_Pl_. There is a great deal more sound sense in it than you suppose, Terpsion. Besides, what right have you young fellows got to be prying after other men's goods, and thrusting yourselves upon your childless elders? You look rather foolish, when you get buried first; it tickles people immensely; the more fervent your prayers for the death of your aged friend, the greater is the general exultation when you precede him. It has become quite a profession lately, this amorous devotion to old men and women,—childless, of course; children destroy the illusion. By the way though, some of the beloved objects see through your dirty motives well enough by now; they have children, but they pretend to hate them, and so have lovers all the same. When their wills come to be read, their faithful bodyguard is not included: nature asserts itself, the children get their rights, and the lovers realize, with gnashings of teeth, that they have been taken in. _Ter_. Too true! The luxuries that Thucritus has enjoyed at my expense! He always looked as if he were at the point of death. I never went to see him, but he would groan and squeak like a chicken barely out of the shell: I considered that he might step into his coffin at any moment, and heaped gift upon gift, for fear of being outdone in generosity by my rivals; I passed anxious, sleepless nights, reckoning and arranging all; 'twas this, the sleeplessness and the anxiety, that brought me to my death. And he swallows my bait whole, and attends my funeral chuckling. _Pl_. Well done, Thucritus! Long may you live to enjoy your wealth,—and your joke at the youngsters' expense; many a toady may you send hither before your own time comes! _Ter_. Now I think of it, it _would_ be a satisfaction if Charoeades were to die before him. _Pl_. Charoeades! My dear Terpsion, Phido, Melanthus,—every one of them will be here before Thucritus,—all victims of this same anxiety! _Ter_. That is as it should be. Hold on, Thucritus! F. VII _Zenophantus. Callidemides_ _Ze_. Ah, Callidemides, and how did _you_ come by your end? As for me, I was free of Dinias's table, and there died of a surfeit; but that is stale news; you were there, of course. _Cal_. Yes, I was. Now there was an element of surprise about _my_ fate. I suppose you know that old Ptoeodorus? _Ze_. The rich man with no children, to whom you gave most of your company? _Cal_. That is the man; he had promised to leave me his heir, and I used to show my appreciation. However, it went on such a time; Tithonus was a juvenile to him; so I found a short cut to my property. I bought a potion, and agreed with the butler that next time his master called for wine (he is a pretty stiff drinker) he should have this ready in a cup and present it; and I was pledged to reward the man with his freedom. _Ze_. And what happened? this is interesting.