The beggar, whom you
have depicted to us, never possesses anything.
have depicted to us, never possesses anything.
Aristophanes
Must we not go and seek a physician?
CHREMYLUS. Seek physicians at Athens? Nay! there's no art where there's
no fee. [768]
BLEPSIDEMUS. Let's bethink ourselves well.
CHREMYLUS. There is not one.
BLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis a positive fact, I don't know of one.
CHREMYLUS. But I have thought the matter well over, and the best thing is
to make Plutus lie in the Temple of Aesculapius. [769]
BLEPSIDEMUS. Aye, unquestionably 'tis the very best thing. Be quick and
lead him away to the Temple.
CHREMYLUS. I am going there.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Then hurry yourself.
CHREMYLUS. 'Tis just what I am doing.
POVERTY. Unwise, perverse, unholy men! What are you daring to do, you
pitiful, wretched mortals? Whither are you flying? Stop! I command it!
BLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! great gods!
POVERTY. My arm shall destroy you, you infamous beings! Such an attempt
is not to be borne; neither man nor god has ever dared the like. You
shall die!
CHREMYLUS. And who are you? Oh! what a ghastly pallor!
BLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis perchance some Erinnys, some Fury, from the
theatre;[770] there's a kind of wild tragedy look in her eyes.
CHREMYLUS. But she has no torch.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Let's knock her down!
POVERTY. Who do you think I am?
CHREMYLUS. Some wine-shop keeper or egg-woman. Otherwise you would not
have shrieked so loud at us, who have done nothing to you.
POVERTY. Indeed? And have you not done me the most deadly injury by
seeking to banish me from every country?
CHREMYLUS. Why, have you not got the Barathrum[771] left? But who are
you? Answer me quickly!
POVERTY. I am one that will punish you this very day for having wanted to
make me disappear from here.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Might it be the tavern-keeper in my neighbourhood, who is
always cheating me in measure?
POVERTY. I am Poverty, who have lived with you for so many years.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! great Apollo! oh, ye gods! whither shall I fly?
CHREMYLUS. Now then! what are you doing? You poltroon! Will you kindly
stop here?
BLEPSIDEMUS. Not I.
CHREMYLUS. Will you have the goodness to stop. Are two men to fly from a
woman?
BLEPSIDEMUS. But, you wretch, 'tis Poverty, the most fearful monster that
ever drew breath.
CHREMYLUS. Stay where you are, I beg of you.
BLEPSIDEMUS. No! no! a thousand times, no!
CHREMYLUS. Could we do anything worse than leave the god in the lurch and
fly before this woman without so much as ever offering to fight?
BLEPSIDEMUS. But what weapons have we? Are we in a condition to show
fight? Where is the breastplate, the buckler, that this wretch has not
pledged?
CHREMYLUS. Be at ease. Plutus will readily triumph over her threats
unaided.
POVERTY. Dare you reply, you scoundrels, you who are caught red-handed at
the most horrible crime?
CHREMYLUS. As for you, you cursed jade, you pursue me with your abuse,
though I have never done you the slightest harm.
POVERTY. Do you think it is doing me no harm to restore Plutus to the use
of his eyes?
CHREMYLUS. Is this doing you harm, that we shower blessings on all men?
POVERTY. And what do you think will ensure their happiness?
CHREMYLUS. Ah! first of all we shall drive you out of Greece.
POVERTY. Drive me out? Could you do mankind a greater harm?
CHREMYLUS. Yes--if I gave up my intention to deliver them from you.
POVERTY. Well, let us discuss this point first. I propose to show that I
am the sole cause of all your blessings, and that your safety depends on
me alone. If I don't succeed, then do what you like to me.
CHREMYLUS. How dare you talk like this, you impudent hussy?
POVERTY. Agree to hear me and I think it will be very easy for me to
prove that you are entirely on the wrong road, when you want to make the
just men wealthy.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! cudgel and rope's end, come to my help!
POVERTY. Why such wrath and these shouts, before you hear my arguments?
BLEPSIDEMUS. But who could listen to such words without exclaiming?
POVERTY. Any man of sense.
CHREMYLUS. But if you lose your case, what punishment will you submit to?
POVERTY. Choose what you will.
CHREMYLUS. That's all right.
POVERTY. You shall suffer the same if you are beaten!
CHREMYLUS. Do you think twenty deaths a sufficiently large stake?
BLEPSIDEMUS. Good enough for her, but for us two would suffice.
POVERTY. You won't escape, for is there indeed a single valid argument to
oppose me with?
CHORUS. To beat her in this debate, you must call upon all your wits.
Make no allowances and show no weakness!
CHREMYLUS. It is right that the good should be happy, that the wicked and
the impious, on the other hand, should be miserable; that is a truth, I
believe, which no one will gainsay. To realize this condition of things
is as great a proposal as it is noble and useful in every respect, and we
have found a means of attaining the object of our wishes. If Plutus
recovers his sight and ceases from wandering about unseeing and at
random, he will go to seek the just men and never leave them again; he
will shun the perverse and ungodly; so, thanks to him, all men will
become honest, rich and pious. Can anything better be conceived for the
public weal?
BLEPSIDEMUS. Of a certainty, no! I bear witness to that. It is not even
necessary she should reply.
CHREMYLUS. Does it not seem that everything is extravagance in the world,
or rather madness, when you watch the way things go? A crowd of rogues
enjoy blessings they have won by sheer injustice, while more honest folks
are miserable, die of hunger, and spend their whole lives with you.
CHORUS. Yes, if Plutus became clear-sighted again and drove out Poverty,
'twould be the greatest blessing possible for the human race.
POVERTY. Here are two old men, whose brains are easy to confuse, who
assist each other to talk rubbish and drivel to their hearts' content.
But if your wishes were realized, your profit would be great! Let Plutus
recover his sight and divide his favours out equally to all, and none
will ply either trade or art any longer; all toil would be done away
with. Who would wish to hammer iron, build ships, sew, turn, cut up
leather, bake bricks, bleach linen, tan hides, or break up the soil of
the earth with the plough and garner the gifts of Demeter, if he could
live in idleness and free from all this work?
CHREMYLUS. What nonsense all this is! All these trades which you just
mention will be plied by our slaves.
POVERTY. Your slaves! And by what means will these slaves be got?
CHREMYLUS. We will buy them.
POVERTY. But first say, who will sell them, if everyone is rich?
CHREMYLUS. Some greedy dealer from Thessaly--the land which supplies so
many.
POVERTY. But if your system is applied, there won't be a single
slave-dealer left. What rich man would risk his life to devote himself to
this traffic? You will have to toil, to dig and submit yourself to all
kinds of hard labour; so that your life would be more wretched even than
it is now.
CHREMYLUS. May this prediction fall upon yourself!
POVERTY. You will not be able to sleep in a bed, for no more will ever be
manufactured; nor on carpets, for who would weave them if he had gold?
When you bring a young bride to your dwelling, you will have no essences
wherewith to perfume her, nor rich embroidered cloaks dyed with dazzling
colours in which to clothe her. And yet what is the use of being rich, if
you are to be deprived of all these enjoyments? On the other hand, you
have all that you need in abundance, thanks to me; to the artisan I am
like a severe mistress, who forces him by need and poverty to seek the
means of earning his livelihood.
CHREMYLUS. And what good thing can you give us, unless it be burns in the
bath,[772] and swarms of brats and old women who cry with hunger, and
clouds uncountable of lice, gnats and flies, which hover about the
wretch's head, trouble him, awake him and say, "You will be hungry, but
get up! " Besides, to possess a rag in place of a mantle, a pallet of
rushes swarming with bugs, that do not let you close your eyes for a bed;
a rotten piece of matting for a coverlet; a big stone for a pillow, on
which to lay your head; to eat mallow roots instead of bread, and leaves
of withered radish instead of cake; to have nothing but the cover of a
broken jug for a stool, the stave of a cask, and broken at that, for a
kneading-trough, that is the life you make for us! Are these the mighty
benefits with which you pretend to load mankind?
POVERTY. 'Tis not my life that you describe; you are attacking the
existence beggars lead.
CHREMYLUS. Is beggary not Poverty's sister?
POVERTY. Thrasybulus and Dionysius[773] are one and the same according to
you. No, my life is not like that and never will be.
The beggar, whom you
have depicted to us, never possesses anything. The poor man lives
thriftily and attentive to his work; he has not got too much, but he does
not lack what he really needs.
CHREMYLUS. Oh! what a happy life, by Demeter! to live sparingly, to toil
incessantly and not to leave enough to pay for a tomb!
POVERTY. That's it! Jest, jeer, and never talk seriously! But what you
don't know is this, that men with me are worth more, both in mind and
body, than with Plutus. With him they are gouty, big-bellied, heavy of
limb and scandalously stout; with me they are thin, wasp-waisted, and
terrible to the foe.
CHREMYLUS. 'Tis no doubt by starving them that you give them that waspish
waist.
POVERTY. As for behaviour, I will prove to you that modesty dwells with
me and insolence with Plutus.
CHREMYLUS. Oh! the sweet modesty of stealing and breaking through
walls. [774]
BLEPSIDEMUS. Aye, the thief is truly modest, for he hides himself.
POVERTY. Look at the orators in our republics; as long as they are poor,
both State and people can only praise their uprightness; but once they
are fattened on the public funds, they conceive a hatred for justice,
plan intrigues against the people and attack the democracy.
CHREMYLUS. That is absolutely true, although your tongue is very vile.
But it matters not, so don't put on those triumphant airs; you shall not
be punished any the less for having tried to persuade me that poverty is
worth more than wealth.
POVERTY. Not being able to refute my arguments, you chatter at random and
exert yourself to no purpose.
CHREMYLUS. Then tell me this, why does all mankind flee from you?
POVERTY. Because I make them better. Children do the very same; they flee
from the wise counsels of their fathers. So difficult is it to see one's
true interest.
CHREMYLUS. Will you say that Zeus cannot discern what is best? Well, he
takes Plutus to himself . . .
BLEPSIDEMUS. . . . and banishes Poverty to earth.
POVERTY. Ah me! how purblind you are, you old fellows of the days of
Saturn! Why, Zeus is poor, and I will clearly prove it to you. In the
Olympic games, which he founded, and to which he convokes the whole of
Greece every four years, why does he only crown the victorious athletes
with wild olive? If he were rich he would give them gold.
CHREMYLUS. 'Tis in that way he shows that he clings to his wealth; he is
sparing with it, won't part with any portion of it, only bestows baubles
on the victors and keeps his money for himself.
POVERTY. But wealth coupled to such sordid greed is yet more shameful
than poverty.
CHREMYLUS. May Zeus destroy you, both you and your chaplet of wild olive!
POVERTY. Thus you dare to maintain that poverty is not the fount of all
blessings!
CHREMYLUS. Ask Hecate[775] whether it is better to be rich or starving;
she will tell you that the rich send her a meal every month and that the
poor make it disappear before it is even served. But go and hang yourself
and don't breathe another syllable. I will not be convinced against my
will.
POVERTY. "Oh! citizens of Argos! do you hear what he says? "[776]
CHREMYLUS. Invoke Pauson, your boon companion, rather. [777]
POVERTY. Alas! what is to become of me?
CHREMYLUS. Get you gone, be off quick and a pleasant journey to you.
POVERTY. But where shall I go?
CHREMYLUS. To gaol; but hurry up, let us put an end to this.
POVERTY. One day you will recall me.
CHREMYLUS. Then you can return; but disappear for the present. I prefer
to be rich; you are free to knock your head against the walls in your
rage.
BLEPSIDEMUS. And I too welcome wealth. I want, when I leave the bath all
perfumed with essences, to feast bravely with my wife and children and to
break wind in the faces of toilers and Poverty.
CHREMYLUS. So that hussy has gone at last! But let us make haste to put
Plutus to bed in the Temple of Aesculapius.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Let us make haste; else some bothering fellow may again come
to interrupt us.
CHREMYLUS. Cario, bring the coverlets and all that I have got ready from
the house; let us conduct the god to the Temple, taking care to observe
all the proper rites.
CHORUS. [_Missing. _][778]
CARIO. Oh! you old fellows, who used to dip out the broth served to the
poor at the festival of Theseus with little pieces of bread[779] hollowed
like a spoon, how worthy of envy is your fate! How happy you are, both
you and all just men!
CHORUS. My good fellow, what has happened to your friends? You seem the
bearer of good tidings.
CARIO. What joy for my master and even more for Plutus! The god has
regained his sight; his eyes sparkle with the greatest brilliancy, thanks
to the benevolent care of Aesculapius.
CHORUS. Oh! what transports of joy! oh! What shouts of gladness!
CARIO. Aye! one is compelled to rejoice, whether one will or not.
CHORUS. I will sing to the honour of Aesculapius, the son of illustrious
Zeus, with a resounding voice; he is the beneficent star which men adore.
CHREMYLUS' WIFE. What mean these shouts? Is there good news. With what
impatience have I been waiting in the house, and for so long too!
CARIO. Quick! quick! some wine, mistress. And drink yourself, for 'tis
much to your taste; I bring you all blessings in a lump.
WIFE. Where are they?
CARIO. In my words, as you are going to see.
WIFE. Have done with trifling! come, speak.
CARIO. Listen, I am going to tell you everything from the feet to the
head.
WIFE. Ah! don't throw anything at my head.
CARIO. Not even the happiness that has come to you?
WIFE. No, no, nothing . . . to annoy me.
CARIO. Having arrived near to the Temple with our patient, then so
unfortunate, but now at the apex of happiness, of blessedness, we first
led him down to the sea to purify him.
WIFE. Ah! what a singular pleasure for an old man to bathe in the cold
sea-water!
CARIO. Then we repaired to the Temple of the god. Once the wafers and the
various offerings had been consecrated upon the altar, and the cake of
wheaten-meal had been handed over to the devouring Hephaestus, we made
Plutus lie on a couch according to the rite, and each of us prepared
himself a bed of leaves.
WIFE. Had any other folk come to beseech the deity?
CARIO. Yes. Firstly, Neoclides,[780] who is blind, but steals much better
than those who see clearly; then many others attacked by complaints of
all kinds. The lights were put out and the priest enjoined us to sleep,
especially recommending us to keep silent should we hear any noise. There
we were all lying down quite quietly. I could not sleep; I was thinking
of a certain stew-pan full of pap placed close to an old woman and just
behind her head. I had a furious longing to slip towards that side. But
just as I was lifting my head, I noticed the priest, who was sweeping off
both the cakes and the figs on the sacred table; then he made the round
of the altars and sanctified the cakes that remained, by stowing them
away in a bag. I therefore resolved to follow such a pious example and
made straight for the pap.
WIFE. You wretch! and had you no fear of the god?
CARIO. Aye, indeed! I feared that the god with his crown on his head
might have been near the stew-pan before me. I said to myself, "Like
priest, like god. " On hearing the noise I made, the old woman put out her
hand, but I hissed and bit it, just as a sacred serpent might have
done. [781] Quick she drew back her hand, slipped down into the bed with
her head beneath the coverlets and never moved again; only she let go
some wind in her fear which stunk worse than a weasel. As for myself, I
swallowed a goodly portion of the pap and, having made a good feed, went
back to bed.
WIFE. And did not the god come?
CAIRO. He did not tarry; and when he was near us, oh! dear! such a good
joke happened. My belly was quite blown out, and I let wind with the
loudest of noises.
WIFE. Doubtless the god pulled a wry face?
CARIO. No, but Iaso blushed a little and Panacea[782] turned her head
away, holding her nose; for my perfume is not that of roses.
WIFE. And what did the god do?
CARIO. He paid not the slightest heed.
WIFE. He must then be a pretty coarse kind of god?
CARIO. I don't say that, but he's used to tasting shit. [783]
WIFE. Impudent knave, go on with you!
CARIO. Then I hid myself in my bed all a-tremble. Aesculapius did the
round of the patients and examined them all with great attention; then a
slave placed beside him a stone mortar, a pestle and a little box. [784]
WIFE. Of stone?
CARIO. No, not of stone.
WIFE. But how could you see all this, you arch-rascal, when you say you
were hiding all the time?
CARIO.
CHREMYLUS. Seek physicians at Athens? Nay! there's no art where there's
no fee. [768]
BLEPSIDEMUS. Let's bethink ourselves well.
CHREMYLUS. There is not one.
BLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis a positive fact, I don't know of one.
CHREMYLUS. But I have thought the matter well over, and the best thing is
to make Plutus lie in the Temple of Aesculapius. [769]
BLEPSIDEMUS. Aye, unquestionably 'tis the very best thing. Be quick and
lead him away to the Temple.
CHREMYLUS. I am going there.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Then hurry yourself.
CHREMYLUS. 'Tis just what I am doing.
POVERTY. Unwise, perverse, unholy men! What are you daring to do, you
pitiful, wretched mortals? Whither are you flying? Stop! I command it!
BLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! great gods!
POVERTY. My arm shall destroy you, you infamous beings! Such an attempt
is not to be borne; neither man nor god has ever dared the like. You
shall die!
CHREMYLUS. And who are you? Oh! what a ghastly pallor!
BLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis perchance some Erinnys, some Fury, from the
theatre;[770] there's a kind of wild tragedy look in her eyes.
CHREMYLUS. But she has no torch.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Let's knock her down!
POVERTY. Who do you think I am?
CHREMYLUS. Some wine-shop keeper or egg-woman. Otherwise you would not
have shrieked so loud at us, who have done nothing to you.
POVERTY. Indeed? And have you not done me the most deadly injury by
seeking to banish me from every country?
CHREMYLUS. Why, have you not got the Barathrum[771] left? But who are
you? Answer me quickly!
POVERTY. I am one that will punish you this very day for having wanted to
make me disappear from here.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Might it be the tavern-keeper in my neighbourhood, who is
always cheating me in measure?
POVERTY. I am Poverty, who have lived with you for so many years.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! great Apollo! oh, ye gods! whither shall I fly?
CHREMYLUS. Now then! what are you doing? You poltroon! Will you kindly
stop here?
BLEPSIDEMUS. Not I.
CHREMYLUS. Will you have the goodness to stop. Are two men to fly from a
woman?
BLEPSIDEMUS. But, you wretch, 'tis Poverty, the most fearful monster that
ever drew breath.
CHREMYLUS. Stay where you are, I beg of you.
BLEPSIDEMUS. No! no! a thousand times, no!
CHREMYLUS. Could we do anything worse than leave the god in the lurch and
fly before this woman without so much as ever offering to fight?
BLEPSIDEMUS. But what weapons have we? Are we in a condition to show
fight? Where is the breastplate, the buckler, that this wretch has not
pledged?
CHREMYLUS. Be at ease. Plutus will readily triumph over her threats
unaided.
POVERTY. Dare you reply, you scoundrels, you who are caught red-handed at
the most horrible crime?
CHREMYLUS. As for you, you cursed jade, you pursue me with your abuse,
though I have never done you the slightest harm.
POVERTY. Do you think it is doing me no harm to restore Plutus to the use
of his eyes?
CHREMYLUS. Is this doing you harm, that we shower blessings on all men?
POVERTY. And what do you think will ensure their happiness?
CHREMYLUS. Ah! first of all we shall drive you out of Greece.
POVERTY. Drive me out? Could you do mankind a greater harm?
CHREMYLUS. Yes--if I gave up my intention to deliver them from you.
POVERTY. Well, let us discuss this point first. I propose to show that I
am the sole cause of all your blessings, and that your safety depends on
me alone. If I don't succeed, then do what you like to me.
CHREMYLUS. How dare you talk like this, you impudent hussy?
POVERTY. Agree to hear me and I think it will be very easy for me to
prove that you are entirely on the wrong road, when you want to make the
just men wealthy.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! cudgel and rope's end, come to my help!
POVERTY. Why such wrath and these shouts, before you hear my arguments?
BLEPSIDEMUS. But who could listen to such words without exclaiming?
POVERTY. Any man of sense.
CHREMYLUS. But if you lose your case, what punishment will you submit to?
POVERTY. Choose what you will.
CHREMYLUS. That's all right.
POVERTY. You shall suffer the same if you are beaten!
CHREMYLUS. Do you think twenty deaths a sufficiently large stake?
BLEPSIDEMUS. Good enough for her, but for us two would suffice.
POVERTY. You won't escape, for is there indeed a single valid argument to
oppose me with?
CHORUS. To beat her in this debate, you must call upon all your wits.
Make no allowances and show no weakness!
CHREMYLUS. It is right that the good should be happy, that the wicked and
the impious, on the other hand, should be miserable; that is a truth, I
believe, which no one will gainsay. To realize this condition of things
is as great a proposal as it is noble and useful in every respect, and we
have found a means of attaining the object of our wishes. If Plutus
recovers his sight and ceases from wandering about unseeing and at
random, he will go to seek the just men and never leave them again; he
will shun the perverse and ungodly; so, thanks to him, all men will
become honest, rich and pious. Can anything better be conceived for the
public weal?
BLEPSIDEMUS. Of a certainty, no! I bear witness to that. It is not even
necessary she should reply.
CHREMYLUS. Does it not seem that everything is extravagance in the world,
or rather madness, when you watch the way things go? A crowd of rogues
enjoy blessings they have won by sheer injustice, while more honest folks
are miserable, die of hunger, and spend their whole lives with you.
CHORUS. Yes, if Plutus became clear-sighted again and drove out Poverty,
'twould be the greatest blessing possible for the human race.
POVERTY. Here are two old men, whose brains are easy to confuse, who
assist each other to talk rubbish and drivel to their hearts' content.
But if your wishes were realized, your profit would be great! Let Plutus
recover his sight and divide his favours out equally to all, and none
will ply either trade or art any longer; all toil would be done away
with. Who would wish to hammer iron, build ships, sew, turn, cut up
leather, bake bricks, bleach linen, tan hides, or break up the soil of
the earth with the plough and garner the gifts of Demeter, if he could
live in idleness and free from all this work?
CHREMYLUS. What nonsense all this is! All these trades which you just
mention will be plied by our slaves.
POVERTY. Your slaves! And by what means will these slaves be got?
CHREMYLUS. We will buy them.
POVERTY. But first say, who will sell them, if everyone is rich?
CHREMYLUS. Some greedy dealer from Thessaly--the land which supplies so
many.
POVERTY. But if your system is applied, there won't be a single
slave-dealer left. What rich man would risk his life to devote himself to
this traffic? You will have to toil, to dig and submit yourself to all
kinds of hard labour; so that your life would be more wretched even than
it is now.
CHREMYLUS. May this prediction fall upon yourself!
POVERTY. You will not be able to sleep in a bed, for no more will ever be
manufactured; nor on carpets, for who would weave them if he had gold?
When you bring a young bride to your dwelling, you will have no essences
wherewith to perfume her, nor rich embroidered cloaks dyed with dazzling
colours in which to clothe her. And yet what is the use of being rich, if
you are to be deprived of all these enjoyments? On the other hand, you
have all that you need in abundance, thanks to me; to the artisan I am
like a severe mistress, who forces him by need and poverty to seek the
means of earning his livelihood.
CHREMYLUS. And what good thing can you give us, unless it be burns in the
bath,[772] and swarms of brats and old women who cry with hunger, and
clouds uncountable of lice, gnats and flies, which hover about the
wretch's head, trouble him, awake him and say, "You will be hungry, but
get up! " Besides, to possess a rag in place of a mantle, a pallet of
rushes swarming with bugs, that do not let you close your eyes for a bed;
a rotten piece of matting for a coverlet; a big stone for a pillow, on
which to lay your head; to eat mallow roots instead of bread, and leaves
of withered radish instead of cake; to have nothing but the cover of a
broken jug for a stool, the stave of a cask, and broken at that, for a
kneading-trough, that is the life you make for us! Are these the mighty
benefits with which you pretend to load mankind?
POVERTY. 'Tis not my life that you describe; you are attacking the
existence beggars lead.
CHREMYLUS. Is beggary not Poverty's sister?
POVERTY. Thrasybulus and Dionysius[773] are one and the same according to
you. No, my life is not like that and never will be.
The beggar, whom you
have depicted to us, never possesses anything. The poor man lives
thriftily and attentive to his work; he has not got too much, but he does
not lack what he really needs.
CHREMYLUS. Oh! what a happy life, by Demeter! to live sparingly, to toil
incessantly and not to leave enough to pay for a tomb!
POVERTY. That's it! Jest, jeer, and never talk seriously! But what you
don't know is this, that men with me are worth more, both in mind and
body, than with Plutus. With him they are gouty, big-bellied, heavy of
limb and scandalously stout; with me they are thin, wasp-waisted, and
terrible to the foe.
CHREMYLUS. 'Tis no doubt by starving them that you give them that waspish
waist.
POVERTY. As for behaviour, I will prove to you that modesty dwells with
me and insolence with Plutus.
CHREMYLUS. Oh! the sweet modesty of stealing and breaking through
walls. [774]
BLEPSIDEMUS. Aye, the thief is truly modest, for he hides himself.
POVERTY. Look at the orators in our republics; as long as they are poor,
both State and people can only praise their uprightness; but once they
are fattened on the public funds, they conceive a hatred for justice,
plan intrigues against the people and attack the democracy.
CHREMYLUS. That is absolutely true, although your tongue is very vile.
But it matters not, so don't put on those triumphant airs; you shall not
be punished any the less for having tried to persuade me that poverty is
worth more than wealth.
POVERTY. Not being able to refute my arguments, you chatter at random and
exert yourself to no purpose.
CHREMYLUS. Then tell me this, why does all mankind flee from you?
POVERTY. Because I make them better. Children do the very same; they flee
from the wise counsels of their fathers. So difficult is it to see one's
true interest.
CHREMYLUS. Will you say that Zeus cannot discern what is best? Well, he
takes Plutus to himself . . .
BLEPSIDEMUS. . . . and banishes Poverty to earth.
POVERTY. Ah me! how purblind you are, you old fellows of the days of
Saturn! Why, Zeus is poor, and I will clearly prove it to you. In the
Olympic games, which he founded, and to which he convokes the whole of
Greece every four years, why does he only crown the victorious athletes
with wild olive? If he were rich he would give them gold.
CHREMYLUS. 'Tis in that way he shows that he clings to his wealth; he is
sparing with it, won't part with any portion of it, only bestows baubles
on the victors and keeps his money for himself.
POVERTY. But wealth coupled to such sordid greed is yet more shameful
than poverty.
CHREMYLUS. May Zeus destroy you, both you and your chaplet of wild olive!
POVERTY. Thus you dare to maintain that poverty is not the fount of all
blessings!
CHREMYLUS. Ask Hecate[775] whether it is better to be rich or starving;
she will tell you that the rich send her a meal every month and that the
poor make it disappear before it is even served. But go and hang yourself
and don't breathe another syllable. I will not be convinced against my
will.
POVERTY. "Oh! citizens of Argos! do you hear what he says? "[776]
CHREMYLUS. Invoke Pauson, your boon companion, rather. [777]
POVERTY. Alas! what is to become of me?
CHREMYLUS. Get you gone, be off quick and a pleasant journey to you.
POVERTY. But where shall I go?
CHREMYLUS. To gaol; but hurry up, let us put an end to this.
POVERTY. One day you will recall me.
CHREMYLUS. Then you can return; but disappear for the present. I prefer
to be rich; you are free to knock your head against the walls in your
rage.
BLEPSIDEMUS. And I too welcome wealth. I want, when I leave the bath all
perfumed with essences, to feast bravely with my wife and children and to
break wind in the faces of toilers and Poverty.
CHREMYLUS. So that hussy has gone at last! But let us make haste to put
Plutus to bed in the Temple of Aesculapius.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Let us make haste; else some bothering fellow may again come
to interrupt us.
CHREMYLUS. Cario, bring the coverlets and all that I have got ready from
the house; let us conduct the god to the Temple, taking care to observe
all the proper rites.
CHORUS. [_Missing. _][778]
CARIO. Oh! you old fellows, who used to dip out the broth served to the
poor at the festival of Theseus with little pieces of bread[779] hollowed
like a spoon, how worthy of envy is your fate! How happy you are, both
you and all just men!
CHORUS. My good fellow, what has happened to your friends? You seem the
bearer of good tidings.
CARIO. What joy for my master and even more for Plutus! The god has
regained his sight; his eyes sparkle with the greatest brilliancy, thanks
to the benevolent care of Aesculapius.
CHORUS. Oh! what transports of joy! oh! What shouts of gladness!
CARIO. Aye! one is compelled to rejoice, whether one will or not.
CHORUS. I will sing to the honour of Aesculapius, the son of illustrious
Zeus, with a resounding voice; he is the beneficent star which men adore.
CHREMYLUS' WIFE. What mean these shouts? Is there good news. With what
impatience have I been waiting in the house, and for so long too!
CARIO. Quick! quick! some wine, mistress. And drink yourself, for 'tis
much to your taste; I bring you all blessings in a lump.
WIFE. Where are they?
CARIO. In my words, as you are going to see.
WIFE. Have done with trifling! come, speak.
CARIO. Listen, I am going to tell you everything from the feet to the
head.
WIFE. Ah! don't throw anything at my head.
CARIO. Not even the happiness that has come to you?
WIFE. No, no, nothing . . . to annoy me.
CARIO. Having arrived near to the Temple with our patient, then so
unfortunate, but now at the apex of happiness, of blessedness, we first
led him down to the sea to purify him.
WIFE. Ah! what a singular pleasure for an old man to bathe in the cold
sea-water!
CARIO. Then we repaired to the Temple of the god. Once the wafers and the
various offerings had been consecrated upon the altar, and the cake of
wheaten-meal had been handed over to the devouring Hephaestus, we made
Plutus lie on a couch according to the rite, and each of us prepared
himself a bed of leaves.
WIFE. Had any other folk come to beseech the deity?
CARIO. Yes. Firstly, Neoclides,[780] who is blind, but steals much better
than those who see clearly; then many others attacked by complaints of
all kinds. The lights were put out and the priest enjoined us to sleep,
especially recommending us to keep silent should we hear any noise. There
we were all lying down quite quietly. I could not sleep; I was thinking
of a certain stew-pan full of pap placed close to an old woman and just
behind her head. I had a furious longing to slip towards that side. But
just as I was lifting my head, I noticed the priest, who was sweeping off
both the cakes and the figs on the sacred table; then he made the round
of the altars and sanctified the cakes that remained, by stowing them
away in a bag. I therefore resolved to follow such a pious example and
made straight for the pap.
WIFE. You wretch! and had you no fear of the god?
CARIO. Aye, indeed! I feared that the god with his crown on his head
might have been near the stew-pan before me. I said to myself, "Like
priest, like god. " On hearing the noise I made, the old woman put out her
hand, but I hissed and bit it, just as a sacred serpent might have
done. [781] Quick she drew back her hand, slipped down into the bed with
her head beneath the coverlets and never moved again; only she let go
some wind in her fear which stunk worse than a weasel. As for myself, I
swallowed a goodly portion of the pap and, having made a good feed, went
back to bed.
WIFE. And did not the god come?
CAIRO. He did not tarry; and when he was near us, oh! dear! such a good
joke happened. My belly was quite blown out, and I let wind with the
loudest of noises.
WIFE. Doubtless the god pulled a wry face?
CARIO. No, but Iaso blushed a little and Panacea[782] turned her head
away, holding her nose; for my perfume is not that of roses.
WIFE. And what did the god do?
CARIO. He paid not the slightest heed.
WIFE. He must then be a pretty coarse kind of god?
CARIO. I don't say that, but he's used to tasting shit. [783]
WIFE. Impudent knave, go on with you!
CARIO. Then I hid myself in my bed all a-tremble. Aesculapius did the
round of the patients and examined them all with great attention; then a
slave placed beside him a stone mortar, a pestle and a little box. [784]
WIFE. Of stone?
CARIO. No, not of stone.
WIFE. But how could you see all this, you arch-rascal, when you say you
were hiding all the time?
CARIO.
