The Moon once begged her mother to weave her a little tunic that would fit her. But her mother said, “How can I weave one to fit? Now I see you full, then crescent-shaped, and at other times gibbous.” So too, there is no fixed measure of wealth to suit a foolish and worthless man, for his needs keep changing with his desires and fortunes.
Σελήνη ποτὲ ἐδεῖτο τῆς ἑαυτῆς μητρὸς, ὅπως αὐτῇ χιτώνιον ὑφάνῃ σύμμετρον. Ἡ δʼ εἶπεν· ,,καὶ πῶς σύμμετρον ὑφήνω; νῦν μὲν γὰρ ὁρῶ σε πανσέληνον, αὖθις δὲ μηνοειδῆ, ποτὲ δʼ ἀμφίκυρτον.“
Οὕτω καὶ πρὸς ἄνθρωπον ἀνόητον καὶ φαῦλον οὐδέν ἐστι μέτρον οὐσίας· ἄλλοτε γὰρ ἄλλος ἐστὶ ταῖς χρείαις διὰ τὰς ἐπιθυμίας καὶ τὰς τύχας.
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