In Heaven’s name, if your tongue should say that, acquiring a voice of its own, and getting your beard to join in the accusation, what response would you make? The reply, manifestly, which you made recently to Glaucus when he rebuked you just after a performance, that by this means you had speedily become famous and known to everyone, and how could you have become so notorious by making speeches? It was highly desirable, you said, to be renowned and celebrated in any way whatsoever. And then you might tell it your many nicknames, acquired in different nations. In that connection I marvel at it that you were distressed when you heard ‘ nefandous ’ but were not angry over those names.

In Syria you were called Rhododaphne; the reason, by Athena, I am ashamed to tell. So as far as lies in me, it will still remain a mystery. In Palestine, you were Thorn-hedge, with reference, no doubt, to the prickling of your stubbly beard; for you still kept it shaved. In Egypt you were called Quinsy, which is clear. In fact, they say you were nearly throttled when you ran afoul of a lusty sailor who closed with you and stopped your mouth. The Athenians, excellent fellows that they are, gave you no enigmatic name but called you Atimarchus, honouring you with the addition of a single letter because you had to have something that went even beyond Timarchus.

Timarchus is the man whom Aeschines castigated for his vices in an extant speech. From the wording of this passage it has been very generally inferred that the name of Lucian’s butt was Timarchus. That, however, would be a singular coincidence, which would surely have called for especial emphasis. All that Lucian intends to convey, I think, is that the Athenians did not nickname the man Timarchus as they might have done, but went a step further and styled him Atimarchus.

Rich as you are in these choice and numerous appellations, are you ashamed of ‘nefandous’? In the name of the gods, tell me how you feel when the rabble call you names derived from Lesbos and Phoenicia?, Are you as unacquainted with these as with ‘nefandous,’ and do you perhaps think they are praising you? Or do you know these through old acquaintance, and is it only ‘ nefandous’ that you scorn as unknown and exclude from your list of names? Consequently, you are paying us a penalty which cannot be considered inadequate; no, your notoriety extends even to the women’s quarters. Recently, for instance, when you had the hardihood to seek a match in Cyzicus, that excellent woman, who had very thoroughly informed herself in every particular said: ‘I do not care to have a man who needs one.”

Then, being in such case, you bother about words, do you, and laugh, and insult other people? Not without reason, for we could not all use expressions like yours. How ever could we? Who is so greatly daring in language as to ask for a trident instead of a sword to use on three adulterers, as you did?

The quaint conceit that with a trident all three might be despatched at a blow undoubtedly embellished a rhetorical “exercise” like Lucian’s own Tyrannicide or Disowned.

As to what you do under the impulsion of poverty —by our Lady of Necessity! I cannot censure a single act. It can be overlooked, for example, if a man in the pinch of hunger who has received moneys entrusted to him by a man of his own city subsequently takes a false oath that he received nothing; or if a man shamelessly asks for gifts—begs, in fact— and steals and plies the trade of publican. That is not what I am talking about; for there is nothing invidious in fending off destitution by every means. But it goes beyond what is endurable when you, a poor man, pour the proceeds of your shamelessness into such indulgences only. However, you will permit me to praise one thing, anyhow, that very pretty performance of yours when you yourself—and you know it—composed the “Tisias’ Handbook,” that work of an ill-omened crow, thus robbing that stupid old man of thirty gold pieces; for because of Tisias’ name he paid seven hundred and fifty drachmas for the book, gulled into it by you.

Apparently, Lucian’s hero had sold to the old man as “Tisias’ Handbook” a work on rhetoric which he had himself forged. Both Tisias and his master Corax, the founder of rhetoric, were said to have written handbooks. This production, purporting to be by Tisias, was really the work of an ill-omened Korax (crow), thievish as such birds always are.