Diogenes I must interrogate this most reverend senior of them all.—Sir, why weep, seeing that you have died full of years? has your excellency any complaint to make, after so long a term? Ah, but you were doubtless a king. Pauper Not so. Diogenes A provincial governor, then? Pauper No, nor that. Diogenes I see; you were wealthy, and do not like leaving your boundless luxury to die. Pauper You are quite mistaken; I was near ninety, made a miserable livelihood out of my line and rod, was excessively poor, childless, a cripple, and had nearly lost my sight. Diogenes And you still wished to live? Pauper Ay, sweet is the light, and dread is death; would that one might escape it! Diogenes You are beside yourself, old man; you are like a child kicking at the pricks, you contemporary of the ferryman. Well, we need wonder no more at youth, when age is still in love with life; one would have thought it should court death as the cure for its proper ills. —And now let us go our way, before our loitering here brings suspicion on us; they may think we are planning an escape.