Chremylus appears on the stage accompanied by his slave Cario,--a clever rascal, the earliest classical type which has come down to us of the Davus with whom we become so familiar in Roman comedy, and the Leporello and Scapin, and their numerous progeny of lying valets and sharp servants, impudent but useful, who occupy the modern stage. They have encountered the stranger, and are following him; he is in rags, and he turns out to be blind. With some difficulty, and not without threats of beating, they get him to disclose his name: it is Plutus, the god of wealth himself. But how, then, in the name of wonder, does he appear in this wretched plight? He has just escaped, he tells them, from the house of a miser (who is satirised by name, with all the liberty of a satirist to whom actions for libel were unknown), where he has had a miserable time of it. And how, they ask, came he to be blind? _Pl._ Jove wrought me this, out of ill-will to men. For in my younger days I threatened still I would betake me to the good and wise And upright only; so he made me blind, That I should not discern them from the knaves. Such grudge bears he to worth and honesty. _Chr._ Yet surely ’tis the worthy and the honest Alone who pay him sacrifice? _Pl._ I know ’tis so. _Chr._ Go to, now, friend: suppose you had your sight As heretofore--say, wouldst thenceforth avoid All knaves and rascals? _Pl._ Yea, I swear I would. _Chr._ And seek the honest? _Pl._ Ay, and gladly too, For ’tis a long time since I saw their faces. _Chr._ No marvel--I have eyes, and cannot see them. Plutus is very unwilling to accompany his new friend home, though Chremylus assures him that he is a man of unusual probity. “All men say that,” is the god’s reply; “but the moment they get hold of me, their probity goes to the winds.” Besides, he is afraid of Jove. Chremylus cries out against him for a coward. Would the sovereignty of Jove be worth three farthings’ purchase, but for him? What do men offer prayer and sacrifice to Jove himself for, but for money? Money is the true ruler, alike of gods and men. “I myself,” puts in Cario, “should not now be another gentleman’s property, as I am, but for the fact of my master here having a little more money than I had.” All arts and handicrafts, all inventions good or evil, have this one source--both master and man (for Cario is very forward in giving his opinion) agree in protesting; while the god listens to what he declares is, to his simpler mind, a new revelation:-- _Car._ Is’t not your fault the Persian grows so proud? _Chr._ Do not men go to Parliament through you? _Car._ Who swells the navy estimates, but you? _Chr._ Who subsidises foreigners, but you? _Car._ For want of you our friend there goes to jail. _Chr._ Why are bad novels written, but for you? _Car._ That league with Egypt, was it not through you?