Aristophanes' PLUTUS Complete

A Literal Translation, with Notes.

Aristophanes Bilingual Anthology  Studies  Aristophanes in Print

72 pages - You are on Page 29

BLEPSIDEMUS. Then hurry yourself.

CHREMYLUS. 'Tis just what I am doing.

POVERTY. Unwise, perverse, unholy men! What are you daring to do, you pitiful, wretched mortals? Whither are you flying? Stop! I command it!

BLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! great gods!

POVERTY. My arm shall destroy you, you infamous beings! Such an attempt is not to be borne; neither man nor god has ever dared the like. You shall die!

CHREMYLUS. And who are you? Oh! what a ghastly pallor!

BLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis perchance some Erinnys, some Fury, from the theatre;[770] there's a kind of wild tragedy look in her eyes.

CHREMYLUS. But she has no torch.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Let's knock her down!

[770] Like the Furies who composed the Chorus in Aeschylus' 'Eumenides.'

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