_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.