In a little side street near the center of Gotham lived an old woman
named Deborah Smith. Her home was a wretched little hut, for she was
poor, and supported herself and her husband by begging in the streets.
Her husband was a lazy, short, fat old man, who lay upon a ragged
blanket in the hut all day and refused to work.
"One beggar in the family is enough," he used to grumble, when his
wife upbraided him, "and I am really too tired to work. So let me
alone, my Deborah, as I am about to take another nap."
Nothing she could say would arouse him to action, and she finally
allowed him to do as he pleased.
But one day she met Socrates walking in the street, and after watching
him for a time made up her mind he was nothing more than a fool. Other
people certainly thought him wise, but she was a shrewd old woman, and
could see well enough that he merely looked wise. The next day she
went to the south of the city to beg, and there she heard of
Sophocles. When the people repeated his wise sayings she thought:
"Here is another fool, for anyone could tell as much as this man
does."
Still, she went to see Sophocles, and, dropping a penny upon his
plate, she asked,
"Tell me, O wise man, how shall I drive my husband to work?"
"By starving him," answered Sophocles; "if you refuse to feed him he
must find a way to feed himself.
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