Driven hence in want of various articles.
Subdue thy nature to necessity,
Be supple, smooth, importunate, and bend
Thy temper to the level of thy fortune.—
Yet grant me another boon, Euripides;
A little tiny basket let it be, 560
One that has held a lamp, all burnt and battered.
Eur. Why should you need it?
Dic. 'Tis no need, perhaps,
But strong desire, a longing, eager wish.
Eur. You're troublesome. Depart.
Dic. Alas, alas!
Yet may you prosper like your noble mother.[1]
Eur. Depart, I say.
Dic. Don't say so! Give me first,
First give me a pipkin broken at the brim.
Eur. You're troublesome in the mansion. Take it, go!
Dic. Alas, you know not what I feel, Euripides.
Yet grant me a pitcher, good Euripides; 570
A pitcher with a sponge plugged in its mouth.
Eur. Fellow, you'll plunder me a whole tragedy.
Take it, and go.
Dic. Yes; aye forsooth, I'm going.
But how shall I contrive? There's something more
That makes or mars my fortune utterly;
Yet give them, and bid me go, my dear Euripides;
A little bundle of leaves to line my basket.
Eur. For mercy's sake! . . . But take them. There they go!
My tragedies and all! ruined and robbed!
Dic. No more; I mean to trouble you no more. 580
Yes, I retire; in truth I feel myself
Importunate, intruding on the presence
Of chiefs and princes, odious and unwelcome.
But out, alas, that I should so forget
The very point on which my fortune turns;
I wish I may be hanged, my dear Euripides,
If ever I trouble you for anything,
Except one little, little, little boon,
A single lettuce from your mother's stall.
Eur. This stranger taunts us. Close the palace gate. 590
- ↑ His mother was of very low condition.
