The ship or the wishes (26-30)

Do you know, Adimantus, by what exceedingly thin thread all this wealth is hanging? If it snaps, then all is gone and your treasure will be ashes. [*]

What do you mean, Lycinus?

That, my fine friend, you don’t know how long you will live with your wealth. Who knows that when your golden table is beside you, before you can put out your hand and sample the peacock or your guinea cock, you will not breathe out your little bit of soul and be gone, leaving all that for vultures and ravens? Would you like me to run through for you those who died at once before they had a chance to enjoy their wealth, or some who even though they lived on were robbed of what they had by some spirit malignant in such matters? You have heard, I suppose, of Croesus and Polycrates who became much richer than you and lost all their good things in a moment.

But, to let them go, do you think that you will have sure and certain good health? Don’t you see that many rich men live unhappy lives through some affliction—some unable even to walk, some blind, some with internal trouble? You would not accept twice the wealth if the effeminacy of the wealthy Phanomachus went with it, I’m sure, even if you deny it. I say nothing of the plots and robberies and envy and hatred by the mob that go with riches. Do you see how much trouble your treasure causes?

You’re always against me, Lycinus. Very well, you won’t get even a quart, as you’ve abused my wish to the end.

There you are. Just like most rich men, backing out and calling off your promises. Now give us your wish, Samippus.

I’m from the mainland, an Arcadian from Mantinea as you know, so I shan’t ask for a ship. I could not show it off to my fellow-citizens, and I shan’t be niggardly with the gods and ask for treasure and measured gold. The gods can do anything, even what seems to be quite stupendous, and the rule of wish which Timolaus laid down was not to hesitate to ask for anything, on the assumption that they will not say no. Well, I ask to be made a king, but not a king like Alexander, Philip’s son, or Ptolemy or Mithridates or any of those who inherited their kingdom from a father. No, let me begin as a brigand with about thirty sworn companions, men absolutely trustworthy and full of spirit. Then let them grow by degrees to three hundred, a thousand, and soon ten thousand, until the total is some fifty thousand heavy infantry and about five thousand horse.

I shall be elected chief by all, because they think me the most able leader and administrator. This very fact is sweet—to be greater than other kings, because I’ve been elected commander by the army on merit, and not inherited the kingdom after someone else has done the work—that would be like Adimantus’s

Goodness, Samippus! This is no small demand. You’ve asked for the essence of every good there is, to have fifty thousand men choose you as most able to command a force like that. What a wonderful king and general Mantinea had bred and didn’t know it! Never mind! Be king and lead your soldiers and muster your cavalry and your heroic shield-bearers. I want to know where you are going with an army of that size from Arcadia and who will be your first unhappy victims.

Listen, Lycinus, or better still come with us if you like. I’ll make you a cavalry officer in the fifty thousand.

Well, I’m grateful for the honour, your majesty. I bow my head in Persian style and do obeisance sweeping my hands behind me, honouring your upright turban and your diadem. But make one of these mighty men your cavalry officer. I’m dreadfully bad at horses and never sat on a horse in my life before. I’m afraid that when the trumpet blows for action I’ll fall off and be trampled on by all those hooves in the throng; or the horse may be spirited and take the bit between its teeth and carry me right