110 | ARISTOPHANES.

disturbs him. I can’t sleep a. wink for thinking
of my debts. What with his foppery, and -his horse-
racing, and the rest of it, he ruins me.” After
another vain effort to get a little more sleep, the old
gentleman gave it up, and, calling for a light, began
to make a doleful calculation of his debts. “ Fifty
Sounds to-Prasias,” he read over to himself. ‘ When
_ did I borrow fifty pounds of Prasias? Oh! I remem-
ber. It was to buy that Corinthian hack. ‘ Hack,’
‘indeed. I wish that I had had my eye hacked out
before I saw him,” At this point the son, Pheidip-
pides, cried out in his sleep, “It’s not. fair,. Philo;
keep to your own course.” — “Ah!” said the old man,
“that is my ruin, always racing, even in his dreams.”

Pheidippides (stz asleep). “How many rounds do
the chariots run?”

Strepsiades. “You are running your father a pretty
round. But let me see. What was next to Prasias’s
account? Ten pounds to Ameinias for a pair of
wheels and a body.”

Phet. (still asleep). “Give the colt a roll on the
sand, and then take him home.”

Strep. “Ah! you dog, you have rolled me out tof
house and home.”

Phet. (awaking). “Ah! my dear father, Phar makes
you so uncomfortable that you toss about all night?”

Strep. “T am being bitten, my dear boy, badly
bitten, by bailiffs.”

Phei, “Well, do let me go to sleep.”