Alas, my scraps of leather! Alas, my old shoes! Alackaday, my rotten sandals!

From Lucian’s The Downward Journey, or the Tyrant (ΚΑΤΑΠΛΟΥΣ Η ΤΥΡΑΝΝΟΣ) in vol. 2 of the Loeb edition.  Cyniscus the philosopher and Micyllus the cobbler bring different attitudes to the transition to the afterlife than their companions.

Charon
Pull an oar; that will be enough to exact of you.

Cyniscus
Shall I strike up a song, too?

Charon
Yes, by all means, if you know any of the sailors’ chanties.

Cyniscus
I know plenty of them, Charon; but as you see, these people are competing with our music by crying, so that we shall be put out of tune in our song.

The Dead
(one) Alas, my wealth! (another) Alas, my farms! (another) Alackaday, what a house I left behind me! (another) To think of all the thousands my heir will come into and squander! (another) Ah, my new-born babes! (another) Who will get the vintage of the vines I set out last year?

Hermes
Micyllus, you are not lamenting at all, are you? Nobody may cross without a tear.

Micyllus
Get out with you! I have no reason to lament while the wind is fair.

Hermes
Do cry, however, even if only a little, for custom’s sake.

Micyllus
Well, I’ll lament, then, since you wish it, Hermes.—Alas, my scraps of leather! Alas, my old shoes! Alackaday, my rotten sandals! Unlucky man that I am, never again will I go hungry from morning to night or wander about in winter barefooted and half-naked, with my teeth chattering for cold! Who is to get my knife and my awl?

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ΧΑΡΩΝ
Ἔρεττε· καὶ τουτὶ γὰρ ἱκανὸν παρὰ σοῦ λαβεῖν.

ΚΥΝΙΣΚΟΣ
Ἦ καὶ ὑποκελεῦσαι δεήσει;

ΧΑΡΩΝ
Νὴ Δία, ἤνπερ εἰδῇς κέλευσμά τι τῶν ναυτικῶν.

ΚΥΝΙΣΚΟΣ
Οἶδα καὶ πολλά, ὦ Χάρων. ἀλλ᾿, ὁρᾷς, ἀντεπηχοῦσιν οὗτοι δακρύοντες· ὥστε ἡμῖν τὸ ᾆσμα ἐπιταραχθήσεται.

ΝΕΚΡΟΙ
Οἴμοι τῶν κτημάτων.—Οἴμοι τῶν ἀγρῶν.—Ὀττοτοῖ, τὴν οἰκίαν οἵαν ἀπέλιπον.—Ὅσα τάλαντα ὁ κληρονόμος σπαθήσει παραλαβών.—Αἰαῖ τῶν νεογνῶν μοι παιδίων.—Τίς ἄρα τὰς ἀμπέλους τρυγήσει, ἃς πέρυσιν ἐφυτευσάμην;

ΕΡΜΗΣ
Μίκυλλε, σὺ δ᾿ οὐδὲν οἰμώζεις; καὶ μὴν οὐ θέμις ἀδακρυτὶ διαπλεῦσαί τινα.

ΜΙΚΥΛΛΟΣ
Ἄπαγε· οὐδέν ἐστιν ἐφ᾿ ὅτῳ ἂν οἰμώξαιμι1 εὐπλοῶν.

ΕΡΜΗΣ
Ὅμως κἂν μικρόν τι ἐς τὸ ἔθος ἐπιστέναξον.

ΜΙΚΥΛΛΟΣ
Οἰμώξομαι τοίνυν, ἐπειδή, ὦ Ἑρμῆ, σοὶ δοκεῖ. οἴμοι τῶν καττυμάτων· οἴμοι τῶν κρηπίδων τῶν παλαιῶν· ὀττοτοῖ τῶν σαθρῶν ὑποδημάτων. οὐκέτι ὁ κακοδαίμων ἕωθεν εἰς ἑσπέραν ἄσιτος διαμενῶ, οὐδὲ τοῦ χειμῶνος ἀνυπόδητός τε καὶ ἡμίγυμνος περινοστήσω τοὺς ὀδόντας ὑπὸ τοῦ κρύους συγκροτῶν. τίς ἄρα μου τὴν σμίλην ἕξει καὶ τὸ κεντητήριον;