Page:Lucian, Vol 3.djvu/207
and again,
Alackaday, a right good wife I’ve lost!
—for that came from the tablet ; and so did this:
’Tis of themselves alone that fools make sport.[1]
The last line Dionysius might have addressed to you with especial fitness, and those tablets of his should have been gilded for it. For what expectation do you base upon your books that you are always unrolling them and rolling them up, glueing them, trimming them, smearing them with saffron and oil of cedar, putting slip-covers on them, and fitting them with knobs, just as if you were going to derive some profit from them? Ah yes, already you have been improved beyond measure by their purchase, when you talk as you do—but no, you are more dumb than any fish!—and live in a way that cannot even be mentioned with decency, and have incurred everybody’s savage hatred, as the phrase goes, for your beastliness! If books made men like that, they ought to be given as wide a berth as possible. Two things can be acquired from the ancients, the ability to speak and to act as one ought, by emulating the best models and shunning the worst; and when a man clearly fails to benefit from them either in the one way or in the other, what else is he doing but buying haunts for mice and lodgings for worms, and excuses to thrash his servants for negligence?
Furthermore, would it not be discreditable if someone, on seeing you with a book in your hand (you always
- ↑ (Chil. 5, 180) says that he repeatedly took second and third place in the competitions at Athens, and first with the Ransom of Hector. Amusing examples of his frigidity are given by Athenaeus (iii. p. 98 D).