Chapter 8
BDELYCLEON. Take off your cloak, and put on this tunic in its stead.
PHILOCLEON. 'Twas well worth while to beget and bring up children, so that this one should now wish to choke me.
BDELYCLEON. Come, take this tunic and put it on without so much talk.
PHILOCLEON. Great G.o.ds! what sort of a cursed garment is this?
BDELYCLEON. Some call it a pelisse, others a Persian cloak.[130]
PHILOCLEON. Ah! I thought it was a wraprascal like those made at Thymaetia.[131]
BDELYCLEON. Pray, how should you know such garments? 'Tis only at Sardis you could have seen them, and you have never been there.
PHILOCLEON. I' faith, no! but it seems to me exactly like the mantle Morychus[132] sports.
BDELYCLEON. Not at all; I tell you they are woven at Ecbatana.
PHILOCLEON. What! are there woollen ox-guts[133] then at Ecbatana?
BDELYCLEON. Whatever are you talking about? These are woven by the Barbarians at great cost. I am certain this pelisse has consumed more than a talent of wool.[134]
PHILOCLEON. It should be called wool-waster then instead of pelisse.
BDELYCLEON. Come, father, just hold still for a moment and put it on.
PHILOCLEON. Oh! horrors! what a waft of heat the hussy wafts up my nose!
BDELYCLEON. Will you have done with this fooling?
PHILOCLEON. No, by Zeus! if need be, I prefer you should put me in the oven.
BDELYCLEON. Come! I will put it round you. There!
PHILOCLEON. At all events, bring out a crook.
BDELYCLEON. Why, whatever for?
PHILOCLEON. To drag me out of it before I am quite melted.
BDELYCLEON. Now take off those wretched clogs and put on these nice Laconian slippers.
PHILOCLEON. I put on odious slippers made by our foes! Never!
BDELYCLEON. Come! put your foot in and push hard. Quick!
PHILOCLEON. 'Tis ill done of you. You want me to put my foot on Laconian ground.
BDELYCLEON. Now
PHILOCLEON. Ah! no, not that one; one of its toes holds the Laconians in horror.
BDELYCLEON. Positively you must.
PHILOCLEON. Alas! alas! Then I shall have no chilblains in my old age.[135]
BDELYCLEON. Now, hurry up and get them on; and now imitate the easy effeminate gait of the rich. See, like this.
PHILOCLEON. There!... Look at my get-up and tell me which rich man I most resemble in my walk.
BDELYCLEON. Why, you look like a garlic plaster on a boil.
PHILOCLEON. Ah! I am longing to swagger and sway my rump about.
BDELYCLEON. Now, will you know how to talk gravely with well-informed men of good cla.s.s?
PHILOCLEON. Undoubtedly.
BDELYCLEON. What will you say to them?
PHILOCLEON. Oh, lots of things. First of all I shall say, that Lamia,[136] seeing herself caught, let fly a fart; then, that Cardopion and her mother....
BDELYCLEON. Come, no fabulous tales, pray! talk of realities, of domestic facts, as is usually done.
PHILOCLEON. Ah! I know something that is indeed most domestic. Once upon a time there was a rat and a cat....
BDELYCLEON. "Oh, you ignorant fool," as Theagenes said[137] to the scavenger in a rage. Are you going to talk of cats and rats among high-cla.s.s people?
PHILOCLEON. Then what should I talk about?
BDELYCLEON. Tell some dignified story. Relate how you were sent on a solemn mission with Androcles and Clisthenes.
PHILOCLEON. On a mission! never in my life, except once to Paros,[138] a job which brought me in two obols a day.
BDELYCLEON. At least say, that you have just seen Ephudion making good play in the pancratium[139] with Ascondas and, that despite his age and his white hair, he is still robust in loin and arm and flank and that his chest is a very breastplate.
PHILOCLEON. Stop! stop! what nonsense! Who ever contested at the pancratium with a breast-plate on?
BDELYCLEON. That is how well-behaved folk like to talk. But another thing. When at wine, it would be fitting to relate some good story of your youthful days. What is your most brilliant feat?
PHILOCLEON. My best feat? Ah! 'twas when I stole Ergasion's vine-props.
BDELYCLEON. You and your vine-props! you'll be the death of me! Tell of one of your boar-hunts or of when you coursed the hare. Talk about some torch-race you were in; tell of some deed of daring.
PHILOCLEON. Ah! my most daring deed was when, quite a young man still, I prosecuted Phayllus, the runner, for defamation, and he was condemned by a majority of two votes.
BDELYCLEON. Enough of that! Now recline there, and practise the bearing that is fitting at table in society.
PHILOCLEON. How must I recline? Tell me quick!