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.