Attendants, pick up the wallet which yonder flying Cynic has dropped. Let us see what it contains—beans? a book? some coarse crust?
Ohdear no. Here is gold; some scent; a mirror; dice.
Ah, good honest man! such were his little necessaries for the philosophic life, such his title to indulge in general abuse and instruct his neighbours.
There you have them. The problem before you is, how the general ignorance is to be dispersed, and other people enabled to discriminate between the genuine and the other sort. Find the solution, Truth; for indeed it concerns you; Falsehood must not prevail; shall Ignorance shield the base while they counterfeit the good, and you never know it?
I think we had better give Parrhesiades this commission; he has been shown an honest man, our friend and your true admirer, Philosophy. Let him take Exposure with him and have interviews with all who profess philosophy; any genuine scion that he finds let him crown with olive and entertain in the Banqueting Hall; and for the rascals—ah, how many!—who are only costume philosophers, let him pull their cloaks off them, clip their beards short with a pair of common goatshears, and mark their foreheads or brand them between the eyebrows; the design on the branding iron to be a fox or an ape.
Well planned, Truth. And, Parrhesiades, here is a test for you; you know how young eagles are supposed to bé tested by the sun; well, our candidates have not got to satisfy us that they can look at light, of course; but put gold, fame, and pleasure before their eyes; when you see one remain
I will follow your instructions, Philosophy; you will soon find a large majority ornamented with fox or ape, and very few with olive. If you like, though, I will get some of them up here for you to see.
What do you mean? bring them back after that stampede?
Oh yes, if the priestess will lend me the line I see there and the Piraean fisherman’s votive hook; I will not keep them long.
You can have them; and the rod to complete the equipment.
Thanks; now quickly, please, a few dried figs and a handful of gold.
There.
What is all this about?
He has baited his hook with the figs and gold, and is sitting on the parapet dangling it over the city.
What are you doing, Parrhesiades? do you think you are going to fish up stones from the Pelasgicum?
Hush! wait till I get a bite. Posidon, the fisherman’s friend, and you, dear Amphitrite, send me good fishing!
Ah, a fine bass; no, it is not; it is a gilthead.
A shark, you mean; there, see, he is getting near the hook, open-mouthed too. He scents the gold; now he is close—touching—he has it; up with him!
Give me a hand with the line, Exposure; here he is. Now, my best of fishes, what do we make of you? Salmo Cynicus, that is what you are. Good gracious, what teeth! Aha, my brave fish, caught snapping up trifles in the rocks,
Make him disgorge; we want the bait for some more.
There, then. Now, Diogenes, do you know who it is? has the fellow anything to do with you?
Nothing whatever.
Well, what do you put him at? threepence was the price fi I the other day.
Too much. His flavour and his looks are intolerable— a coarse worthless brute. Drop him head first over the rock, and catch another. But take care your rod does not bend to breaking point.
No fear; they are quite light—about the weight of a gudgeon.
About the weight and about the wit. However, up with them.