Athenaeus prefers a fish out of water.
Commend me for invention to the rogue
Who sells fish in the agora. He knows—
In fact there’s no mistaking—that the law
Clearly and formally forbids the trick
Of reconciling stale fish to the nose
By constant watering. But if some poor wight
Detects him in the fact, forthwith he picks
A quarrel, and provokes his man to blows.
He wheels meanwhile about his fish, looks sharp
To catch the nick of time, reels, feigns a hurt:
And prostrate falls, just in the right position.
A friend placed there on purpose, snatches up
A pot of water, sprinkles a drop or two,
For form’s sake, on his face, but by mistake,
As you must sure believe, pours all the rest
Full on the fish, so that almost you might
Consider them fresh caught.
Athenaeus, from Deipnosophistai. Often translated as “Banquet of the Learned,” the work takes the form of an extended conversation about food, wine, music, and luxury at an aristocratic symposium. Little is known about the life of the author, a Greek grammarian, whose Deipnosophistai remains a valuable repository of ancient thought.
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