Diogenes - The hellmouth of Alexander, the Great

The text is not mine, I put the link below. I liked this adaptation of the history of the Diogenes and put here. Hope you enjoy.

https://www.yourquote.in/manish-anand-m2ep/quotes/diogenes-man-whose-words-haunted-alexander-his-death-bed-mfj8h

Alexander the great had heard of Diogenes and wished to meet him. But Diogenes was a hard man to find.

One fine sunny day Alexander was roaming on the beach and everyone on the beach stood with respect, except an old man.

Alex: What fellow are you, who dares to lie at ease in my presence, when all others, as you see, rise to pay me homage? Don't you know me?

Diog: I cannot say I do: but by the number of your attendants, by the splendour of your habit; but, above all, by the vanity of your appearance, and the arrogance of your speech, I conceive you must be Alexander the son of Philip.

Alex: And who can more justly challenge my respect? Odd fellow, I have a curiosity to know your name.

Diog: I am called Diogenes: a name composed of as many and as well-sounding syllables as Alexander.

Alex: Diogenes, I rejoice at this encounter. I have heard of your name, and been long desirous of seeing you. Fortune have accidentally favoured me and I am pleased with our meeting. Ask me some favour; and as you know my power, so shall you experience my will to oblige you.

Diog: Alexander the Great, I desire you to stand from between me and the sun; whose beams you have withheld from me some time, a blessing which it is not in your power to recompense the loss of.

Alex: You have a very shallow opinion of my power. Do not you know that I am able to give you a kingdom?

Diog: I know you are able, if I had one, to take it from me; and I shall never place any value on that which you can deprive me of.

Alex: You do speak vainly in contempt of a power which no other man ever yet arrived at. Has the Granicus yet recovered the bloody colour with which I contaminated its waves? Are not the fields of Issus and Arbela still white with human bones? 

Has not the groans of those millions reached your ears, who, but for the valour of this heart, and the strength of this arm, had still enjoyed life and tranquillity? Had then this son of Jupiter, this conqueror of the world, adored by his followers, dreaded by his foes, and worshipped by all, lived to hear his power contemned, and the offer of his favour slighted, by a poor philosopher, a wretched Cynic, whose cloke appears to be his only possession!

Diog: I acknowledge indeed all the exploits you have recounted, and the millions those whom your eternal shame destroyed. But hence you claim Jupiter is your father. Had not then every plague or pestilential vapour the same title? If you are the dread of wretches to whom death appears the greatest of evils, is not every mortal disease the same? And if you have the adoration of your servile followers, do they offer you more, than they are ready to pay to every tinsel ornament, or empty title? Is then the fear or worship of slaves of so great honour, when at the same time you are the contempt of every brave honest man?

Hence you claim to rule the world, do you rule these tides, the very sand on which you stand, the painting I never created, the thought of mine?

Alex: You do nothing but curse people, what good is that of?

Diog: If I desired to curse it effectually, I have nothing more to do, than to wish thee long life and prosperity.

Alex: But then you must wish well to an individual, which is contrary to your nature.

Diog: You are mistaken. Long life, to such as you, is the greatest of curses; for, to mortify your pride effectually. What can be more miserable, than to entertain desires which we know never can be satisfied? And this a little reflection will teach you in your own case; for what are your desires? not pleasures; with that Macedonia would have furnished you. Not riches; for, capacious as your soul is, if it had been all filled with avarice, the wealth of Darius would have contented it. Not power; for then the conquest of Porus, and the extending your arms to the farthest limits of the world, must have satisfied thy ambition. Your desire consists in nothing certain, and therefore with nothing certain can be gratified. It is as restless as fire, which still consumes whatever comes in its way, without determining where to stop. How contemptible must your own power appear to you, when it cannot give you the possession of your wish; but how much more contemptible is your understanding, which cannot enable you to know certainly what that wish is?

Is your power even yours? Even if Alexander was never born, won't there be another conquerer doing even more mischief with this same army behind him? 

Alex: I like your humour, and will deserve your friendship. I admire your obstinacy; I almost envy it. — Farewell, old Cynic; and if it will flatter your pride, be assured, I esteem you so much, that was I not Alexander, I would desire to be Diogenes.

Diog: Go to the Gibbet, and take with you as a mortification; that was I not Diogenes, I could almost content myself with being Alexander.

They say, these words of Diogenes haunted Alexander even on his death bed.

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NOTE: This story doesn't belong to me. And is not in the original form (words are mine).