aeschylus - Conscious Evolution TV

In. 0 mel once more.
Ca. (to GOOD MAN) Hand me your gaberdine,
I'll wrap this rogue of an Informer in it.
G. M. Nay, that long since is dedicate to Wealth.
Ca. Where can it then more aptly be suspended
Than on a rogue and housebreaker like this?
Wealth we will decorate with nobler robes.
G. M. How shall we manage with my cast-off
shoes?
Ca. Those on his forehead, as upon the stock
Of a wild olive, will I nail at once.
In. I'll stay no longer; for, alone, I am weaker,
I know, than you; but give me once a comrade,
A willing one, and ere the day is spen t
I'll bring this lusty God of yours to justice,
For that, being only one, he is overthrowing
Our great democracy; nor seeks to gain
The Council's sanction, or the Assembly's either.
Exit INFORMER.
G. M. Aye run you off, accoutred as you are
In all my panoply, and take the station
I held erewhile beside the bath-room fire,
The Coryphaeus of the starvelings there.
Ca. Nay, but the keeper of the baths will drag him
Out by the ears; for he'll at once perceive
The man is metal of the baser sort.
But go we in that you may pray the God.
The GOOD MAN' and CARlO enter the house. Enter
OLD LADY with attendant, carrying cakJ:s and
sweetmeats on a tray.
Old Lady. Pray, have we really reached, you dear
old men,
The very dwelling where this new God dwells?
Or have we altogether missed the way?
Ch. No, you have really reached his very door,
You dear young girl; for girl-like is your speech.
o. L. 0, then, I'll summon one of those within.
Enter CHREMYLUS.
Chr. Nay, for, unsummoned, I have just come out.
So tell me freely what has brought you here.
o. L. 0, sad, my dear, and anguished is my lot,
For ever since this God began to see
My life's been not worth living; all through him.
Chr. What, were you too a she-informer then
Amongst the women?
o. L. No indeed, not I.
Chr. Or, not elected, sat you judging-wine?
O. L. You jest; but I, poor soul, am misery-stung.
Chr. What kind of misery stings you? tell me
quick.
o. L. Then listen. I'd a lad that loved me well,
Poor, but so handsome, and so fair to see,
Quite virtuous too; whate'er I wished, he did
In such a nice and gentlemanly way;
And what he wanted, I in turn supplied.
Chr. What were the things he asked you to supply?
o. L. Not many: so prodigious the respect
In which he held me. 'Twould be twenty drachmas
To buy a cloak and, maybe, eight for shoes;
Then for his sisters he would want a gown,
And just one mantle for his mother's use,
And twice twelve bushels of good whea t perchance.
ARISTOPHANES
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Chr. Not many truly were the gifts he asked I
'Tis plain he held you in immense respect.
o. L. And these he wanted not for greed, he swore,
But for love's sake, that when my robe he wore,
He might, by that, remember me the more.
Chr. A man prodigiously in love indeed!
o. L. Aye, but the scamp's quite other-minded
now.
He's altogether changed from what he was.
So when I sent him this delicious cake,
And all these bon-bons here upon the tray.
Adding a whispered message that I hoped
To come at even-
Chr. Tell me what he did?
O.L. He sent them back, and sent this cream-cake
too.
Upon condition that I come no more;
And said withal, "Long since. in war's alarms
Were the Milesianslusty men-at-arms."
Chr. 0. then the lad's not vicious; now he's rich
He cares for broth no longer, though before,
When he was poor. he snapped up anything.
O.L. 0. by the Twain. and every day before,
He used to come, a suppliant, to my door.
Chr. What, for your funeral?
O.L. No. he was but fain
My voice to hear.
Chr. Your bounty to obtain.
O.L. When in the dumps, he'd smother me with
love,
Calling me "little duck" and "little dove."
Chr. And then begged something for a pair of
shoes.
O.L. And if perchance, when riding in my coach
At the Great Mysteries. some gallant threw
A glance my way, he'd beat me black and blue,
So very jealous had the young man grown.
Chr. Aye. aye, he liked to eat his cake alone.
O.L. He vowed my hands were passing fair and
white.
Chr. With twenty drachmas in them-well he
might.
O.L. And much he praised the fragrance of my
skin.
Chr. No doubt. no doubt, If Thasian you poured
in.
O.L. And then he swore my glance was soft and
sweet.
Chr. He was no fool: he knew the way to eat
The goodly substance of a fond old dame.
O.L. 0 then. my dear, the God is much to blame.
He said he'd right the injured, everyone.
Chr. What shall he do? speak. and the thing is done.
O.L. He should, by Zeus, this graceless youth
compel
To recompense the love that loved him well;
Or no good fortune on the lad should light.
Chr. Did he not then repay you every night?
O.L. He'd never leave me all my life, he said.
Chr. And rightly too; but now he counts you dead.
O.L. My dear. with love's fierce pangs I've pined
away.