful of clouts, standard measure by the spade.
Land of liberty, equality, legality! protect me against this ruffian!
What is your grievance, my good man? is the measure short? here is a pint or two extra, then, to put it right. Why, what now? here comes a crowd; friend Blepsias, Laches, Gniphon; their name is legion;
they shall howl soon. I had better get up on the rock; my poor tired spade wants a little rest; I will collect all the stones I can lay hands on, and pepper them at long range.
Don’t throw, Timon; we are going.
Whether the retreat will be bloodless, however, is another question,