671. THERE is no wonder in my teaching this,
That citizens please citizens, and seem
To one another to be beautiful:
For so one dog seems to another dog
The fairest object in the world; and so
One ox seems to another, ass to ass,
And swine to swine.
672. Ah, good my master, you may sigh for death, And call amain upon him to relieve you;
But will you bid him welcome when he comes?
Not
you. Old Charon has a stubborn task
To tug you to his wherry, and dislodge you
From your rich tables, when your hour is come:
I muse the gods send not a plague amongst you,
A good, brisk, sweeping epidemic plague :
There's nothing else can make you all immortal.
673. 'Twas at the feast of Amphidromia,
When, as old custom warrants, our kind guests
Were plentifully serv'd with toasted cheese
Brought from the Chersonesus; and to this
Was added cabbage stew'd with oil, lambs' fry,
And pigeons nicely pluck'd, finches and larks,
Herrings and cuttle-fish, and, from his cave,
The polypus with many feet, dragg'd forth
Unwillingly, with plenty of good wine
To crown the feast.
674. Young men, young boys, beware of schoolmasters:
They will infect you, mar you, blear your eyes.
They seek to lay the primal curse upon you,
Namely, confusion of languages.
Latin, it was the speech of infidels;
Logic has nought to say in a true cause;
Philosophy is curiosity;
And Socrates was therefore put to death,
Only for he was a philosopher.
Abhor, contemn, despise their horrid snares.
675. Still to be rich is still to be unhappy,
Still to be envied, hated, and abused,
Still to commence new lawsuits, new vexations,
Still to be carking, still to be collecting
Only to make your funeral a feast,
And hoard up riches for a thriftless heir.
Let me be light in purse and light in heart;
Give me small means, but give content withal.
Only preserve me from the law, kind gods,
And I will thank you for my poverty.
676. What art, vocation, trade, or mystery
Can match with your fine parasite? The painter?
He's a mere dauber; a vile drudge the farmer.
Their business is to labour, ours to laugh,
To jeer, to quibble-faith, sirs! and to drink.
Ay, and to drink right lustily. Is not this rare?
'Tis life, my life at least. The first of pleasure
Were to be rich myself; but next to this
I hold it best to be a parasite,
677. Let me be all things, anything but man!
He only, of all creatures, feels affliction.
The generous horse is valued for his worth;
And dog by merit is preferr'd to dog;
The warrior cock is pamper'd for his courage,
And awes the baser brood. But what is man?
Truth, virtue, valour, how do they avail him?
Of this world's good, the first and greatest share
Is flattery's prize; the informer takes the next,
And bare-faced knavery garbles what is left.
I'd rather be an ass than what I
And see these villains lord it o'er their betters.
678. Here we behold you every day at work,
Living, forsooth! not as your neighbours live,
But richly, royally, ye gods! Why, man,
We cannot get a fish for love or money;
You swallow the whole produce of the sea;
You've driven our citizens to browse on cabbage;
A sprig of parsley sets them all a-fighting,
As at the Isthmian games: if hare, or partridge,
Or but a simple thrush comes to the market,
Quick, at a word, you snap him. By the gods!
Hunt Athens through, you shall not find a feather
But in your kitchen; and for wine, 'tis gold,
Not to be purchased-we may drink the ditches.
They abuse our scene,
And say we live by vice; indeed 'tis true,
E'en as physicians by diseases do,
Only to cure them: they do live, we see,
Like cooks, by pampering prodigality,
Which are our fond accusers. On the stage
We set an answerer to tell this age
How ugly looks his soul; a prodigal,
Is taught by us how far from liberal
His folly bears him: boldly I dare say,
There has been more by us in some one play
Laughed into wit and virtue, than hath been
By twenty tedious lectures drawn from sin
And foppish humours. Hence the cause doth rise :
Men are not won by the ears, but by the eyes.
630. All creatures are more blest in their condition,
And in their natures worthier than man.
Look at your ass! A sorry beast, you'll say;
And such in truth he is - poor hapless thing!
Yet these his sufferings spring not from himself;
For all that nature gave him he enjoys;
Whilst we, besides our necessary ills,
Make ourselves sorrows of our own begetting.
If a man sneeze, we're sad for that's ill luck;
If he traduce us, we run mad with rage;
A dream, a vapour, throws us into terrors;
And let the night-owl hoot, we melt with fear:
Anxieties, opinions, laws, ambition,
All these are torments we may thank ourselves for.
681. A plague of my master to send me out this dreadful dark night to bring the news of his victory to my lady? and was not I bewitched for going on his errand without a convoy for the safeguard of my person? How am I melted into sweat with fear! I am diminished of my natural weight above two stone. I shall not bring half myself home again to my poor wife and family. I have been in an ague-fit ever since shut of evening, what with the fright of trees by the highway, which looked maliciously like thieves by moonshine, and with bulrushes by the river-side that shaked like spears and lances at me. Well, the greatest plague of a servingman is to be hired to some great lord! They care not what drudgery they put upon us, while they lie lolling at their ease a-bed and stretch their lazy limbs.
682. No such deformer of the soul and sense
As is this sinister hell-born drunkenness.
Bacchus, for thou abusest so earth's fruits,
Imprison'd live in cellars and in vaults;
Let none commit their counsels unto thee,
Thy wrath be fatal to thy dearest friends,
Unarmed run upon thy foeman's swords,
Never fear any plague before it fall :
Dropsies and watery tympanies haunt thee;
Shiver and drivel like a child at mouth,
Be poor and beggarly in thy old age:
Let thine own kinsmen laugh when thou complain'st,
And many tears gain nothing but blind scoffs.
This is the guerdon due to drunkenness ;
Shame, sickness, misery, follow excess.
683. M. Comme avec irrévérence
Parle des dieux ce maraud!
Mon bras saura bien tantôt
Châtier cette insolence;
Et je vais m'engager avec lui comme il faut,
En lui volant son nom avec sa ressemblance.
S. Ah! par ma foi, j'avais raison!
C'est fait de moi, chétive créature!
Je vois devant notre maison
Certain homme dont l'encolure
Ne me présage rien de bon.
Pour faire semblant d'assurance
Je veux chanter un peu d'ici.
M. Qui donc est ce coquin qui prend tant de licence
Que de chanter et m'étourdir ainsi ?
Veut-il qu'à l'étriller ma main un peu s'applique?
S. Cet homme assurément n'aime pas la musique.
684. C. Menæchme salve. M. Di te amabunt, scis quis ego sum?
C. Non hercle vero! ubi convivæ ceteri ?
M. Quos tu convivas quæris? C. Parasitum tuum.
M. Meum parasitum? certe hic insanu 'st homo ?
Mes. Dixin' tibi esse hic sycophantas plurimos.
M. Quem tu parasitum quæris, adolescens, meum ?
C. Peniculum. M. Eccum! in vidulo salvum fero.
C. Menæchme, numero huc advenis ad prandium:
Nunc opsonatu redeo. M. Responde mihi,
Adolescens, quibus hic pretiis porci veneunt
Sacres sinceri? C. Numo. M. Eum a me adcipe.
Jube te piari de mea pecunia.
Nam ego quidem insanum esse te certe scio,
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