Simon: Finish. What would he say?
Cébès: Nothing. Are there not men whose eyes
Melt like the broken medlar that scatters abroad its pips,
And women with cancer at work in their bodies, like the amadou in the beech?
And monstrous births, men having the muzzles of oxen?
And children violated and murdered by their fathers,
And old men whose children grudgingly count the days that still are left them?
All the diseases spy upon us, ulcer and abscess, epilepsy and shaking palsy and at the last, comes gout and the gravel that clogs urination.
Phthisis lights its fire; the pudenda grow mouldy like grapes; and the bag of the belly
Breaks and empties out entrails and excrements.