He knew how to drag
drachmae
from a hot-blooded
old woman.
old woman.
Aristophanes
Ah!
well then, answer my questions.
INFORMER. Concerning what?
CHREMYLUS. Are you a husbandman?
INFORMER. D'ye take me for a fool?
CHREMYLUS. A merchant?
INFORMER. I assume the title, when it serves me. [793]
CHREMYLUS. Do you ply any trade?
INFORMER. No, most assuredly not!
CHREMYLUS. Then how do you live, if you do nothing?
INFORMER. I superintend public and private business.
CHREMYLUS. You! And by what right, pray?
INFORMER. Because it pleases me to do so.
CHREMYLUS. Like a thief you sneak yourself in where you have no business.
You are hated by all and you claim to be an honest man?
INFORMER. What, you fool? I have not the right to dedicate myself
entirely to my country's service?
CHREMYLUS. Is the country served by vile intrigue?
INFORMER. It is served by watching that the established law is
observed--by allowing no one to violate it.
CHREMYLUS. That's the duty of the tribunals; they are established to that
end.
INFORMER. And who is the prosecutor before the dicasts?
CHREMYLUS. Whoever wishes to be. [794]
INFORMER. Well then, 'tis I who choose to be prosecutor; and thus all
public affairs fall within my province.
CHREMYLUS. I pity Athens for being in such vile clutches. But would you
not prefer to live quietly and free from all care and anxiety?
INFORMER. To do nothing is to live an animal's life.
CHREMYLUS. Thus you will not change your mode of life?
INFORMER. No, though they gave me Plutus himself and the _silphium_ of
Battus. [795]
CHREMYLUS (_to the Informer_). Come, quick, off with your cloak.
CARIO. Hi! friend! 'tis you they are speaking to.
CHREMYLUS. Off with your shoes.
CARIO. All this is addressed to you.
INFORMER. Very well! let one of you come near me, if he dares.
CARIO. I dare.
INFORMER. Alas! I am robbed of my clothes in full daylight.
CARIO. That's what comes of meddling with other folk's business and
living at their expense.
INFORMER (_to his witness_). You see what is happening; I call you to
witness.
CHREMYLUS. Look how the witness whom you brought is taking to his heels.
INFORMER. Great gods! I am all alone and they assault me.
CARIO. Shout away!
INFORMER. Oh! woe, woe is me!
CARIO. Give me that old ragged cloak, that I may dress out the informer.
JUST MAN. No, no; I have dedicated it to Plutus.
CARIO. And where would your offering be better bestowed than on the
shoulders of a rascal and a thief? To Plutus fine, rich cloaks should be
given.
JUST MAN. And what then shall be done with these shoes? Tell me.
CARIO. I will nail them to his brow as gifts are nailed to the trunks of
the wild olive.
INFORMER. I'm off, for you are the strongest, I own. But if I find
someone to join me, let him be as weak as he will, I will summon this
god, who thinks himself so strong, before the Court this very day, and
denounce him as manifestly guilty of overturning the democracy by his
will alone and without the consent of the Senate or the popular Assembly.
JUST MAN. Now that you are rigged out from head to foot with my old
clothes, hasten to the bath and stand there in the front row to warm
yourself better; 'tis the place I formerly had.
CHREMYLUS. Ah! the bath-man would grip you by the testicles and fling you
through the door; he would only need to see you to appraise you at your
true value. . . . But let us go in, friend, that you may address your
thanksgivings to the god.
CHORUS. [_Missing. _]
AN OLD WOMAN. Dear old men, am I near the house where the new god lives,
or have I missed the road?
CHORUS. You are at his door, my pretty little maid, who question us so
sweetly. [796]
OLD WOMAN. Then I will summon someone in the house.
CHREMYLUS. 'Tis needless! I am here myself. But what matter brings you
here?
OLD WOMAN. Ah! a cruel, unjust fate! My dear friend, this god has made
life unbearable to me through ceasing to be blind.
CHREMYLUS. What does this mean? Can you be a female informer?
OLD WOMAN. Most certainly not.
CHREMYLUS. Have you not drunk up your money then?
OLD WOMAN. You are mocking me! Nay! I am being devoured with a consuming
fire.
CHREMYLUS. Then tell me what is consuming you so fiercely.
OLD WOMAN. Listen! I loved a young man, who was poor, but so handsome, so
well-built, so honest! He readily gave way to all I desired and acquitted
himself so well! I, for my part, refused him nothing.
CHREMYLUS. And what did he generally ask of you.
OLD WOMAN. Very little; he bore himself towards me with astonishing
discretion! perchance twenty drachmae for a cloak or eight for footwear;
sometimes he begged me to buy tunics for his sisters or a little mantle
for his mother; at times he needed four bushels of corn.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas very little, in truth; I admire his modesty.
OLD WOMAN. And 'twas not as a reward for his complacency that he ever
asked me for anything, but as a matter of pure friendship; a cloak I had
given would remind him from whom he had got it.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas a fellow who loved you madly.
OLD WOMAN. But 'tis no longer so, for the faithless wretch has sadly
altered! I had sent him this cake with the sweetmeats you see here on
this dish and let him know that I would visit him in the evening. . . .
CHREMYLUS. Well?
OLD WOMAN. He sent me back my presents and added this tart to them, on
condition that I never set foot in his house again. Besides, he sent me
this message, "Once upon a time the Milesians were brave. "[797]
CHREMYLUS. An honest lad, indeed! But what would you? When poor, he would
devour anything; now he is rich, he no longer cares for lentils.
OLD WOMAN. Formerly he came to me every day.
CHREMYLUS. To see if you were being buried?
OLD WOMAN. No! he longed to hear the sound of my voice.
CHREMYLUS. And to carry off some present.
OLD WOMAN. If I was downcast, he would call me his little duck or his
little dove in a most tender manner. . . .
CHREMYLUS. And then would ask for the wherewithal to buy a pair of shoes.
OLD WOMAN. When I was at the Mysteries of Eleusis in a carriage,[798]
someone looked at me; he was so jealous that he beat me the whole of that
day.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas because he liked to feed alone.
OLD WOMAN. He told me I had very beautiful hands.
CHREMYLUS. Aye, no doubt, when they handed him twenty drachmae.
OLD WOMAN. That my whole body breathed a sweet perfume.
CHREMYLUS. Yes, like enough, if you poured him out Thasian wine.
OLD WOMAN. That my glance was gentle and charming.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas no fool.
He knew how to drag drachmae from a hot-blooded
old woman.
OLD WOMAN. Ah! the god has done very, very wrong, saying he would support
the victims of injustice.
CHREMYLUS. Well, what must he do? Speak, and it shall be done.
OLD WOMAN. 'Tis right to compel him, whom I have loaded with benefits, to
repay them in his turn; if not, he does not merit the least of the god's
favours.
CHREMYLUS. And did he not do this every night?
OLD WOMAN. He swore he would never leave me, as long as I lived.
CHREMYLUS. Aye, rightly; but he thinks you are no longer alive. [799]
OLD WOMAN. Ah! friend, I am pining away with grief.
CHREMYLUS. You are rotting away, it seems to me.
OLD WOMAN. I have grown so thin, I could slip through a ring.
CHREMYLUS. Yes, if 'twere as large as the hoop of a sieve.
OLD WOMAN. But here is the youth, the cause of my complaint; he looks as
though he were going to a festival.
CHREMYLUS. Yes, if his chaplet and his torch are any guides.
YOUTH. Greeting to you.
OLD WOMAN. What does he say?
YOUTH. My ancient old dear, you have grown white very quickly, by heaven!
OLD WOMAN. Oh! what an insult!
CHREMYLUS. It is a long time, then, since he saw you?
OLD WOMAN. A long time? My god! he was with me yesterday.
CHREMYLUS. It must be, then, that, unlike other people, he sees more
clearly when he's drunk.
OLD WOMAN. No, but I have always known him for an insolent fellow.
YOUTH. Oh! divine Posidon! Oh, ye gods of old age! what wrinkles she has
on her face!
OLD WOMAN. Oh! oh! keep your distance with that torch.
CHREMYLUS. Yes, 'twould be as well; if a single spark were to reach her,
she would catch alight like an old olive branch.
YOUTH. I propose to have a game with you.
OLD WOMAN. Where, naughty boy?
YOUTH. Here. Take some nuts in your hand.
OLD WOMAN. What game is this?
YOUTH. Let's play at guessing how many teeth you have.
CHREMYLUS. Ah! I'll tell you; she's got three, or perhaps four.
YOUTH. Pay up; you've lost! she has only one single grinder.
OLD WOMAN. You wretch! you're not in your right senses. Do you insult me
thus before this crowd?
YOUTH. I am washing you thoroughly; 'tis doing you a service.
CHREMYLUS. No, no! as she is there, she can still deceive; but if this
white-lead is washed off, her wrinkles would come out plainly.
OLD WOMAN. You are only an old fool!
YOUTH. Ah! he is playing the gallant, he is fondling your breasts, and
thinks I do not see it.
OLD WOMAN. Oh! no, by Aphrodite, no, you naughty jealous fellow.
CHREMYLUS. Oh! most certainly not, by Hecate! [800] Verily and indeed I
would need to be mad! But, young man, I cannot forgive you, if you cast
off this beautiful child.
YOUTH. Why, I adore her.
CHREMYLUS. But nevertheless she accuses you . . .
YOUTH. Accuses me of what?
CHREMYLUS. . . . of having told her insolently, "Once upon a time the
Milesians were brave. "
YOUTH. Oh! I shall not dispute with you about her.
CHREMYLUS. Why not?
YOUTH. Out of respect for your age; with anyone but you, I should not be
so easy; come, take the girl and be happy.
CHREMYLUS. I see, I see; you don't want her any more.
OLD WOMAN. Nay! this is a thing that cannot be allowed.
YOUTH. I cannot argue with a woman, who has been making love these
thirteen thousand years.
CHREMYLUS. Yet, since you liked the wine, you should now consume the
lees.
YOUTH. But these lees are quite rancid and fusty.
CHREMYLUS. Pass them through a straining-cloth; they'll clarify.
YOUTH. But I want to go in with you to offer these chaplets to the god.
OLD WOMAN. And I too have something to tell him.
YOUTH. Then I don't enter.
CHREMYLUS. Come, have no fear; she won't harm you.
YOUTH. 'Tis true; I've been managing the old bark long enough.
OLD WOMAN. Go in; I'll follow after you.
CHREMYLUS. Good gods! that old hag has fastened herself to her youth like
a limpet to its rock.
CHORUS. [_Missing. _]
CARIO (_opening the door_). Who knocks at the door? Halloa! I see no one;
'twas then by chance it gave forth that plaintive tone.
HERMES (_to Carlo, who is about to close the door_). Cario! stop!
CARIO. Eh! friend, was it you who knocked so loudly? Tell me.
HERMES. No, I was going to knock and you forestalled me by opening. Come,
call your master quick, then his wife and his children, then his slave
and his dog, then thyself and his pig.
CARIO. And what's it all about?
HERMES. It's about this, rascal! Zeus wants to serve you all with the
same sauce and hurl the lot of you into the Barathrum.
CARIO. Have a care for your tongue, you bearer of ill tidings! But why
does he want to treat us in that scurvy fashion?
HERMES. Because you have committed the most dreadful crime. Since Plutus
has recovered his sight, there is nothing for us other gods, neither
incense, nor laurels, nor cakes, nor victims, nor anything in the world.
CARIO. And you will never be offered anything more; you governed us too
ill.
HERMES. I care nothing at all about the other gods, but 'tis myself. I
tell you I am dying of hunger.
CARIO. That's reasoning like a wise fellow.
HERMES. Formerly, from earliest dawn, I was offered all sorts of good
things in the wine-shops,--wine-cakes, honey, dried figs, in short,
dishes worthy of Hermes. Now, I lie the livelong day on my back, with my
legs in the air, famishing.
CARIO. And quite right too, for you often had them punished who treated
you so well. [801]
HERMES. Ah! the lovely cake they used to knead for me on the fourth of
the month! [802]
CARIO. You recall it vainly; your regrets are useless! there'll be no
more cake.
HERMES. Ah! the ham I was wont to devour!
CARIO. Well then! make use of your legs and hop on one leg upon the
wine-skin,[803] to while away the time.
HERMES. Oh! the grilled entrails I used to swallow down!
CARIO. Your own have got the colic, methinks.
INFORMER. Concerning what?
CHREMYLUS. Are you a husbandman?
INFORMER. D'ye take me for a fool?
CHREMYLUS. A merchant?
INFORMER. I assume the title, when it serves me. [793]
CHREMYLUS. Do you ply any trade?
INFORMER. No, most assuredly not!
CHREMYLUS. Then how do you live, if you do nothing?
INFORMER. I superintend public and private business.
CHREMYLUS. You! And by what right, pray?
INFORMER. Because it pleases me to do so.
CHREMYLUS. Like a thief you sneak yourself in where you have no business.
You are hated by all and you claim to be an honest man?
INFORMER. What, you fool? I have not the right to dedicate myself
entirely to my country's service?
CHREMYLUS. Is the country served by vile intrigue?
INFORMER. It is served by watching that the established law is
observed--by allowing no one to violate it.
CHREMYLUS. That's the duty of the tribunals; they are established to that
end.
INFORMER. And who is the prosecutor before the dicasts?
CHREMYLUS. Whoever wishes to be. [794]
INFORMER. Well then, 'tis I who choose to be prosecutor; and thus all
public affairs fall within my province.
CHREMYLUS. I pity Athens for being in such vile clutches. But would you
not prefer to live quietly and free from all care and anxiety?
INFORMER. To do nothing is to live an animal's life.
CHREMYLUS. Thus you will not change your mode of life?
INFORMER. No, though they gave me Plutus himself and the _silphium_ of
Battus. [795]
CHREMYLUS (_to the Informer_). Come, quick, off with your cloak.
CARIO. Hi! friend! 'tis you they are speaking to.
CHREMYLUS. Off with your shoes.
CARIO. All this is addressed to you.
INFORMER. Very well! let one of you come near me, if he dares.
CARIO. I dare.
INFORMER. Alas! I am robbed of my clothes in full daylight.
CARIO. That's what comes of meddling with other folk's business and
living at their expense.
INFORMER (_to his witness_). You see what is happening; I call you to
witness.
CHREMYLUS. Look how the witness whom you brought is taking to his heels.
INFORMER. Great gods! I am all alone and they assault me.
CARIO. Shout away!
INFORMER. Oh! woe, woe is me!
CARIO. Give me that old ragged cloak, that I may dress out the informer.
JUST MAN. No, no; I have dedicated it to Plutus.
CARIO. And where would your offering be better bestowed than on the
shoulders of a rascal and a thief? To Plutus fine, rich cloaks should be
given.
JUST MAN. And what then shall be done with these shoes? Tell me.
CARIO. I will nail them to his brow as gifts are nailed to the trunks of
the wild olive.
INFORMER. I'm off, for you are the strongest, I own. But if I find
someone to join me, let him be as weak as he will, I will summon this
god, who thinks himself so strong, before the Court this very day, and
denounce him as manifestly guilty of overturning the democracy by his
will alone and without the consent of the Senate or the popular Assembly.
JUST MAN. Now that you are rigged out from head to foot with my old
clothes, hasten to the bath and stand there in the front row to warm
yourself better; 'tis the place I formerly had.
CHREMYLUS. Ah! the bath-man would grip you by the testicles and fling you
through the door; he would only need to see you to appraise you at your
true value. . . . But let us go in, friend, that you may address your
thanksgivings to the god.
CHORUS. [_Missing. _]
AN OLD WOMAN. Dear old men, am I near the house where the new god lives,
or have I missed the road?
CHORUS. You are at his door, my pretty little maid, who question us so
sweetly. [796]
OLD WOMAN. Then I will summon someone in the house.
CHREMYLUS. 'Tis needless! I am here myself. But what matter brings you
here?
OLD WOMAN. Ah! a cruel, unjust fate! My dear friend, this god has made
life unbearable to me through ceasing to be blind.
CHREMYLUS. What does this mean? Can you be a female informer?
OLD WOMAN. Most certainly not.
CHREMYLUS. Have you not drunk up your money then?
OLD WOMAN. You are mocking me! Nay! I am being devoured with a consuming
fire.
CHREMYLUS. Then tell me what is consuming you so fiercely.
OLD WOMAN. Listen! I loved a young man, who was poor, but so handsome, so
well-built, so honest! He readily gave way to all I desired and acquitted
himself so well! I, for my part, refused him nothing.
CHREMYLUS. And what did he generally ask of you.
OLD WOMAN. Very little; he bore himself towards me with astonishing
discretion! perchance twenty drachmae for a cloak or eight for footwear;
sometimes he begged me to buy tunics for his sisters or a little mantle
for his mother; at times he needed four bushels of corn.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas very little, in truth; I admire his modesty.
OLD WOMAN. And 'twas not as a reward for his complacency that he ever
asked me for anything, but as a matter of pure friendship; a cloak I had
given would remind him from whom he had got it.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas a fellow who loved you madly.
OLD WOMAN. But 'tis no longer so, for the faithless wretch has sadly
altered! I had sent him this cake with the sweetmeats you see here on
this dish and let him know that I would visit him in the evening. . . .
CHREMYLUS. Well?
OLD WOMAN. He sent me back my presents and added this tart to them, on
condition that I never set foot in his house again. Besides, he sent me
this message, "Once upon a time the Milesians were brave. "[797]
CHREMYLUS. An honest lad, indeed! But what would you? When poor, he would
devour anything; now he is rich, he no longer cares for lentils.
OLD WOMAN. Formerly he came to me every day.
CHREMYLUS. To see if you were being buried?
OLD WOMAN. No! he longed to hear the sound of my voice.
CHREMYLUS. And to carry off some present.
OLD WOMAN. If I was downcast, he would call me his little duck or his
little dove in a most tender manner. . . .
CHREMYLUS. And then would ask for the wherewithal to buy a pair of shoes.
OLD WOMAN. When I was at the Mysteries of Eleusis in a carriage,[798]
someone looked at me; he was so jealous that he beat me the whole of that
day.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas because he liked to feed alone.
OLD WOMAN. He told me I had very beautiful hands.
CHREMYLUS. Aye, no doubt, when they handed him twenty drachmae.
OLD WOMAN. That my whole body breathed a sweet perfume.
CHREMYLUS. Yes, like enough, if you poured him out Thasian wine.
OLD WOMAN. That my glance was gentle and charming.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas no fool.
He knew how to drag drachmae from a hot-blooded
old woman.
OLD WOMAN. Ah! the god has done very, very wrong, saying he would support
the victims of injustice.
CHREMYLUS. Well, what must he do? Speak, and it shall be done.
OLD WOMAN. 'Tis right to compel him, whom I have loaded with benefits, to
repay them in his turn; if not, he does not merit the least of the god's
favours.
CHREMYLUS. And did he not do this every night?
OLD WOMAN. He swore he would never leave me, as long as I lived.
CHREMYLUS. Aye, rightly; but he thinks you are no longer alive. [799]
OLD WOMAN. Ah! friend, I am pining away with grief.
CHREMYLUS. You are rotting away, it seems to me.
OLD WOMAN. I have grown so thin, I could slip through a ring.
CHREMYLUS. Yes, if 'twere as large as the hoop of a sieve.
OLD WOMAN. But here is the youth, the cause of my complaint; he looks as
though he were going to a festival.
CHREMYLUS. Yes, if his chaplet and his torch are any guides.
YOUTH. Greeting to you.
OLD WOMAN. What does he say?
YOUTH. My ancient old dear, you have grown white very quickly, by heaven!
OLD WOMAN. Oh! what an insult!
CHREMYLUS. It is a long time, then, since he saw you?
OLD WOMAN. A long time? My god! he was with me yesterday.
CHREMYLUS. It must be, then, that, unlike other people, he sees more
clearly when he's drunk.
OLD WOMAN. No, but I have always known him for an insolent fellow.
YOUTH. Oh! divine Posidon! Oh, ye gods of old age! what wrinkles she has
on her face!
OLD WOMAN. Oh! oh! keep your distance with that torch.
CHREMYLUS. Yes, 'twould be as well; if a single spark were to reach her,
she would catch alight like an old olive branch.
YOUTH. I propose to have a game with you.
OLD WOMAN. Where, naughty boy?
YOUTH. Here. Take some nuts in your hand.
OLD WOMAN. What game is this?
YOUTH. Let's play at guessing how many teeth you have.
CHREMYLUS. Ah! I'll tell you; she's got three, or perhaps four.
YOUTH. Pay up; you've lost! she has only one single grinder.
OLD WOMAN. You wretch! you're not in your right senses. Do you insult me
thus before this crowd?
YOUTH. I am washing you thoroughly; 'tis doing you a service.
CHREMYLUS. No, no! as she is there, she can still deceive; but if this
white-lead is washed off, her wrinkles would come out plainly.
OLD WOMAN. You are only an old fool!
YOUTH. Ah! he is playing the gallant, he is fondling your breasts, and
thinks I do not see it.
OLD WOMAN. Oh! no, by Aphrodite, no, you naughty jealous fellow.
CHREMYLUS. Oh! most certainly not, by Hecate! [800] Verily and indeed I
would need to be mad! But, young man, I cannot forgive you, if you cast
off this beautiful child.
YOUTH. Why, I adore her.
CHREMYLUS. But nevertheless she accuses you . . .
YOUTH. Accuses me of what?
CHREMYLUS. . . . of having told her insolently, "Once upon a time the
Milesians were brave. "
YOUTH. Oh! I shall not dispute with you about her.
CHREMYLUS. Why not?
YOUTH. Out of respect for your age; with anyone but you, I should not be
so easy; come, take the girl and be happy.
CHREMYLUS. I see, I see; you don't want her any more.
OLD WOMAN. Nay! this is a thing that cannot be allowed.
YOUTH. I cannot argue with a woman, who has been making love these
thirteen thousand years.
CHREMYLUS. Yet, since you liked the wine, you should now consume the
lees.
YOUTH. But these lees are quite rancid and fusty.
CHREMYLUS. Pass them through a straining-cloth; they'll clarify.
YOUTH. But I want to go in with you to offer these chaplets to the god.
OLD WOMAN. And I too have something to tell him.
YOUTH. Then I don't enter.
CHREMYLUS. Come, have no fear; she won't harm you.
YOUTH. 'Tis true; I've been managing the old bark long enough.
OLD WOMAN. Go in; I'll follow after you.
CHREMYLUS. Good gods! that old hag has fastened herself to her youth like
a limpet to its rock.
CHORUS. [_Missing. _]
CARIO (_opening the door_). Who knocks at the door? Halloa! I see no one;
'twas then by chance it gave forth that plaintive tone.
HERMES (_to Carlo, who is about to close the door_). Cario! stop!
CARIO. Eh! friend, was it you who knocked so loudly? Tell me.
HERMES. No, I was going to knock and you forestalled me by opening. Come,
call your master quick, then his wife and his children, then his slave
and his dog, then thyself and his pig.
CARIO. And what's it all about?
HERMES. It's about this, rascal! Zeus wants to serve you all with the
same sauce and hurl the lot of you into the Barathrum.
CARIO. Have a care for your tongue, you bearer of ill tidings! But why
does he want to treat us in that scurvy fashion?
HERMES. Because you have committed the most dreadful crime. Since Plutus
has recovered his sight, there is nothing for us other gods, neither
incense, nor laurels, nor cakes, nor victims, nor anything in the world.
CARIO. And you will never be offered anything more; you governed us too
ill.
HERMES. I care nothing at all about the other gods, but 'tis myself. I
tell you I am dying of hunger.
CARIO. That's reasoning like a wise fellow.
HERMES. Formerly, from earliest dawn, I was offered all sorts of good
things in the wine-shops,--wine-cakes, honey, dried figs, in short,
dishes worthy of Hermes. Now, I lie the livelong day on my back, with my
legs in the air, famishing.
CARIO. And quite right too, for you often had them punished who treated
you so well. [801]
HERMES. Ah! the lovely cake they used to knead for me on the fourth of
the month! [802]
CARIO. You recall it vainly; your regrets are useless! there'll be no
more cake.
HERMES. Ah! the ham I was wont to devour!
CARIO. Well then! make use of your legs and hop on one leg upon the
wine-skin,[803] to while away the time.
HERMES. Oh! the grilled entrails I used to swallow down!
CARIO. Your own have got the colic, methinks.
