Philip, king of the Macedonians, had a soldier who was a valiant fighter, and, having found his services useful in many campaigns, he had from time to time presented him with some of the booty as a reward for his prowess, and, by his repeated bounties, was exciting the venal spirit of the man. Once after being shipwrecked he was cast ashore upon the estate of a certain Macedonian; this one, when he heard the news, rushed to his help, resuscitated his breath, brought him to his farmhouse, surrendered to him his bed, restored him from a weak and half-dead condition to new life, cared for him for thirty days at his own expense, put him upon his feet, provided him with money for his journey, and heard him say over and over: “I will; show you my gratitude if only I have the good fortune to see my commander.” To Philip he gave an account of his shipwreck, but said nothing of the help he had received, and promptly asked Philip to present him with a certain man’s estate. The man was, in fact, his host, the very one who had rescued him, who had restored him to health. Kings sometimes, especially in time of war, make many gifts with their eyes closed. “One just man is no match for so many armed men fired with greed, it is not possible for any mortal to be a good man and a good general at the same time. How will he satiate so many thousands of insatiable men? What will they have if every man has only what is his own? So Philip communed with himself as he gave order that the soldier should be put in possession of the property he asked for. The other, however, when he was expelled from his property, did not, like a peasant, endure his wrong in silence, thankful that he himself had not been included in the present, but wrote a concise and outspoken letter to Philip. Upon receiving this, Philip was so enraged that he immediately ordered Pausanias32 to restore the property to its former owner, and, besides, to brand that most dishonorable of soldiers, most ungrateful of guests, most greedy of shipwrecked men with letters showing him to be an ungrateful person. He, indeed, deserved, not merely to be branded with those letters, but to have them carved in his flesh — a man who had cast out his own host to lie like a naked and shipwrecked sailor upon that shore on which he himself had lain. But we shall heed within what limits the punishment ought to be kept; he had, in any case, to be deprived of what he had seized with the utmost villainy. Yet who would be moved by his punishment? He had committed a crime which could stir no pitiful heart to pity him.