If one that's poor, and scarcely has withal To clothe and feed him, shall at once buy fish, And pay the money down upon the board, Be sure that fellow is a rogue, and lives By depredation and nocturnal plunder. Let him who has been robb'd by night, attend The fish-market at early dawn, and when He sees a young and needy wretch appear, Bargain with Micion for the choicest eels, And pay the money, seize the caitiff straight, And drag him to the prison without fear.—ANON. _The same._ Mark you a fellow who, however scant In all things else, hath still wherewith to purchase Cod, eel, or anchovies, be sure i' the dark He lies about the road in wait for travellers. If therefore you've been robb'd o'ernight, just go At peep of dawn to th' agora and seize The first athletic, ragged vagabond Who cheapens eels of Mikion. He, be sure, And none but he's the thief: to prison with him!—J. A. ST. JOHN. * * * * * DIPHILUS. (Book vi. § 12, p. 360.) We have a notable good law at Corinth, Where, if an idle fellow outruns reason, Feasting and junketing at furious cost, The sumptuary proctor calls upon him, And thus begins to sift him:—You live well, But have you well to live? You squander freely, Have you the wherewithal? Have you the fund For these out-goings? If you have, go on! If you have not, we'll stop you in good time, Before you outrun honesty; for he, Who lives we know not how, must live by plunder; Either he picks a purse, or robs a house, Or is accomplice with some knavish gang, Or thrusts himself in crowds to play th' Informer, And put his perjured evidence to sale: This a well-order'd city will not suffer: Such vermin we expel.—_And you do wisely_: _But what is this to me?_—Why, this it is: Here we behold you every day at work, Living forsooth! not as your neighbours live, But richly, royally, ye gods!—Why, man, We cannot get a fish for love or money, You swallow the whole produce of the sea: You've driven our citizens to browze on cabbage: A sprig of parsley sets them all a-fighting, As at the Isthmian games: if hare or partridge, Or but a simple thrush comes to the market, Quick at the word you snap him. By the gods! Hunt Athens through, you shall not find a feather But in your kitchen; and for wine, 'tis gold— Not to be purchased: we may drink the ditches.—CUMBERLAND. _The same._