bait.

The fellow who _has_ pounced on me has neither taste nor feeling; the
sight of fetters still gives him a start; crack a whip in his
neighbourhood, and his ears tingle; the treadmill is an abode of awe
to him. He is now insufferable--insults his new equals, and whips his
old fellows to see what that side of the transaction feels like. He
ends by finding a mistress, or taking to the turf, or being cajoled by
parasites; these have only to swear he is handsomer than Nireus,
nobler than Cecrops or Codrus, wiser than Odysseus, richer than a
dozen Croesuses rolled into one; and so the poor wretch disperses in a
moment what cost so many perjuries, robberies, and swindles to amass.

_Her_. A very fair picture. But when you go on your own feet, how can
a blind man like you find the way? Zeus sends you to people who he
thinks deserve riches; but how do you distinguish them?

_Pl_. Do you suppose I do find them? not much. I should scarcely have
passed Aristides by, and gone to Hipponicus, Callias, and any number
of other Athenians whose merits could have been valued in copper.

_Her_. Well, but what do you do when he sends you?

_Pl_. I just wander up and down till I come across some one; the first
comer takes me off home with him, and thanks--whom but the God of
windfalls, yourself?

_Her_. So Zeus is in error, and you do not enrich deserving persons
according to his pleasure?