And he was not the only one
that I laughed at. When I saw the usurer Gnipho
groaning and regretting that he had not enjoyed his
money but had died without sampling it, abandoning
his property to that wastrel Rhodochares, who was
nextof kin to him and had the first claim on the estate
according to law, I could not control my laughter,
: especially when I called to mind how pale and
unkempt he always was, with a forehead full of
worries, feeling his riches only with the fingers with
which he reckoned up thousands and tens of thousands ashe gathered in, little by little, what was soon
to be poured out by that lucky dog Rhodochares.
But why not gonow? We can finish our laughing
during: the sail as we see them crying.
Hi, fellow! Where are you going so fast? The boat is fullalready. Wait there till to-morrow ; we'll set you across first thing in the morning.
You are committing a misdemeanour, Charon, in
leaving behind you a dead man who is already high.
No fear, I'll have you up before Rhadamanthus for
breaking the law. Oh, Lord! What hard luck!
They are sailing already, “and I'll be left behind
here all alone.”
What’s this? Wait, Micyllus; you mustn’t cross that way.
See here, perhaps I'll beat you to the shore.
No, no! Come, let’s row up and take him in. Hermes, lend a hand to pull him in.
Where shall he sit? The boat’s full, as you see.
On the shoulders of the tyrant, if you like.
A happy thought, that of Hermes !
Charon, I may as well tell you the truth here and now. I shan’t be able to pay you your obol when we come to land, for I have nothing more than the wallet which you see, and this club here. However, I am ready either to bale, if you like, or to row; you will have no fault to find if you only give me a stout, well-balanced oar. ,
Pull an oar ; that will be enough to exact of you.
Shall I strike up a song, too?
Yes, by all means, if you know any of the sailors’ chanties,
I know plenty of them, Charon; but as you see, these people are competing with our music by crying, so that we shall be put out of tune in our song.
(one) Alas, my wealth! (anoTuer) Alas, my
farms! (aNoTHER) Alackaday, what a house I left
behind me! (anotuer) To think of all the thousands
my heir will come into and squander! (aNoruer)
Ah, my new-born babes! (anorner) Who will get
the vintage of the vines I set out last year ?
Get out with you! I have no reason to lament while the wind is fair.
Do cry, however, even if only a little, for custom’s sake,
Well, I'll lament, then, since you wish it, Hermes. —Alas, my scraps of leather! Alas, my old shoes ! Alackaday, my rotten sandals! Unlucky man that I am, never again will I go hungry from morning to night or wander about in winter barefooted and halfnaked, with my teeth chattering for cold! Who is to get my knife and my awl ?
Enough weeping ; we are almost in now.