Of Garrulity, or Talkativeness (12)

Truly therefore was it said by Philippides the comedian, who being courteously and familiarly asked by King Lysimachus, what he should bestow upon him of all the treasure that he had, made answer, Any thing, O King, but your secrets.

But there is another vice no less mischievous that attends garrulity, called Curiosity. For there are a sort of people that desire to hear a great deal of news, that they may have matter enough to tattle abroad; and these are the most diligent in the world to pry and dive into the secrets of others, that they may enlarge and aggravate their own loquacity with new stories and fooleries. And then they are like children, that neither can endure to hold the ice in their hands nor will let it go; or rather they may be said to lodge other men’s secrets in their bosoms, like so many serpents, which they are not able to keep there long, because they eat their way through. It is said that the fish called the sea-needle and vipers rive asunder and burst themselves when they bring forth; in like manner, secrets,

dropping from the mouths of those that cannot contain them, destroy and overthrow the revealers. Seleucus Callinicus, having lost his whole army in a battle fought with the Galatians, threw off his royal diadem, and flew away full speed on a horse with three or four attendants, wandering through by-roads and deserts, till at last he began to faint for want of food. At length coming to a certain countryman’s house, and finding the owner himself within, he asked him for a little bread and water; which the countryman not only readily fetched him, but what else his ground would afford he very liberally and plentifully set before the king and his companions, making them all as heartily welcome as it was possible for him to do. At length, in the midst of their cheer, he knew the king’s face. This overjoyed the man to such a degree,—that he should have the happiness to relieve the king in his necessity,—that he was not able to contain himself or dissemble his knowledge of the king; but after he had rode a little way with him and came to take his leave; Farewell, King Seleucus, said the poor man. But then the king, stretching forth his right hand and pulling his host to his breast, as if he had intended to kiss him, nodded to one of his followers to strike off the countryman’s head with his sword.

E’en while he speaks, his head rolls in the dust.[*]

Whereas if he could but have held his peace and mastered his tongue for a little while, till the king, as afterwards he did, had recovered his good fortune and grandeur, he had been doubtless better rewarded for his silence than he was for his hospitality. And yet this poor man had some colorable excuse for letting his tongue at liberty; that is to say, his hopes, and the kindness he had done the king.