Mikyllos
He had a cousin named Drimylos, who was enormously rich. While he was living he never gave Simon a cent. Why should he, who never touched his money himself? But he died the other day, and all his property has come by law to Simon, and now he of the dirty rags, he who used to lick his soup-plate, drives at his ease, wearing purple and scarlet, owning slaves and carriages and golden goblets and ivory tables, with the crowd bowing before him, and not so much as a glance for me any longer. At least, I saw him passing close by me and said, "How do you do, Simon?" But he flew into a rage and said, "Tell this beggar not to shorten my name. I am not called Simon, but Simonides." And what is more important, the women are in love with him already, but he is coy with them and fastidious. Some he approves and treats graciously, but others threaten to hang themselves because of his neglect. You see what good things gold can do, if it even transforms the ugly and makes them charming, as that cestus did in the poem. You know, too, what the poets say: O gold, fairest of possessions; and, For it is gold that sways mortals. But what are you laughing at in the midst of my story, Cock?
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