This is what sticks in our throats most of all, Cronus, and we think it an intolerable thing for such a man to lie in his purple clothes and gorge himself on all these good things, belching, receiving his guest’s congratulations, and feasting without a break, while I and my sort dream where we can get four obols to be able to sleep after a fill of bread or barley, with cress or thyme or onion as a relish. So either, Cronus, change the situation and give us instead of our present lot an equal share in life, or, at the very least, bid these rich men stop their solitary enjoyment of the good things and out of all their bushels of gold throw down a measure for us all, and out of their clothing give us what would be no loss to them even if it were eaten by moths—it will be completely destroyed and ruined by time in any case—, and tell them to give it us to wear before letting it rot in their boxes and chests with mould everywhere.
 Tell them, moreover, to invite the poor to dinner, taking in four or five at a time, not as they do nowadays though, but in a more democratic fashion, all having an equal share, not one man stuffing himself with dainties with the servant standing waiting for him to eat himself to exhaustion, then when this servant comes to us he passes on while we are still getting ready to put out our hand, only letting us glimpse the platter or the remnants of the cake. And tell him not to give a whole half of the pig when it’s brought in, and

 

the head as well, to his master, bringing the others bones covered over. And tell the wine-servers not to wait for each of us to ask seven times for a drink but on one request to pour it out and hand it to us at once, filling a great cup as they do for their master. And let the wine be one and the same for all the guests—where is it laid down that he should get drunk on wine with a fine bouquet while I must burst my belly on new stuff?
 If you correct and adjust this, Cronus, you will have made living really living and your festival a real festival. If not, let them have their festival, and we shall sit on our haunches praying that when they have come from the bath the boy will turn up the wine-jar and break it over them, that the cook will burn the soup and in a fit of absent-mindedness put the fish in the pudding, and that the dog will rush in and eat up all the sausage, while the scullions are busy with the other preparations, and half the cake as well; that while the pork and the venison and the sucking-pigs
are being cooked they may do what Homer says Helius’s cattle did
 Homer, Od. xii, 395. 
 —or rather not only just crawl, but jump up and rush to the mountain, spits and all; and that their plump birds, although already plucked and prepared for serving, should take wing and go off likewise, so that they may not enjoy them by themselves.

 
 This in particular will cause them trouble: we shall pray for their gold to be dug up from its hiding-places by ants like those of India and carried off by night to the public treasury; and that their clothing through neglect of those in charge should be riddled like a sieve by those fine creatures the mice, to be just like a tunny net; and that their pretty, long-haired pages whom they call Hyacinth or Achilles or Narcissus, just as they are handing them the cup should go bald and have their hair fall out and sprout a pointed beard, like the wedge-shaped beards in the comedy, and have the part around their temples become very hairy and exceedingly prickly, and the area between them smooth and bare. All this and more we shall pray for if they will not give up their excessive selfishness and keep their wealth for everybody’s good and give us a moderate share. 2. Cronus to His Very Dear Me—Greetings! Why do you talk this nonsense, my man, sending me letters about the way things are and telling me to make a redistribution of property? That task would belong to someone else, your present ruler. I’m surprised that you are the only one who doesn’t know that I stopped being king a long time ago when I apportioned my sovereignty to my sons, and that such things are Zeus’s special concern. This rule of mine doesn’t go beyond dicing, hand-clapping, singing, and getting drunk, and then it’s for no longer than seven days. So, as to the more important matters you mention—removing inequality and

 

all being poor or rich together—Zeus might deal with you.
 But any injustice or selfishness in the festival it would be for me to judge. In fact I am sending to the rich about the dinners and the measure of gold and the clothing, telling them to send you some for the festival. It is just and proper for them to do this, as you say, unless they can bring some reasonable argument against it.