As the sea differs from the land, so are we who work on it different from those who live in cities or villages. They either stay within the town gates busy with civic affairs, or else attend to their farming and await the produce of the land for sustenance. But for us, whose life is on the waters, the land is death: we are like fish unable to breathe there. What ails you then, wife, that you leave the sea shore and the flax you have to spin, and go gadding to town to join the rich ladies of Athens at the Festivals of the Vine Branch and the Grape Press. That is neither virtuous living nor honest thinking. It was not for this that your father in Aegina—for there as it happened you were born and bred—it was not for this that he gave you to me to initiate in the mysteries of wedlock. If you are so fond of city life—good-bye and get out. But if you can be contented with the sea, choose the better part and return to your husband, and forget forever the alluring spectacles of the town.