The Dead Come to Life, or the Fisherman (3-4)

No, no! In the name of Him who hears the suppliant,[*] spare me!

Your doom is sealed: you cannot be let go now. You know, of course, what Homer says:

Since between lions and men there exist no bonds of alliance.

Indeed, I myself will quote Homer in begging you for mercy. Perhaps you will revere his verses and will not ignore me when I have recited them:

Save me, for I am no churl, and I receive what is fitting in ransom,

Copper and gold, that in truth are desirable even to sages.

But we ourselves shall not be at a loss for a Homeric reply to you; listen to this, for instance:

Think not now in your heart of escape, you speaker of slander,

Even by talking of gold, oncé into our hands you have fallen.

Oh, what wretched luck! Homer, in whom I had my greatest hope, is useless to me. I suppose I must take refuge with Euripides; perhaps he might save me:

Slay not! The suppliant thou shalt not skay.

Ah, but is not this by Euripides, too?

No harm for them that wrought to suffer harm.

hen will ye slay me now, because of words?

Yes, by Heaven! Anyhow, he himself says:

Of mouths that are curbless

And fools that are lawless

The end is mischance.

Well, then, as you are absolutely determined to kill me and there is no possibility of my escaping, do tell me at least who you are and what irreparable injuries you have received from me that you’ are irreconcilably angry and have seized me for execution.

What dreadful wrongs you have done us you may ask yourself, you rascal, and those precious dialogues of yours in which you not only spoke abusively of Philosophy herself, but insulted us by advertising for sale, as if in a slave-market, men who are learned, and what is more, free-born. Indignant at this, we requested a brief leave of absence from Pluto and have come up to get you—Chrysippus here, Epicurus, Plato (myself), Aristotle over there, Pythagoras here, who says nothing, Diogenes, and everyone that you vilified in your dialogues.