THE CLOUDS

     Strepsiades
     Phidippides
     Servant of Strepsiades
     Disciples of Socrates
     Socrates
     Chorus of Clouds
     Just Cause
     Unjust Cause
     Pasias
     Amynias
     Witness
     Chaerephon

     Scene: The interior of a sleeping-apartment:
     Strepsiades, Phidippides, and two servants are in their
     beds; a small house is seen at a distance. Time:
     midnight.

     Strepsiades (sitting up in his bed). Ah me! Ah me! O
     King Jupiter, of what a terrible length the nights are!
     Will it never be day? And yet long since I heard the
     cock. My domestics are snoring; but they would not have
     done so heretofore! May you perish then, O war! For many
     reasons; because I may not even punish my domestics.
     Neither does this excellent youth awake through the
     night; but takes his ease, wrapped up in five blankets.
     Well, if it is the fashion, let us snore wrapped up.

     [Lies down, and then almost immediately starts up
     again.]

     But I am not able, miserable man, to sleep, being
     tormented by my expenses, and my stud of horses, and my
     debts, through this son of mine. He with his long hair,
     is riding horses and driving curricles, and dreaming of
     horses; while I am driven to distraction, as I see the
     moon bringing on the twentieths;  for the interest is
     running on. Boy! Light a lamp, and bring forth my
     tablets, that I may take them and read to how many I am
     indebted, and calculate the interest.

     [Enter boy with a light and tablets.]

     Come, let me see; what do I owe? Twelve minae  to
     Pasias. Why twelve minae to Pasias? Why did I borrow
     them? When I bought the blood-horse. Ah me, unhappy!
     Would that it had had its eye knocked out with a stone
     first!

     Phidippides (talking in his sleep). You are acting
     unfairly, Philo! Drive on your own course.

     Strep. This is the bane that has destroyed me; for even
     in his sleep he dreams about horsemanship.

     Phid. How many courses will the war-chariots run?

     Strep. Many courses do you drive me, your father. But
     what debt came upon me after Pasias? Three minae to
     Amynias for a little chariot and pair of wheels.

     Phid. Lead the horse home, after having given him a good
     rolling.

     Strep. O foolish youth, you have rolled me out of my
     possessions; since I have been cast in suits, and others
     say that they will have surety given them for the
     interest.

     Phid. (awakening) Pray, father, why are you peevish, and
     toss about the whole night?

     Strep. A bailiff out of the bedclothes is biting
     me.

     Phid. Suffer me, good sir, to sleep a little.

     Strep. Then, do you sleep on; but know that all these
     debts will turn on your head.

     [Phidippides falls asleep again.]

     Alas! Would that the match-maker had perished miserably,
     who induced me to marry your mother. For a country life
     used to be most agreeable to me, dirty, untrimmed,
     reclining at random, abounding in bees, and sheep, and
     oil-cake. Then I, a rustic, married a niece of Megacles,
     the son of Megacles, from the city, haughty, luxurious,
     and Coesyrafied. When I married her, I lay with her
     redolent of new wine, of the cheese-crate, and abundance
     of wool; but she, on the contrary, of ointment, saffron,
     wanton-kisses, extravagance, gluttony, and of Colias and
     Genetyllis.  I will not indeed say that she was idle;
     but she wove. And I used to show her this cloak by way
     of a pretext and say "Wife, you weave at a great
     rate."

     Servant re-enters.

     Servant. We have no oil in the lamp.

     Strep. Ah me! Why did you light the thirsty lamp? Come
     hither that you may weep!

     Ser. For what, pray, shall I weep?

     Strep. Because you put in one of the thick wicks.

     [Servant runs out]

     After this, when this son was born to us, to me,
     forsooth, and to my excellent wife, we squabbled then
     about the name: for she was for adding hippos  to the
     name, Xanthippus, or Charippus, or Callipides; but I was
     for giving him the name of his grandfather, Phidonides.
     For a time therefore we disputed; and then at length we
     agreed, and called him Phidippides. She used to take
     this son and fondle him, saying, "When you, being grown
     up, shall drive your chariot to the city, like Megacles,
     with a xystis." But I used to say, "Nay, rather, when
     dressed in a leathern jerkin, you shall drive goats from
     Phelleus, like your father." He paid no attention to my
     words, but poured a horse-fever over my property. Now,
     therefore, by meditating the whole night, I have
     discovered one path for my course extraordinarily
     excellent; to which if I persuade this youth I shall be
     saved. But first I wish to awake him. How then can I
     awake him in the most agreeable manner? How?
     Phidippides, my little Phidippides?

     Phid. What, father?

     Strep. Kiss me, and give me your right hand!

     Phid. There. What's the matter?

     Strep. Tell me, do you love me?

     Phid. Yes, by this Equestrian Neptune.

     Strep. Nay, do not by any means mention this Equestrian
     to me, for this god is the author of my misfortunes.
     But, if you really love me from your heart, my son, obey
     me.

     Phid. In what then, pray, shall I obey you?

     Strep. Reform your habits as quickly as possible, and go
     and learn what I advise.

     Phid. Tell me now, what do you prescribe?

     Strep. And will you obey me at all?

     Phid. By Bacchus,  I will obey you.

     Strep. Look this way then! Do you see this little door
     and little house?

     Phid. I see it. What then, pray, is this, father?

     Strep. This is a thinking-shop of wise spirits. There
     dwell men who in speaking of the heavens persuade people
     that it is an oven, and that it encompasses us, and that
     we are the embers. These men teach, if one give them
     money, to conquer in speaking, right or wrong.

     Phid. Who are they?

     Strep. I do not know the name accurately. They are
     minute philosophers, noble and excellent.

     Phid. Bah! They are rogues; I know them. You mean the
     quacks, the pale-faced wretches, the bare-footed
     fellows, of whose numbers are