In peace, it seems to me, Parasitic excels philosophy as greatly as peace itself excels war. First, if you please, let us consider the strongholds of peace.

I do not understand what that means, but let us consider it all the same.

Well, I should say that market-places, law-courts, athletic fields, gymnasia, hunting-parties and dinners were a city’s strongholds. To be sure.

The parasite does not appear in the market-place or the courts because, I take it, all these points are more appropriate to swindlers, ‘and because nothing that is done in them is good form; but he frequents the athletic fields, the gymnasia, and the dinners, and ornaments them beyond all others. On the athletic field what philosopher or rhetorician, once he has taken his clothes off, is fit to be compared with a parasite’s physique? What one of them when seen in the gymnasium is not actually a disgrace to the place? In the wilds, too, none of them could withstand the charge of a beast; the parasite, however, awaits their attack and receives it easily, having learned to despise them at dinners; and neither stag nor bristling boar affrights him, but if the boar whets his tusks for him, the parasite whets his own for the boar! After a hare he is as keen as a hound. And at a dinner, who could compete with a parasite either in making sport or in eating? Who would make the guests merrier? He with his songs and jokes, or a fellow who lies there without a smile, in a short cloak, with his eyes upon the ground, as if he had come to a funeral and not to a banquet? In my opinion, a philosopher at a banquet is much the same thing as a dog in a bathhouse!

Come now, let us dismiss these topics and forthwith turn to the parasite’s way of living, considering at the same time and comparing with it that of the others.

In the first place, you can see that the parasite always despises reputation and does not care at all what people think about him, but you will find that rhetoricians and philosophers, not merely here and there but everywhere, are harassed by selfesteem and reputation—yes, not only by reputation, but what is worse than that, by money! The parasite feels greater contempt for silver than one would feel even for the pebbles on the beach, and does not think gold one whit better than fire. The rhetoricians, however, and what is more shocking, those who claim to be philosophers, are so wretchedly affected by it that among the philosophers who are . most famous at present—for why should we speak of the rhetoricians?—one was convicted of taking a bribe when he served on a jury, and another demands pay from the emperor as a private tutor; he is not ashamed that in his old age he resides in a foreign land on this account and works for wages like an Indian or Scythian prisoner of war —not even ashamed of the name that he gets by it.

The allusion is uncertain. The emperor is probably Marcus Aurelius; if so, the philosopher may be Sextus of Chaeronea, or the Apollonius whom Lucian mentions in Demonax 31.

You will find too that they are subject to other passions as well as these, such as distress, anger, jealousy, and all manner of desires. The parasite is far from all this; he does not become angry because he is long-suffering, and also because he has nothing to get angry at; and if he should become indignant at any time, his temper does not give rise to any unpleasantness or gloom, but rather to laughter, and makes the company merry. He is least of all subject to distress, as his art supplies him gratuitously with the advantage of having nothing to be distressed about. For he has neither money nor house nor servant nor wife nor children, over which, if they go to ruin, it is inevitable that their possessor should — be distressed. And he has no desires, either for reputation or money, or even for a_ beautiful favourite.

But, Simon, at least he is likely to be distressed by lack of food.

You fail to understand, Tychiades, that a priori: one who lacks food is not a parasite. A brave man is not brave if he lacks bravery, nor is a sensible man sensible if he lacks sense. On any other supposition . the parasite would not exist; and the subject of our investigation is an existent, not a non-existent parasite. If the brave man is brave for no other reason than because he has bravery at his command, and the sensible man because he has sense at his command, so, too, the parasite is a parasite because he has food at his command; consequently, if this be denied him, we shall be studying some other sort of man instead of a parasite.

Then a parasite will never lack food?

So it appears; therefore he cannot be distressed, either by that or by anything else whatsoever.

Moreover, all the philosophers and rhetoricians, to a man, are particularly timid. At all events you will find that most of them appear in public with a staff —of course they would not have armed themselves if they were not afraid—-and that they lock their doors very securely for fear that someone might plot against them at night. The parasite, however, casually closes the door of his lodgings, just to prevent it from being opened by the wind, and when a sound comes at night, he is no more disturbed than as if it had not come, and when he goes through unfrequented country he travels without a sword; for . he does not fear anything anywhere. But I have often seen philosophers armed with bows and arrows when there was nothing to fear; and as for staves, they carry them even when they go to the bath and to luncheon.