Delphi Complete Works of Aristophanes (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics) (65 page)

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.”

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, 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.

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 Aphrodité, no, you naughty jealous fellow.

CHREMYLUS. Oh! most certainly not, by Hecaté! 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.

HERMES. Ah! the lovely cake they used to knead for me on the fourth of the month!

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, to while away the time.

HERMES. Oh! the grilled entrails I used to swallow down!

CARIO. Your own have got the colic, methinks.

HERMES. Oh! the delicious tipple, half wine, half water!

CARIO. Here, swallow that and be off.
(He discharges a fart.)

HERMES. Would you do a friend a service?

CARIO. Willingly, if I can.

HERMES. Give me some well-baked bread and a big hunk of the victims they are sacrificing in your house.

CARIO. That would be stealing.

HERMES. Do you forget, then, how I used to take care he knew nothing about it when you were stealing something from your master?

CARIO. Because I used to share it with you, you rogue; some cake or other always came your way.

HERMES. Which afterwards you ate up all by yourself.

CARIO. But then you did not share the blows when I was caught.

HERMES. Forget past injuries, now you have taken Phylé. Ah! how I should like to live with you! Take pity and receive me.

CARIO. You would leave the gods to stop here?

HERMES. One is much better off among you.

CARIO. What! you would desert! Do you think that is honest?

HERMES. “Where I live well, there is my country.”

CARIO. But how could we employ you here?

HERMES. Place me near the door; I am the watchman god and would shift off the robbers.

CARIO. Shift off! Ah! but we have no love for shifts.

HERMES. Entrust me with business dealings.

CARIO. But we are rich; why should we keep a haggling Hermes?

HERMES. Let me intrigue for you.

CARIO. No, no, intrigues are forbidden; we believe in good faith.

HERMES. I will work for you as a guide.

CARIO. But the god sees clearly now, so we no longer want a guide.

HERMES. Well then, I will preside over the games. Ah! what can you object to in that? Nothing is fitter for Plutus than to give scenic and gymnastic games.

CARIO. How useful ’tis to have so many names! Here you have found the means of earning your bread. I don’t wonder the jurymen so eagerly try to get entered for many tribunals.

HERMES. So then, you admit me on these terms.

CARIO. Go and wash the entrails of the victims at the well, so that you may show yourself serviceable at once.

A PRIEST OF ZEUS. Can anyone direct me where Chremylus is?

CHREMYLUS. What would you with him, friend?

PRIEST. Much ill. Since Plutus has recovered his sight, I am perishing of starvation; I, the priest of Zeus the Deliverer, have nothing to eat!

CHREMYLUS. And what is the cause of that, pray?

PRIEST. No one dreams of offering sacrifices.

CHREMYLUS. Why not?

PRIEST. Because all men are rich. Ah! when they had nothing, the merchant who escaped from shipwreck, the accused who was acquitted, all immolated victims; another would sacrifice for the success of some wish and the priest joined in at the feast; but now there is not the smallest victim, not one of the faithful in the temple, but thousands who come there to ease themselves.

CHREMYLUS. Don’t you take your share of those offerings?

PRIEST. Hence I think I too am going to say good-bye to Zeus the
Deliverer, and stop here myself.

CHREMYLUS. Be at ease, all will go well, if it so please the god. Zeus the Deliverer is here; he came of his own accord.

PRIEST. Ha! that’s good news.

CHREMYLUS. Wait a little; we are going to install Plutus presently in the place he formerly occupied behind the Temple of Athené; there he will watch over our treasures for ever. But let lighted torches be brought; take these and walk in solemn procession in front of the god.

PRIEST. That’s magnificent!

CHREMYLUS. Let Plutus be summoned.

OLD WOMAN. And I, what am I to do?

CHREMYLUS. Take the pots of vegetables which we are going to offer to the god in honour of his installation and carry them on your head; you just happen luckily to be wearing a beautiful embroidered robe.

OLD WOMAN. And what about the object of my coming?

CHREMYLUS. Everything shall be according to your wish. The young man will be with you this evening.

OLD WOMAN. Oh! if you promise me his visit, I will right willingly carry the pots.

CHREMYLUS. Those are strange pots indeed! Generally the scum rises to the top of the pots, but here the pots are raised to the top of the old woman.

CHORUS. Let us withdraw without more tarrying, and follow the others, singing as we go.