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Just then Philopoemen came in, wearing a simple soldier's cloak, and the woman, thinking him to be one of his servants who had been sent on in advance, invited him to help her in her housework. So Philopoemen at once threw off his cloak and fell to splitting wood. Then his host came in, and seeing him thus employed, said:
‘What does this mean, Philopoemen?’
‘What else,’ said Philopoemen in broad Doric,
‘than that I am paying a penalty for my ill looks?’
Plutarch. Plutarch's Lives. with an English Translation by. Bernadotte Perrin. Cambridge, MA. Harvard University Press. London. William Heinemann Ltd. 1921. 10.
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