A minor poet called Admetus told him he had inserted a clause in his will for the inscribing on his tomb of a monostich, which I will give:

 Admetus’ husk earth holds, and Heaven himself. 
‘What a beautiful epitaph, Admetus!’ said Demonax, ‘and what a pity it is not up yet!’

 The shrunk shanks of old age are a commonplace; but when his reached this state, some one asked him what was the matter with them. ‘Ah,’ he said with a smile, ‘Charon has been having a bite at them.’