I am Philænis, famous among men; And here I lie, o'erwhelm'd by long old age. Do not, O foolish sailor, pass this cape Laughing and scorning and reproaching me. For now I swear by Jove, and by the gods Who reign below, I never lustful was, I never made myself a sport to man. But one Polycrates, of Attic race, A trashy chatterer, and a false accuser, Wrote what he wrote; I know not what it was. Therefore that admirable Chrysippus, in the fifth book of his treatise on Honour and Pleasure, says—"The books, too, of Philænis, and the Gastronomy of Archestratus, and all the drugs calculated to provoke appetite or sensual desires, and also all the servants who are skilled in such motions and such figures, and whose occupation it is to attend to these things." And again he says—"That they learn such things, and get hold of the books written on such subjects by Philænis and Archestratus, and by those who have written similar works." And in his seventh book he says—"Just as it would not be advisable to study the writings of Philænis or the Gastronomy of Archestratus, as tending to make a person live better." [Sidenote: RECOMMENDATIONS TO PRESENT ENJOYMENT.] 14. But you, who are constantly making mention of this Archestratus, have made this entertainment full of intemperance; for what of all the things which could unduly excite men has this fine epic poet omitted?—he, the only imitator of the life of Sardanapalus the son of Anacyndaraxes, who, Aristotle says, is made more obscure still by adding the name of his father; on whose tomb, Chrysippus says, the following inscription was engraved:— Knowing that you are mortal, feed your soul On banquets and delights; for in the grave There's no enjoyment left. I now am dust Who once was king of mighty Nineveh; The things which I did eat, the joys of love, The insolent thoughts with which my wealth did fill me, Are all I now have left; for all my power And all my happiness is gone for ever. This is the only prudent rule of life, I never shall forget it, let who will Hoard boundless treasures of uncounted gold. And the great poet has said of the Phæacians— To dress, to dance, to sing, our sole delight, The feast or bath by day, and love by night. And another person, not unlike Sardanapalus in disposition, gives this advice and these rules to those who are deficient in wisdom:— I to all mortals now give this advice: Live for the day with pleasure; he who dies Is nought; an empty shade beneath the earth: Man lives but a short space, and therefore should, While life remains, enjoy himself. And Amphis the comic poet, in his Ialemus, says— The man who knows that he is but a mortal, And yet seeks not enjoyment while alive, Leaving all other cares, is but a fool In mine and all wise men's opinion, And most unhappy in his destiny. And, in his play entitled the Gynæcocracy, he says nearly the same—