The Downward Journey, or the Tyrant (16-20)

CLOTHO

Indeed, I noticed some time ago that you were laughing, Micyllus. What was it in particular that made you laugh?

MICYLLUS

Listen, goddess whom I honour most. As I lived next door to Sir Tyrant on earth, I used to see quite distinctly what went on at his house, and I then thought him a very god; for I held him happy when I saw the splendour of his purple, the number of his

attendants, his plate, his jewelled goblets, and his couches with legs of silver; besides, the savour of the dishes prepared for his dinner drove me to distraction. Therefore he appeared to me a superman, thrice-blessed, better looking and a full royal eubit taller than almost anyone else; for he was uplifted by his good fortune, walked with a majestic gait, carried his head high and dazzled all he met. But when he was dead, not only did he cut an utterly ridiculous figure in my eyes on being stripped of his pomp, but I laughed at myself even more than at him because I had marvelled at such a worthless creature, inferring his happiness from the savour of his kitchen and counting him lucky because of his purple derived from the blood of mussels in the Laconian Sea.

MICYLLUS

And he was not the only one that I laughed at. When I saw the usurer Gnipho groaning and regretting that he had not enjoyed his money but had died without sampling it, abandoning his property to that wastrel Rhodochares, who was nextof kin to him and had the first claim on the estate according to law, I could not control my laughter,: especially when I called to mind how pale and unkempt he always was, with a forehead full of worries, feeling his riches only with the fingers with which he reckoned up thousands and tens of thousands ashe gathered in, little by little, what was soon to be poured out by that lucky dog Rhodochares. But why not gonow? We can finish our laughing during: the sail as we see them crying.

CLOTHO

Get aboard, so that the ferryman can haul the anchor up.

CHARON

Hi, fellow! Where are you going so fast? The boat is fullalready. Wait there till to-morrow; we'll set you across first thing in the morning.

MICYLLUS

You are committing a misdemeanour, Charon, in leaving behind you a dead man who is already high. No fear, I'll have you up before Rhadamanthus for breaking the law. Oh, Lord! What hard luck! They are sailing already, “and I'll be left behind here all alone.”[*] But why not swim across in their wake? I’m not afraid of giving out and drowning, seeing that I’m already dead! Besides, I haven’t an obol to pay my passage.

CLOTHO

What’s this? Wait, Micyllus; you mustn’t cross that way.

MICYLLUS

See here, perhaps I'll beat you to the shore.

CLOTHO

No, no! Come, let’s row up and take him in. Hermes, lend a hand to pull him in.

CHARON

Where shall he sit? The boat’s full, as you see.

HERMES

On the shoulders of the tyrant, if you like.

CLOTHO

A happy thought, that of Hermes!

CHARON

Climb up, then, and set your feet on the sinner's neck. Let’s go on while the wind is fair.

CYNISCUS

Charon, I may as well tell you the truth here and now. I shan’t be able to pay you your obol when we come to land, for I have nothing more than the wallet which you see, and this club here. However, I am ready either to bale, if you like, or to row; you will have no fault to find if you only give me a stout, well-balanced oar.

CHARON

Pull an oar; that will be enough to exact of you.

CYNISCUS

Shall I strike up a song, too?

CHARON

Yes, by all means, if you know any of the sailors’ chanties,

CYNISCUS

I know plenty of them, Charon; but as you see, these people are competing with our music by crying, so that we shall be put out of tune in our song.

THE DEAD

(one) Alas, my wealth! (anoTuer) Alas, my farms! (aNoTHER) Alackaday, what a house I left behind me! (anotuer) To think of all the thousands my heir will come into and squander! (aNoruer) Ah, my new-born babes! (anorner) Who will get the vintage of the vines I set out last year?

HERMES

Micyllus, you are not lamenting at all, are you? Nobody may cross without a tear.

MICYLLUS

Get out with you! I have no reason to lament while the wind is fair.

HERMES

Do cry, however, even if only a little, for custom’s sake,

MICYLLUS

Well, I'll lament, then, since you wish it, Hermes. —Alas, my scraps of leather! Alas, my old shoes! Alackaday, my rotten sandals! Unlucky man that I am, never again will I go hungry from morning to night or wander about in winter barefooted and halfnaked, with my teeth chattering for cold! Who is to get my knife and my awl?

HERMES

Enough weeping; we are almost in now.