“THE CLOUDS” opens in the sleeping-apartment of Strepsi’ades, an Athenian citizen, his son Pheidippides occupying a pallet near him. The slaves of the household are abed in an adjoining room. Strepsiades, oppressed by debt incurred through the extravagance of his “precious son,” a fast young man addicted to fast horses, is disturbed by the recollection of numerous outstanding bills and notes about to mature. He wakes before daylight and calls a slave:— “Boy! light a lamp; Bring me my pocket-book, that I may see How my accounts stand, and just cast them up. [_Slave obeys._] Let’s see now. First, here’s Prasias, fifty pounds. Now, what’s that for? When did I borrow that? Ah! when I bought that gray. O dear! O dear! I shall grow gray enough, if this goes on. PHEIDIPPIDES [_talking in his sleep_].—That’s not fair, Philo! Keep your own side of the course! STREPSIADES.—Ay, there he goes! that’s what is ruining me; He’s always racing, even in his dreams. PHEIDIPPIDES [_awaking_].—Good heavens! my dear father, What makes you groan and toss so all night long? STREPSIADES.—There’s a sheriff’s officer at me—in the bedclothes. PHEIDIPPIDES.—Lie quiet, sir, do pray, and let me sleep. STREPSIADES.—Sleep, if you like; but these debts, I can tell you, Will fall on your own head some day, young man. Heugh! may those match-makers come to an evil end Who drew me into marrying your good mother! There I was, living a quiet life in the country,— Shaved once a week, maybe, wore my old clothes— Full of my sheep, and goats, and bees, and vineyards, And I must marry the fine niece of Megacles. Marry a fine town-belle, all airs and graces! A pretty pair we were to come together— I smelling of the vineyard and sheep-shearing, She with her scents, and essences, and cosmetics, And all the deviltries of modern fashion. Not a bad housekeeper though, I will say that— SLAVE [_examining the lamp, which is going out_].—This lamp has got no oil in it. STREPSIADES.—Deuce take you, Why did you light that thirsty beast of a lamp? Come here, and you shall catch it. SLAVE.—Catch it—why?