SERVANT. Is it true, what they tell us, that men are turned into stars after death? TRYGAEUS. Quite true. SERVANT. Then who is that star I see over yonder? TRYGAEUS. That is Ion of Chios,[341] the author of an ode beginning "Morning"; as soon as ever he got to heaven, they called him "the Morning Star." SERVANT. And those stars like sparks, that plough up the air as they dart across the sky?[342] TRYGAEUS. They are the rich leaving the feast with a lantern and a light inside it. But hurry up, show this young girl into my house, clean out the bath, heat some water and prepare the nuptial couch for herself and me. When 'tis done, come back here; meanwhile I am off to present this one to the Senate. SERVANT. But where then did you get these pretty chattels? TRYGAEUS. Where? why in heaven. SERVANT. I would not give more than an obolus for gods who have got to keeping brothels like us mere mortals. TRYGAEUS. They are not all so, but there are some up there too who live by this trade. SERVANT. Come, that's rich! But I bethink me, shall I give her something to eat? TRYGAEUS. No, for she would neither touch bread nor cake; she is used to licking ambrosia at the table of the gods. SERVANT. Well, we can give her something to lick down here too.[343] CHORUS. Here is a truly happy old man, as far as I can judge. TRYGAEUS. Ah! but what shall I be, when you see me presently dressed for the wedding? CHORUS. Made young again by love and scented with perfumes, your lot will be one we all shall envy. TRYGAEUS. And when I lie beside her and caress her bosoms? CHORUS. Oh! then you will be happier than those spinning-tops who call Carcinus their father.[344] TRYGAEUS. And I well deserve it; have I not bestridden a beetle to save the Greeks, who now, thanks to me, can make love at their ease and sleep peacefully on their farms? SERVANT. The girl has quitted the bath; she is charming from head to foot, both belly and buttocks; the cake is baked and they are kneading the sesame-biscuit;[345] nothing is lacking but the bridegroom's penis. TRYGAEUS. Let us first hasten to lodge Theoria in the hands of the Senate. SERVANT. But tell me, who is this woman? TRYGAEUS. Why, 'tis Theoria, with whom we used formerly to go to Brauron,[346] to get tipsy and frolic. I had the greatest trouble to get hold of her. SERVANT. Ah! you charmer! what pleasure your pretty bottom will afford me every four years! TRYGAEUS. Let us see, who of you is steady enough to be trusted by the Senate with the care of this charming wench? Hi! you, friend! what are you drawing there? SERVANT. I am drawing the plan of the tent I wish to erect for myself on the isthmus.[347] TRYGAEUS. Come, who wishes to take the charge of her? No one? Come, Theoria, I am going to lead you into the midst of the spectators and confide you to their care. SERVANT. Ah! there is one who makes a sign to you. TRYGAEUS. Who is it? SERVANT. 'Tis Ariphrades. He wishes to take her home at once.