Eunapius.
Shame on you for mocking a poor man.
Phocion.
Call you that mockery? I thought it was the highest distinction.
Eunapius.
You may say so indeed. ’Tis now the height of distinction to go in rags, especially if they have lain long enough in the gutter.
Phocion.
How will all this end, think you?
Eunapius.
What should I care? I know how it has ended with me, and that is enough.