Heracles: Very well! we accord the sceptre.
Pisthetaerus: Ah! I was nearly forgetting another condition. I will leave Here to Zeus, but only if the young Basileia is given me in marriage.
Posidon: Then you don’t want peace. Let us withdraw.
Pisthetaerus: It matters mighty little to me. Cook, look to the gravy.
Heracles: What an odd fellow this Posidon is! Where are you off to? Are we going to war about a woman?
Posidon: What else is there to do?
Heracles: What else? Why, conclude peace.
Posidon: Oh! you ninny! do you always want to be fooled? Why, you are seeking your own downfall. If Zeus were to die, after having yielded them the sovereignty, you would be ruined, for you are the heir of all the wealth he will leave behind.
Pisthetaerus: Oh! by the gods! how he is cajoling you. Step aside, that I may have a word with you. Your uncle is getting the better of you, my poor friend. The law will not allow you an obolus of the paternal property, for you are a bastard and not a legitimate child.
Heracles: I a bastard! What’s that you tell me?
Pisthetaerus: Why, certainly; are you not born of a stranger woman? Besides, is not Athene recognized as Zeus’ sole heiress? And no daughter would be that, if she had a legitimate brother.
Heracles: But what if my father wished to give me his property on his deathbed, even though I be a bastard?
Pisthetaerus: The law forbids it, and this same Posidon would be the first to lay claim to his wealth, in virtue of being his legitimate brother. Listen; thus runs Solon’s law: “A bastard shall not inherit, if there are legitimate children; and if there are no legitimate children, the property shall pass to the nearest kin.”
Heracles: And I get nothing whatever of the paternal property?
Pisthetaerus: Absolutely nothing. But tell me, has your father had you entered on the registers of his phratria?
Heracles: No, and I have long been surprised at the omission.
Pisthetaerus: What ails you, that you should shake your fist at heaven? Do you want to fight it? Why, be on my side, I will make you a king and will feed you on bird’s milk and honey.
Heracles: Your further condition seems fair to me. I cede you the young damsel.
Posidon: But I, I vote against this opinion.
Pisthetaerus: Then it all depends on the Triballian. To the Triballian. What do you say?
Triballus: Big bird give daughter pretty and queen.
Heracles: You say that you give her?
Posidon: Why no, he does not say anything of the sort, that he gives her; else I cannot understand any better than the swallows.
Pisthetaerus: Exactly so. Does he not say she must be given to the swallows?
Posidon: Very well! you two arrange the matter; make peace, since you wish it so; I’ll hold my tongue.