Icaromenippus
Lucian of Samosata
Lucian, Vol. 2. Harmon, A. M., editor. London: William Heinemann, Ltd.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1915.
He is the height of gluttony and insatiability, and he gets so drunken and riotous that he not only sings and dances, but even abuses people and flies into a passion. Besides he has much to say over his cup—more then than at any other time, in fact!—about temperance and decorum, and he says all this when he is already in a bad way from taking his wine without water and stammers ridiculously. Then a vomit follows, and at last he is picked up and carried out of the diningroom, catching at the flute girl with both hands as he goes. But even when sober, he won’t yield the palm to anyone in lying and impudence and covetousness ; on the contrary, he is a peerless toady and he perjures himself with the greatest facility ; humbug is his guide and shamelessness his follower, and to sum it up, he is a wonderfully clever piece of work, correct in every detail and perfect in a world of ways. Therefore he shall soon smart for ;his superiority. (To Thrasycles): Well, well! I say, Thrasycles, you are late.
THRASYCLES I have not come with the same intent as all this crowd, Timon. Dazzled by your riches, they have gathered at a run in the expectation of silver and gold and costly dinners, meaning to exercise unlimited flattery upon a man so simple and so free with his gear. You know, of course, that for me barley-cake is dinner enough, and the sweetest relish is thyme or cardamom, or if ever I were to indulge myself, a trifle of salt. My drink is the water of Nine-spouts, and this philosopher’s mantle suits me better than any purple robe. As for gold, I hold it in no higher worth than yonder pebbles on the shore. It was on your account that I came, in order that you might not be corrupted by wealth, that most iniquitous and insidious of possessions, which, many a time to many a man, has proved a source of irreparable misfortunes. If you take my advice, you will by all means throw the whole of it into the sea, for it is not at all essential to a virtuous man who can discern the riches of philosophy; but don’t throw it into the deep water, my dear fellow: just wade in as far as your waist and toss it a short distance outside the breakers, with none but me to see you.