by Aristophanes
must
stick to the first person I meet coming out
from the shrine and invite him home.
CARIO: And whom did you meet first?
CHREMYLUS: Him.
CARIO: Well, don’t you twig the god’s obvious brief,
you absolute prince of dolts?
It’s to raise your son in today’s way.
CHREMYLUS: What makes you think that?
CARIO: It’s plain as a pikestaff!
Even the blind could see that in our day
the secret of success is to make sure you’re rotten to the core.
CHREMYLUS: That can’t be what the oracle is getting at.
It’s something much bigger than that.
If this stinker will just tell us who he is
and what he’s here for
we’ll soon find out what the oracle is trying to tell us.
CARIO: [catching up with PLUTUS] Look here,
are you going to let us know who you are
or must I use a little artificial stimulus?
Be quick about it.
PLUTUS: Go fuck yourself!
CARIO: [to CHREMYLUS] Did you gather who he said he is?
CHREMYLUS: He said it to you, not me,
and the way you approached him was rather rude and extremely
gauche.
[sidling up to PLUTUS all smiles]
Good sir,
if straightforwardness and manners matter to you,
please tell us who you are.
PLUTUS: Fuck yourself—you, too!
CARIO: Ha ha, you can have the man! He and the god’s message are both trash.
CHREMYLUS: [to PLUTUS] Holy Demeter, you’ll be sorry you said
what you did.
CARIO: And if you don’t start spouting you’ll be dead.
PLUTUS: Mister, will the two of you just leave me alone!
CARIO: Boss, may I suggest the perfect solution—
that I just terminate this terminator, this wreck,
sit him on the edge of a ravine
and let him fall off and break his neck?
CHREMYLUS: OK, do it now.
PLUTUS: Please, no!
CHREMYLUS: [as he and CARIO advance on PLUTUS] We’ll make you
talk.
PLUTUS: But once you discover who I am, you’ll do something nasty
and never let me go.
CHREMYLUS: Gods in heaven! That we will, if that’s your wish.
[They grab him.]
PLUTUS: [with immense dignity] I’ll thank you to unhand me.
CHREMYLUS: There you are—you’re unhanded.
PLUTUS: Then hear this—
something I wasn’t going to tell you—
I am Plutus, god of wealth, no less.
CARIO: You cesspot, you weren’t going to tell us that you’re Plutus?
CHREMYLUS: You, Wealth, Plutus? So down at heel! Phoebus Apollo
and Zeus
and all the gods and spirits, you can’t mean it!
Are you really he? I can’t believe it.
PLUTUS: I am, yes.
CHREMYLUS: The god in person?
PLUTUS: None else.
CHREMYLUS: How come you’re in such a mess?
PLUTUS: I’ve been staying with Patrocles,946
and he hasn’t had a bath since he was born.
CHREMYLUS: But tell me, how did you manage to fall so low?
PLUTUS: The work of Zeus. He’s envious of mankind.
When I was a kid, I swore I’d only visit the homes
of respectable, intelligent, honorable people.
Zeus responded by making me blind, so I never could tell
which were which. It just goes to show
how much he resents decent folk.
CHREMYLUS: When they’re the very ones who pay him homage!
PLUTUS: Exactly.
CHREMYLUS: Well, suppose you got your vision back—
as pristine as it once was—would you immediately follow the urge
to cut yourself off from the reprehensible?
PLUTUS: I certainly would.
CHREMYLUS: And you’d visit only the good?
PLUTUS: Of course! But it’s been quite a time since I’ve come across a specimen.
CARIO: That’s no surprise.
I haven’t either and I’ve got eyes.
PLUTUS: Now may I go? You’ve heard my story.
CHREMYLUS: Far from it. We’re not yet done.
PLUTUS: So I was right in thinking you wouldn’t make things easy.
CHREMYLUS: Wait, don’t go.
You’ll never find a better sort of man than me.
CARIO: That’s right. There is no one better—except for me.
PLUTUS: Everyone says so,
but the moment they have me in their grip—nice and tight—
there’s no limit to their wickedness.
CHREMYLUS: That’s the way of it, yes. All the same, not all are rips.
PLUTUS: Oh but they are, every man jack of them.
CARIO: [aside] You’ll be sorry you said that.
CHREMYLUS: You’ve no idea of all the things you’d get
if you stayed with us. Just listen.
I think—yes, I really think—that with the help of heaven
I could heal your eyes and you could see again.
PLUTUS: Please, not that! I don’t want to see again.
CHREMYLUS: What?
CARIO: This blighter’s a born nonstarter.
PLUTUS: No, not that
but I know only too well how silly people are
and if he found out that I saw
he’d take it out of me.
CHREMYLUS: Isn’t he doing that already,
letting you go doddering around?
PLUTUS: Don’t I know it! But I’m scared stiff.
CHREMYLUS: What a coward you are! No god could compare. Do you really think almighty Zeus with all his thunderbolts and stuff would care a tinker’s cuss if for a little tick you saw?
PLUTUS: You mischief-maker, please don’t say such things.
CHREMYLUS: Compose yourself, and I’ll prove to you
that you’re far mightier than Zeus.
PLUTUS: What, me you say?
CHREMYLUS: Heavens, yes! For a start, how comes it that Zeus rules over all the deities?
CARIO: [pointing to PLUTUS] Hard cash—him.
CHREMYLUS: And what makes people sacrifice to Zeus? Again, isn’t it hard cash—him?
CARIO: I’d say so. Wealth is the first prayer on their list.
CHREMYLUS: So isn’t he the cause of it?
And couldn’t he easily stop it if he wished?
PLUTUS: How do you mean?
CHREMYLUS: Nobody’d have the dough to sacrifice an ox
or a barley cake if you didn’t make a loan.
So if Zeus bothers you, you yourself can put him in a fix.
PLUTUS: Are you saying it’s because of me that people sacrifice to
him?
CHREMYLUS: That’s exactly what I’m saying, and besides,
it’s because of you that anybody possesses
anything radiant or beautiful or pleasing to mankind.
It’s all from wealth that these things stem.
CARIO: And for lack of wealth that I became a slave.947
CHREMYLUS: And because of you that Corinthian tarts
ignore the advance of someone poor
but bend over with alacrity for someone rich.
CARIO: It’s for you, they say, that boys also crave,
though it’s not for love but love of money that they itch.
CHREMYLUS: Surely not the decent ones? It’s not for money that the craving starts.
CARIO: For what, then?
CHREMYLUS: For a handsome stallion, for a pack of hounds . . .
CARIO: It seems they’re ashamed to ask for money,
so they mask their whorishness and get their ends
by asking for things in
stead.
CHREMYLUS: [turning to PLUTUS] Because of you every art and skill known to man was invented: the cobbler sitting with his last, the bronze worker and the carpenter, the smelterer of gold—the gold he gets from you . . .
CARIO: And by no means last,
the housebreaker and the mugger.
CHREMYLUS: And the tailor.
CARIO: And dry cleaner.
CHREMYLUS: And the tanner.
CARIO: And the onion seller.
CHREMYLUS: And the adulterer,
who gets his head shaved when caught at last.
PLUTUS: My word, I had no idea!
CARIO: Then there’s the Great King, who preens himself with
you,948
and our own Assembly, too, that meets because of you.
CHREMYLUS: And filling the triremes with a crew.
CARIO: And paying that garrison of Corinthian mercenaries,949
and Pamphilus the embezzler who came a cropper—
all because of you.
CHREMYLUS: And the needle seller, that sidekick of Pamphilus.
CARIO: Isn’t he at the bottom, too,
of those hearty farts from Agyrrhius?
CHREMYLUS: And Philopsius950 with his lies ... And isn’t the treaty with Egypt because of you? And for you that Lais loves Philonides?951
CARIO: There’s that tower of Timotheus, too ...¶
CHREMYLUS: [to PLUTUS] I hope it falls on your head
because you’re responsible for every enterprise.
Yes, you’re behind everything, you and you alone, good or
bad.
There’s no doubt about it.
CARIO: And when it comes to war,
you’re always on the winning side.
PLUTUS: What, all by myself I do the lot?
CHREMYLUS: Sure you do, and much more. You’re insatiable. . . . We can have too much of anything. . . .
CARIO: Of food.
CHREMYLUS: Of arts and literature.
CARIO: Of spreads and snacks.
CHREMYLUS: Of a high position.
CARIO: Cakes.
CHREMYLUS: Macho posturing.
CARIO: Figs.
CHREMYLUS: Ambition.
CARIO: Barley bread.
CHREMYLUS: Commander in chiefship.
CARIO: Pea soup.
CHREMYLUS: All these, but of you yourself no one ever has a glut.
If someone lays his hands on thirteen talents he wants sixteen.
He gets that and he hankers after forty. That goes to his head
and he wants umpteen.
Otherwise he might as well be dead.
PLUTUS: I’d say you’ve both hit the nail on the head,
but there’s one thing that bothers me.
CHREMYLUS: Pray, what is that?
PLUTUS: You say I’ve got all the power,
but how the deuce am I going to use it?
CHREMYLUS: Yes, that’s the nub of it.
Wealth is such a coward, they say.
PLUTUS: Not so, that’s a burglar’s slur.
He broke into my house one day
but couldn’t steal a thing because it was all locked away,
so he called my prudence cowardice.
CHREMYLUS: Don’t give it further thought.
Just take on this project like a man
and I’ll give you keener eyesight than even Lyncaeus can.952
PLUTUS: You’re only a mortal. How can you do that?
CHREMYLUS: Mortal, yes. Nonetheless, I have high hopes
because of what Apollo told me
shaking the Pythian bay tree as he spoke.
PLUTUS: Is he involved in this as well?
CHREMYLUS: Certainly.
PLUTUS: Take care.
CHREMYLUS: Don’t worry, my friend. You can be sure I’ve got the matter well in hand and will see it through even if I have to die for it.
CARIO: Me, too, if needs be.
CHREMYLUS: And there’ll be a host of others, honest people
who’ve gone without their daily bread.
PLUTUS: Seems to me they’re a pretty useless lot.
CHREMYLUS: Not really, once they’re rich again. . . .
Cario, off you go on the double.
CARIO: For what, may I ask?
CHREMYLUS: To muster my fellow farmers here. You’ll probably find them sweating in the fields. I want every one of them to have a share.
CARIO: I’ll be brisk.
Meanwhile one of the houseboys can take this steak
into the house.
CHREMYLUS: I’ll see to that. You get going.
[CARIO runs off.]
Now, Wealth, you deity who wields
the greatest power of all, you will please
come inside with me because this is the house
that by fair means or foul you’re going
to fill with riches this very morning.
PLUTUS: God, how I hate entering someone else’s house!
It’s never done me any good.
If I happen on a miser’s house, the first thing he does
is dig a hole and pop me underground,
and if a pal of his comes round
and touches him for a paltry loan,
he swears I’m someone he has never seen.
And if it’s the house of some young sot,
I’m wasted on his tarts and dice
and end up outside in my birthday suit.
CHREMYLUS: That’s because
you’ve never met anyone really nice:
someone for instance a little like me.
I’m careful with money but will spend it if need be.
Now let’s go inside. I’d
like you to meet my wife and only son,
who, after you, I love more than anyone.
PLUTUS: I believe that’s so.
CHREMYLUS: And who in the world would lie to you?
[PLUTUS and CHREMYLUS go into the house. There is a musical interlude while CARIO, who has returned, leads in the CHORUS of old farmhands.]
CHORUS: Come, my neighbors, fellow workers, and dearest friends,
Who like my master often dine on leaves of thyme,
Get a move on, come on out, and shake a limb.
This is the critical hour and we need all hands.
LEADER: [petulantly]
Can’t you see that that’s exactly what we’re doing?
Tearing our guts out just to get here, we old men!
Perhaps you think we should have come here on the run
Without an inkling of what that master of yours is thinking.
CARIO: I told you from the beginning what it was. It’s you
Who isn’t listening: how my master made it plain
You’re going to have a lovely life, no longer frozen
And disagreeable in every possible way.
LEADER: Really? I wonder how it will happen, what you say.
CARIO: [to LEADER]
All right, my master’s brought an old man home:
Grimy, huddled, shabby, wizened, toothless, maimed
And, good heavens, I do believe his prick is tamed!953
LEADER: [with supreme sarcasm]
You angel of golden news, tell me once again.
You surely mean he’s brought with him a heap of lolly.
CARIO: No, I mean he’s brought with him a heap of banes.
LEADER: If you think you’re going to diddle us, you’re very silly.
I’ve got a nice thick walking stick in my hands.
CARIO: Do you really think I’m that kind of character?
Do you really think I can’t say anything true?
LEADER: Glib, isn’t he, this jerk! . . . Your pins
Are aching for the stocks and you’ll be screaming “Ow!”
CARIO: You’ve cast your lot. You’ve fixed the number of your coffin.
Charon has your ticket and he’s waiting there.
Be off with you!
LEADER: Blas
t yourself to hell, you impertinent piece of crap,
Trying to bamboozle us and not explaining a thing
When we’ve taken so much trouble to gather here
And have wasted all this time and gone without our dinner.
CARIO: All right, fellows, I’ll not keep you unawares.
I’ll tell you everything: my master’s decided to bring
Wealth home with him, so there’s nothing you will lack.
LEADER: D’you think there’s the slightest chance of us being wealthy?
CARIO: Heavens, yes, like Midas, if you can find some ass’s ears.954
LEADER: If what you say is true I could dance and sing.
[At this point a lively gavotte with drum and fife starts up and everyone on the stage begins to dance mimicking a scene from Euripides’ satyr play Cyclops, in which Polyphemus the Cyclops‡ is tricked out of eating any more of Odysseus’ crew in the cave full of sheep and goats, made drunk by Odysseus and rammed
by a stake through his one eye. The CHORUS plays the part of Odysseus’ men and CARIO the Cyclops. In the second strophe and antistrophe the charade changes to the story of Circe, the beautiful witch who lived on the island of Aeaea and who captured the crew of Odysseus and changed them into swine.]
STROPHE
CARIO: Here goes, I’m off—flittery flicks—
To give you the Cyclops and play some tricks,
Dancing and prancing. Watch my feet.
Hark to my songs and hear the bleat
Of Lambikins and the stinking goat.
So goats come along and break your fast
And follow me now with rampant pricks.
ANTISTROPHE
CHORUS: It’s our turn now—pickety pie—
We’ll give you more of the Cyclops, aye!
He’s Cario still, bleating away,
Hungry it seems, with a bag of greens
Over a shoulder and leading his lambs,
And when you flop to sleep, I’ll ram
A burning stake right through your eye.
STROPHE
CARIO: Now I’ll do Circe, who was devilishly clever
In concocting drugs. So one day in Corinth
She doped Philomedes’955 pals to behave like pigs
And guzzle on cakes of shit that she
Had kneaded herself. I’ll act it out, see!
Your job is to grunt with glee
And hurry after your piggy mother.
ANTISTROPHE
