Dialogues of the Gods (11.1-11.2)

Have you seen how bonny Maia’s newborn baby [*] is, Apollo, and what a nice smile it has for everyone? You can see already it’ll be a real treasure.

That baby a real treasure, Hephaestus? Why, it’s already older than Iapetus [*] when it comes to mischief.

What harm could it do? It was born only the other day.

Ask Poseidon—it stole his trident—or Ares—it filched his sword out of his scabbard—not to mention myself—it disarmed me of my bow and arrows.

What? That newborn infant, which can hardly stand up, and is still in its baby-clothes?

You’ll see for yourself, my dear fellow, if he gets near you.

But he’s already been near me.

And what happened? Still got all your tools? None gone?

All present and correct, Apollo.

All the same, have a really good look.

Good heavens, I can’t see my tongs.

No, you’ll see them in his baby-clothes.

Can he have been practising stealing in his mother’s womb, that he’s so light-fingered?