The Dead Come to Life, or the Fisherman (1-2)

Pelt, pelt the scoundrel with plenty of stones! Heap him with clods! Pile him up with broken dishes, too! Beat the blackguard with your sticks! Look out he doesn’t get away! Throw, Plato; you too, Chrysippus; you too; everybody at once! Let’s charge him together. “Let wallet to wallet give succour, and cudgel to cudgel,” [*] for he is our joint enemy, and there is not a man of us whom he has not outraged. Diogenes, ply your stick, if ever you did before; let none of you weaken; let him pay the penalty for his ribaldry. What is this? Have yon given out, Epicurus and Aristippus? Come, that is too bad!

Show yourselves men, ye sages, and call up the fury of battle.

Aristotle, make haste! Still faster! That’s well; the game is bagged. We have you, villain! you shall soon find out what sort of men you have been

I suggest he be crucified.

Yes, by Heaven; but flogged beforehand.

Let him have his eyes put out long beforehand

Let him have that tongue of his cut off, even longer beforehand.

And you, Empedocles—what do you suggest?

That he be thrown into my crater,[*] so that he may learn not to abuse his betters.

Indeed, the best suggestion would have been for him, like another Pentheus or Orpheus, “To find among the crags a riven doom,”[*] so that each of us might have gone off with a scrap of him.