Oh, but I am quite prepared to give security for my expeditious return, Nay, I could provide a substitute, if preferred;—my well-beloved!

Well, Clotho, I hope you will not refuse my last request.

Which is?

I should like to know how things will be, now that I am gone.

Certainly; you shall have that mortification. Your wife will pass into the hands of Midas, your slave; he has been her gallant for some time past.

Acurse on him! 'Twas at her request that I gave him his freedom.

Your daughter will take her place in the harem of the present monarch. ‘Then all the old statues and portraits which the city set up in your honour will be overturned,—to the entertainment, no doubt, of the spectators.

And will no friend resent these doings?

Who was your friend? Who had any reason to be? Need I explain that the cringing courtiers who lauded your every word and deed were actuated either by hope or by fear —time-servers every man of them, with a keen eye to the main chance?

And these are they whose feasts rang with my name! who, as they poured their libations, invoked every blessing on my head! Not one but would have died before me, could he have had his will; nay, they swore by no other name.

Yes; and you dined with one of them yesterday, and it cost you your life. It was that last cup you drank that brought you here.

Ah, I noticed a bitter taste—But what was his object?

Clotho, I had a particular reason for desiring one more glimpse of daylight. I have a burning grievance!

And what is that? Something of vast importance, I make no doubt.

It is about my slave Carion. The moment he knew of my death, he came up to the room where I lay; it was late in the evening; he had plenty of time in front of him, for not a soul was watching by me; he brought with him my concubine Glycerium (an old affair, this, E suspect), closed the door, and proceeded to take his pleasure with her, as if no third person had been in the room! Having satisfied the demands of passion, he turned his attention to me. ‘You little villain,’ he cried, ‘many’s the flogging I’ve had from you, for no fault of mine!’ And as he spoke he plucked out my hair and smote me on the face. ‘Away with you,’ he cried finally, spitting on me, ‘away to the place of the damned!’—and so withdrew. I burned with resentment: but there I lay stark and cold, and could do nothing. That baggage Glycerium, too, hearing footsteps approaching, moistened her eyes and pretended she had been weeping for me; and withdrew sobbing, and repeating my name.—If I could but get hold of them——

Never mind what you would do to them, but come on board. The hour is at hand when you must appear before the tribunal.

And who will presume to give his vote against a tyrant?

Against a tyrant, who indeed? Against a Shade, Rhadamanthus will take that liberty. He is strictly impartial, as you will presently observe, in adapting his sentences to the requirements of individual cases. And now, no more delay.

Dread Fate, let me be some common man,—some pauper! I have been a king,—let me be a slave! Only let me live!

Where is the one with the stick? Hermes, you and he must drag him up feet foremost. He will never come up by himself.

Come along, my runagate. Here you are, skipper. And I say, keep an eye——

Never fear. We'll lash him to the mast.

Look you, I must have the seat of honour.

And why exactly?

Can you ask? Was I not a tyrant, with a guard of ten thousand men?

Oh, dullard! And you complain of Carion’s pulling your hair! Wait till you get a taste of this stick; you shall know what it is to be a tyrant.

What, shall a Cynic dare to raise his staff against me? Sirrah, have you forgotten the other day, when I had all but nailed you to the cross, for letting that sharp censorious tongue of yours wag too freely?

Well, and now it is your turn te be nailed,—to the mast.