estate, did not, like a peasant, endure his wrongs in silence,
thankful that he himself was not given away also, but sent a sharp
and outspoken letter to Philip, who, on reading it, was so much
enraged that he straightway ordered Pausanias to restore the
property to its former owner, and to brand that wickedest of
soldiers, that most ungrateful of guests, that greediest of
shipwrecked men, with letters bearing witness to his ingratitude.
He, indeed, deserved to have the letters not merely branded but
carved in his flesh, for having reduced his host to the condition
in which he himself had been when he lay naked and shipwrecked upon
the beach; still, let us see within what limits one ought to keep
in punishing him. Of course what he had so villainously seized
ought to be taken from him. But who would be affected by the
spectacle of his punishment? The crime which he had committed would
prevent his being pitied even by any humane person.

XXXVIII. Will Philip then give you a thing because he has promised
to give it, even though he ought not to do so, even though he will
commit a wrong by doing so, nay, a crime, even though by this one
act he will make it impossible for shipwrecked men to reach the
shore? There is no inconsistency in giving up an intention which we
have discovered to be wrong and have condemned as wrong; we ought
candidly to admit, "I thought that it was something different; I
have been deceived." It is mere pride and folly to persist, "what I
once have said, be it what it may, shall remain unaltered and
settled." There is no disgrace in altering one's plans according to
circumstances. Now, if Philip had left this man in possession of
that seashore which he obtained by his shipwreck, would he not have
practically pronounced sentence of banishment against all
unfortunates for the future? "Rather," says Philip, "do thou carry