2–1
Charon
There is nothing else for it;—very little business doing just now, as you see, owing to the peace.
Hermes
That is just as well, though it does keep me waiting for my money. After all, though, Charon, in old days men were men; you remember the state they used to come down in,—all blood and wounds generally. Nowadays, a man is poisoned by his slave or his wife; or gets dropsy from overfeeding; a pale, spiritless lot, nothing like-the men of old. Most of them seem to meet their end in some plot that has money for its object.
Charon
Ah; money is in great request.
Hermes
Yes; you can’t blame me if I am somewhat urgent for payment.
5
Pluto
You know that old, old fellow, Eucrates the millionaire— no children, but a few thousand would-be heirs?
Hermes
Yes—lives at Sicyon. Well?
Pluto
Well, Hermes, he is ninety now; let him live as much longer, please; I should like it to be more still, if possible; and bring me down his toadies one by one, that young Charinus, Damon, and the rest of them.
Hermes
It would seem so strange, wouldn’t it?
Pluto
On the contrary, it would be ideal justice. What business have they to pray for his death, or pretend to his money? they are no relations. The most abominable thing about it is that they vary these prayers with every public attention; when he is ill, every one knows what they are after, and yet they vow offerings if he recovers; talk of versatility! So let him be immortal, and bring them away before him with their mouths still open for the fruit that never drops.
5
