<GetPassage xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0" xmlns="http://chs.harvard.edu/xmlns/cts">
            <request>
                <requestName>GetPassage</requestName>
                <requestUrn>urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg030.perseus-eng2:57</requestUrn>
            </request>
            <reply>
                <urn>urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg030.perseus-eng2:57</urn>
                <passage>
                    <TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><text><body><div type="translation" n="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg030.perseus-eng2" xml:lang="eng"><div type="textpart" xml:base="urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0062.tlg030.perseus-eng2" subtype="section" n="57"><p>

Granted that the life of a parasite is better than
that of a rhetorician or a philosopher, is his death
worse? Quite to the contrary, it is happier by far.
We know that most, if not all, of the philosophers
died as wretchedly as they had lived; some died by
poison, as a result of judicial sentence, after they had
been convicted of the greatest crimes; some had
their bodies completely consumed by fire; some
wasted away through retention of urine; some died
in exile.<note xml:lang="eng" n="v.3.p.311.n.1"><p>Socrates ;. Empedocles (sod. Peregrinns Proteus) ; Epicurus; Aristotle.  </p></note> But in the case of a parasite no one can
cite any such death—nothing but the happy, happy
death of a man who has eaten and drunk; and any
one of them who is thought to have died by violence:
died of indigestion.

</p></div></div></body></text></TEI>
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            </reply>
            </GetPassage>