CARIO Here’s joy, here’s happiness, old friends, for you Who, at the feast of Theseus, many a time Have ladled up small sops of barley-broth! Here’s joy for you and all good folk besides.
CHORUS How now, you best of all your fellow-knaves? You seem to come a messenger of good.
CARIO With happiest fortune has my master sped, Or rather Wealth himself; no longer blind, He hath relumed the brightness of his eyes, So kind a Healer hath Asclepius proved.
CHORUS (singing) Joy for the news you bring. Joy! Joy! with shouts I sing.
CARIO Aye, will you, nill you, it is joy indeed.
CHORUS (singing) Sing we with all our might Asclepius first and best, To men a glorious light, Sire in his offspring blest.
WIFE What means this shouting? Has good news arrived? For I’ve been sitting till I’m tired within Waiting for him, and longing for good news.
CARIO Bring wine, bring wine, my mistress; quaff yourself The flowing bowl; (you like it passing well). I bring you here all blessings in a lump.
WIFE Where?
WIFE Not on my head, I pray you.
CARIO Not the blessings We have all got?
WIFE Not all that striking business.
CARIO Soon as we reached the Temple of the God Bringing the man, most miserable then, But who so happy, who so prosperous now? Without delay we took him to the sea And bathed him there.
WIFE O what a happy man, The poor old fellow bathed in the cold sea!
CARIO Then to the precincts of the God we went. There on the altar honey-cakes and bakemeats Were offered, food for the Hephaestian flame. There laid we Wealth as custom bids; and we Each for himself stitched up a pallet near.
WIFE Were there no others waiting to be healed?
CARIO Neocleides was, for one; the purblind man, Who in his thefts out-shoots the keenest-eyed. And many others, sick with every form Of ailment. Soon the Temple servitor Put out the lights, and bade us fall asleep, Nor stir, nor speak, whatever noise we heard. So down we lay in orderly repose. And I could catch no slumber, not one wink, Struck by a nice tureen of broth which stood A little distance from an old wife’s head, Whereto I marvellously longed to creep. Then, glancing upwards, I behold the priest Whipping the cheese-cakes and the figs from off The holy table; thence he coasted round
CARIO And everything he found he consecrated Into a sort of sack; so I, concluding This was the right and proper thing to do, Arose at once to tackle that tureen.
WIFE Unhappy man! Did you not fear the God?
CARIO Indeed I did, lest he should cut in first, Garlands and all, and capture my tureen. For so the priest forewarned me he might do. Then the old lady when my steps she heard Reached out a stealthy hand; I gave a hiss, And mouthed it gently like a sacred snake. Back flies her hand; she draws her coverlets More tightly round her, and, beneath them, lies In deadly terror like a frightened cat. Then of the broth I gobbled down a lot Till I could eat no more, and then I stopped.
WIFE Did not the God approach you?
CARIO Not till later. And then I did a thing will make you laugh. For as he neared me, by some dire mishap My wind exploded like a thunder-clap.
WIFE I guess the God was awfully disgusted.
CARIO No, but Iaso blushed a rosy red And Panacea turned away her head Holding her nose: my wind’s not frankincense.
WIFE But he himself?
CARIO Observed it not, nor cared.
WIFE O why, you’re making out the God a clown!
CARIO No, no; an ordure-taster.
WIFE Oh! you wretch.
CARIO So then, alarmed, I muffled up my head, Whilst he went round, with calm and quiet tread, To every patient, scanning each disease. Then by his side a servant placed a stone Pestle and mortar; and a medicine chest.
WIFE A stone one?
CARIO Hang it, not the medicine chest.
WIFE How saw you this, you villain, when your head, You said just now, was muffled?
CARIO Through my cloak. Full many a peep-hole has that cloak, I trow. Well, first he set himself to mix a plaster For Neocleides, throwing in three cloves Of Tenian garlic; and with these he mingled Verjuice and squills; and brayed them up together Then drenched the mass with Sphettian vinegar, And turning up the eyelids of the man Plastered their inner sides, to make the smart More painful. Up he springs with yells and roars In act to flee; then laughed the God, and said, Nay, sit thou there, beplastered; I’ll restrain thee, Thou reckless swearer, from the Assembly now.
WIFE O what a clever, patriotic God!
CARIO Then, after this, he sat him down by Wealth, And first he felt the patient’s head, and next Taking a linen napkin, clean and white, Wiped both his lids, and all around them, dry. Then Panacea with a scarlet cloth Covered his face and head; then the God clucked, And out there issued from the holy shrine Two great enormous serpents.
WIFE O good heavens!
CARIO And underneath the scarlet cloth they crept And licked his eyelids, as it seemed to me; And, mistress dear, before you could have drunk Of wine ten goblets, Wealth arose and saw. O then for joy I clapped my hands together And woke my master, and, hey presto! both The God and serpents vanished in the shrine. And those who lay by Wealth, imagine how They blessed and greeted him, nor closed their eyes The whole night long till daylight did appear. And I could never praise the God enough For both his deeds, enabling Wealth to see, And making Neocleides still more blind.
WIFE O Lord and King, what mighty power is thine! But prithee where is Wealth?
CARIO He’s coming here, With such a crowd collected at his heels. For all the honest fellows, who before Had scanty means of living, flocking round, Welcomed the God and clasped his hand for joy. —Though others, wealthy rascals, who had gained Their pile of money by unrighteous means, Wore scowling faces, knitted up in frowns,— But those went following on, begarlanded, With smiles and blessings; and the old men’s shoes Rang out in rhythmic progress as they marched. Now therefore all, arise with one accord, And skip, and bound, and dance the choral dance, For nevermore, returning home, ye’ll hear Those fatal words No barley in the bin!
WIFE By Hecate, for this good news you bring
WIFE I’ve half a mind to crown you with a wreath Of barley loaves.
CARIO Well, don’t be loitering now. The men, by this, are nearly at your gates.
WIFE Then I will in, and fetch the welcoming-gifts Wherewith to greet these newly-purchased—eyes?
CARIO And I will out, and meet them as they come.
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