Hermes What are you all whining about, you fools? You philosopher, late of the beard,—you’re as bad as any of them. A Philosopher Ah, Hermes: I had thought that the soul was immortal. Menippus He lies: that is not the cause of his distress. Hermes What is it, then? Menippus He knows that he will never have a good dinner again; never sneak about at night with his cloak over his head, going the round of the brothels; never spend his mornings in fooling boys out of their money, under the pretext of teaching them wisdom. A Philosopher And pray are you content to be dead? Menippus It may be presumed so, as I sought death of my own accord.—