Agyrrius, when a crawfish was before him,
On seeing him exclaim'd, Hail, dear papa!
Still what did he do? He ate his dear papa!
And Herodicus the Cratetian, commenting on this in his Miscellaneous Commentaries, says that Agyrrius was the name of the son of Callimedon.
25. The following people, too, have all been great epicures about fish. Antagoras the poet would not allow his slave to touch his fish with oil, but made him wash it; as Hegesander tells us. And when in the army, he was once boiling a dish of congers, and had his clothes girt round him, Antigonus the king, who was standing by, said, "Tell me, Antagoras, do you think that Homer, who celebrated the exploits of Agamemnon, ever boiled congers?" And it is said that he answered, not without wit, "And do you think that Agamemnon, who performed those exploits, ever busied himself about inquiring who was cooking congers in his army?" And once, when Antagoras was cooking a bird of some kind, he said that he would not go to the bath, because he was afraid that the slaves might come and suck up the gravy. And when Philocydes said that his mother would take care of that, "Shall I," said he, "entrust the gravy of game to my mother?" And Androcydes of Cyzicus, the painter, being very fond of fish, as Polemo relates, carried his luxury to such a pitch that he even painted with great care the fish which are around Scylla.
26. But concerning Philoxenus of Cythera, the dithyrambic poet, Machon the comic poet writes thus:—
They say Philoxenus, the ancient poet
Of dithyrambics, was so wonderfully
Attach'd to fish, that once at Syracuse
He bought a polypus two cubits long,
Then dress'd it, and then ate it up himself,
All but the head—and afterwards fell sick,
Seized with a sharp attack of indigestion.
Then when some doctor came to him to see him,
Who saw that he was greatly out of order;
"If," said the doctor, "you have any business
Not well arranged, do not delay to settle it,
For you will die before six hours are over."
Philoxenus replied, "All my affairs,
O doctor, are well ended and arranged,
Long, long ago. By favour of the gods,
I leave my dithyrambics all full-grown,
And crown'd with many a prize of victory;
