measure of justice. Not only the world of men, but the world of gods, is out of joint. In the last scene, Mercury knocks at the door of Chremylus. He has brought a terrible message from Jupiter. He orders Cario to bring out the whole family—"master, mistress, children, slaves—and the dog—and himself—and the pig," and the rest of the brutes, that they may all be thrown together into the Barathrum—the punishment inflicted on malefactors of the deepest dye. Cario answers the Olympian messenger with a courtesy as scant as his own; under the new régime, he and his master are become very independent of Jupiter. "You'd be none the worse for a slice off your tongue, young fellow," says the mortal servant to him of Olympus; "why, what's the matter?""Matter enough," answers Mercury:—
Why, ye have wrought the very vilest deed;
Since Plutus yonder got his sight again,
No man doth offer frankincense or bays,
Or honey-cake or victim or aught else,
To us poor gods.
Car. Nay, nor will offer, now;
Ye took poor care of us when we were pious.
Mer. As for the other gods, I care not much;
But 'tis myself I pity.
Car. You're right there.
Mer. Why, in the good old times, from every shop
I got good things,—rich wine-cakes, honey, figs,
Fit for a god like Mercury to eat;
But now I lie and sleep to cheat my hunger.
Car. It serves you right; you never did much good.
Mer. Oh for those noble cheesecakes, rich and brown!
