Phocion.
Aha!—my friend Eunapius in full court dress!
Eunapius.
Shame on you for mocking a poor man.
Phocion.
Call you that mockery? I thought it was the highest distinction.
Eunapius.
You may say so indeed. 'Tis now the height of distinction to go in rags, especially if they have lain long enough in the gutter.
Phocion.
How will all this end, think you?
Eunapius.
What should I care? I know how it has ended with me, and that is enough.
Phocion.
Are you no longer in the Emperor's service?
Eunapius.
What should the Emperor Julian want with a barber?. Think you he has his hair cut, or his beard trimmed? He does not even comb them. But how goes it with you? You do not look much better off.
Phocion.
Alas, Eunapius, purple-dyeing has had its day.
