Book 7

Zenophantus: Ah, Callidemides, and how did you come by your end? As for me, I was free of Dinias’s table, and there died of a surfeit; but that is stale news; you were there, of course.

Callidemides: Yes, I was. Now there was an element of surprise about my fate. I suppose you know that old Ptoeodorus?

Zenophantus: The rich man with no children, to whom you gave most of your company?

Callidemides: That is the man; he had promised to leave me his heir, and I used to show my appreciation. However, it went on such a time; Tithonus was a juvenile to him; so I found a short cut to my property. I bought a potion, and agreed with the butler that next time his master called for wine (he is a pretty stiff drinker) he should have this ready in a cup and present it; and I was pledged to reward the man with his freedom.

Zenophantus: And what happened? this is interesting.

Callidemides: When we came from bath, the young fellow had two cups ready, one with the poison for Ptoeodorus, and the other for me; but by some blunder he handed me the poisoned cup, and Ptoeodorus the plain; and behold, before he had done drinking, there was I sprawling on the ground, a vicarious corpse! Why are you laughing so, Zenophantus? I am your friend; such mirth is unseemly.

Zenophantus: Well, it was such a humorous exit. And how did the old man behave?

Callidemides: He was dreadfully distressed for the moment; then he saw, I suppose, and laughed as much as you over the butler’s trick,

Zenophantus: Ah, short cuts are no better for you than for other people, you see; the high road would have been safer, if not quite so quick.

Henry Watson Fowler