I would not give more than an obolus for gods who have got to
keeping brothels like us mere mortals.
keeping brothels like us mere mortals.
Aristophanes
Then who is that star I see over yonder?
TRYGAEUS. That is Ion of Chios,[341] the author of an ode beginning
"Morning"; as soon as ever he got to heaven, they called him "the Morning
Star. "
SERVANT. And those stars like sparks, that plough up the air as they dart
across the sky? [342]
TRYGAEUS. They are the rich leaving the feast with a lantern and a light
inside it. But hurry up, show this young girl into my house, clean out
the bath, heat some water and prepare the nuptial couch for herself and
me. When 'tis done, come back here; meanwhile I am off to present this
one to the Senate.
SERVANT. But where then did you get these pretty chattels?
TRYGAEUS. Where? why in heaven.
SERVANT.
I would not give more than an obolus for gods who have got to
keeping brothels like us mere mortals.
TRYGAEUS. They are not all so, but there are some up there too who live
by this trade.
SERVANT. Come, that's rich! But I bethink me, shall I give her something
to eat?
TRYGAEUS. No, for she would neither touch bread nor cake; she is used to
licking ambrosia at the table of the gods.
SERVANT. Well, we can give her something to lick down here too. [343]
CHORUS. Here is a truly happy old man, as far as I can judge.
TRYGAEUS. Ah! but what shall I be, when you see me presently dressed for
the wedding?
CHORUS.
TRYGAEUS. That is Ion of Chios,[341] the author of an ode beginning
"Morning"; as soon as ever he got to heaven, they called him "the Morning
Star. "
SERVANT. And those stars like sparks, that plough up the air as they dart
across the sky? [342]
TRYGAEUS. They are the rich leaving the feast with a lantern and a light
inside it. But hurry up, show this young girl into my house, clean out
the bath, heat some water and prepare the nuptial couch for herself and
me. When 'tis done, come back here; meanwhile I am off to present this
one to the Senate.
SERVANT. But where then did you get these pretty chattels?
TRYGAEUS. Where? why in heaven.
SERVANT.
I would not give more than an obolus for gods who have got to
keeping brothels like us mere mortals.
TRYGAEUS. They are not all so, but there are some up there too who live
by this trade.
SERVANT. Come, that's rich! But I bethink me, shall I give her something
to eat?
TRYGAEUS. No, for she would neither touch bread nor cake; she is used to
licking ambrosia at the table of the gods.
SERVANT. Well, we can give her something to lick down here too. [343]
CHORUS. Here is a truly happy old man, as far as I can judge.
TRYGAEUS. Ah! but what shall I be, when you see me presently dressed for
the wedding?
CHORUS.
