And Apollodorus the Carystian, in his Stirrer-up of Law-suits, says—
O men, whoe'er you are, why do you nowAnd, presently afterwards, he says—
Scorn pleasant living, and turn all your thoughts
To do each other mischief in fierce war?
In God's name, tell me, does some odious fate,
Rude and unlettered, destitute of all
That can be knowledge call'd, or education,
Ignorant of what is bad and what is good,
Guide all your destiny?—a fate which settles
[p. 441] All your affairs at random by mere chance?
I think it must be so: for else, what deity
Who bears a Grecian heart, would ever choose
To see Greeks by each other thus despoil'd,
And falling dead in ghastly heaps of corpses,
When she might see them sportive, gay, and jesting,
Drinking full cups, and singing to the flute?
Tell me, my friend, I pray, and put to shame
This most unpolish'd clownish fortune.
Does not a life like this deserve the name
Of godlike?—Think how far more pleasant all
Affairs would be in all the towns of Greece
Than now they are, if we were but to change
Our fashions, and our habits, and our principles
One little bit. Why should we not proclaim,
"Whoe'er is more than thirty years of age,
Let him come forth and drink. Let all the cavalry
Go to a feast at Corinth, for ten days,
Crown'd with chaplets, and perfumed most sweetly.
Let all who radishes have got to sell
Come in the morning here from Megara.
Bid all th' allies now hasten to the bath,
And mix in cups the rich Eubœan wine? "—
Sure this is real luxury and life,
But we are slaves to a most clownish fortune.