TRYGAEUS Oh! we shall not employ him again; but the people, seeing themselves without a leader, took him haphazard, just as a man, who is naked, springs upon the first cloak he sees. HERMES. She asks, what will be the result of such a choice of the city? TRYGAEUS. We shall be more far-seeing in consequence. HERMES. And why? TRYGAEUS. Because he is a lamp-maker. Formerly we only directed our business by groping in the dark; now we shall only deliberate by lamplight. HERMES. Oh! oh! what questions she does order me to put to you! TRYGAEUS. What are they? HERMES. She wants to have news of a whole heap of old-fashioned things she left here. First of all, how is Sophocles? TRYGAEUS. Very well; but something very strange has happened to him. HERMES. What then? TRYGAEUS. He has turned from Sophocles into Simonides.[322] HERMES. Into Simonides? How so? TRYGAEUS. Because, though old and broken-down as he is, he would put to sea on a hurdle to gain an obolus.[323] HERMES. And wise Cratinus, is he still alive?[324] TRYGAEUS. He died about the time of the Laconian invasion. HERMES. How? TRYGAEUS. Of a swoon. He could not bear the shock of seeing one of his casks full of wine broken. Ah! what a number of other misfortunes our city has suffered! So, dearest mistress, nothing can now separate us from thee. HERMES. If that be so, receive Opora here for a wife; take her to the country, live with her, and grow fine grapes together.[325] TRYGAEUS. Come, my dear friend, come and accept my kisses. Tell me, Hermes, my master, do you think it would hurt me to fuck her a little, after so long an abstinence? HERMES. No, not if you swallow a potion of penny-royal afterwards.[326] But hasten to lead Theoria[327] to the Senate; 'twas there she lodged before. TRYGAEUS. Oh! fortunate Senate! Thanks to Theoria, what soups you will swallow for the space of three days![328] how you will devour meats and cooked tripe! Come, farewell, friend Hermes! HERMES. And to you also, my dear sir, may you have much happiness, and don't forget me. TRYGAEUS. Come, beetle, home, home, and let us fly on a swift wing. HERMES. Oh! he is no longer here. TRYGAEUS. Where has he gone to then? HERMES. He is harnessed to the chariot of Zeus and bears the thunderbolts. TRYGAEUS. But where will the poor wretch get his food? HERMES. He will eat Ganymede's ambrosia. TRYGAEUS. Very well then, but how am I going to descend? HERMES. Oh! never fear, there is nothing simpler; place yourself beside the goddess. TRYGAEUS. Come, my pretty maidens, follow me quickly; there are plenty of folk awaiting you with standing tools.