Sacred Texts Classics Lucian Fowler Index Index Previous Next
Zeus. Asclepius. Heracles
Zeus. Now, Asclepius and Heracles, stop that quarrelling; you might as well be men; such behaviour is very improper and out of place at the table of the Gods.
Her. Is this druggist fellow to have a place above me, Zeus?
Asc. Of course I am; I am your better.
Her. Why, you numskull? because it was Zeus's bolt that
cracked your skull, for your unholy doings, and now you have been allowed your immortality again out of sheer pity?
Asc. You twit me with my fiery end; you seem to have forgotten that you too were burnt to death, on Oeta.
Her. Was there no difference between your life and mine, then? I am Zeus's son, and it is well known how I toiled, cleansing the earth, conquering monsters, and chastising men of violence. Whereas you are a root-grubber and a quack; I dare say you have your use for doctoring sick men, but you never did a bold deed in your life.
Asc. That comes well from you, whose burns I healed, when you came up all singed not so long ago; between the tunic and the flames, your body was half consumed. Anyhow, it would be enough to mention that I was never a slave like you, never combed wool in Lydia, masquerading in a purple shawl and being slippered by an Omphale, never killed my wife and children in a fit of the spleen. Her. If you don't stop being rude, I shall soon show you that immortality is not much good. I will take you up and pitch you head over heels out of Heaven, and Apollo himself shall never mend your broken crown. Zeus. Cease, I say, and let us hear ourselves speak, or I will send you both away from table. Heracles, Asclepius died before you, and has the right to a better place.
H.