_Diog_. I see; you were wealthy, and do not like leaving your boundless luxury to die. _Pauper_. You are quite mistaken; I was near ninety, made a miserable livelihood out of my line and rod, was excessively poor, childless, a cripple, and had nearly lost my sight. _Diog_. And you still wished to live? _Pauper_. Ay, sweet is the light, and dread is death; would that one might escape it! _Diog_. You are beside yourself, old man; you are like a child kicking at the pricks, you contemporary of the ferryman. Well, we need wonder no more at youth, when age is still in love with life; one would have thought it should court death as the cure for its proper ills.—And now let us go our way, before our loitering here brings suspicion on us: they may think we are planning an escape. H. XXVIII _Menippus. Tiresias_ _Me_. Whether you are blind or not, Tiresias, would be a difficult question. Eyeless sockets are the rule among us; there is no telling Phineus from Lynceus nowadays. However, I know that you were a seer, and that you enjoy the unique distinction of having been both man and woman; I have it from the poets. Pray tell me which you found the more pleasant life, the man's or the woman's? _Ti_. The woman's, by a long way; it was much less trouble. Women have the mastery of men; and there is no fighting for them, no manning of walls, no squabbling in the assembly, no cross-examination in the law-courts. _Me_. Well, but you have heard how Medea, in Euripides, compassionates her sex on their hard lot—on the intolerable pangs they endure in travail? And by the way—Medea's words remind me did you ever have a child, when you were a woman, or were you barren? _Ti_. What do you mean by that question, Menippus? _Me_. Oh, nothing; but I should like to know, if it is no trouble to you. _Ti_. I was not barren: but I did not have a child, exactly. _Me_. No; but you might have had. That's all I wanted to know. _Ti_. Certainly. _Me_. And your feminine characteristics gradually vanished, and you developed a beard, and became a man? Or did the change take place in a moment? _Ti_. Whither does your question tend? One would think you doubted the fact. _Me_. And what should I do but doubt such a story? Am I to take it in, like a nincompoop, without asking myself whether it is possible or not? _Ti_. At that rate, I suppose you are equally incredulous when you hear of women being turned into birds or trees or beasts,—Aedon for instance, or Daphne, or Callisto? _Me_. If I fall in with any of these ladies, I will see what they have to say about it. But to return, friend, to your own case: were you a prophet even in the days of your femininity? or did manhood and prophecy come together? _Ti_. Pooh, you know nothing of the matter. I once settled a dispute among the Gods, and was blinded by Hera for my pains; whereupon Zeus consoled me with the gift of prophecy.