Well, perhaps people in Egypt do not know you, who received you when, after those marvellous performances of yours in Syria, you went into exile for the reasons which I have mentioned, pursued by the clothiers, from whom you had bought costly garments and in that way obtained your expense-money for the journey. But Alexandria knows you to be guilty of offences just as bad, and should not have been ranked second to Antioch. No, your wantonness there was more open and your licentiousness more insane, your reputation for these things was greater, and your head was uncloaked under all circumstances.

Cf. Petronius, 7: operui caput.

There is only one person who would have believed you if you denied having done anything of the sort, and would have come to your assistance—your latest employer, one of the first gentlemen of Rome. The name itself you will allow me to withhold, especially in addressing people who all know whom I mean. As to all the liberties taken by you while you were with him that he tolerated, why should I speak of them? But when he found you in the company of his young cup-bearer Oenopion,—what do you think ? Would he have believed you? Not unless he was completely blind. No, he made his opinion evident by driving you out of his house at once, and indeed conducting a lustration, they say, after your departure.

And certainly Greece as well as Italy is completely filled with-your doings, and your reputation for them, and I wish you joy of your fame! . Consequently, to those who marvel at what you are now doing in Ephesus, I say (and it is true as can be) that they would not wonder if they knew your early performances. Yet you have learned something new here having to do with women.

Does it not, then, fit such a man to a hair to call him nefandous? But why in the name of Zeus should you take it upon yourselfto kiss us after such performances ? In so doing you behave very offensively, especially to those who ought least of all to be so treated, your pupils, for whom it would have been enough to get only those other horrid boons from your lips—barbarity of language, harshness of voice, indistinctness, confusedness, complete tunelessness, and the like, but to kiss you—forfend it, Averter of Ill! Better kiss an asp or a viper; then the risk is a bite and a pain which the doctor cures when you call him. But from the venom of your kiss, who could approach victims or altars? What god would listen to one’s prayer? How many bowls of holy water, how many rivers are required?

And you, who are of that sort, laughed at others in the matter of words and phrases, when you were doing such terrible deeds! For my part, had I not known the word nefandous, I should have been ashamed, so far am I from denying that I used it. In your own case, none of us criticised you for saying “bromologous” and “tropomasthletes” and “to rhesimeter,” and “Athenio,” and “anthocracy” and “sphendicise” and “‘cheiroblime.”

Except for rhesimeter (to speak for a measured time, as in court), which Lucian’s Lexiphanes uses (Lez., 9), these words are found only here. Their meaning is : bromologous : stench-mouthed.

tropomasthletes: oily-mannered fellows.

athenio: to yearn for Athens.

anthocracy: apparently, rule of the “flower”; i.e., the select few. sphendicise: to sling, very likely in the sense, to throw.

cheiroblime : to handle.

May Hermes, Lord of Language, blot you out miserably, language and all, for the miserable wretch that you are! Where in literature do you find these treasures? Perhaps buried somewhere in the closet of some composer of dirges, full of mildew and spiders’ webs, or from the Tablets of Philaenis,

The Tablets of Philaenis are frequently mentioned as an ars amatoria. An epigram by Aeschrion (Anth. Pal., VII, 345) says that it was not written by the woman whose name it bore, but by the sophist Polycrates. The book is therefore of the time of Polycrates, the beginning of the fourth century B.C.

which you keep in hand. For you, however, and for your lips they are quite good enough.

Now that I have mentioned lips, what would you say if your tongue, summoning you to court, let us suppose, should prosecute you on a charge of injury and at the mildest, assault, saying: “Ingrate, I took you under my protection when you were poor and hard up and destitute of support, and first of all I made you successful in the theatre, making you now Ninus, now Metiochus, and then presently Achilles

As Ninus, the legendary king of Assyria, he supported a dancer in the role of Semiramis, enacting a plot presumably based on the Greek Ninus Romance (text and translation of the fragments in 8. Gaselee, Daphnis and Chloe [L.C.L.];_ cf. R. M. Rattenbury, New Chapters in the Hist. of Greek Lit., III, pp. 211-223). Opposite to his Metiochus the Phrygian, the dancer played Parthenope; see The Dance, §1. His Achilles was very likely that hero on Scyros, disguised as a girl, with the dancer taking the part of the king’s daughter whom he beguiled, Deidameia; cf. p. 257.

After that, when you taught boys to spell, I kept you for a long time; and wien at length you took to delivering these speeches of yours, composed by other people, I caused you to be considered a sophist, attaching to you a reputation which had nothing at all to do with you. What charge, then, have you to bring against me, so great that you treat me in this way, imposing disgraceful tasks and abominable services? Are not my daily tasks enough, lying, committing perjury, ladling out such an amount of silliness and twaddle, or (I should say) spewing out the nastiness of those speeches? Even at night you do not allow me, unlucky that I am, to take my rest, but unaided I do everything for you, am abused, defiled, treated deliberately like a hand rather than a tongue, insulted as if I were nothing to you, overwhelmed with so many injuries. My only function is to talk; other parts have been commissioned to do such things as those. Oh if only someone had cut me out, like the tongue of Philomela. More blessed in my sight are the tongues of parents who have eaten their children!”

In Heaven’s name, if your tongue should say that, acquiring a voice of its own, and getting your beard to join in the accusation, what response would you make? The reply, manifestly, which you made recently to Glaucus when he rebuked you just after a performance, that by this means you had speedily become famous and known to everyone, and how could you have become so notorious by making speeches ? It was highly desirable, you said, to be renowned and celebrated in any way whatsoever. And then you might tell it your many nicknames, acquired in different nations. In that connection I marvel at it that you were distressed when you heard ‘ nefandous ’ but were not angry over those names.

In Syria you were called Rhododaphne; the reason, by Athena, I am ashamed to tell. So as far as lies in me, it will still remain a mystery. In Palestine, you were Thorn-hedge, with reference, no doubt, to the prickling of your stubbly beard; for you still kept it shaved. In Egypt you were called Quinsy, which is clear. In fact, they say you were nearly throttled when you ran afoul of a lusty sailor who closed with you and stopped your mouth. The Athenians, excellent fellows that they are, gave you no enigmatic name but called you Atimarchus, honouring you with the addition of a single letter because you had to have something that went even beyond Timarchus.

Timarchus is the man whom Aeschines castigated for his vices in an extant speech. From the wording of this passage it has been very generally inferred that the name of Lucian’s butt was Timarchus. That, however, would be a singular coincidence, which would surely have called for especial emphasis. All that Lucian intends to convey, I think, is that the Athenians did not nickname the man Timarchus as they might have done, but went a step further and styled him Atimarchus.

. And in Italy—my word! you got that epic nickname of Cyclops, because once, over and above your old bag of tricks, you took a notion to do an obscene parody on Homer’s poetry itself, and while you lay there, drunk already, with a bowl of ivy-wood in your hand, a lecherous Polyphemus, a young man whom you had hired came at you as Odysseus, presenting his bar, thoroughly made ready, to put out your eye; And that he missed; his shaft was turned aside.Its point drove through beside the jawbone’s root.The first line of this cento from the Iliad is XIII, 605 combined with XI, 233; the second is V, 293. (Of course it is not at all out of the way, in discussing you, to be silly.) Well, you as the Cyclops, opening your mouth and setting it agape as widely as you could, submitted to having your jaw put out by him, or rather, like Charybdis, you strove to engulf your Noman whole, along with his crew, his rudder, and his sails. That was seen by other people present. Then the next day your only defence was drunkenness, and you sought sanctuary in the unwatered wine.

Rich as you are in these choice and numerous appellations, are you ashamed of ‘nefandous’? In the name of the gods, tell me how you feel when the rabble call you names derived from Lesbos and Phoenicia?, Are you as unacquainted with these as with ‘nefandous,’ and do you perhaps think they are praising you? Or do you know these through old acquaintance, and is it only ‘ nefandous’ that you scorn as unknown and exclude from your list of names? Consequently, you are paying us a penalty which cannot be considered inadequate; no, your notoriety extends even to the women’s quarters. Recently, for instance, when you had the hardihood to seek a match in Cyzicus, that excellent woman, who had very thoroughly informed herself in every particular said: ‘I do not care to have a man who needs one.”

Then, being in such case, you bother about words, do you, and laugh, and insult other people? Not without reason, for we could not all use expressions like yours. How ever could we? Who is so greatly daring in language as to ask for a trident instead of a sword to use on three adulterers, as you did?

The quaint conceit that with a trident all three might be despatched at a blow undoubtedly embellished a rhetorical “exercise” like Lucian’s own Tyrannicide or Disowned.

Or to say of Theopompus, in passing judgement on his Tricaranus,

On the book entitled Tricaranus (“Tricipitine,” or “Three-Headed”) see p. 96, n. 9.

that he had razed the outstanding cities single-handed with a three-pronged book? And again, that he had plied a ruinous trident upon Hellas, and that he was a literary Cerberus.

Cerberus had three heads.

Why, the other day you even lighted a lantern and went peering about, for some “brother,” I suppose, that had got astray. And there are other examples beyond counting, which it is not worth while to mention, except for one that was heard and reported. A rich man, I gather, and two poor men were on bad terms. Then, in the middle of the story, speaking of the rich man, you said: “He killed θάτερον (meaning one of the two, instead of saying τὸν ἕτερον) ; and when those present laughed, as was natural, by way of correcting and undoing your slip you said: “No, not that; he killed ἅτερον Your old-time slips I pass over, your use of the dual in speaking of three months, of ἀνηνεμία (for νηνεμία, windlessness), of πέταμαι (for πέτομαι, I fly), of ἐκχύνειν (for ἐκχεῖν, to pour out), and all the other fine flowers that adorn your compositions.

As to what you do under the impulsion of poverty —by our Lady of Necessity! I cannot censure a single act. It can be overlooked, for example, if a man in the pinch of hunger who has received moneys entrusted to him by a man of his own city subsequently takes a false oath that he received nothing; or if a man shamelessly asks for gifts—begs, in fact— and steals and plies the trade of publican. That is not what I am talking about; for there is nothing invidious in fending off destitution by every means. But it goes beyond what is endurable when you, a poor man, pour the proceeds of your shamelessness into such indulgences only. However, you will permit me to praise one thing, anyhow, that very pretty performance of yours when you yourself—and you know it—composed the “Tisias’ Handbook,” that work of an ill-omened crow, thus robbing that stupid old man of thirty gold pieces; for because of Tisias’ name he paid seven hundred and fifty drachmas for the book, gulled into it by you.

Apparently, Lucian’s hero had sold to the old man as “Tisias’ Handbook” a work on rhetoric which he had himself forged. Both Tisias and his master Corax, the founder of rhetoric, were said to have written handbooks. This production, purporting to be by Tisias, was really the work of an ill-omened Korax (crow), thievish as such birds always are.

I have still a great deal that I might say; but I willingly forego the rest for you, adding only this: do as you like in everything else and do not cease to indulge in such maudlin behaviour at your own expense, but not that one thing—no, no! It is not decent to ask people who so act to the same table, to share a cup with them, and to partake of the same food. And let there be none of this kissing after lectures, either, especially with those who have made ‘nefandous’ apply to you not long before. And inasmuch as I have already begun to give friendly advice, have done, if you please, with perfuming your grey hair, and depilating only certain parts; for if some ailment is besetting you, your whole body should be attended to, but if nothing of that sort ails you, what is the point of your making parts hairless, smooth, and sleek which should not even be seen? One thing only is prudent in you, your grey hairs, and that you no longer dye them, so that you can have them to cloak your iniquity. Spare them, in Heaven’s name in this point also, and particularly your beard, too; do not defile or mistreat it any longer. If you must, let it be at night and in darkness; but by day—no, no!—that is absolutely uncivilised and beastly.

Do not you see that it would have been better for you to “leave Camarina undisturbed,”

The inhabitants of Camarina in Sicily, though warned by Delphi not to disturb the lagoon, also called Camarina, which flanked the city, drained it nevertheless. By so doing, a weakened their defences and brought about their city’s all.

and not to laugh at the word nefandous, which is going to make your whole life nefandous? Or is something more still required? As far as in me lies, it shall not remain wanting. To be sure, you are not yet aware that you have brought down the whole cartload on top of you, though you ought to grovel, you glozing varlet, if a man with hair on him, a swart-breech

An allusion to the story of Heracles and the Cercopes; cf. Aristophanes, Lysistrata, 803.

(to use the good old phrase) were simply to look at you sourly. Perhaps you will even laugh at that, too—that “glozing varlet”—as if you had heard something enigmatic and riddling; for you do not know the words for your actions. So you now have an opportunity to libel these expressions also, in case “nefandous” has not paid you out, three or four times over. Anyhow, blame yourself for everything. As that pretty wit Euripides used to say, of curbless mouths and folly and lawlessness the end is mischance.

Bacchae, 386 ff., loosely quoted, without attention to metre; καὶ ἀφροσύνης καὶ ἀνομίας is substituted for ἀνόμου τ᾽ ἀφροσύνας, and γίγνεται is added.