by Aristophanes
CHORUS: Now that you’re Circe busily mixing venom,
Casting spells, besmirching Odysseus’ pals,
We’ll enjoy doing what Laertes’ son956
Did: like a goat letting you hang
By the balls and rubbing your nose in dung.
Then like Aristyllus957 you’ll exclaim:
“Piggies, hurry after your mum.”
CARIO: Now that’s enough of the joke for once.
It’s time to do a different dance,
But as for me, I’m slipping away
To swipe from my boss something to eat:
A chunk of bread and a hunk of meat.
It’s guzzle guzzle for me the rest of the day.
[CARIO goes inside and there follows a musical interlude, after which CHREMYLUS enters from the house.]
CHREMYLUS: Ah! my dear friends, no need to stand on ceremony,
so I’ll say no more than thank you for coming along,
taking all that trouble and being so prompt about it.
I do hope you’ll give me your support
in whatever needs to be done
to protect our deity.
LEADER: Don’t doubt it!
In us you see the face of Ares himself.
It would make no sense to fight and lobby
at every Assembly to get our two obols a day
just to see Wealth himself hustled away.
CHREMYLUS: Look, here’s Blepsidemus coming.
My, what giant strides! What impressive speed!
He must have heard a rumor of what is pending.
[BLEPSIDEMUS wanders in, muttering to himself.]
BLEPSIDEMUS: Chremylus suddenly becoming a millionaire?
It’s very odd. I can’t believe it, and yet the word
is going around among the loafers and at the barbers’
that he has indeed struck it rich.
What beats me is why he should send for us here.
It’s most unusual for a man who’s made a catch
to call in his friends. . . . At least it is here. Why should he care?
CHREMYLUS: [to himself ] I shan’t keep anything back.
Look here, Blepsidemus.
We’re damn well better off than we were yesterday,
and because you’re my friend you’ll have a share.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Are you really as rich as they say?
CHREMYLUS: Well, I’m going to be—that’s
if God wills. . . . You see, there’s a slight . . .
er . . . a slight snag about the business.
BLEPSIDEMUS: What kind of snag?
CHREMYLUS: The kind that . . .
BLEPSIDEMUS: Come on, out with it.
CHREMYLUS: . . . if we win, we’ll be rich forever. If we lose, we’re down the drain.
BLEPSIDEMUS: There’s something not quite right about the deal
that I don’t like: the sudden access
of wealth and at the same time apprehension makes me feel
that somewhere in the offing is a confidence trickster.
CHREMYLUS: A trickster—how?
BLEPSIDEMUS: What if you’ve snatched a spot of gold or silver
from the god out there958
and now your conscience is pricking?
CHREMYLUS: Absolutely not—I swear by Apollo!
BLEPSIDEMUS: Oh yes?
I think, my friend, you protest too much.
CHREMYLUS: How dare you suggest any such thing!
BLEPSIDEMUS: Sad, sad! All health in everyone has gone.
Nothing remains but the itch to be rich.
CHREMYLUS: Holy Demeter, I think you’re bats!
BLEPSIDEMUS: [speaking of CHREMYLUS] So gone down since his
beginning!
CHREMYLUS: By heaven, you’re bonkers, man!
BLEPSIDEMUS: There’s even a shifty look in his eye, and that’s
a sure sign he’s done something bad.
CHREMYLUS: I know that look on your face. You think I’ve stolen something and you want a cut.
BLEPSIDEMUS: A cut of what?
CHREMYLUS: It’s not that at all. It’s something else.
BLEPSIDEMUS: You mean, you don’t just cheat—you rob outright?
CHREMYLUS: You’re possessed!
BLEPSIDEMUS: So you’re not out to rob anybody?
CHREMYLUS: Certainly not.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Great Heracles! What next?
He won’t come out with the truth.
CHREMYLUS: And you condemn before you know the facts.
BLEPSIDEMUS: All right, my friend, for a trifling tip
I’m prepared to hush things up before the whole town knows
about it.
I’ll stopper every gossipy mouth with cash.
CHREMYLUS: By the gods you will and oh so friendly,
spending three minas and charging me twelve!
BLEPSIDEMUS: I see a man before me huddled in the dock,
holding up the plaintiff’s bough of olive
surrounded by his wife and kids exactly like
The Children of Heracles in Pamphilus’s tragedy.959
CHREMYLUS: Not a bit of it, you jerk. My sole aim is to make good, honest, sober folk rich—and them alone.
BLEPSIDEMUS: What are you saying? You’ve stolen enough for that?
CHREMYLUS: Stop it! You’re doing me in!
BLEPSIDEMUS: Doing yourself in’s more apt.
CHREMYLUS: No way, you creep, because I’ve got Wealth.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Wealth, what d’you mean by Wealth?
CHREMYLUS: I mean the god himself.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Really! Where is he?
CHREMYLUS: Inside.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Where?
CHREMYLUS: My house.
BLEPSIDEMUS: In your house?
CHREMYLUS: Right!
BLEPSIDEMUS: Wealth in your house—ha ha! Tell that to the crows.
CHREMYLUS: The god’s my witness.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Is that so?
CHREMYLUS: Yes.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Swear by Hestia.960
CHREMYLUS: And by Poseidon, too.
BLEPSIDEMUS: The sea god, right?
CHREMYLUS: If there’s another, he’ll do.
BLEPSIDEMUS: And you haven’t introduced Wealth to the rest of us?
CHREMYLUS: Things haven’t reached that stage—not yet.
BLEPSIDEMUS: You mean the sharing stage?
CHREMYLUS: Precisely. First we’ve got to . . .
BLEPSIDEMUS: Got to what?
CHREMYLUS: Get him back his eyes.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Whose eyes?
CHREMYLUS: Wealth’s . . . in whatever way we can.
BLEPSIDEMUS: D’you mean he really can’t see?
CHREMYLUS: I certainly do.
BLEPSIDEMUS: I’m not surprised he never visited my house.
CHREMYLUS: Of course! But, the gods willing, now he can.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Oughtn’t we to call in a physician?
CHREMYLUS: I doubt there’s a physician in this town.
There’s no pay in it and so no practice.
BLEPSIDEMUS: [gazing out over the audience] Let’s see.
CHREMYLUS: Not one.
BLEPSIDEMUS: I can’t see one either.
CHREMYLUS: We’ll do what I originally intended:
get him a bed at the clinic of Aesclepius.961
BLEPSIDEMUS: Good, an excellent idea.
We must follow it up at once. Get moving.
CHREMYLUS: I’ve started.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Hurry.
CHREMYLUS: What d’you think I’m doing?
[POVERTY enters, a bedraggled, repulsive old crone.]
POVERTY: Hey there, where are you off to, you brace of benighted
pygmies?
Where are you rushing?
Just stay right where you are. How dare
you do what you have done? You brash, rash, scurvy creatures!
CHREMYLUS: Great Heracles!
POVERTY: You nasty couple, I�
��ll fix you with a nasty demise.
You had the nerve to perpetrate a crime
no one’s ever done, human or divine.
Get ready to die.
CHREMYLUS: But who may you be? You don’t look good.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Perhaps she’s a Fury from some Tragedy,
such a crazy tragic pallor in her features!
CHREMYLUS: But she has no torches, which she should.962
BLEPSIDEMUS: She’ll be sorry.
POVERTY: Who do you think I am?
CHREMYLUS: A barmaid or a cook, otherwise
you wouldn’t have raised such a hullabaloo
when we’ve done nothing to upset you.
POVERTY: Nothing to upset me?
What about your abominable behavior
trying to get me chucked out of the country?
CHREMYLUS: Oh that? But you’ll always have the corpse pit to use. Meanwhile, just tell us who you are.
POVERTY: Who I am? She who is going to punish you this very day for trying to expel me from the land.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Wait a minute. Aren’t you the barmaid at the local
pub
who always gives me short measure?
POVERTY: No, I’m Poverty, and I’ve been with you for many a year.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Lord Apollo and ye gods, all of you, what bolt hold
can one find?
CHREMYLUS: What a wimp you are! . . . Stay put.
BLEPSIDEMUS: That’s the last thing I’ll do.
CHREMYLUS: You must stay. Is a single woman going to scare away a
couple of men?
BLEPSIDEMUS: But she’s Poverty, you shithead.
There’s no one in the world so undermining.
CHREMYLUS: Stay, I beg you, stay.
BLEPSIDEMUS: So help me Zeus, I won’t!
CHREMYLUS: Believe me when I say
you’ll be doing the most cowardly thing, running away
and leaving our god in the lurch
because we were afraid to put up a fight.
BLEPSIDEMUS: A fight? With what weapons, pray?
Is there a single breastplate or shield in sight
which this she-devil hasn’t pawned?
CHREMYLUS: Bear up! I know this much:
our god will triumph over all her skulduggery.
POVERTY: You stinkers, you have the gall to bray
when you’ve just been caught in the very act of a criminal deed.
CHREMYLUS: And you, you eyesore,
bawling us out when we’ve not done a thing to hurt you.
POVERTY: No? Ye gods, aren’t you aware
that getting Wealth’s eyesight back really does hurt me?
CHREMYLUS: How can it when it’s good for the whole of humanity?
POVERTY: What possible good? Can you think of a thing?
CHREMYLUS: Yes, if it means kicking you out of Greece.
POVERTY: Kicking me out of Greece? Poor humanity! Nothing could be worse. Let’s examine that idea together right now, and if I can’t prove to you that I’m the source of every blessing and that it’s I who sustain you, feel free to do with me whatever you like.
CHREMYLUS: You disgusting old crone, how dare you suggest such a
thing!
POVERTY: Very well, pay attention for a moment.
I think I can easily prove what a mistake you make
in restricting wealth just to honest folk.
CHREMYLUS: Oh what would I not give right now for a pillory and a
cudgel!
POVERTY: There’s no need to shout and swear before you’ve even
heard me.
CHREMYLUS: Who can help shouting and swearing, listening to such
twaddle?
POVERTY: Someone with sense.
CHREMYLUS: And if you lose the bet, what’s your penalty?
POVERTY: Whatever you please.
CHREMYLUS: Right.
POVERTY: And if you lose,
that goes for you two too.
CHREMYLUS: [to BLEPSIDEMUS] D’you think twenty deaths would do?
BLEPSIDEMUS: For her, certainly.
For us, two is ample.
POVERTY: And you won’t have to wait long: my brief’s impregnable.
LEADER: [to CHREMYLUS] Go to it, marshal your ranks,
trounce her in argument, and don’t expose your flanks.
CHREMYLUS:963 So let’s start with what I think everyone
fully agrees on:
That it’s perfectly fair that the good should prosper
and the bad suffer.
That’s what we wish and now we’ve been able
at last to find
A nice device to bring this about.
It’s simple and noble
And’ll stop Wealth staggering hither and thither
blind as a bat.
It depends on his getting his eyesight back
so he’ll be able
To visit the good and boycott the bad
who do without God.
That’ll make everyone kind and rich
and godly, too—
Surely something that nothing could match
or ever outdo.
BLEPSIDEMUS: Absolutely, don’t bother
even to ask her.
CHREMYLUS: You’ve only got to look at the conditon
of the human scene
Not to think it quite insane
and to wonder
If it isn’t some divine
execration.
It hardly needs to be pointed out
that some are rich
Yet without the smallest doubt
acquired their loot
By swindling others, whereas some poor
godly wretch
Is in a mess and ravenous
and spends the year
Closeted with Poverty.
That is why
If Wealth get his eyesight back
and stymied her,
We’d need to have no further truck
with trying to sustain
Human beings in trying to remain
blessedly human.
POVERTY: It amazes me how the two of you
have fallen for
Such an obvious fallacy, you two
old dodderers,
Who surely must belong to the Order
of Blabberers.
And if you ever get your dreams,
I tell you this,
They’ll be different from what it seems,
and be no use,
Because if Wealth does see again
and can begin
To give himself to everyone
equally,
No one will practice the arts and crafts
ever again.
For once these have gone, who’ll be
at all ready
To ply the forge, to build ships,
do tailoring,
Make wheels or shoes, do bricklaying,
or come to grips
With washing clothes or leather tanning?
Who will wish
To plow the earth and gather in
the harvesting
Of Demeter’s generosity
once you can
Succumb to inactivity
and do nothing?
CHREMYLUS: You’re talking out of your hat because
everything
Crossed off on your list’ll be done
by slaves of course.
POVERTY: And where will you get these slaves from?
CHREMYLUS: We’ll buy them.
POVERTY: Yes, but who having money
will want to sell them?
CHREMYLUS: Some businessman from Thessaly
most probably
(That’s where slaves are sold)
hoping to make a profit.
POVERTY: But slave dealers won’t exist,
you’ve just implied
By your own premise. Would anyone
take the risk
In that
shady traffic? You
yourself would have to
Sally forth to dig and plow
and also do
Every kind of boring chore
you don’t do now.
You’ll find life harder than it was before.
CHREMYLUS: God, I hope that happens to you!
POVERTY: What is more,
Don’t expect to sleep in bed
or under a cover.
You won’t find either. Who’d be so mad
to toil and moil
When they’ve got it all? So when a bride
is brought home
By her groom, she won’t be sprayed
with perfume
Or immediately arrayed
in costly style
With diverse colors and brocade.
What use is money
When you have all that through me?
Because of me
You get every necessity.
I am she
Who by the pinch of poverty
compels the hood
To earn his daily bread.
CHREMYLUS: And you, what usefulness can you
direct our notice to
Except burns from heating baths
and the hungry mouths
Of a horde of brats, and dismal hags,
and swarms of gnats,
And lice and fleas: something that’s
beyond all count,
Which hum around our head
or get us out of bed
As if they had but one intent
and wished to hint:
“Get up or starve.” But that’s not all:
you make us wear
The meanest rags instead of jackets,
and sleep on foul
Bug-infested fiber mats
instead of beds,
Where sleep’s impossible for there
moth-eaten sacks
Are made to do for proper blankets,
no pillow either
but a hard and blocklike boulder,
and for breakfast
No bread, but mallow leaves at best.
No barley buns
But raddish tops. And for our buns
no decent chairs
But chipped old urns, and instead
of a bowl for making bread,
A staved-in barrel, broken, too.
So let’s say, “Cheers!”
For all these “blessings” rained on us by you.
POVERTY: That’s not my way of living,
this litany of yours.
What you’re simply giving
is the life of beggars.
CHREMYLUS: But Poverty and Beggary are sisters,
don’t we say?
POVERTY: And aren’t you the one who also says
Thrasybulus964
Is no different from Dionysius?
No way!
The life I stand for isn’t like that
