Ther. One to me; I am like you; you have
no such superiority as Homer (blind, by the way) gave
you when he called you the handsomest of men; he might
peak my head and thin my hair, our judge finds me
none the worse. Now, Menippus, make up your mind
which is handsomer.
Ni. I, of course, I, the son of Aglaia
and Charopus,
Comeliest of all that came ’neath
Trojan walls.
Me. But not comeliest of all that come
’neath the earth, as far as I know. Your
bones are much like other people’s; and the only
difference between your two skulls is that yours would
not take much to stove it in. It is a tender
article, something short of masculine.
Ni. Ask Homer what I was, when I sailed
with the Achaeans.
Me. Dreams, dreams. I am looking
at what you are; what you were is ancient history.
Ni. Am I not handsomer here, Menippus?
Me. You are not handsome at all, nor any
one else either. Hades is a democracy; one man
is as good as another here.
Ther. And a very tolerable arrangement
too, if you ask me.
H.
Menippus. Chiron
Me. I have heard that you were a god,
Chiron, and that you died of your own choice?
Chi. You were rightly informed. I
am dead, as you see, and might have been immortal.
Me. And what should possess you, to be
in love with Death? He has no charm for most
people.
Chi. You are a sensible fellow; I will
tell you. There was no further satisfaction to
be had from immortality.
Me. Was it not a pleasure merely to live
and see the light?
Chi. No; it is variety, as I take it,
and not monotony, that constitutes pleasure.
Living on and on, everything always the same; sun,
light, food, spring, summer, autumn, winter, one thing
following another in unending sequence,—I
sickened of it all. I found that enjoyment lay
not in continual possession; that deprivation had its
share therein.
Me. Very true, Chiron. And how have
you got on since you made Hades your home?
Chi. Not unpleasantly. I like the
truly republican equality that prevails; and as to
whether one is in light or darkness, that makes no
difference at all. Then again there is no hunger
or thirst here; one is independent of such things.
Me. Take care, Chiron! You may be
caught in the snare of your own reasonings.
Chi. How should that be?
Me. Why, if the monotony of the other
world brought on satiety, the monotony here may do
the same. You will have to look about for a further
change, and I fancy there is no third life procurable.
Chi. Then what is to be done, Menippus?
Me. Take things as you find them, I suppose,
like a sensible fellow, and make the best of everything.
