The Clouds (cont'd) - Page 2

Strepsiades. Now tell me this, pray; if I were to purchase a Thessalian witch, and draw down the moon by night, and then shut it up, as if it were a mirror, in a round crest-case, and then carefully keep it-

Socrates. What good, pray, would this do you?

Strepsiades. What? If the moon were to rise no longer anywhere, I should not pay the interest.

Socrates. Why so, pray?

Strepsiades. Because the money is lent out by the month.

Socrates. Capital! But I will again propose to you another clever question. If a suit of five talents should be entered against you, tell me how you would obliterate it.

Strepsiades. How? How? I do not know but I must seek.

Socrates. Do not then always revolve your thoughts about yourself; but slack away your mind into the air, like a cock-chafer tied with a thread by the foot.

Strepsiades. I have found a very clever method of getting rid of my suit, so that you yourself would acknowledge it.

Socrates. Of what description?

Strepsiades. Have you ever seen this stone in the chemist's shops, the beautiful and transparent one, from which they kindle fire?

Socrates. Do you mean the burning-glass?

Strepsiades. I do. Come what would you say, pray, if I were to take this, when the clerk was entering the suit, and were to stand at a distance, in the direction of the sun, thus, and melt out the letters of my suit?

Socrates. Cleverly done, by the Graces!

Strepsiades. Oh! How I am delighted, that a suit of five talents has been cancelled!

Socrates. Come now, quickly seize upon this.

Strepsiades. What?

Socrates. How, when engaged in a lawsuit, you could overturn the suit, when you were about to be cast, because you had no witnesses.

Strepsiades. Most readily and easily.

Socrates. Tell me, pray.

Strepsiades. Well now, I'll tell you. If, while one suit was still pending, before mine was called on, I were to run away and hang myself.

Socrates. You talk nonsense.

Strepsiades. By the gods, would I! For no one will bring action against me when I am dead.

Socrates. You talk nonsense. Begone; I can't teach you any longer.

Strepsiades. Why so? Yea, by the gods, O Socrates!

Socrates. You straightaway forget whatever you learn. For what now was the first thing you were taught? Tell me.

Strepsiades. Come, let me see: nay, what was the first? What was the fist? Nay, what was the thing in which we knead our flour? Ah me! What was it?

Socrates. Will you not pack off to the devil, you most forgetful and most stupid old man?

Strepsiades. Ah me, what then, pray will become of me, wretched man? For I shall be utterly undone, if I do not learn to ply the tongue. Come, O ye Clouds, give me some good advice.

Chorus. We, old man, advise you, if you have a son grown up, to