And Alexis, in his Demetrius, ridicules, in his comic manner, a man of the name of Phayllus, as very fond of fish, in these lines:—
First of all, whether the wind blew north or south,And Antiphanes, in his Female Fisher, enumerating some people as exceedingly fond of fish, says—
As long as it blew hard, it was not possible
For anybody to get fish to eat.
But now, besides that pair of stormy winds,
We've a third tempest risen in Phayllus;
For when this last storm bursts upon the market,
He buys up all the fish at all the stalls,
And bears it off; so that we are reduced
To squabble for the vegetables remaining.
Give me some cuttle-fish first. O Hercules!
They've dirtied every place with ink; here, take them
And throw them back again into the sea,
To wash them clean: or else they'll say, O Dorion,
That you have caught some rotten cuttle-fish:
And put this crawfish back beside the sprats.
He's a fine fish, by Jove. O mighty Jove,
O you Callimedon, who now will eat you?
No one who's not prepared to pay his share.
I've giv'n you your place here on the right,
You mullets, food of great Callisthenes;
Who eats his patrimony in one dish;
Next comes the mighty conger from Sinope,
With his stout spines; the first who comes shall have him;
For Misgolas has no great love for such.
But here's a citharus, and if he sees him
He never will keep off his hands from him;
For he, indeed, does secretly adhere
As close as wax to all the harp-players (κιθαρῳδοῖς).
I ought to send this best of fish, this tench,
Still all alive, and leaping in his dish,
To the fair Pythionica, he's so fine:
But still she will not taste him, as her heart
Is wholly set on cured fish.—Here I place
These thin anchovies and this dainty turtle
Apart for Theano, to counterbalance her.