of the passions; in short, I claim to be the prophet of truth and liberty.
Cust. Come now, Sir Prophet, suppose I buy you, after what fashion will you instruct me?
Diog. I shall first take and strip you of all your luxury, confine you to poverty, and put an old garment on you: then I shall make you work hard, and lie on the ground, and drink water only, and fill your belly with whatever comes first; your money, if you have any, at my bidding you must take and throw into the sea; and you must care for neither wife nor children, nor country; and hold all things vanity; and leave your father's house and sleep in an empty tomb, or a ruined tower,—ay, or in a tub: and have your wallet filled with lentils, and parchments close-written on both sides. And in this state you shall profess yourself happier than the King of the East. And if any man beats you, or tortures you, this you shall hold to be not painful at all.
Cust. How! do you mean to say I shall not feel pain when I'm beaten? Do you think I've the shell of a crab or a tortoise, man?
Diog. You can quote that line of Euripides, you know,—slightly altered.
Cust. And what's that, pray?
Diog.
"Thy mind shall feel pain, but thy tongue confess none."[1]
But the qualifications you will most require are these: you must be unscrupulous, and brazen-faced, and ready
- ↑ This unfortunate quibble of Euripides, which he puts into
