{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_8689/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_8689","id":"gutenberg_8689","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8689","summary":null,"tags":["Aristophanes -- Translations into English","Athens (Greece) -- Drama","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","Classical Antiquity","Comedy plays","Greek drama (Comedy) -- Translations into English"],"text":"Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Thomas Berger, and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team.\n\n\n\nThe Athenian Society\n\n\nARISTOPHANES\n\nTHE ELEVEN COMEDIES\n\n\nNow For The First Time Literally And Completely Translated From The Greek\nTongue Into English\n\nWith Translator's Foreword An Introduction To Each Comedy And Elucidatory\nNotes\n\n\nThe Second Of Two Volumes\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nCONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME\n\nTHE WASPS\nIntroduction\nText And Notes\n\nTHE BIRDS\nIntroduction\nText And Notes\n\nTHE FROGS\nIntroduction\nText And Notes\n\nTHE THESMOPHORIAZUSAE\nIntroduction\nText And Notes\n\nTHE ECCLESIAZUSAE\nIntroduction\nText And Notes\n\nPLUTUS\nIntroduction\nText And Notes\n\nINDEX\n\n\n\n\nTHE WASPS\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\"This Comedy, which was produced by its Author the year after the\nperformance of 'The Clouds,' may be taken as in some sort a companion\npicture to that piece. Here the satire is directed against the passion of\nthe Athenians for the excitement of the law-courts, as in the former its\nobject was the new philosophy. And as the younger generation--the modern\nschool of thought--were there the subjects of the caricature, so here the\nolder citizens, who took their seats in court as jurymen day by day, to\nthe neglect of their private affairs and the encouragement of a litigious\ndisposition, appear in their turn in the mirror which the satirist holds\nup.\"\n\nThere are only two characters of any importance to the action--Philocleon\n('friend of Cleon') and his son Bdelycleon ('enemy of Cleon'). The plot\nis soon told. Philocleon is a bigoted devotee of the malady of\nlitigiousness so typical of his countrymen and an enthusiastic attendant\nat the Courts in his capacity of 'dicast' or juryman. Bdelycleon\nendeavours to persuade his father by every means in his power to change\nthis unsatisfactory manner of life for something nobler and more\nprofitable; but all in vain. As a last resource he keeps his father a\nprisoner indoors, so that he cannot attend the tribunals.\n\nThe old man tries to escape, and these attempts are conceived in the\nwildest vein of extravaganza. He endeavours to get out by the chimney,\npretending he is \"only the smoke\"; and all hands rush to clap a cover on\nthe chimney-top, and a big stone on that. He slips through a hole in the\ntiles, and sits on the roof, pretending to be \"only a sparrow\"; and they\nhave to set a net to catch him. Then the Chorus of Wasps, representing\nPhilocleon''s fellow 'dicasts,' appear on the scene to rescue him. A\nbattle royale takes place on the stage; the Wasps, with their formidable\nstings, trying to storm the house, while the son and his retainers defend\ntheir position with desperate courage. Finally the assailants are\nrepulsed, and father and son agree upon a compromise. Bdelycleon\npromises, on condition that his father gives up attending the public\ntrails, to set up a mock tribunal for him in his own house.\n\nPresently the theft of a Sicilian cheese by the house-dog Labes gives the\nold fellow an opportunity of exercising his judicial functions. Labes is\nduly arraigned and witnesses examines. But alas! Philocleon inadvertently\ncasts his vote for the defendant's _acquittal_, the first time in his\nlife \"such a thing has ever occurred,\" and the old man nearly dies of\nvexation.\n\nAt this point follows the 'Parabasis,' or Author's personal address to\nthe audience, after which the concluding portion of the play has little\nconnection with the main theme. This is a fault, according to modern\nideas, common to many of these Comedies, but it is especially marked in\nthis particular instance. The final part might almost be a separate play,\nunder the title perhaps of 'The dicast turned gentleman,' and relates\nvarious ridiculous mistakes and laughable blunders committed by\nPhilocleon, who, having given up his attendance on the law-courts, has\nset up for playing a part in polite society.\n\nThe drama, as was very often the case, takes its title from the Chorus--a\nband of old men dressed up as wasps, who acrimonious, stinging,\nexasperated temper is meant to typify the character fostered among\nAthenian citizens by excessive addiction to forensic business.\n\nRacine, in the only comedy he attempted, 'Les Plaideurs,' borrows the\nincident of the mock trial of the house-dog, amplifying and adding\nfurther diverting features.\n\nPerhaps 'The Wasps' is the least amusing of all our Author's pieces which\nhave come down to us--at any rate to a modern reader. The theme of its\nsatire, the litigious spirit of the Athenians, is after all purely local\nand temporary, while the fun often strikes us as thin and forced.\nSchlegel writes in his 'Dramatic Literature': \"The subject is too\nlimited, the folly it ridicules appears a disease of too singular a\ndescription, without a sufficient universality of application, and the\naction is too much drawn out.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE WASPS\n\n\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\n\nPHILOCLEON, a Dicast.\nBDELYCLEON, his Son.\nSOSIAS, House-servant of Philocleon.\nXANTHIAS, House-servant of Philocleon.\nBOYS.\nA DOG.\nA BAKER'S WIFE.\nACCUSER.\nCHORUS OF ELDERS, costumed as Wasps.\n\nSCENE: Philocleon's house at Athens.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE WASPS\n\n\nSOSIAS. Why, Xanthias! what are you doing, wretched man?\n\nXANTHIAS. I am teaching myself how to rest; I have been awake and on\nwatch the whole night.\n\nSOSIAS. So you want to earn trouble for your ribs,[1] eh? Don't you know\nwhat sort of an animal we are guarding here?\n\nXANTHIAS. Aye indeed! but I want to put my cares to sleep for a while.\n\nSOSIAS. Beware what you do. I too feel soft sleep spreading over my eyes.\nResist it, for you must be as mad as a Corybant if you fall asleep.[2]\n\nXANTHIAS. No! 'Tis Bacchus who lulls me off.\n\nSOSIAS. Then you serve the same god as myself. Just now a heavy slumber\nsettled on my eyelids like a hostile Mede; A nodded and, faith! I had a\nwondrous dream.\n\nXANTHIAS. Indeed! and so had I. A dream such as I never had before. But\nfirst tell me yours.\n\nSOSIAS. Methinks I saw an eagle, a gigantic bird, descend upon the\nmarket-place; it seized a brazen buckler with its talons and bore it away\ninto the highest heavens; then I saw 'twas Cleonymus had thrown it away.\n\nXANTHIAS. This Cleonymus is a riddle worth propounding among guests. How\ncan one and the same animal have cast away his buckler both on land, in\nthe sky and at sea?[3]\n\nSOSIAS. Alas!  what ill does such a dream portend for me?\n\nXANTHIAS. Rest undisturbed! An it please the gods, no evil will befall\nyou.\n\nSOSIAS. Nevertheless, 'tis a fatal omen when a man throws away his\nweapons. But what was your dream? Let me hear.\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh! it is a dream of high import. It has reference to the hull\nof the State; to nothing less.\n\nSOSIAS. Tell it me quickly; show me its very keel.\n\nXANTHIAS. In my first slumber I thought I saw sheep, wearing cloaks and\ncarrying staves,[4] met in assembly on the Pnyx; a rapacious whale was\nharanguing them and screaming like a pig that is being grilled.\n\nSOSIAS. Faugh! faugh!\n\nXANTHIAS. What's the matter?\n\nSOSIAS. Enough, enough, spare me. Your dream stinks vilely of old\nleather.[5]\n\nXANTHIAS. Then this scoundrelly whale seized a balance and set to\nweighing ox-fat.[6]\n\nSOSIAS. Alas! 'tis our poor Athenian people, whom this accursed beast\nwished to cut up and despoil of their fat.\n\nXANTHIAS. Seated on the ground close to it, I saw Theorus,[7] who had the\nhead of a crow. The Alcibiades said to me in his lisping way, \"Do you\nthee? Theoruth hath a crow'th head.\"[8]\n\nSOSIAS. Ah! 'twas very well lisped indeed!\n\nXANTHIAS. This is might strange; Theorus turning into a crow!\n\nSOSIAS. No, it is glorious.\n\nXANTHIAS. Why?\n\nSOSIAS. Why? He was a man and now he has suddenly become a crow; does it\nnot foretoken that he will take his flight from here and go to the\ncrows?[9]\n\nXANTHIAS. Interpreting dreams so aptly certainly deserves two obols.[10]\n\nSOSIAS. Come, I must explain the matter to the spectators. But first a\nfew words of preamble: expect nothing very high-flown from us, nor any\njests stolen from Megara;[11] we have no slaves, who throw baskets of\nnuts[12] to the spectators, nor any Heracles to be robbed of his\ndinner,[13] nor is Euripides loaded with contumely; and despite the happy\nchance that gave Cleon his fame[14] we shall not go out of our way to\nbelabour him again. Our little subject is not wanting in sense; it is\nwell within your capacity and at the same time cleverer than many vulgar\nComedies.--We have a master of great renown, who is now sleeping up there\non the other story. He has bidden us keep guard over his father, whom he\nhas locked in, so that he may not go out. This father has a curious\ncomplaint; not one of you could hit upon or guess it, if I did not tell\nyou.--Well then, try! I hear Amynias, the son of Pronapus, over there,\nsaying, \"He is addicted to gambling.\"\n\nXANTHIAS. He's wrong! He is imputing his own malady to others.\n\nSOSIAS. No, yet love is indeed the principal part of his disease. Ah!\nhere is Sosias telling Dercylus, \"He loves drinking.\"\n\nXANTHIAS. Not at all! The love of wine is the complaint of good men.\n\nSOSIAS. \"Well then,\" says Nicostratus of the Scambonian deme, \"he either\nloves sacrifices or else strangers.\"\n\nXANTHIAS. Ah! great gods! no, he is not fond of strangers, Nicostratus,\nfor he who says \"Philoxenus\" means a dirty fellow.[15]\n\nSOSIAS. 'Tis mere waste of time, you will not find it out. If you want to\nknow it, keep silence! I will tell you our master's complaint: of all\nmen, it is he who is fondest of the Heliaea.[16] Thus, to be judging is\nhis hobby, and he groans if he is not sitting on the first seat. He does\nnot close an eye at night, and if he dozes off for an instant his mind\nflies instantly to the clepsydra.[17] He is so accustomed to hold the\nballoting pebble, that he awakes with his three fingers pinched\ntogether[18] as if he were offering incense to the new moon. If he sees\nscribbled on some doorway, \"How charming is Demos,[19] the son of\nPyrilampes!\" he will write beneath it, \"How charming is Cemos!\"[20] His\ncock crowed one evening; said he, \"He has had money from the accused to\nawaken me too late.\"[21] As soon as he rises from supper he bawls for his\nshoes and away he rushes down there before dawn to sleep beforehand,\nglued fast to the column like an oyster.[22] He is a merciless judge,\nnever failing to draw the convicting line[23] and return home with his\nnails full of wax like a bumble-bee. Fearing he might run short of\npebbles[24] he keeps enough at home to cover a sea-beach, so that he may\nhave the means of recording his sentence. Such is his madness, and all\nadvice is useless; he only judges the more each day. So we keep him under\nlock and key, to prevent his going out; for his son is broken-hearted\nover this mania. At first he tried him with gentleness, wanted to\npersuade him to wear the cloak no longer,[25] to go out no more; unable\nto convince him, he had him bathed and purified according to the\nritual[26] without any greater success, and then handed him over the the\nCorybantes;[27] but the old man escaped them, and carrying off the\nkettle-drum,[28] rushed right into the midst of the Heliasts. As Cybel\u00e9\ncould do nothing with her rites, his son took him again to Aegina and\nforcibly made him lie one night in the temple of Asclepius, the God of\nHealing, but before daylight there he was to be seen at the gate of the\ntribunal. Since then we let him go out no more, but he escaped us by the\ndrains or by the skylights, so we stuffed up every opening with old rags\nand made all secure; then he drove short sticks into the wall and sprang\nfrom rung to rung like a magpie. Now we have stretched nets all round the\ncourt and we keep watch and ward. The old man's name is Philocleon,[29]\n'tis the best name he could have, and the son is called Bdelycleon,[30]\nfor he is a man very fit to cure an insolent fellow of his boasting.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Xanthias! Sosias! Are you asleep?\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh! oh!\n\nSOSIAS. What is the matter?\n\nXANTHIAS. Why, Bdelycleon is rising.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Will neither of you come here?  My father has got into the\nstove-chamber and is ferreting about like a rat in his hole. Take care he\ndoes not escape through the bath drain. You there, put all your weight\nagainst the door.\n\nSOSIAS. Aye, aye, master.\n\nBDELYCLEON. By Zeus!  what is that noise in the chimney?  Hullo! who are\nyou?\n\nPHILOCLEON. I am the smoke going up.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Smoke?  smoke of what wood?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Of fig-wood.[31]\n\nBDELYCLEON. Ah!  'this the most acrid of all. But you shall not get out.\nWhere is the chimney cover?[32] Come down again. Now, up with another\ncross-bar. Now look out some fresh dodge. But am I not the most\nunfortunate of men? Henceforward, I shall only be called the son of the\nsmoky old man. Slave, hold the door stoutly, throw your weight upon it,\ncome, put heart into the work. I will come and help you. Watch both lock\nand bolt. Take care he does not gnaw through the peg.\n\nPHILOCLEON. What are you dong, you wretches?  Let me go out; it is\nimperative that I go and judge, or Dracontides will be acquitted.\n\nBDELYCLEON. What a dreadful calamity for you!\n\nPHILOCLEON. Once at Delphi, the god, whom I was consulting, foretold,\nthat if an accused man escaped me, I should die of consumption.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Apollo, the Saviour, what a prophecy!\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ah!  I beseech you, if you do not want my death, let me go.\n\nBDELYCLEON. No, Philocleon, no never, by Posidon!\n\nPHILOCLEON. Well then, I shall gnaw through the net[33] with my teeth.\n\nBDELYCLEON. But you have no teeth.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh! you rascal, how can I kill you?  How?  Give me a sword,\nquick, or a conviction tablet.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Our friend is planning some great crime.\n\nPHILOCLEON. No, by Zeus!  but I want to go and sell my ass and its\npanniers, for 'this the first of the month.[34]\n\nBDELYCLEON. Could I not sell it just as well?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Not as well as I could.\n\nBDELYCLEON. No, but better. Come, bring it here, bring it here by all\nmeans--if you can.\n\nXANTHIAS. What a clever excuse he has found now!  What cunning to get you\nto let him go out!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Yes, but I have not swallowed the hook; I scented the trick.\nI will go in and fetch the ass, so that the old man may not point his\nweapons that way again....[35] Stupid old ass, are you weeping because\nyou are going to be sold? Come, go a bit quicker. Why, what are you\nmoaning and groaning for?  You might be carrying another Odysseus.[36]\n\nXANTHIAS. Why, certainly, so he is!  someone has crept beneath his belly.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Who, who?  Let us see.\n\nXANTHIAS. 'Tis he.\n\nBDELYCLEON. What does this mean?  Who are you?  Come, speak!\n\nPHILOCLEON. I am Nobody.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Nobody?  Of what country?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Of Ithaca, son of Apodrasippides.[37]\n\nBDELYCLEON. Ha!  Mister Nobody, you will not laugh presently. Pull him\nout quick!  Ah!  the wretch, where has be crept to? Does he not resemble\na she-ass to the life?\n\nPHILOCLEON. If you do not leave me in peace, I shall commence\nproceedings.\n\nBDELYCLEON. And what will the suit be about?\n\nPHILOCLEON. The shade of an ass.[38]\n\nBDELYCLEON. You are a poor man of very little wit, but thoroughly brazen.\n\nPHILOCLEON. A poor man!  Ah!  by Zeus!  you know not now what I am worth;\nbut you will know when you disembowel the old Heliast's money bag.[39]\n\nBDELYCLEON. Come, get back indoors, both you and your ass.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh! my brethren of the tribunal! oh! Cleon! to the rescue!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Go and bawl in there under lock and key. And you there, pile\nplenty of stones against the door, thrust the bolt home into the staple,\nand to keep this beam in its place roll that great mortar against it.\nQuick's the word.\n\nSOSIAS. Oh! my god! whence did this brick fall on me?\n\nXANTHIAS. Perhaps a rat loosened it.\n\nSOSIAS. A rat? 'tis surely our gutter-judge,[40] who has crept beneath\nthe tiles of the roof.\n\nXANTHIAS. Ah! woe to us! there he is, he has turned into a sparrow; he\nwill be flying off. Where is the net? where? pschit! pschit! get back!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Ah! by Zeus! I would rather have to guard Scion\u00e9[41] than\nsuch a father.\n\nSOSIAS. And how that we have driven him in thoroughly and he can no\nlonger escape without our knowledge, can we not have a few winks of\nsleep, no matter how few?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Why, wretch! the other jurymen will be here almost directly\nto summon my father!\n\nSOSIAS. Why, 'tis scarcely dawn yet!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Ah, they must have risen late to-day. Generally it is the\nmiddle of the night when they come to fetch him. They arrive here,\ncarrying lanterns in their hands and singing the charming old verses of\nPhrynichus' \"Sidonian Women\";[42] 'tis their way of calling him.\n\nSOSIAS. Well, if need be, we will chase them off with stones.\n\nBDELYCLEON. What!  you dare to speak so?  Why, this class of old men, if\nirritated, becomes as terrible as a swarm of wasps. They carry below\ntheir loins the sharpest of stings, with which to sting their foe; they\nshout and leap and their stings burn like so many sparks.\n\nSOSIAS. Have no fear!  If I can find stones to throw into this nest of\njurymen-wasps, I shall soon have them cleared off.\n\nCHORUS. March on, advance boldly and bravely!  Comias, your feet are\ndragging; once you were as tough as a dog-skin strap and now even\nCharinades walks better than you. Ha!  Strymodorus of Conthyl\u00e9, you best\nof mates, where is Euergides and where is Chales of Phyla?  Ha, ha,\nbravo! there you are, the last of the lads with whom we mounted guard\ntogether at Byzantium.[43] Do you remember how, one night, prowling\nround, we noiselessly stole the kneading-trough of a baker's-wife; we\nsplit it in two and cooked our green-stuff with it.--But let us hasten,\nfor the case of the Laches[44] comes on to-day, and they all say he has\nembezzled a pot of money. Hence Cleon, our protector, advised us\nyesterday to come early and with a three days' stock of fiery rage so as\nto chastise him for his crimes. Let us hurry, comrades, before it is\nlight; come, let us search every nook with our lanterns to see whether\nthose who wish us ill have not set us some trap.\n\nBOY. Ah!  here is mud!  Father, take care!\n\nCHORUS. Pick up a blade of straw and trim the lamp of your lantern.\n\nBOY. No, I can trim it quite well with my finger.\n\nCHORUS. Why do you pull out the wick, you little dolt?  Oil is scarce,\nand 'tis not you who suffer when it has to be paid for. (_Strikes him._)\n\nBOY. If you teach us again with your fists, we shall put out the lamps\nand go home; then you will have no light and will squatter about in the\nmud like ducks in the dark.\n\nCHORUS. I know how to punish other offenders bigger than you. But I think\nI am treading in some mud. Oh! 'tis certain it will rain in torrents for\nfour days at least; look, what thieves are in our lamps; that is always\na sign of heavy rain; but the rain and the north wind will be good for\nthe crops that are still standing.... Why, what can have happened to our\nmate, who lives here?  Why does he not come to join our party?  There\nused to be no need to haul him in our wake, for he would march at our\nhead singing the verses of Phrynichus; he was a lover of singing. Should\nwe not, friends, make a halt here and sign to call him out?  The charm of\nmy voice will fetch him out, if he hears it.\n\nWhy does the old man not show himself before the door?  why does he not\nanswer?  Has he lost his shoes? has he stubbed his toe in the dark and\nthus got a swollen ankle?  Perhaps he has a tumour in his groin. He was\nthe hardest of us all; he alone _never_ allowed himself to be moved. If\nanyone tried to move him, he would lower his head, saying, \"You might\njust as well try to boil a stone.\" But I bethink me, an accused ma\nescaped us yesterday through his false pretence that he loved Athens and\nhad been the first to unfold the Samian plot.[45] Perhaps his acquittal\nhas so distressed Philocleon that he is abed with fever--he is quite\ncapable of such a thing.--Friend, arise, do not thus vex your heart, but\nforget your wrath. Today we have to judge a man made wealthy by treason,\none of those who set Thrace free;[46] we have to prepare him a funeral\nurn ... so march on, my boy, get a-going.\n\nBOY. Father, would you give me something if I asked for it?\n\nCHORUS. Assuredly, my child, but tell me what nice thing do you want me\nto buy you?  A set of knuckle-bones, I suppose.\n\nBOY. No, dad, I prefer figs; they are better.\n\nCHORUS. No, by Zeus! even if you were to hang yourself with vexation.\n\nBOY. Well then, I will lead you no father.\n\nCHORUS. With my small pay, I am obliged to buy bread, wood, stew; and now\nyou ask me for figs!\n\nBOY. But, father, if the Archon[47] should not form a court to-day, how\nare we to buy our dinner? Have you some good hope to offer us or merely\n\"Hell\u00e9's sacred waves\"?[48]\n\nCHORUS. Alas! alas! I have not a notion how we shall dine.\n\nBOY. Oh! my poor mother! why did you let me see this day?\n\nCHORUS. Oh! my little wallet! you seem like to be a mere useless\nornament!\n\nBOY. 'Tis our destiny to groan.\n\nPHILOCLEON.[49] My friends, I have long been pining away while listening\nto you from my window, but I absolutely know not what do do. I am\ndetained here, because I have long wanted to go with you to the law court\nand do all the harm I can. Oh! Zeus! cause the peals of they thunder to\nroll, change me quickly into smoke or make me into a Proxenides, a\nperfect braggart, like the son of Sellus. Oh, King of Heaven! hesitate\nnot to grant me this favour, pity my misfortune or else may thy dazzling\nlightning instantly reduce me to ashes; then carry me hence, and may thy\nbreath hurl me into some burning pickle[50] or turn me into one of the\nstones on which the votes are counted.\n\nCHORUS. Who is it detains you and shuts you in? Speak, for you are\ntalking to friends.\n\nPHILOCLEON. 'Tis my son. But no bawling, he is there in front asleep;\nlower your voice.\n\nCHORUS. But, poor fellow, what is his aim? what is his object?\n\nPHILOCLEON. My friends, he will not have me judge nor do anyone any ill,\nbut he wants me to stay at home and enjoy myself, and I will not.\n\nCHORUS. This wretch, this Demolochocleon[51] dares to say such odious\nthings, just because you tell the truth about our navy!\n\nPHILOCLEON. He would not have dared, had he not been a conspirator.\n\nCHORUS. Meanwhile, you must devise some new dodge, so that you can come\ndown here without his knowledge.\n\nPHILOCLEON. But what? Try to find some way. For myself, I am ready for\nanything, so much do I burn to run along the tiers of the tribunal with\nmy voting-pebble in my hand.\n\nCHORUS. There is surely some hole through which you could manage to\nsqueeze from within, and escape dressed in rags, like the crafty\nOdysseus.[52]\n\nPHILOCLEON. Everything is sealed fast; not so much as a gnat could get\nthrough. Think of some other plan; there is no possible hold of escape.\n\nCHORUS. Do you recall how, when you were with the army at the taking of\nNaxos,[53] you descended so readily from the top of the wall by means of\nthe spits you have stolen?\n\nPHILOCLEON. I remember that well enough, but what connection is there\nwith present circumstances? I was young, clever at thieving, I had all my\nstrength, none watched over me, and I could run off without fear. But\nto-day men-at-arms are placed at every outlet to watch me, and two of\nthem are lying in wait for me at this very door armed with spits, just as\nfolk lie in wait for a cat that has stolen a piece of meat.\n\nCHORUS. Come, discover some way as quick as possible. Here is the dawn\ncome, my dear little friend.\n\nPHILOCLEON. The best way is to gnaw through the net. Oh! goddess, who\nwatches over the nets,[54] forgive me for making a hole in this one.\n\nCHORUS. 'Tis acting like a man eager for his safety. Get your jaws to\nwork!\n\nPHILOCLEON. There! 'tis gnawed through! But no shouting! let Bdelycleon\nnotice nothing!\n\nCHORUS. Have no fear, have no fear! if he breathes a syllable, 'twill be\nto bruise his own knuckles; he will have to fight to defend his own head.\nWe shall teach him not to insult the mysteries of the goddesses.[55] But\nfasten a rope to the window, tie it around your body and let yourself\ndown to the ground, with your heart bursting with the fury of\nDiopithes.[56]\n\nPHILOCLEON. But if these notice it and want to fish me up and drag me\nback into the house, what will you do? Tell me that.\n\nCHORUS. We shall call up the full strength of out courage to your aid.\nThat is what we will do.\n\nPHILOCLEON. I trust myself to you and risk the danger. If misfortune\novertakes me, take away my body, bathe it with your tears and bury it\nbeneath the bar of the tribunal.\n\nCHORUS. Nothing will happen to you, rest assured. Come friend, have\ncourage and let yourself slide down while you invoke your country's gods.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh! mighty Lycus![57] noble hero and my neighbour, thou, like\nmyself, takest pleasure in the tears and the groans of the accused. If\nthou art come to live near the tribunal, 'tis with the express design of\nhearing them incessantly; thou alone of all the heroes hast wished to\nremain among those who weep. Have pity on me and save him, who lives\nclose to thee; I swear I will never make water, never, nor relieve my\nbelly with a fart against the railing of thy statue.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Ho there! ho! get up!\n\nSOSIAS. What's the matter?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Methought I heard talking close to me.\n\nSOSIAS. Is the old man at it again, escaping through some loophole?\n\nBDELYCLEON. No, by Zeus! no, but he is letting himself down by a rope.\n\nSOSIAS. Ha, rascal! what are you doing there? You shall not descend.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Mount quick to the other window, strike him with the boughs\nthat hang over the entrance; perchance he will turn back when he feels\nhimself being thrashed.\n\nPHILOCLEON. To the rescue! all you, who are going to have lawsuits this\nyear--Smicythion, Tisiades, Chremon and Pheredipnus. 'Tis now or never,\nbefore they force me to return, that you must help.\n\nCHORUS. Why do we delay to let loose that fury, that is so terrible, when\nour nests are attacked? I feel my angry sting is stiffening, that sharp\nsting, with which we punish our enemies. Come, children, cast your cloaks\nto the winds, run, shout, tell Cleon what is happening, that he may march\nagainst this foe to our city, who deserves death, since he proposes to\nprevent the trial of lawsuits.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Friends, listen to the truth, instead of bawling.\n\nCHORUS. By Zeus! we will shout to heaven and never forsake our friend.\nWhy, this is intolerable, 'tis manifest tyranny. Oh! citizens, oh!\nTheorus,[58] the enemy of the gods! and all you flatterers, who rule us!\ncome to our aid.\n\nXANTHIAS. By Heracles! they have stings. Do you see them, master?\n\nBDELYCLEON. 'Twas with these weapons that they killed Philippus the son\nof Gorgias[59] when he was put on trial.\n\nCHORUS. And you too shall die. Turn yourselves this way, all, with your\nstings out for attack and throw yourselves upon him in good and serried\norder, and swelled up with wrath and rage. Let him learn to know the sort\nof foes he has dared to irritate.\n\nXANTHIAS. The fight will be fast and furious, by great Zeus! I tremble at\nthe sight of their stings.\n\nCHORUS. Let this man go, unless you want to envy the tortoise his hard\nshell.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Come, my dear companions, wasps with relentless hearts, fly\nagainst him, animated with your fury. Sting him in the back, in his eyes\nand on his fingers.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Midas, Phryx, Masyntias, here! Come and help. Seize this man\nand hand him over to no one, otherwise you shall starve to death in\nchains. Fear nothing, I have often heard the crackling of fig-leaves in\nthe fire.[60]\n\nCHORUS. If you won't let him go, I shall bury this sting in your body.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh, Cecrops, mighty hero with the tail of a dragon! Seest\nthou how these barbarians ill-use me--me, who have many a time made them\nweep a full bushel of tears?\n\nCHORUS. Is not old age filled with cruel ills? What violence these two\nslaves offer to their old master! they have forgotten all bygones, the\nfur-coats and the jackets and the caps he bought for them; in winter he\nwatched that their feet should not get frozen. And only see them now;\nthere is no gentleness in their look nor any recollection of the slippers\nof other days.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Will you let me go, you accursed animal? Don't you remember\nthe day when I surprised you stealing the grapes; I tied you to an\nolive-tree and I cut open your bottom with such vigorous lashes that\nfolks thought you had been pedicated. Get away, you are ungrateful. But\nlet go of me, and you too, before my son comes up.\n\nCHORUS. You shall repay us for all this and 'twill not be long first.\nTremble at our ferocious glance; you shall taste our just anger.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Strike! strike, Xanthias! Drive these wasps away from the\nhouse.\n\nXANTHIAS. That's just what I am doing; but do you smoke them out\nthoroughly too.\n\nSOSIAS. You will not go? The plague seize you! Will you not clear off?\nXanthias, strike them with your stick!\n\nXANTHIAS. And you, to smoke them out better, throw Aeschinus, the son of\nSelartius, on the fire. Ah! we were bound to drive you off in the end.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Eh! by Zeus! you would not have put them to flight so easily\nif they had fed on the verses of Philocles.\n\nCHORUS. It is clear to all the poor that tyranny has attacked us sorely.\nProud emulator of Amynias, you, who only take pleasure in doing ill, see\nhow you are preventing us from obeying the laws of the city; you do not\neven seek a pretext or any plausible excuse, but claim to rule alone.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Hold! A truce to all blows and brawling! Had we not better\nconfer together and come to some understanding?\n\nCHORUS. Confer with you, the people's foe! with you, a royalist, the\naccomplice of Brasidas![61] with you, who wear woollen fringes on your\ncloak and let your beard grow!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Ah! it were better to separate altogether from my father than\nto steer my boat daily through such stormy seas!\n\nCHORUS. Oh! you have but reached the parsley and the rue, to use the\ncommon saying.[62] What you are suffering is nothing! but welcome the\nhour when the advocate shall adduce all these same arguments against you\nand shall summon your accomplices to give witness.\n\nBDELYCLEON. In the name of the gods! withdraw or we shall fight you the\nwhole day long.\n\nCHORUS. No, not as long as I retain an atom of breath. Ha! your desire is\nto tyrannize over us!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Everything is now tyranny with us, no matter what is\nconcerned, whether it be large or small. Tyranny! I have not heard the\nword mentioned once in fifty years, and now it is more common than\nsalt-fish, the word is even current on the market. If you are buying\ngurnards and don't want anchovies, the huckster next door, who is selling\nthe latter, at once exclaims, \"That is a man, whose kitchen savours of\ntyranny!\" If you ask for onions to season your fish, the green-stuff\nwoman winks one eye and asks, \"Ha! you ask for onions! are you seeking to\ntyrannize, or do you think that Athens must pay you your seasonings as a\ntribute?\"\n\nXANTHIAS. Yesterday I went to see a gay girl about noon and suggested she\nshould mount and ride me; she flew into a rage, pretending I wanted to\nrestore the tyranny of Hippias.[63]\n\nBDELYCLEON. That's the talk that pleases the people! As for myself, I\nwant my father to lead a joyous life like Morychus[64] instead of going\naway before dawn to basely calumniate and condemn; and for this I am\naccused of conspiracy and tyrannical practice!\n\nPHILOCLEON. And quite right too, by Zeus! The most exquisite dishes do\nnot make up to me for the life of which you deprive me. I scorn your red\nmullet and your eels, and would far rather eat a nice little law suitlet\ncooked in the pot.\n\nBDELYCLEON. 'Tis because you have got used to seeking your pleasure in\nit; but if you will agree to keep silence and hear me, I think I could\npersuade you that you deceive yourself altogether.\n\nPHILOCLEON. _I_ deceive myself, when I am judging?\n\nBDELYCLEON. You do not see that you are the laughing-stock of these men,\nwhom you are ready to worship. You are their slave and do not know it.\n\nPHILOCLEON. _I_ a slave, I, who lord it over all!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Not at all, you think you are ruling when you are only\nobeying. Tell me, father, what do you get out of the tribute paid by so\nmany Greek towns?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Much, and I appoint my colleagues jurymen.\n\nBDELYCLEON. And I also. Release him, all of you, and bring me a sword. If\nmy arguments do not prevail I will fall upon this blade. As for you, tell\nme whether you accept the verdict of the Court.\n\nPHILOCLEON. May I never drink my Heliast's pay in honour of the good\nGenius, if I do not.\n\nCHORUS. Tis now we have to draw upon our arsenal for some fresh weapon;\nabove all do not side with this youth in his opinions. You see how\nserious the question has become; 'twill be all over with us, which the\ngods forfend, if he should prevail.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Let someone bring me my tablets with all speed!\n\nCHORUS. Your tablets? Ha, ha! what an importance you would fain assume!\n\nBDELYCLEON. I merely wish to note down my father's points.\n\nPHILOCLEON. But what will you say of it, if he should triumph in the\ndebate?\n\nCHORUS. That old men are no longer good for anything; we shall be\nperpetually laughed at in the streets, shall be called thallophores,[65]\nmere brief-bags. You are to be the champion of all our rights and\nsovereignty. Come, take courage! Bring into action all the resources of\nyour wit.\n\nPHILOCLEON. At the outset I will prove to you that there exists no king\nwhose might is greater than ours. Is there a pleasure, a blessing\ncomparable with that of a juryman? Is there a being who lives more in the\nmidst of delights, who is more feared, aged though he be? From the moment\nI leave my bed, men of power, the most illustrious in the city, await me\nat the bar of the tribunal; the moment I am seen from the greatest\ndistance, they come forward to offer me a gentle hand,--that has pilfered\nthe public funds; they entreat me, bowing right low and with a piteous\nvoice, \"Oh! father,\" they say, \"pity me, I adjure you by the profit _you_\nwere able to make in the public service or in the army, when dealing with\nthe victuals.\" Why, the man who thus speaks would not know of my\nexistence, had I not let him off on some former occasion.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Let us note this first point, the supplicants.\n\nPHILOCLEON. These entreaties have appeased my wrath, and I enter--firmly\nresolved to do nothing that I have promised. Nevertheless I listen to the\naccused. Oh! what tricks to secure acquittal! Ah! there is no form of\nflattery that is not addressed to the heliast! Some groan over their\npoverty and they exaggerate the truth in order to make their troubles\nequal to my own. Others tell us anecdotes or some comic story from Aesop.\nOthers, again, cut jokes; they fancy I shall be appeased if I laugh. If\nwe are not even then won over, why, then they drag forward their young\nchildren by the hand, both boys and girls, who prostrate themselves and\nwhine with one accord, and then the father, trembling as if before a god,\nbeseeches me not to condemn him out of pity for them, \"If you love the\nvoice of the lamb, have pity on my son's\"; and because I am fond of\nlittle sows,[66] I must yield to his daughter's prayers. Then we relax\nthe heat of our wrath a little for him. Is not this great power indeed,\nwhich allows even wealth to be disdained?\n\nBDELYCLEON. A second point to note, the disdain of wealth. And now recall\nto me what are the advantages you enjoy, you, who pretend to rule over\nGreece?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Being entrusted with the inspection of the young men, we have\na right to examine their organs. Is Aeagrus[67] accused, he is not\nacquitted before he has recited a passage from 'Niobe'[68] and he chooses\nthe finest. If a flute-player gains his case, he adjusts his\nmouth-strap[69] in return and plays us the final air while we are\nleaving. A father on his death-bed names some husband for his daughter,\nwho is his sole heir; but we care little for his will or for the shell so\nsolemnly placed over the seal;[70] we give the young maiden to him who\nhas best known how to secure our favour. Name me another duty that is so\nimportant and so irresponsible.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Aye, 'tis a fine privilege, and the only one on which I can\ncongratulate you; but surely to violate the will is to act badly towards\nthe heiress.\n\nPHILOCLEON. And if the Senate and the people have trouble in deciding\nsome important case, it is decreed to send the culprits before the\nheliasts; then Euathlus[71] and the illustrious Colaconymus,[72] who cast\naway his shield, swear not to betray us and to fight for the people. Did\never an orator carry the day with his opinion if he had not first\ndeclared that the jury should be dismissed for the day as soon as they\nhad given their first verdict? We are the only ones whom Cleon, the great\nbawler, does not badger. On the contrary, he protects and caresses us; he\nkeeps off the flies, which is what you have never done for your father.\nTheorus, who is a man not less illustrious than Euphemius,[73] takes the\nsponge out of the pot and blacks our shoes. See then what good things you\ndeprive and despoil me of. Pray, is this obeying or being a slave, as you\npretended to be able to prove?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Talk away to your heart's content; you must come to a stop at\nlast and then you shall see that this grand power only resembles one of\nthose things that, wash 'em as you will, remain as foul as ever.\n\nPHILOCLEON. But I am forgetting the most pleasing thing of all. When I\nreturn home with my pay, everyone runs to greet me because of my money.\nFirst my daughter bathes me, anoints my feet, stoops to kiss me and,\nwhile she is calling me \"her dearest father,\" fishes out my triobolus\nwith her tongue;[74] then my little wife comes to wheedle me and brings a\nnice light cake; she sits beside me and entreats me in a thousand ways,\n\"Do take this now; do have some more.\" All this delights me hugely, and I\nhave no need to turn towards you or the steward to know when it shall\nplease him to serve my dinner, all the while cursing and grumbling. But\nif he does not quickly knead my cake, I have this,[75] which is my\ndefence, my shield against all ills. If you do not pour me out drink, I\nhave brought this long-eared jar[76] full of wine. How it brays, when I\nbend back and bury its neck in my mouth! What terrible and noisy\ngurglings, and how I laugh at your wine-skins. As to power, am I not\nequal to the king of the gods? If our assembly is noisy, all say as they\npass, \"Great gods! the tribunal is rolling out its thunder!\" If I let\nloose the lightning, the richest, aye, the noblest are half dead with\nfright and shit themselves with terror. You yourself are afraid of me,\nyea, by Demeter! you are afraid.\n\nBDELYCLEON. May I die if you frighten me.\n\nCHORUS. Never have I heard speech so elegant or so sensible.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ah! he thought he had only to turn me round his finger; he\nshould, however, have known the vigour of my eloquence.\n\nCHORUS. He has said everything without omission. I felt myself grow\ntaller while I listened to him. Methought myself meting out justice in\nthe Islands of the Blest, so much was I taken with the charm of his\nwords.\n\nBDELYCLEON. How overjoyed they are! What extravagant delight! Ah! ah! you\nare going to get a thrashing to-day.\n\nCHORUS. Come, plot everything you can to beat him; 'tis not easy to\nsoften me if you do not talk on my side, and if you have nothing but\nnonsense to spout, 'tis time to buy a good millstone, freshly cut withal,\nto crush my anger.\n\nBDELYCLEON. The cure of a disease, so inveterate and so widespread in\nAthens, is a difficult task and of too great importance for the scope of\nComedy. Nevertheless, my old father....\n\nPHILOCLEON. Cease to call me by that name, for, if you do not prove me a\nslave and that quickly too, you must die by my hand, even if I must be\ndeprived of my share in the sacred feasts.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Listen to me, dear little father, unruffle that frowning brow\nand reckon, you can do so without trouble, not with pebbles, but on your\nfingers, what is the sum-total of the tribute paid by the allied towns;\nbesides this we have the direct imposts, a mass of percentage dues, the\nfees of the courts of justice, the produce from the mines, the markets,\nthe harbours, the public lands and the confiscations. All these together\namount to close on two thousand talents. Take from this sum the annual\npay of the dicasts; they number six thousand, and there have never been\nmore in this town; so therefore it is one hundred and fifty talents that\ncome to you.\n\nPHILOCLEON. What! our pay is not even a tithe of the State revenue?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Why no, certainly not.\n\nPHILOCLEON. And where does the rest go then?\n\nBDELYCLEON. To those who say: \"I shall never betray the interests of the\nmasses; I shall always fight for the people.\" And 'tis you, father, who\nlet yourself be caught with their fine talk, who give them all power over\nyourself. They are the men who extort fifty talents at a time by threat\nand intimidation from the allies. \"Pay tribute to me,\" they say, \"or I\nshall loose the lightning on your town and destroy it.\" And you, you are\ncontent to gnaw the crumbs of your own might. What do the allies do? They\nsee that the Athenian mob lives on the tribunal in niggard and miserable\nfashion, and they count you for nothing, for not more than the vote of\nConnus;[77] 'tis on those wretches that they lavish everything, dishes of\nsalt fish, wine, tapestries, cheese, honey, sesame-fruit, cushions,\nflagons, rich clothing, chaplets, necklets, drinking-cups, all that\nyields pleasure and health. And you, their master, to you as a reward for\nall your toil both on land and sea, nothing is given, not even a clove of\ngarlic to eat with your little fish.\n\nPHILOCLEON. No, undoubtedly not; I have had to send and buy some from\nEucharides. But you told me I was a slave. Prove it then, for I am dying\nwith impatience.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Is it not the worst of all slaveries to see all these\nwretches and their flatterers, whom they gorge with gold, at the head of\naffairs? As for you, you are content with the three obols they give you\nand which you have so painfully earned in the galleys, in battles and\nsieges. But what I stomach least is that you go to sit on the tribunal by\norder. Some lewd stripling, the son of Chereas, to wit, enters your house\nbalancing his body, rotten with debauchery, on his straddling legs and\ncharges you to come and judge at daybreak, and precisely to the minute.\n\"He who only presents himself after the opening of the Court,\" says he,\n\"will not get the triobolus.\" But he himself, though he arrives late,\nwill nevertheless get his drachma as a public advocate. If an accused man\nmakes him some present, he shares it with a colleague and the pair agree\nto arrange the matter like two sawyers, one of whom pulls and the other\npushes. As for you, you have only eyes for the public pay-clerk, and you\nsee nothing.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Can it be I am treated thus? Oh! what is it you are saying?\nYou stir me to the bottom of my heart! I am all ears! I cannot syllable\nwhat I feel.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Consider then; you might be rich, both you and all the\nothers; I know not why you let yourself be fooled by these folk who call\nthemselves the people's friends. A myriad of towns obey you, from the\nEuxine to Sardis. What do you gain thereby? Nothing but this miserable\npay, and even that is like the oil with which the flock of wool is\nimpregnated and is doled to you drop by drop, just enough to keep you\nfrom dying of hunger. They want you to be poor, and I will tell you why.\n'Tis so that you may know only those who nourish you, and so that, if it\npleases them to loose you against one of their foes, you shall leap upon\nhim with fury. If they wished to assure the well-being of the people,\nnothing would be easier for them. We have now a thousand towns that pay\nus tribute; let them command each of these to feed twenty Athenians; then\ntwenty thousand of our citizens would be eating nothing but hare, would\ndrink nothing but the purest of milk, and always crowned with garlands,\nwould be enjoying the delights to which the great name of their country\nand the trophies of Marathon give them the right; whereas to-day you are\nlike the hired labourers who gather the olives; you follow him who pays\nyou.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Alas! my hand is benumbed; I can no longer draw my sword.[78]\nWhat has become of my strength?\n\nBDELYCLEON. When they are afraid, they promise to divide Euboea[79] among\nyou and to give each fifty bushels of wheat, but what have they given\nyou? Nothing excepting, quite recently, five bushels of barley, and even\nthese you have only obtained with great difficulty, on proving you were\nnot aliens, and then choenix by choenix.[80] That is why I always kept\nyou shut in; I wanted you to be fed by me and no longer at the beck of\nthese blustering braggarts. Even now I am ready to let you have all you\nwant, provided you no longer let yourself be suckled by the pay-clerk.\n\nCHORUS. He was right who said, \"Decide nothing till you have heard both\nsides,\" for it seems to me, that 'tis you who now gain the complete\nvictory. My wrath is appeased, I throw away my sticks. Come, comrade, our\ncontemporary, let yourself be gained over by his words; come, do not be\ntoo obstinate or too perverse. Why have I no relation, no ally to speak\nto me like this? Do not doubt it, 'tis a god who is now protecting you\nand loading you with his benefits. Accept them.\n\nBDELYCLEON. I will feed him, I will give him everything that is suitable\nfor an old man, oatmeal gruel, a cloak, soft furs and a maid to rub his\nloins and play with his tool. But he is silent and utters not a word;\n'tis a bad sign.\n\nCHORUS. He has thought the thing over and has recognized his folly; he\nreproaches himself for not having followed your advice always. But there\nhe is, converted by your words, and has no doubt become wiser to alter\nhis ways in future and to believe in none but you.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Alas! alas!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Now why this lamentation?\n\nPHILOCLEON. A truce to your promises! What I love is down there, 'tis\ndown there I want to be, there, where the herald cries, \"Who has not yet\nvoted? Let him rise!\" I want to be the last to leave the urn of all. Oh,\nmy soul, my soul! where art thou? come! oh! dark shadows, make way for\nme![81] By Heracles, may I reach the Court in time to convict Cleon of\ntheft.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Come, father, in the name of the gods, believe me!\n\nPHILOCLEON. Believe you! Ask me anything, anything, except one.\n\nBDELYCLEON. What is it? Let us hear.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Not to judge any more! Before I consent, I shall have\nappeared before Pluto.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Very well then, since you find so much pleasure in it, go\ndown there no more, but stay here and deal out justice to your slaves.\n\nPHILOCLEON. But what is there to judge? Are you mad?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Everything as in a tribunal. If a servant opens a door\nsecretly, you inflict upon him a simple fine; 'tis what you have\nrepeatedly done down there. Everything can be arranged to suit you. If it\nis warm in the morning, you can judge in the sunlight; if it is snowing,\nthen seated at your fire; if it rains, you go indoors; and if you only\nrise at noon, there will be no Thesmothetes[82] to exclude you from the\nprecincts.\n\nPHILOCLEON. The notion pleases me.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Moreover, if a pleader is long-winded, you will not be\nfasting and chafing and seeking vengeance on the accused.\n\nPHILOCLEON. But could I judge as well with my mouth full?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Much better. Is it not said, that the dicasts, when deceived\nby lying witnesses, have need to ruminate well in order to arrive at the\ntruth?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Well said, but you have not told me yet who will pay salary.\n\nBDELYCLEON. I will.\n\nPHILOCLEON. So much the better; in this way I shall be paid by myself.\nBecause that cursed jester, Lysistratus,[83] played me an infamous trick\nthe other day. He received a drachma for the two of us[84] and went on\nthe fish-market to get it changed and then brought me back three mullet\nscales. I took them for obols and crammed them into my mouth;[85] but the\nsmell choked me and I quickly spat them out. So I dragged him before the\nCourt.\n\nBDELYCLEON. And what did he say to that?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Well, he pretended I had the stomach of a cock. \"You have\nsoon digested the money,\" he said with a laugh.\n\nBDELYCLEON. You see, that is yet another advantage.\n\nPHILOCLEON. And no small one either. Come, do as you will.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Wait! I will bring everything here.\n\nPHILOCLEON. You see, the oracles are coming true; I have heard it\nforetold, that one day the Athenians would dispense justice in their own\nhouses, that each citizen would have himself a little tribunal\nconstructed in his porch similar to the altars of Hecat\u00e9,[86] and that\nthere would be such before every door.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Hold! what do you say? I have brought you everything needful\nand much more into the bargain. See, here is an _article,_ should you\nwant to piss; it shall be hung beside you on a nail.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Good idea! Right useful at my age. You have found the true\npreventive of bladder troubles.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Here is fire, and near to it are lentils, should you want to\ntake a snack.\n\nPHILOCLEON. 'Tis admirably arranged. For thus, even when feverish, I\nshall nevertheless receive my pay; and besides, I could eat my lentils\nwithout quitting my seat. But why this cock?\n\nBDELYCLEON. So that, should you doze during some pleading, he may awaken\nyou by crowing up there.\n\nPHILOCLEON. I want only for one thing more; all the rest is as good as\ncan be.\n\nBDELYCLEON. What is that?\n\nPHILOCLEON. If only they could bring me an image of the hero Lycus.[87]\n\nBDELYCLEON. Here it is! Why, you might think it was the god himself!\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh! hero, my master! how repulsive you are to look at! 'Tis\nan exact portrait of Cleonymus!\n\nSOSIAS. That is why, hero though he be, he has no weapon.\n\nBDELYCLEON. The sooner you take your seat, the sooner I shall call a\ncase.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Call it, for I have been seated ever so long.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Let us see. What case shall we bring up first? Is there a\nslave who has done something wrong? Ah! you Thracian there, who burnt the\nstew-pot t'other day.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Hold, hold! Here is a fine state of things! you had almost\nmade me judge without a bar,[88] and that is the thing of all others most\nsacred among us.\n\nBDELYCLEON. By Zeus! I had forgotten it, but I will run indoors and bring\nyou one immediately. What is this after all, though, but mere force of\nhabit!\n\nXANTHIAS. Plague take the brute! Can anyone keep such a dog?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Hullo! what's the matter?\n\nXANTHIAS. Why, 'tis Labes,[89] who has just rushed into the kitchen and\nhas seized a whole Sicilian cheese and gobbled it up.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Good! this will be the first offence I shall make my father\ntry. (_To Xanthias._) Come along and lay your accusation.\n\nXANTHIAS. No, not I; the other dog vows he will be accuser, if the matter\nis set down for trial.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Well then, bring them both along.\n\nXANTHIAS. I am coming.\n\nPHILOCLEON. What is this?\n\nBDELYCLEON. 'Tis the pig-trough[90] of the swine dedicated to Hestia.\n\nPHILOCLEON. But it's sacrilege to bring it here.\n\nBDELYCLEON. No, no, by addressing Hestia first,[91] I might, thanks to\nher, crush an adversary.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Put an end to delay by calling up the case. My verdict is\nalready settled.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Wait! I must yet bring out the tablets[92] and the\nscrolls.[93]\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh! I am boiling, I am dying with impatience at your delays.\nI could have traced the sentence in the dust.\n\nBDELYCLEON. There you are.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Then call the case.\n\nBDELYCLEON. I am here.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Firstly, who is this?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Ah! my god! why, this is unbearable! I have forgotten the\nurns.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Well now! where are you off to?\n\nBDELYCLEON. To look for the urns.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Unnecessary, I shall use these vases.[94]\n\nBDELYCLEON. Very well, then we have all we need, except the clepsydra.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Well then! and this? what is it if not a clepsydra?[95]\n\nBDELYCLEON. True again! 'Tis calling things by their right name! Let fire\nbe brought quickly from the house with myrtle boughs and incense, and let\nus invoke the gods before opening the sitting.\n\nCHORUS. Offer them libations and your vows and we will thank them that a\nnoble agreement has put an end to your bickerings and strife.\n\nBDELYCLEON. And first let there be a sacred silence.\n\nCHORUS. Oh! god of Delphi! oh! Phoebus Apollo! convert into the greatest\nblessing for us all what is now happening before this house, and cure us\nof our error, oh, Paean,[96] our helper!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Oh! Powerful god, Apollo Aguieus,[97] who watchest at the\ndoor of my entrance hall, accept this fresh sacrifice; I offer it that\nyou may deign to soften my father's excessive severity; he is as hard as\niron, his heart is like sour wine; do thou pour into it a little honey.\nLet him become gentle like other men, let him take more interest in the\naccused than in the accusers, may he allow himself to be softened by\nentreaties; calm his acrid humour and deprive his irritable mind of all\nsting.\n\nCHORUS. We unite our vows and chants to those of this new magistrate.[98]\nHis words have won our favour and we are convinced that he loves the\npeople more than any of the young men of the present day.\n\nBDELYCLEON. If there be any judge near at hand, let him enter; once the\nproceedings have opened, we shall admit him no more.[99]\n\nPHILOCLEON. Who is the defendant? Ha! what a sentence he will get!\n\nXANTHIAS (_Prosecuting Council_). Listen to the indictment. A dog of\nCydathenea doth hereby charge Labes of Aexonia with having devoured a\nSicilian cheese by himself without accomplices. Penalty demanded, a\ncollar of fig-tree wood.[100]\n\nPHILOCLEON. Nay, a dog's death, if convicted.\n\nBDELYCLEON. This is Labes, the defendant.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh! what a wretched brute! how entirely he looks the rogue!\nHe thinks to deceive me by keeping his jaws closed. Where is the\nplaintiff, the dog of Cydathenea?\n\nDOG. Bow wow! bow wow!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Here he is.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Why, 'tis a second Labes, a great barker and a licker of\ndishes.\n\nSOSIAS (_Herald_). Silence! Keep your seats! (_To Xanthias._) And you, up\non your feet and accuse him.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Go on, and I will help myself and eat these lentils.\n\nXANTHIAS. Men of the jury, listen to this indictment I have drawn up. He\nhas committed the blackest of crimes, both against me and the\nseamen.[101] He sought refuge in a dark corner to glutton on a big\nSicilian cheese, with which he sated his hunger.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Why, the crime is clear; the foul brute this very moment\nbelched forth a horrible odour of cheese right under my nose.\n\nXANTHIAS. And he refused to share with me. And yet can anyone style\nhimself your benefactor, when he does not cast a morsel to your poor dog?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Then he has not shared?\n\nXANTHIAS. Not with me, his comrade.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Then his madness is as hot as my lentils.\n\nBDELYCLEON. In the name of the gods, father! No hurried verdict without\nhearing the other side!\n\nPHILOCLEON. But the evidence is plain; the fact speaks for itself.\n\nXANTHIAS. Then beware of acquitting the most selfish of canine gluttons,\nwho has devoured the whole cheese, rind and all, prowling round the\nplatter.\n\nPHILOCLEON. There is not even enough left for me to fill up the chinks in\nmy pitcher.\n\nXANTHIAS. Besides, you _must_ punish him, because the same house cannot\nkeep two thieves. Let me not have barked in vain, else I shall never bark\nagain.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh! the black deeds he has just denounced! What a shameless\nthief! Say, cock, is not that your opinion too? Ha, ha! He thinks as I\ndo. Here, Thesmothetes![102] where are you? Hand me the vessel.\n\nSOSIAS (_Thesmothetes_). Take it yourself. I go to call the witnesses;\nthese are a plate, a pestle, a cheese knife, a brazier, a stew-pot and\nother half-burnt utensils. (_To Philocleon._) But you have not finished?\nyou are piddling away still! Have done and be seated.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ha, ha! I reckon I know somebody who will shit himself with\nfright today.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Will you never cease showing yourself hard and intractable,\nand especially to the accused? You tear them to pieces tooth and nail.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Come forward and defend yourself. What means this silence?\nAnswer.\n\nSOSIAS. No doubt he has nothing to say.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Not so, but I think he has got what happened once to\nThucydides, when accused;[103] his jaws suddenly set fast. Get away! I\nwill undertake your defence.--Gentlemen of the jury, 'tis a difficult\nthing to speak for a dog who has been calumniated, but nevertheless I\nwill try. 'Tis a good dog, and he chivies the wolves finely.\n\nPHILOCLEON. He! that thief and conspirator!\n\nBDELYCLEON. But 'tis the best of all our dogs; he is capable of guarding\na whole flock.\n\nPHILOCLEON. And what good is that, if he eats the cheese?\n\nBDELYCLEON. What? he fights for you, he guards your door; 'tis an\nexcellent dog in every respect. Forgive him his larceny; he is wretchedly\nignorant, he cannot play the lyre.\n\nPHILOCLEON. I wish he did not know how to write either; then the rascal\nwould not have drawn up his pleadings.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Witnesses, I pray you, listen. Come forward, grafting-knife,\nand speak up; answer me clearly. You were paymaster at the time. Did you\ngrate out to the soldiers what was given you?--He says he did so.\n\nPHILOCLEON. But, by Zeus! he lies.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Oh! have patience. Take pity on the unfortunate. Labes feeds\nonly on fish-bones and fishes' heads and has not an instant of peace. The\nother is good only to guard the house; he never moves from here, but\ndemands his share of all that is brought in and bites those who refuse.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh! Heaven! have I fallen ill? I feel my anger cooling! Woe\nto me! I am softening!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Have pity, father, pity, I adjure you; you would not have him\ndead. Where are his puppies? Come, poor little beasties, yap, up on your\nhaunches, beg and whine!\n\nPHILOCLEON. Descend, descend, descend, descend![104]\n\nBDELYCLEON. I will descend, although that word, \"descend,\" has too often\nraised false hope. None the less, I will descend.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Plague seize it! Have I then done wrong to eat! What! I to be\ncrying! Ah! I certainly should not be weeping, if I were not blown out\nwith lentils.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Then he is acquitted?\n\nPHILOCLEON. I did not say so.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Ah! my dear father, be good! be humane! Take this voting\npebble and rush with your eyes closed to that second urn[105] and,\nfather, acquit him.\n\nPHILOCLEON. No, I know no more how to acquit than to play the lyre.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Come quickly, I will show you the way.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Is this the first urn?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Yes.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Then I have voted.\n\nBDELYCLEON (_aside_). I have fooled him and he has acquitted in spite of\nhimself.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Come, I will turn out the urns. What is the result?\n\nBDELYCLEON. We shall see.--Labes, you stand acquitted.--Eh! father,\nwhat's the matter, what is it?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ah me! ah me! water! water!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Pull yourself together, sir!\n\nPHILOCLEON. Tell me! Is he really acquitted?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Yes, certainly.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Then it's all over with me!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Courage, dear father, don't let this afflict you so terribly.\n\nPHILOCLEON. And so I have charged my conscience with the acquittal of an\naccused being! What will become of me? Sacred gods! forgive me. I did it\ndespite myself; it is not in my character.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Do not vex yourself, father; I will feed you well, will take\nyou everywhere to eat and drink with me; you shall go to every feast;\nhenceforth your life shall be nothing but pleasure, and Hyperbolus shall\nno longer have you for a tool. But come, let us go in.\n\nPHILOCLEON. So be it; if you will, let us go in.\n\nCHORUS (_Parabasis_). Go where it pleases you and may your happiness be\ngreat. You meanwhile, oh! countless myriads, listen to the sound counsels\nI am going to give you and take care they are not lost upon you. 'Twould\nbe the fate of vulgar spectators, not that of such an audience. Hence,\npeople, lend me your ear, if you love frank speaking. The poet has a\nreproach to make against his audience; he says you have ill-treated him\nin return for the many services he has rendered you. At first he kept\nhimself in the background and lent help secretly to other poets,[106] and\nlike the prophetic Genius, who hid himself in the belly of Eurycles,[107]\nslipped within the spirit of another and whispered to him many a comic\nhit. Later he ran the risks of the theatre on his own account, with his\nface uncovered, and dared to guide his Muse unaided. Though overladen\nwith success and honours more than any of your poets, indeed despite all\nhis glory, he does not yet believe he has attained his goal; his heart is\nnot swollen with pride and he does not seek to seduce the young folk in\nthe wrestling school.[108] If any lover runs up to him to complain\nbecause he is furious at seeing the object of his passion derided on the\nstage, he takes no heed of such reproaches, for he is only inspired with\nhonest motives and his Muse is no go-between. From the very outset of his\ndramatic career he has disdained to assail those who were men, but with a\ncourage worthy of Heracles himself he attacked the most formidable\nmonsters, and at the beginning went straight for that beast[109] with the\nsharp teeth, with the terrible eyes that flashed lambent fire like those\nof Cynna,[110] surrounded by a hundred lewd flatterers who spittle-licked\nhim to his heart's content; it had a voice like a roaring torrent, the\nstench of a seal, a foul Lamia's testicles,[111] and the rump of a camel.\nOur poet did not tremble at the sight of this horrible monster, nor did\nhe dream of gaining him over; and again this very day he is fighting for\nyour good. Last year besides, he attacked those pale, shivering and\nfeverish beings[112] who strangled your fathers in the dark, throttled\nyour grandfathers,[113] and who, lying in the beds of the most\ninoffensive, piled up against them lawsuits, summonses and witnesses to\nsuch an extent, that many of them flew in terror to the Polemarch for\nrefuge.[114] Such is the champion you have found to purify your country\nof all its evil, and last year you betrayed him,[115] when he sowed the\nmost novel ideas, which, however, did not strike root, because you did\nnot understand their value; notwithstanding this, he swears by Bacchus,\nthe while offering him libations, that none ever heard better comic\nverses. 'Tis a disgrace to you not to have caught their drift at once; as\nfor the poet, he is none the less appreciated by the enlightened judges.\nHe shivered his oars in rushing boldly forward to board his foe.[116] But\nin future, my dear fellow-citizens, love and honour more those of your\npoets who seek to imagine and express some new thought. Make their ideas\nyour own, keep them in your caskets like sweet-scented fruit.[117] If you\ndo, your clothing will emit an odour of wisdom the whole year through.\n\nFormerly we were untiring, especially in _other_ exercises,[118] but 'tis\nover now; our brow is crowned with hair whiter than the swan. We must,\nhowever, rekindle a youthful ardour in these remnants of what was, and\nfor myself, I prefer my old age to the curly hair and the finery of all\nthese lewd striplings.\n\nShould any among you spectators look upon me with wonder, because of this\nwasp waist, or not know the meaning of this sting, I will soon dispel his\nignorance. We, who wear this appendage, are the true Attic men, who alone\nare noble and native to the soil, the bravest of all people. 'Tis we who,\nweapon in hand, have done so much for the country, when the Barbarian\nshed torrents of fire and smoke over our city in his relentless desire to\nseize our nests by force. At once we ran up, armed with lance and\nbuckler, and, drunk with the bitter wine of anger, we gave them battle,\nman standing to man and rage distorting our lips.[119] A hail of arrows\nhid the sky. However, by the help of the gods, we drove off the foe\ntowards evening. Before the battle an owl had flown over our army.[120]\nThen we pursued them with our lance point in their loins as one hunts the\ntunny-fish; they fled and we stung them in the jaw and in the eyes, so\nthat even now the barbarians tell each other that there is nothing in the\nworld more to be feared than the Attic wasp.\n\nOh! at that time I was terrible, I feared nothing; forth on my galleys I\nwent in search of my foe and subjected him.[121] Then we never thought of\nrounding fine phrases, we never dreamt of calumny; 'twas who should prove\nthe strongest rower. And thus we took many a town from the Medes,[122]\nand 'tis to us that Athens owes the tributes that our young men thieve\nto-day.\n\nLook well at us, and you will see that we have all the character and\nhabits of the wasp. Firstly, if roused, no beings are more irascible,\nmore relentless than we are. In all other things, too, we act like wasps.\nWe collect in swarms, in a kind of nests,[123] and some go a-judging with\nthe Archon,[124] some with the Eleven,[125] others at the Odeon;[126]\nthere are yet others, who hardly move at all, like the grubs in the\ncells, but remain glued to the walls[127] and bent double to the ground.\nWe also pay full attention to the discovery of all sorts of means of\nexisting and sting the first who comes, so as to live at his expense.\nFinally, we have among us drones,[128] who have no sting and who, without\ngiving themselves the least trouble, seize on our revenues as they flow\npast them and devour them. 'Tis this that grieves us most of all, to see\nmen who have never served or held either lance or oar in defence of their\ncountry, enriching themselves at our expense without ever raising a\nblister on their hands. In short, I give it as my deliberate opinion that\nin future every citizen not possessed of a sting shall not receive the\ntriobolus.\n\nPHILOCLEON. As long as I live, I will never give up this cloak; 'tis the\none I wore in that battle[129] when Boreas delivered us from such fierce\nattacks,\n\nBDELYCLEON. You do not know what is good for you.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ah! I know not how to use fine clothing! T'other day, when\ncramming myself with fried fish, I dropped so many grease spots that I\nhad to pay three obols to the cleaner.\n\nBDELYCLEON. At least have a try, since you have once for all handed the\ncare for your well-being over to me.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Very well then! what must I do?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Take off your cloak, and put on this tunic in its stead.\n\nPHILOCLEON. 'Twas well worth while to beget and bring up children, so\nthat this one should now wish to choke me.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Come, take this tunic and put it on without so much talk.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Great gods! what sort of a cursed garment is this?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Some call it a pelisse, others a Persian cloak.[130]\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ah! I thought it was a wraprascal like those made at\nThymaetia.[131]\n\nBDELYCLEON. Pray, how should you know such garments? 'Tis only at Sardis\nyou could have seen them, and you have never been there.\n\nPHILOCLEON. I' faith, no! but it seems to me exactly like the mantle\nMorychus[132] sports.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Not at all; I tell you they are woven at Ecbatana.\n\nPHILOCLEON. What! are there woollen ox-guts[133] then at Ecbatana?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Whatever are you talking about? These are woven by the\nBarbarians at great cost. I am certain this pelisse has consumed more\nthan a talent of wool.[134]\n\nPHILOCLEON. It should be called wool-waster then instead of pelisse.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Come, father, just hold still for a moment and put it on.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh! horrors! what a waft of heat the hussy wafts up my nose!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Will you have done with this fooling?\n\nPHILOCLEON. No, by Zeus! if need be, I prefer you should put me in the\noven.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Come! I will put it round you. There!\n\nPHILOCLEON. At all events, bring out a crook.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Why, whatever for?\n\nPHILOCLEON. To drag me out of it before I am quite melted.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Now take off those wretched clogs and put on these nice\nLaconian slippers.\n\nPHILOCLEON. I put on odious slippers made by our foes! Never!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Come! put your foot in and push hard. Quick!\n\nPHILOCLEON. 'Tis ill done of you. You want me to put my foot on Laconian\nground.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Now the other.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ah! no, not that one; one of its toes holds the Laconians in\nhorror.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Positively you must.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Alas! alas! Then I shall have no chilblains in my old\nage.[135]\n\nBDELYCLEON. Now, hurry up and get them on; and now imitate the easy\neffeminate gait of the rich. See, like this.\n\nPHILOCLEON. There!... Look at my get-up and tell me which rich man I most\nresemble in my walk.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Why, you look like a garlic plaster on a boil.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ah! I am longing to swagger and sway my rump about.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Now, will you know how to talk gravely with well-informed men\nof good class?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Undoubtedly.\n\nBDELYCLEON. What will you say to them?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh, lots of things. First of all I shall say, that\nLamia,[136] seeing herself caught, let fly a fart; then, that Cardopion\nand her mother....\n\nBDELYCLEON. Come, no fabulous tales, pray! talk of realities, of domestic\nfacts, as is usually done.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ah! I know something that is indeed most domestic. Once upon\na time there was a rat and a cat....\n\nBDELYCLEON. \"Oh, you ignorant fool,\" as Theagenes said[137] to the\nscavenger in a rage. Are you going to talk of cats and rats among\nhigh-class people?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Then what should I talk about?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Tell some dignified story. Relate how you were sent on a\nsolemn mission with Androcles and Clisthenes.\n\nPHILOCLEON. On a mission! never in my life, except once to Paros,[138] a\njob which brought me in two obols a day.\n\nBDELYCLEON. At least say, that you have just seen Ephudion making good\nplay in the pancratium[139] with Ascondas and, that despite his age and\nhis white hair, he is still robust in loin and arm and flank and that his\nchest is a very breastplate.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Stop! stop! what nonsense! Who ever contested at the\npancratium with a breast-plate on?\n\nBDELYCLEON. That is how well-behaved folk like to talk. But another\nthing. When at wine, it would be fitting to relate some good story of\nyour youthful days. What is your most brilliant feat?\n\nPHILOCLEON. My best feat? Ah! 'twas when I stole Ergasion's vine-props.\n\nBDELYCLEON. You and your vine-props! you'll be the death of me! Tell of\none of your boar-hunts or of when you coursed the hare. Talk about some\ntorch-race you were in; tell of some deed of daring.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ah! my most daring deed was when, quite a young man still, I\nprosecuted Phayllus, the runner, for defamation, and he was condemned by\na majority of two votes.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Enough of that! Now recline there, and practise the bearing\nthat is fitting at table in society.\n\nPHILOCLEON. How must I recline? Tell me quick!\n\nBDELYCLEON. In an elegant style.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Like this?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Not at all.\n\nPHILOCLEON. How then?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Spread your knees on the tapestries and give your body the\nmost easy curves, like those taught in the gymnasium. Then praise some\nbronze vase, survey the ceiling, admire the awning stretched over the\ncourt. Water is poured over our hands; the tables are spread; we sup and,\nafter ablution, we now offer libations to the gods.\n\nPHILOCLEON. But, by Zeus! this supper is but a dream, it appears!\n\nBDELYCLEON. The flute-player has finished the prelude. The guests are\nTheorus, Aeschines, Phanus, Cleon, Acestor;[140] and beside this last, I\ndon't know who else. You are with them. Shall you know exactly how to\ntake up the songs that are started?\n\nPHILOCLEON. Better than any born mountaineer of Attica.\n\nBDELYCLEON. That we shall see. Suppose me to be Cleon. I am the first to\nbegin the song of Harmodius, and you take it up: \"There never was yet\nseen in Athens ...\n\nPHILOCLEON. ... such a rogue or such a thief.\"[141]\n\nBDELYCLEON. Why, you wretched man, 'twill be the end of you if you sing\nthat. He will vow your ruin, your destruction, to chase you out of the\ncountry.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Well! then I shall answer his threats with another song:\n\"With your madness for supreme power, you will end by overthrowing the\ncity, which even now totters towards ruin.\"\n\nBDELYCLEON. And when Theorus, prone at Cleon's feet, takes his hand and\nsings, \"Like Admetus, love those who are brave,\"[142] what reply will you\nmake him?\n\nPHILOCLEON. I shall sing, \"I know not how to play the fox, nor call\nmyself the friend of both parties.\"\n\nBDELYCLEON. Then comes the turn of Aeschines, the son of Sellus, and a\nwell-trained and clever musician, who will sing, \"Good things and riches\nfor Clitagoras and me and eke for the Thessalians!\"\n\nPHILOCLEON. \"The two of us have squandered a deal between us.\"\n\nBDELYCLEON. At this game you seem at home. But come, we will go and dine\nwith Philoctemon.--Slave! slave! place our dinner in a basket, and let us\ngo for a good long drinking bout.\n\nPHILOCLEON. By no means, it is too dangerous; for after drinking, one\nbreaks in doors, one comes to blows, one batters everything. Anon, when\nthe wine is slept off, one is forced to pay.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Not if you are with decent people. Either they undertake to\nappease the offended person or, better still, you say something witty,\nyou tell some comic story, perhaps one of those you have yourself heard\nat table, either in Aesop's style or in that of Sybaris; all laugh and\nthe trouble is ended.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Faith! 'tis worth while learning many stories then, if you\nare thus not punished for the ill you do. But come, no more delay!\n\nCHORUS. More than once have I given proof of cunning and never of\nstupidity, but how much more clever is Amynias, the son of Sellus and of\nthe race of forelock-wearers; him we saw one day coming to dine with\nLeogaras,[143] bringing as his share one apple and a pomegranate, and\nbear in mind he was as hungry as Antiphon.[144] He went on an embassy to\nPharsalus,[145] and there he lived solely among the Thessalian\nmercenaries;[146] indeed, is he not the vilest of mercenaries himself?\n\nOh! blessed, oh! fortunate Automenes, how enviable is your fortune! You\nhave three sons, the most industrious in the world; one is the friend of\nall, a very able man, the first among the lyre-players, the favourite of\nthe Graces. The second is an actor, and his talent is beyond all praise.\nAs for Ariphrades, he is by far the most gifted; his father would swear\nto me, that without any master whatever and solely through the\nspontaneous effort of his happy nature, he taught himself the use of his\ntongue in the lewd places[147] where he spends the whole of his time.\n\nSome have said that I and Cleon were reconciled. This is the truth of the\nmatter: Cleon was harassing me, persecuting and belabouring me in every\nway; and, when I was being fleeced, the public laughed at seeing me\nuttering such loud cries; not that they cared about me, but simply\ncurious to know whether, when trodden down by my enemy, I would not hurl\nat him some taunt. Noticing this, I have played the wheedler a bit; but\nnow, look! the prop is deceiving the vine![148]\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh! tortoises! happy to have so hard a skin, thrice happy to\ncarry this roof that protects your backs! Oh! creatures full of sense!\nwhat a happy thought to cover your bodies with this shell, which shields\nit from blows! As for me, I can no longer move; the stick has so\nbelaboured my body.\n\nCHORUS. Eh, what's the matter, child? for, old as he may be, one has the\nright to call anyone a child who has let himself be beaten.\n\nXANTHIAS. Alas! my master is really the worst of all plagues. He was the\nmost drunk of all the guests, and yet among them were Hippyllus,\nAntiphon, Lycon, Lysistratus, Theophrastus and Phrynichus. But he was a\nhundred times more insolent than any. As soon as he had stuffed himself\nwith a host of good dishes, he began to leap and spring, to laugh and to\nlet wind like a little ass well blown out with barley. Then he set to\na-beating me with all his heart, shouting, \"Slave! slave!\" Lysistratus,\nas soon as he saw him, let fly this comparison at him. \"Old fellow,\" said\nhe, \"you resemble one of the scum assuming the airs of a rich man or a\nstupid ass that has broken loose from its stable.\" \"As for you,\" bawled\nthe other at the top of his voice, \"you are like a grasshopper,[149]\nwhose cloak is worn to the thread, or like Sthenelus[150] after his\nclothes had been sold.\" All applauded excepting Theophrastus, who made a\ngrimace as behoved a well-bred man like him. The old man called to him,\n\"Hi! tell me then what you have to be proud of? Not so much mouthing,\nyou, who so well know how to play the buffoon and to lick-spittle the\nrich!\" 'Twas thus he insulted each in turn with the grossest of jests,\nand he reeled off a thousand of the most absurd and ridiculous speeches.\nAt last, when he was thoroughly drunk, he started towards here, striking\neveryone he met. Hold, here he comes reeling along. I will be off for\nfear of his blows.\n\nPHILOCLEON.[151] Halt! and let everyone begone, or I shall do an evil\nturn to some of those who insist on following me. Clear off, rascals, or\nI shall roast you with this torch!\n\nBDELYCLEON. We shall all make you smart to-morrow for your youthful\npranks. We shall come in a body to summon you to justice.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ho! ho! summon me! what old women's babble! Know that I can\nno longer bear to hear even the name of suits. Ha! ha! ha! this is what\npleases _me_, \"Down with the urns!\" Won't you begone? Down with the\ndicasts! away with them, away with them! (_To the flute-girl._) Mount up\nthere, my little gilded cock-chafer; seize hold of this rope's end in\nyour hand.[152] Hold it tight, but have a care; the rope's a bit old and\nworn, but it loves a nice rubbing still. Do you see how opportunely I got\nyou away from the solicitations of those fellows, who wanted to make you\nwork their tools in your mouth? You therefore owe me this return to\ngratify mine by masturbating it. But will you pay the debt? Oh! I know\nwell you will not even try; you will play with me, you will laugh\nheartily at my poor old weapon as you have done at many another man's.\nAnd yet, if you would not be a naughty girl, I would redeem you, when my\nson is dead, and you should be my concubine, my little cuntling. At\npresent I am not my own master; I am very young and am watched very\nclosely. My dear son never lets me out of his sight; 'tis an unbearable\ncreature, who would quarter a thread and skin a flint; he is afraid I\nshould get lost, for I am his only father. But here he comes running\ntowards us. But be quick, don't stir, hold these torches. I am going to\nplay him a young man's trick, the same as he played me before I was\ninitiated into the mysteries.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Oh! oh! you debauched old dotard! you desire and, meseems,\nyou love pretty baggages; but, by Apollo, it shall not be with impunity!\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ah! you would be very glad to eat a lawsuit in vinegar, you\nwould.\n\nBDELYCLEON. 'Tis a rascally trick to steal the flute-girl away from the\nother guests.\n\nPHILOCLEON. What flute-girl? Are you distraught, as if you had just\nreturned from Pluto?\n\nBDELYCLEON. By Zeus! But here is the Dardanian wench in person.[153]\n\nPHILOCLEON. Nonsense. This is a torch that I have lit in the public\nsquare in honour of the gods.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Is this a torch?\n\nPHILOCLEON. A torch? Certainly. Do you not see it is of several different\ncolours?\n\nBDELYCLEON. And what is that black part in the middle?[154]\n\nPHILOCLEON. 'Tis the pitch running out while it burns.\n\nBDELYCLEON. And there, on the other side, surely that is a girl's bottom?\n\nPHILOCLEON. No. 'Tis a small bit of the torch, that projects.\n\nBDELYCLEON. What do you mean? what bit? Hi! you woman! come here!\n\nPHILOCLEON. Ah! ah! What do you want to do?\n\nBDELYCLEON. To take her from you and lead her away. You are too much worn\nout and can do nothing.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Hear me! One day, at Olympia, I saw Euphudion boxing bravely\nagainst Ascondas;[155] he was already aged, and yet with a blow from his\nfist he knocked down his young opponent. So beware lest I blacken _your_\neyes.\n\nBDELYCLEON. By Zeus! you have Olympia at your finger-ends!\n\nA BAKER'S WIFE (_to Bdelycleon_). Come to my help, I beg you, in the name\nof the gods! This cursed man, when striking out right and left with his\ntorch, knocked over ten loaves worth an obolus apiece, and then, to cap\nthe deal, four others.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Do you see what lawsuits you are drawing upon yourself with\nyour drunkenness? You will have to plead.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh, no, no! a little pretty talk and pleasant tales will soon\nsettle the matter and reconcile her with me.\n\nBAKER'S WIFE. Not so, by the goddesses twain! It shall not be said that\nyou have with impunity spoilt the wares of Myrtia,[156] the daughter of\nAncylion and Sostrat\u00e9.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Listen, woman, I wish to tell you a lovely anecdote.\n\nBAKER'S WIFE. Oh! friend, no anecdotes for me, thank you.\n\nPHILOCLEON. One night Aesop was going out to supper. A drunken bitch had\nthe impudence to bark near him. Aesop said to her, \"Oh, bitch, bitch! you\nwould do well to sell your wicked tongue and buy some wheat.\"\n\nBAKER'S WIFE. You make a mock of me! Very well! Be you who you like, I\nshall summons you before the market inspectors[157] for damage done to my\nbusiness. Chaerephon[158] here shall be my witness.\n\nPHILOCLEON. But just listen, here's another will perhaps please you\nbetter. Lasus and Simonides[159] were contesting against each other for\nthe singing prize. Lasus said, \"Damn me if I care.\"\n\nBAKER'S WIFE. Ah! really, did he now!\n\nPHILOCLEON. As for you, Chaerephon, _can_ you be witness to this woman,\nwho looks as pale and tragic as Ino when she throws herself from her\nrock[160] ... at the feet of Euripides?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Here, methinks, comes another to summons you; _he_ has his\nwitness too. Ah! unhappy indeed we are!\n\nACCUSER. I summons you, old man, for outrage.\n\nBDELYCLEON. For outrage? Oh! in the name of the gods, do not summons him!\nI will be answerable for him; name the penalty and I will be more\ngrateful still.\n\nPHILOCLEON. I ask for nothing better than to be reconciled with him; for\nI admit I struck him and threw stones at him. So, first come here. Will\nyou leave it in my hands to name the indemnity I must pay, if I promise\nyou my friendship as well, or will you fix it yourself?\n\nACCUSER. Fix it; I like neither lawsuits nor disputes.\n\nPHILOCLEON. A man of Sybaris[161] fell from his chariot and wounded his\nhead most severely; he was a very poor driver. One of his friends came up\nto him and said, \"Every man to his trade.\" Well then, go you to\nPittalus[162] to get mended.\n\nBDELYCLEON. You are incorrigible.\n\nACCUSER (_to his witness_). At all events, make a note of his reply.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Listen, instead of going off so abruptly. A woman at Sybaris\nbroke a box.\n\nACCUSER (_to his witness_). I again ask you to witness this.\n\nPHILOCLEON. The box therefore had the fact attested, but the woman said,\n\"Never worry about witnessing the matter, but hurry off to buy a cord to\ntie it together with; 'twill be the more sensible course.\"\n\nACCUSER. Oh! go on with your ribaldry until the Archon calls the case.\n\nBDELYCLEON (_to Philocleon_). No, by Demeter! you stay here no longer! I\ntake you and carry you off.\n\nPHILOCLEON. And what for?\n\nBDELYCLEON. What for? I shall carry you to the house; else there would\nnot be enough witnesses for the accusers.\n\nPHILOCLEON. One day at Delphi, Aesop ...\n\nBDELYCLEON. I don't care a fig for that.\n\nPHILOCLEON. ... was accused of having stolen a sacred vase. But he\nreplied, that the horn beetle ... (_Philocleon goes on with his fable\nwhile Bdelycleon is carrying him off the scene by main force._)\n\nBDELYCLEON. Oh, dear, dear! You drive me crazy with your horn-beetle.\n\nCHORUS. I envy you your happiness, old man. What a contrast to his former\nfrugal habits and his very hard life! Taught now in quite another school,\nhe will know nothing but the pleasures of ease. Perhaps he will jib at\nit, for indeed 'tis difficult to renounce what has become one's second\nnature. However, many have done it, and adopting the ideas of others,\nhave changed their use and wont. As for Philocleon's son, I, like all\nwise and judicious men, cannot sufficiently praise his filial tenderness\nand his tact. Never have I met a more amiable nature, and I have\nconceived the greatest fondness for him. How he triumphed on every point\nin his discussion with his father, when he wanted to bring him back to\nmore worthy and honourable tastes!\n\nXANTHIAS. By Bacchus! 'Tis some Evil Genius has brought this unbearable\ndisorder into our house. The old man, full up with wine and excited by\nthe sound of the flute, is so delighted, so enraptured, that he spends\nthe night executing the old dances that Thespis first produced on the\nstage,[163] and just now he offered to prove to the modern tragedians, by\ndisputing with them for the dancing prize, that they are nothing but a\nlot of old dotards.\n\nPHILOCLEON. \"Who loiters at the door of the vestibule?\"[164]\n\nXANTHIAS. Here comes our pest, our plague!\n\nPHILOCLEON. Let down the barriers.[165] The dance is now to begin.\n\nXANTHIAS. Or rather the madness.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Impetuous movement already twists and racks my sides. How my\nnostrils wheeze! how my back cracks!\n\nXANTHIAS. Go and fill yourself with hellebore.[166]\n\nPHILOCLEON. Phrynichus is as bold as a cock and terrifies his rivals.\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh! oh! have a care he does not kick you.\n\nPHILOCLEON. His leg kicks out sky-high, and his arse gapes open.[167]\n\nXANTHIAS. Do have a care.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Look how easily my leg-joints move.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Great gods! What does all this mean? Is it actual, downright\nmadness?\n\nPHILOCLEON. And now I summon and challenge my rivals. If there be a\ntragic poet who pretends to be a skilful dancer, let him come and contest\nthe matter with me. Is there one? Is there _not_ one?\n\nBDELYCLEON. Here comes one, and one only.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Who is the wretch?\n\nBDELYCLEON. 'Tis the younger son of Carcinus.[168]\n\nPHILOCLEON. I will crush him to nothing; in point of keeping time, I will\nknock him out, for he knows nothing of rhythm.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Ah! ah! here comes his brother too, another tragedian, and\nanother son of Carcinus.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Him I will devour for my dinner.\n\nBDELYCLEON. Oh! ye gods! I see nothing but crabs.[169] Here is yet\nanother son of Carcinus.\n\nPHILOCLEON. What is't comes here?  A shrimp or a spider?[170]\n\nBDELYCLEON. 'Tis a crab,[171]--a crabkin, the smallest of its kind; he\nwrites tragedies.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Oh! Carcinus, how proud you should be of your brood! What a\ncrowd of kinglets have come swooping down here!\n\nBDELYCLEON. Come, come, my poor father, you will have to measure yourself\nagainst them.\n\nPHILOCLEON. Have pickle prepared for seasoning them, if I am bound to\nprove the victor.\n\nCHORUS. Let us stand out of the way a little, so that they may twirl at\ntheir ease. Come, illustrious children of this inhabitant of the briny,\nbrothers of the shrimps, skip on the sand and the shore of the barren\nsea; show us the lightning whirls and twirls of your nimble limbs.\nGlorious offspring of Phrynichus,[172] let fly your kicks, so that the\nspectators may be overjoyed at seeing your legs so high in air. Twist,\ntwirl, tap your bellies, kick your legs to the sky. Here comes your\nfamous father, the ruler of the sea,[173] delighted to see his three\nlecherous kinglets.[174] Go on with your dancing, if it pleases you, but\nas for us, we shall not join you. Lead us promptly off the stage, for\nnever a Comedy yet was seen where the Chorus finished off with a dance.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFINIS OF \"THE WASPS\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFootnotes:\n\n[1] Meaning, Bdelycleon will thrash you if you do not keep a good watch\non his father.\n\n[2] The Corybantes, priests of Cybel\u00e9, comported themselves like madmen\nin the celebration of their mysteries and made the air resound with the\nthe noise of their drums.\n\n[3] Cleonymus had shown himself equally cowardly on all occasions; he is\nfrequently referred to by Aristophanes, both in this and other comedies.\n\n[4] The cloak and the staff were the insignia of the dicasts; the poet\ndescribes them as sheep, because they were Cleon's servile tools.\n\n[5] An allusion to Cleon, who was a tanner.\n\n[6] In Greek, [Greek: d_emos] ([Greek: d_em\u00f3s], _fat_; [Greek: d_\u00eamos],\n_people_) means both _fat_ and _people_.\n\n[7] A tool of Cleon's; he had been sent on an embassy to Persia (_vide_\n'The Acharnians'). The crow is a thief and rapacious, just as Theorus\nwas.\n\n[8] In his life of Alcibiades, Plutarch mentions this defect in his\nspeech; or it may have been a 'fine gentleman' affectation.\n\n[9] Among the Greeks, _going to the crows_ was equivalent to our _going\nto the devil_.\n\n[10] No doubt the fee generally given to the street diviners who were\nwont to interpret dreams.\n\n[11] Coarse buffoonery was welcomed at Megara, where, by the by, it is\nsaid that Comedy had its birth.\n\n[12] To gain the favour of the audience, the Comic poets often caused\nfruit and cakes to be thrown to them.\n\n[13] The gluttony of Heracles was a constant subject of jest with the\nComic poets.\n\n[14] The incident of Pylos (see 'The Knights').\n\n[15] The Greek word for _friend of strangers_ is [Greek: philoxenos],\nwhich happened also to be the name of one of the vilest debauchees in\nAthens.\n\n[16] The tribunal of the Heliasts came next in dignity only to the\nAreopagus. The dicasts, or jurymen, generally numbered 500; at times it\nwould call in the assistance of one or two other tribunals, and the\nnumber of judges would then rise to 1000 or even 1500.\n\n[17] A water-clock, used in the courts for limiting the time of the\npleaders.\n\n[18] The pebble was held between the thumb and two fingers, in the same\nway as one would hold a pinch of incense.\n\n[19] A young Athenian of great beauty, also mentioned by Plato in his\n'Gorgias.'  Lovers were font of writing the name of the object of their\nadoration on the walls (see 'The Acharnians').\n\n[20] [Greek: K_emos], the Greek term for the funnel-shaped top of the\nvoting urn, into which the judges dropped their voting pebbles.\n\n[21] Racine has introduced this incident with some modification into his\n'Plaideurs.'\n\n[22] Although called _Heliasts_ ([Greek: H_elios], the sun), the judges\nsat under cover. One of the columns that supported the roof is here\nreferred to.\n\n[23] The juryman gave his vote for condemnation by tracing a line\nhorizontally across a waxed tablet. This was one method in use; another\nwas by means of pebbles placed in one or other of two voting urns.\n\n[24] Used for the purpose of voting. There were two urns, one for each of\nthe two opinions, and each heliast placed a pebble in one of them.\n\n[25] The Heliast's badge of office.\n\n[26] To prepare him for initiation into the mysteries of the Corybantes.\n\n[27] Who pretended to cure madness; they were priests of Cybel\u00e9.\n\n[28] The sacred instrument of the Corybantes.\n\n[29] _Friend of Cleon,_ who had raised the daily salary of the Heliasts\nto three obols.\n\n[30] _Enemy of Cleon._\n\n[31] The smoke of fig-wood is very acrid, like the character of the\nHeliasts.\n\n[32] Used for closing the chimney, when needed.\n\n[33] Which had been stretched all round the courtyard to prevent his\nescape.\n\n[34] Market-day.\n\n[35] He enters the courtyard, returning with the ass, under whose belly\nPhilocleon is clinging.\n\n[36] In the Odyssey (Bk. IX) Homer makes his hero, 'the wily' Odysseus,\nescape from the Cyclops' cave by clinging on under a ram's belly, which\nslips past its blinded master without noticing the trick played on him.\nOdysseus, when asked his name by the Cyclops, replies, _Outis_, Nobody.\n\n[37] A name formed out of two Greek words, meaning, _running away on a\nhorse_.\n\n[38] The story goes that a traveller who had hired an ass, having placed\nhimself in its shadow to escape the heat of the sun, was sued by the\ndriver, who had pretended that he had let the ass, not but its shadow;\nhence the Greek proverb, _to quarrel about the shade of an ass_, i.e.\nabout nothing at all.\n\n[39] When you inherit from me.\n\n[40] There is a similar incident in the 'Plaideurs.'\n\n[41] A Macedonian town in the peninsula of Pallen\u00e9; it had shaken off the\nAthenian yoke and was not retaken for two years.\n\n[42] A disciple of Thespis, who even in his infancy devoted himself to\nthe dramatic art. He was the first to introduce female characters on the\nstage. He flourished about 500 B.C., having won his first prize for\nTragedy in 511 B.C., twelve years before Aeschylus.\n\n[43] Originally subjected to Sparta by Pausanias in 478 B.C., it was\nretaken by Cimon in 471, or forty-eight years previous to the production\nof 'The Wasps.'  The old Heliasts refer to this latter event.\n\n[44] An Athenian general, who had been defeated when sent to Sicily with\na fleet to the succour of Leontini; no doubt Cleon had charged him with\ntreachery.\n\n[45] The Samians were in league with the Persians, but a certain\nCarystion betrayed the plot, and thanks to this the Athenians were able\nto retake Samos before the island had obtained help from Asia.\n\n[46] The towns of Thrace, up to that time the faithful allies of Athens,\nwere beginning to throw off her yoke.\n\n[47] Who fulfilled the office of president.\n\n[48] Meaning, \"Will it only remain for us to throw ourselves into the\nwater?\"  Hell\u00e9, taken by a ram across the narrow strait, called the\nHellespont after her name, fell into the waves and was drowned.\n\n[49] He is a prisoner inside, and speaks through the closed doors.\n\n[50] This boiling, acid pickle reminds him of the fiery, acrid temper of\nthe heliasts.\n\n[51] A name invented for the occasion; it really means, _Cleon who holds\nthe people in his snares_.\n\n[52] When he entered Troy as a spy.\n\n[53] The island of Naxos was taken by Cimon, in consequence of sedition\nin the town of Naxos, about fifty years before the production of 'The\nWasps.'\n\n[54] One of the titles under which Artemis, the goddess of the chase, was\nworshipped.\n\n[55] Demeter and Persephone. This was an accusation frequently brought\nagainst people in Athens.\n\n[56] An orator of great violence of speech and gesture.\n\n[57] For Philocleon, the titulary god was Lycus, the son of Pandion, the\nKing of Athens, because a statue stood erected to him close to the spot\nwhere the tribunals sat, and because he recognized no other fatherland\nbut the tribunals.\n\n[58] A debauchee and an embezzler of public funds, already mentioned a\nlittle above.\n\n[59] Aristophanes speaks of him in 'The Birds' as a traitor and as an\nalien who usurped the rights of the city.\n\n[60] A Greek proverb signifying \"Much ado about nothing.\"\n\n[61] A Spartan general, who perished in the same battle as Cleon, before\nAmphipolis, in 422 B.C.\n\n[62] Meaning, the mere beginnings of any matter.\n\n[63] This 'figure of love'--woman atop of the man--is known in Greek as\n[Greek: hippos] (Latin _equus_, 'the horse'); note the play upon words\nwith the name Hippias.\n\n[64] A tragic poet, who was a great lover of good cheer, it appears.\n\n[65] Old men, who carried olive branches in the processions of the\nPanathenaea. Those whose great age or infirmity forbade their being used\nfor any other purpose were thus employed.\n\n[66] An obscene pun. [Greek: Choiros] means both _a sow_ and the female\norgan.\n\n[67] A celebrated actor.\n\n[68] There were two tragedies named 'Niob\u00e9,' one by Aeschylus and the\nother by Sophocles, both now lost.\n\n[69] A double strap, which flute-players applied to their lips and was\nsaid to give softness to the tones.\n\n[70] The shell was fixed over the seal to protect it.\n\n[71] A calumniator and a traitor (see 'The Acharnians').\n\n[72] Cleonymus, whose name the poet modifies, so as to introduce the idea\nof a flatterer ([Greek: kolax]).\n\n[73] Another flatterer, a creature of Cleon's.\n\n[74] Athenian poor, having no purse, would put small coins into mouth for\nsafety. We know that the triobolus was the daily of the judges. Its value\nwas about 4-1/2 d.\n\n[75] A jar of wine, which he had bought with his pay.\n\n[76] A jar with two long ears or handles, in this way resembling an ass.\n\n[77] A well-known flute-player.\n\n[78] We have already seen that when accepting his son's challenge he\nswore to fall upon his sword if defeated in the debate.\n\n[79] Pericles had first introduced the custom of sending poor citizens,\namong whom the land was divided, into the conquered countries. The island\nof Aegina had been mainly divided in this way among Athenian colonists.\n\n[80] The choenix was a measure corresponding to our quart.\n\n[81] A verse borrowed from Euripides' 'Bellerophon.'\n\n[82] i.e. a legislator. The name given in Athens to the last six of the\nnine Archons, because it was their special duty to see the laws\nrespected.\n\n[83] Mentioned both in 'The Acharnians' and 'The Knights.'\n\n[84] The drachma was worth six obols, or twice the pay of a heliast.\n\n[85] We have already seen that the Athenians sometimes kept their small\nmoney in their mouth.\n\n[86] Which were placed in the courts; dogs were sacrificed on them.\n\n[87] As already stated, the statue of Lycus stood close to the place\nwhere the tribunals sat.\n\n[88] The barrier in the Heliaea, which separated the heliasts from the\npublic.\n\n[89] The whole of this comic trial of the dog Labes is an allusion to the\ngeneral Laches, already mentioned, who had failed in Sicily. He was\naccused of taking bribes of money from the Sicilians.\n\n[90] To serve for a bar.\n\n[91] This was a customary formula, [Greek: aph' Estias archou], \"begin\nfrom Hestia,\" first adore Vesta, the god of the family hearth. In similar\nfashion, the Romans said, _ab Jove principium_.\n\n[92] For conviction and acquittal.\n\n[93] On which the sentence was entered.\n\n[94] No doubt the stew-pot and the wine-jar.\n\n[95] The _article_ Bdelycleon had brought.--The clepsydra was a kind of\nwater-clock; the other vessel is compared to it, because of the liquid in\nit.\n\n[96] A title of Apollo, worshipped as the god of healing.\n\n[97] A title of Apollo, because of the sacrifices, which the Athenians\noffered him in the streets, from [Greek: aguia], a street.\n\n[98] Bdelycleon.\n\n[99] The formula used by the president before declaring the sitting of\nthe Court opened.\n\n[100] That is, by way of fine.\n\n[101] A reference to the peculations Laches was supposed to have\npractised in keeping back part of the pay of the Athenian sailors engaged\nin the Sicilian Expedition.\n\n[102] The [Greek: Thesmothetai] at Athens were the six junior Archons,\nwho judged cases assigned to no special Court, presided at the allotment\nof magistrates, etc.\n\n[103] Thucydides, son of Milesias, when accused by Pericles, could not\nsay a word in his own defence. One would have said his tongue was\nparalysed. He was banished.--He must not be confounded with Thucydides\nthe historian, whose exile took place after the production of 'The\nWasps.'\n\n[104] When the judges were touched by the pleading of the orator and were\ndecided on acquittal, they said to the defending advocate, \"_Cease\nspeaking, descend from the rostrum._\"\n\n[105] There were two urns, one called that of Conviction, the other of\nAcquittal.\n\n[106] Meaning, that he had at first produced pieces under the name of\nother poets, such as Callistrates and Phidonides.\n\n[107] Eurycles, an Athenian diviner, surnamed the Engastromythes ([Greek:\nmuthos], speech, [Greek: en gastri], in the belly), because he was\nbelieved to be inspired by a genius within him.--The same name was also\ngiven to the priestesses of Apollo, who spoke their oracles without\nmoving their lips.\n\n[108] Some poets misused their renown as a means of seduction among young\nmen.\n\n[109] Cleon, whom he attacked in 'The Knights,' the first Comedy that\nAristophanes had produced in his own name.\n\n[110] Cynna, like Salabaccha, was a shameless courtesan of the day.\n\n[111] The lamiae were mysterious monsters, to whom the ancients ascribed\nthe most varied forms. They were depicted most frequently with the face\nand bosom of a woman and the body of a serpent. Here Aristophanes endows\nthem with organs of virility. It was said that the blood of young men had\na special attraction for them. These lines, abusive of Cleon, occur again\nin the 'Peace,' II. 738-42.\n\n[112] Socrates and the sophists, with whom the poet confounds him in his\nattacks.\n\n[113] He likens them to vampires.\n\n[114] The third Archon, whose duty was the protection of strangers. All\ncases involving the rights of citizenship were tried before him. These\nwere a frequent cause of lawsuit at Athens.\n\n[115] 'The Clouds' had not been well received.\n\n[116] Aristophanes lets it be understood that the refusal to crown him\narose from the fact that he had been too bold in his attack.\n\n[117] To perfume their caskets, etc., the Ancients placed scented fruit,\nespecially oranges, in them.\n\n[118] The pastimes of love.\n\n[119] At Marathon, where the Athenians defeated the Persian invaders, 490\nB.C. The battle-field is a plain on the north-east coast of Attica, about\ntwenty-seven miles from Athens.\n\n[120] A favourable omen, of course. The owl was the bird of Athen\u00e9.\n\n[121] An allusion to Cimon's naval victories.\n\n[122] The Cyclades islands and many towns on the coast of Asia Minor.\n\n[123] The tribunals.\n\n[124] The six last Archons presided over the civil courts and were styled\nThesmothetae (see above).\n\n[125] Magistrates, who had charge of criminal cases.\n\n[126] Built by Pericles. Musical contests were held there. Here also took\nplace distributions of flour, and the presence of the magistrates was no\ndoubt necessary to decide on the spot any disputes that might arise\nregarding this.\n\n[127] This, says the Scholiast, refers to magistrates appointed for the\nupkeep of the walls. They were selected by ballot from amongst the\ngeneral body of Heliasts.\n\n[128] The demagogues and their flatterers.\n\n[129] The battle of Artemisium on the Euboean coast; a terrible storm\narose and almost destroyed the barbarian fleet, while sparing that of the\nAthenians.\n\n[130] A mantle trimmed with fur.\n\n[131] A rural deme of Attica. Rough coats were made there, formed of\nskins sewn together.\n\n[132] An effeminate poet.\n\n[133] He compares the thick, shaggy stuff of the pelisse to the\nintestines of a bullock, which have a sort of crimped and curled look.\n\n[134] An Attic talent was equal to about fifty-seven pounds avoirdupois.\n\n[135] He grumbles over his own good fortune, as old men will.\n\n[136] Lamia, the daughter of Belus and Libya, was loved by Zeus. Her\u00e9\ndeprived her of her beauty and instilled her with a passion for blood;\nshe is said to have plucked babes from their mothers' breast to devour\nthem. Weary of her crimes, the gods turned her into a beast of prey.\n\n[137] Theagenes, of the Acharnian deme, was afflicted with a weakness\nwhich caused him to be constantly letting off loud, stinking farts, even\nin public--the cause of many gibes on the part of the Comic poets and his\ncontemporaries.\n\n[138] He had been sent on a mission as an armed ambassador, i.e. as a\ncommon soldier, whose pay was two obols.\n\n[139] The [Greek: pankration] was a combined exercise, including both\nwrestling and boxing.\n\n[140] All these names have been already mentioned.\n\n[141] Each time Philocleon takes up the song with words that are a satire\non the guest who begins the strain.\n\n[142] King Admetus (Euripides' 'Alcestis') had suffered his devoted wife\nAlcestis to die to save his life when ill to death. Heracles, however, to\nrepay former benefits received, descended into Hades and rescued Alcestis\nfrom Pluto's clutches.\n\n[143] A famous epicure, the Lucullus of Athens (see 'The Acharnians').\n\n[144] A parasite renowned for his gluttony.\n\n[145] A town in Thessaly.\n\n[146] Because of his poverty.\n\n[147] Four lines in 'The Knights' describe the infamous habits of\nAriphrades in detail.\n\n[148] That is, it ceases to support it; Aristophanes does the same to\nCleon.\n\n[149] Referring to Lysistratus' leanness.\n\n[150] A tragic actor, whose wardrobe had been sold up, so the story went,\nby his creditors.\n\n[151] He enters, followed closely by the persons he has ill-used, and\nleading a flute-girl by the hand.\n\n[152] Meaning his penis.\n\n[153] Dardanus, a district of Asia Minor, north of the Troad, supplied\nmany flute-girls to the cities of Greece.\n\n[154] Pointing to the flute-girl's _motte_.\n\n[155] He tells his son the very story the latter had taught him.\n\n[156] The name of the baker's wife.\n\n[157] Or Agoranomi, who numbered ten at Athens.\n\n[158] The disciple of Socrates.\n\n[159] Lasus, a musician and dithyrambic poet, born about 500 B.C. in\nArgolis, was the rival of Simonides and thought himself his superior.\n\n[160] Ino, the daughter of Cadmus and Harmonia. Being pursued by her\nhusband, Athamas, whom the Fury Tisiphon\u00e9 had driven mad, she threw\nherself into the sea with Melicerta, whereupon they were both changed\ninto sea-goddesses.--This is the subject of one of Euripides' tragedies.\n\n[161] A famous town in Magna Graecia, south coast of Italy.\n\n[162] A celebrated physician.--Philocleon means, \"Instead of starting an\naction, go and have yourself cared for; that is better worth your while.\"\n\n[163] The dances that Thespis, the originator of Tragedy, interspersed\nwith the speaking parts of his plays.\n\n[164] A verse borrowed from an unknown Tragedy.\n\n[165] As was done in the stadia when the races were to be started.\n\n[166] The ancients considered it a specific against madness.\n\n[167] Phrynichus, like all the ancient tragic writers, mingled many\ndances with his pieces.\n\n[168] Tragic poet. His three sons had also written tragedies and were\ndancers into the bargain.\n\n[169] Carcinus, by a mere transposition of the accent ([Greek:\nkark\u00edvos]), means _crab_ in Greek; hence the pun.\n\n[170] Carcinus' sons were small and thin.\n\n[171] The third son of Carcinus.\n\n[172] Meaning, the three sons of Carcinus, the dancers, because, as\nmentioned before, Phrynichus often introduced a chorus of dancers into\nhis Tragedies.\n\n[173] Carcinus himself.\n\n[174] The Greek word is [Greek: triorchoi]--possessed of three testicles,\nof three-testicle power, inordinately lecherous; with the change of a\nletter ([Greek: triarchoi]) it means 'three rulers,' 'three kinglets.'\n\n\n\n\nTHE BIRDS\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nThe Birds' differs markedly from all the other Comedies of Aristophanes\nwhich have come down to us in subject and general conception. It is just\nan extravaganza pure and simple--a graceful, whimsical theme chosen\nexpressly for the sake of the opportunities it afforded of bright,\namusing dialogue, pleasing lyrical interludes, and charming displays of\nbrilliant stage effects and pretty dresses. Unlike other plays of the\nsame Author, there is here apparently no serious political _motif_\nunderlying the surface burlesque and buffoonery.\n\nSome critics, it is true, profess to find in it a reference to the\nunfortunate Sicilian Expedition, then in progress, and a prophecy of its\nfailure and the political downfall of Alcibiades. But as a matter of\nfact, the whole thing seems rather an attempt on the dramatist's part to\nrelieve the overwrought minds of his fellow-citizens, anxious and\ndiscouraged at the unsatisfactory reports from before Syracuse, by a work\nconceived in a lighter vein than usual and mainly unconnected with\ncontemporary realities.\n\nThe play was produced in the year 414 B.C., just when success or failure\nin Sicily hung in the balance, though already the outlook was gloomy, and\nmany circumstances pointed to impending disaster. Moreover, the public\nconscience was still shocked and perturbed over the mysterious affair of\nthe mutilation of the Hermae, which had occurred immediately before the\nsailing of the fleet, and strongly suspicious of Alcibiades'\nparticipation in the outrage. In spite of the inherent charm of the\nsubject, the splendid outbursts of lyrical poetry in some of the choruses\nand the beauty of the scenery and costumes, 'The Birds' failed to win the\nfirst prize. This was acclaimed to a play of Aristophanes' rival,\nAmipsias, the title of which, 'The Comastae,' _or_ 'Revellers,' \"seems\nto imply that the chief interest was derived from direct allusions to the\noutrage above mentioned and to the individuals suspected to have been\nengaged in it.\"\n\nFor this reason, which militated against its immediate success, viz. the\nabsence of direct allusion to contemporary politics--there are, of\ncourse, incidental references here and there to topics and personages of\nthe day--the play appeals perhaps more than any other of our Author's\nproductions to the modern reader. Sparkling wit, whimsical fancy, poetic\ncharm, are of all ages, and can be appreciated as readily by ourselves as\nby an Athenian audience of two thousand years ago, though, of course,\nmuch is inevitably lost \"without the important adjuncts of music,\nscenery, dresses and what we may call 'spectacle' generally, which we\nknow in this instance to have been on the most magnificent scale.\"\n\n\"The plot is this. Euelpides and Pisthetaerus, two old Athenians,\ndisgusted with the litigiousness, wrangling and sycophancy of their\ncountrymen, resolve upon quitting Attica. Having heard of the fame of\nEpops (the hoopoe), sometime called Tereus, and now King of the Birds,\nthey determine, under the direction of a raven and a jackdaw, to seek\nfrom him and his subject birds a city free from all care and strife.\"\nArrived at the Palace of Epops, they knock, and Trochilus (the wren), in\na state of great flutter, as he mistakes them for fowlers, opens the door\nand informs them that his Majesty is asleep. When he awakes, the\nstrangers appear before him, and after listening to a long and eloquent\nharangue on the superior attractions of a residence among the birds, they\npropose a notable scheme of their own to further enhance its advantages\nand definitely secure the sovereignty of the universe now exercised by\nthe gods of Olympus.\n\nThe birds are summoned to meet in general council. They come flying up\nfrom all quarters of the heavens, and after a brief misunderstanding,\nduring which they come near tearing the two human envoys to pieces, they\nlisten to the exposition of the latters' plan. This is nothing less than\nthe building of a new city, to be called Nephelococcygia, or\n'Cloud-cuckoo-town,' between earth and heaven, to be garrisoned and\nguarded by the birds in such a way as to intercept all communication of\nthe gods with their worshippers on earth. All steam of sacrifice will be\nprevented from rising to Olympus, and the Immortals will very soon be\nstarved into an acceptance of any terms proposed.\n\nThe new Utopia is duly constructed, and the daring plan to secure the\nsovereignty is in a fair way to succeed. Meantime various quacks and\ncharlatans, each with a special scheme for improving things, arrive from\nearth, and are one after the other exposed and dismissed. Presently\narrives Prometheus, who informs Epops of the desperate straits to which\nthe gods are by this time reduced, and advises him to push his claims and\ndemand the hand of Basileia (Dominion), the handmaid of Zeus. Next an\nembassy from the Olympians appears on the scene, consisting of Heracles,\nPosidon and a god from the savage regions of the Triballians. After some\ndisputation, it is agreed that all reasonable demands of the birds are to\nbe granted, while Pisthetaerus is to have Basileia as his bride. The\ncomedy winds up with the epithalamium in honour of the nuptials.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE BIRDS\n\n\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\n\nEUELPIDES.\nPISTHETAERUS.\nEPOPS (the Hoopoe).\nTROCHILUS, Servant to Epops.\nPHOENICOPTERUS.\nHERALDS.\nA PRIEST.\nA POET.\nA PROPHET.\nMETON, a Geometrician.\nA COMMISSIONER.\nA DEALER IN DECREES.\nIRIS.\nA PARRICIDE.\nCINESIAS, a Dithyrambic Bard.\nAN INFORMER.\nPROMETHEUS.\nPOSIDON.\nTRIBALLUS.\nHERACLES.\nSERVANT of PISTHETAERUS.\nMESSENGERS.\nCHORUS OF BIRDS.\n\nSCENE: A wild, desolate tract of open country; broken rocks and brushwood\noccupy the centre of the stage.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE BIRDS\n\n\nEUELPIDES (_to his jay_).[175] Do you think I should walk straight for\nyon tree?\n\nPISTHETAERUS (_to his crow_). Cursed beast, what are you croaking to\nme?... to retrace my steps?\n\nEUELPIDES. Why, you wretch, we are wandering at random, we are exerting\nourselves only to return to the same spot; 'tis labour lost.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. To think that I should trust to this crow, which has made\nme cover more than a thousand furlongs!\n\nEUELPIDES. And I to this jay, who has torn every nail from my fingers!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. If only I knew where we were. . . .\n\nEUELPIDES. Could you find your country again from here?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. No, I feel quite sure I could not, any more than could\nExecestides[176] find his.\n\nEUELPIDES. Oh dear! oh dear!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Aye, aye, my friend, 'tis indeed the road of \"oh dears\" we\nare following.\n\nEUELPIDES. That Philocrates, the bird-seller, played us a scurvy trick,\nwhen he pretended these two guides could help us to find Tereus,[177] the\nEpops, who is a bird, without being born of one. He has indeed sold us\nthis jay, a true son of Tharelides,[178] for an obolus, and this crow for\nthree, but what can they do? Why, nothing whatever but bite and\nscratch!--What's the matter with you then, that you keep opening your\nbeak? Do you want us to fling ourselves headlong down these rocks? There\nis no road that way.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Not even the vestige of a track in any direction.\n\nEUELPIDES. And what does the crow say about the road to follow?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. By Zeus, it no longer croaks the same thing it did.\n\nEUELPIDES. And which way does it tell us to go now?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. It says that, by dint of gnawing, it will devour my\nfingers.\n\nEUELPIDES. What misfortune is ours! we strain every nerve to get to the\nbirds,[179] do everything we can to that end, and we cannot find our way!\nYes, spectators, our madness is quite different to that of Sacas. He is\nnot a citizen, and would fain be one at any cost; we, on the contrary,\nborn of an honourable tribe and family and living in the midst of our\nfellow-citizens, we have fled from our country as hard as ever we could\ngo. 'Tis not that we hate it; we recognize it to be great and rich,\nlikewise that everyone has the right to ruin himself; but the crickets\nonly chirrup among the fig-trees for a month or two, whereas the\nAthenians spend their whole lives in chanting forth judgments from their\nlaw courts.[180] That is why we started off with a basket, a stew-pot and\nsome myrtle boughs[181] and have come to seek a quiet country in which to\nsettle. We are going to Tereus, the Epops, to learn from him, whether, in\nhis aerial flights, he has noticed some town of this kind.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Here! look!\n\nEUELPIDES. What's the matter?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Why, the crow has been pointing me to something up there\nfor some time now.\n\nEUELPIDES. And the jay is also opening its beak and craning its neck to\nshow me I know not what. Clearly, there are some birds about here. We\nshall soon know, if we kick up a noise to start them.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Do you know what to do? Knock your leg against this rock.\n\nEUELPIDES. And you your head to double the noise.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Well then use a stone instead; take one and hammer with it.\n\nEUELPIDES. Good idea! Ho there, within! Slave! slave!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What's that, friend! You say, \"slave,\" to summon Epops!\n'Twould be much better to shout, \"Epops, Epops!\"\n\nEUELPIDES. Well then, Epops! Must I knock again? Epops!\n\nTROCHILUS. Who's there? Who calls my master?\n\nEUELPIDES. Apollo the Deliverer! what an enormous beak![182]\n\nTROCHILUS. Good god! they are bird-catchers.\n\nEUELPIDES. The mere sight of him petrifies me with terror. What a\nhorrible monster!\n\nTROCHILUS. Woe to you!\n\nEUELPIDES. But we are not men.\n\nTROCHILUS. What are you, then?\n\nEUELPIDES. I am the Fearling, an African bird.\n\nTROCHILUS. You talk nonsense.\n\nEUELPIDES. Well, then, just ask it of my feet.[183]\n\nTROCHILUS. And this other one, what bird is it?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I? I am a Cackling,[184] from the land of the pheasants.\n\nEUELPIDES. But you yourself, in the name of the gods! what animal are\nyou?\n\nTROCHILUS. Why, I am a slave-bird.\n\nEUELPIDES. Why, have you been conquered by a cock?\n\nTROCHILUS. No, but when my master was turned into a peewit, he begged me\nto become a bird too, to follow and to serve him.\n\nEUELPIDES. Does a bird need a servant, then?\n\nTROCHILUS. 'Tis no doubt because he was a man. At times he wants to eat a\ndish of loach from Phalerum; I seize my dish and fly to fetch him some.\nAgain he wants some pea-soup; I seize a ladle and a pot and run to get\nit.\n\nEUELPIDES. This is, then, truly a running-bird.[185] Come, Trochilus, do\nus the kindness to call your master.\n\nTROCHILUS. Why, he has just fallen asleep after a feed of myrtle-berries\nand a few grubs.\n\nEUELPIDES. Never mind; wake him up.\n\nTROCHILUS. I am certain he will be angry. However, I will wake him to\nplease you.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. You cursed brute! why, I am almost dead with terror!\n\nEUELPIDES. Oh! my god! 'twas sheer fear that made me lose my jay.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ah! you great coward! were you so frightened that you let\ngo your jay?\n\nEUELPIDES. And did you not lose your crow, when you fell sprawling on the\nground? Pray tell me that.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. No, no.\n\nEUELPIDES. Where is it, then?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. It has flown away.\n\nEUELPIDES. Then you did not let it go! Oh! you brave fellow!\n\nEPOPS. Open the forest,[186] that I may go out!\n\nEUELPIDES. By Heracles! what a creature! what plumage! What means this\ntriple crest?\n\nEPOPS. Who wants me?\n\nEUELPIDES. The twelve great gods have used you ill, meseems.\n\nEPOPS. Are you chaffing me about my feathers? I have been a man,\nstrangers.\n\nEUELPIDES. 'Tis not you we are jeering at.\n\nEPOPS. At what, then?\n\nEUELPIDES. Why, 'tis your beak that looks so odd to us.\n\nEPOPS. This is how Sophocles outrages me in his tragedies. Know, I once\nwas Tereus.[187]\n\nEUELPIDES. You were Tereus, and what are you now? a bird or a\npeacock?[188]\n\nEPOPS. I am a bird.\n\nEUELPIDES. Then where are your feathers? For I don't see them.\n\nEPOPS. They have fallen off.\n\nEUELPIDES. Through illness.\n\nEPOPS. No. All birds moult their feathers, you know, every winter, and\nothers grow in their place. But tell me, who are you?\n\nEUELPIDES. We? We are mortals.\n\nEPOPS. From what country?\n\nEUELPIDES. From the land of the beautiful galleys.[189]\n\nEPOPS. Are you dicasts?[190]\n\nEUELPIDES. No, if anything, we are anti-dicasts.\n\nEPOPS. Is that kind of seed sown among you?[191]\n\nEUELPIDES. You have to look hard to find even a little in our fields.\n\nEPOPS. What brings you here?\n\nEUELPIDES. We wish to pay you a visit.\n\nEPOPS. What for?\n\nEUELPIDES. Because you formerly were a man, like we are, formerly you had\ndebts, as we have, formerly you did not want to pay them, like ourselves;\nfurthermore, being turned into a bird, you have when flying seen all\nlands and seas. Thus you have all human knowledge as well as that of\nbirds. And hence we have come to you to beg you to direct us to some cosy\ntown, in which one can repose as if on thick coverlets.\n\nEPOPS. And are you looking for a greater city than Athens?\n\nEUELPIDES. No, not a greater, but one more pleasant to dwell in.\n\nEPOPS. Then you are looking for an aristocratic country.\n\nEUELPIDES. I? Not at all! I hold the son of Scellias in horror.[192]\n\nEPOPS. But, after all, what sort of city would please you best?\n\nEUELPIDES. A place where the following would be the most important\nbusiness transacted.--Some friend would come knocking at the door quite\nearly in the morning saying, \"By Olympian Zeus, be at my house early, as\nsoon as you have bathed, and bring your children too. I am giving a\nnuptial feast, so don't fail, or else don't cross my threshold when I am\nin distress.\"\n\nEPOPS. Ah! that's what may be called being fond of hardships. And what\nsay you?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. My tastes are similar.\n\nEPOPS. And they are?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I want a town where the father of a handsome lad will stop\nin the street and say to me reproachfully as if I had failed him, \"Ah! Is\nthis well done, Stilbonides! You met my son coming from the bath after\nthe gymnasium and you neither spoke to him, nor embraced him, nor took\nhim with you, nor ever once twitched his testicles. Would anyone call you\nan old friend of mine?\"\n\nEPOPS. Ah! wag, I see you are fond of suffering. But there is a city of\ndelights, such as you want. 'Tis on the Red Sea.\n\nEUELPIDES. Oh, no. Not a sea-port, where some fine morning the\nSalaminian[193] galley can appear, bringing a writ-server along. Have you\nno Greek town you can propose to us?\n\nEPOPS. Why not choose Lepreum in Elis for your settlement?\n\nEUELPIDES. By Zeus! I could not look at Lepreum without disgust, because\nof Melanthius.[194]\n\nEPOPS. Then, again, there is the Opuntian, where you could live.\n\nEUELPIDES. I would not be Opuntian[195] for a talent. But come, what is\nit like to live with the birds? You should know pretty well.\n\nEPOPS. Why, 'tis not a disagreeable life. In the first place, one has no\npurse.\n\nEUELPIDES. That does away with much roguery.\n\nEPOPS. For food the gardens yield us white sesame, myrtle-berries,\npoppies and mint.\n\nEUELPIDES. Why, 'tis the life of the newly-wed indeed.[196]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ha! I am beginning to see a great plan, which will transfer\nthe supreme power to the birds, if you will but take my advice.\n\nEPOPS. Take your advice? In what way?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. In what way? Well, firstly, do not fly in all directions\nwith open beak; it is not dignified. Among us, when we see a thoughtless\nman, we ask, \"What sort of bird is this?\" and Teleas answers, \"'Tis a man\nwho has no brain, a bird that has lost his head, a creature you cannot\ncatch, for it never remains in any one place.\"\n\nEPOPS. By Zeus himself! your jest hits the mark. What then is to be done?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Found a city.\n\nEPOPS. We birds? But what sort of city should we build?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh, really, really! 'tis spoken like a fool! Look down.\n\nEPOPS. I am looking.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Now look upwards.\n\nEPOPS. I am looking.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Turn your head round.\n\nEPOPS. Ah! 'twill be pleasant for me, if I end in twisting my neck!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What have you seen?\n\nEPOPS. The clouds and the sky.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Very well! is not this the pole of the birds then?\n\nEPOPS. How their pole?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Or, if you like it, the land. And since it turns and passes\nthrough the whole universe, it is called, 'pole.'[197] If you build and\nfortify it, you will turn your pole into a fortified city.[198] In this\nway you will reign over mankind as you do over the grasshoppers and cause\nthe gods to die of rabid hunger.\n\nEPOPS. How so?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. The air is 'twixt earth and heaven. When we want to go to\nDelphi, we ask the Boeotians[199] for leave of passage; in the same way,\nwhen men sacrifice to the gods, unless the latter pay you tribute, you\nexercise the right of every nation towards strangers and don't allow the\nsmoke of the sacrifices to pass through your city and territory.\n\nEPOPS. By earth! by snares! by network![200] I never heard of anything\nmore cleverly conceived; and, if the other birds approve, I am going to\nbuild the city along with you.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Who will explain the matter to them?\n\nEPOPS. You must yourself. Before I came they were quite ignorant, but\nsince I have lived with them I have taught them to speak.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. But how can they be gathered together?\n\nEPOPS. Easily. I will hasten down to the coppice to waken my dear\nProcn\u00e9;[201] as soon as they hear our voices, they will come to us hot\nwing.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. My dear bird, lose no time, I beg. Fly at once into the\ncoppice and awaken Procn\u00e9.\n\nEPOPS. Chase off drowsy sleep, dear companion. Let the sacred hymn gush\nfrom thy divine throat in melodious strains; roll forth in soft cadence\nyour refreshing melodies to bewail the fate of Itys,[202] which has been\nthe cause of so many tears to us both. Your pure notes rise through the\nthick leaves of the yew-tree right up to the throne of Zeus, where\nPhoebus listens to you, Phoebus with his golden hair. And his ivory lyre\nresponds to your plaintive accents; he gathers the choir of the gods and\nfrom their immortal lips rushes a sacred chant of blessed voices. (_The\nflute is played behind the scene._)\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh! by Zeus! what a throat that little bird possesses. He\nhas filled the whole coppice with honey-sweet melody!\n\nEUELPIDES. Hush!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What's the matter?\n\nEUELPIDES. Will you keep silence?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What for?\n\nEUELPIDES. Epops is going to sing again.\n\nEPOPS (_in the coppice_). Epopoi, poi, popoi, epopoi, popoi, here, here,\nquick, quick, quick, my comrades in the air; all you, who pillage the\nfertile lands of the husbandmen, the numberless tribes who gather and\ndevour the barley seeds, the swift flying race who sing so sweetly. And\nyou whose gentle twitter resounds through the fields with the little cry\nof tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio; and you who hop about the\nbranches of the ivy in the gardens; the mountain birds, who feed on the\nwild olive berries or the arbutus, hurry to come at my call, trioto,\ntrioto, totobrix; you also, who snap up the sharp-stinging gnats in the\nmarshy vales, and you who dwell in the fine plain of Marathon, all damp\nwith dew, and you, the francolin with speckled wings; you too, the\nhalcyons, who flit over the swelling waves of the sea, come hither to\nhear the tidings; let all the tribes of long-necked birds assemble here;\nknow that a clever old man has come to us, bringing an entirely new idea\nand proposing great reforms. Let all come to the debate here, here, here,\nhere. Torotorotorotorotix, kikkobau, kikkobau, torotorotorotorolililix.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Can you see any bird?\n\nEUELPIDES. By Phoebus, no! and yet I am straining my eyesight to scan the\nsky.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Twas really not worth Epops' while to go and bury himself\nin the thicket like a plover when a-hatching.\n\nPHOENICOPTERUS. Torotina, torotina.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Hold, friend, here is another bird.\n\nEUELPIDES. I' faith, yes! 'tis a bird, but of what kind? Isn't it a\npeacock?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Epops will tell us. What is this bird?\n\nEPOPS. 'Tis not one of those you are used to seeing; 'tis a bird from the\nmarshes.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh! oh! but he is very handsome with his wings as crimson\nas flame.\n\nEPOPS. Undoubtedly; indeed he is called flamingo.[203]\n\nEUELPIDES. Hi! I say! You!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What are you shouting for?\n\nEUELPIDES. Why, here's another bird.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Aye, indeed; 'tis a foreign bird too. What is this bird\nfrom beyond the mountains with a look as solemn as it is stupid?\n\nEPOPS. He is called the Mede.[204]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. The Mede! But, by Heracles! how, if a Mede, has he flown\nhere without a camel?\n\nEUELPIDES. Here's another bird with a crest.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ah! that's curious. I say, Epops, you are not the only one\nof your kind then?\n\nEPOPS. This bird is the son of Philocles, who is the son of Epops;[205]\nso that, you see, I am his grandfather; just as one might say,\nHipponicus,[206] the son of Callias, who is the son of Hipponicus.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Then this bird is Callias! Why, what a lot of his feathers\nhe has lost![207]\n\nEPOPS. That's because he is honest; so the informers set upon him and the\nwomen too pluck out his feathers.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. By Posidon, do you see that many-coloured bird? What is his\nname?\n\nEPOPS. This one? 'Tis the glutton.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Is there another glutton besides Cleonymus? But why, if he\nis Cleonymus, has he not thrown away his crest?[208] But what is the\nmeaning of all these crests? Have these birds come to contend for the\ndouble stadium prize?[209]\n\nEPOPS. They are like the Carians, who cling to the crests of their\nmountains for greater safety.[210]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh, Posidon! do you see what swarms of birds are gathering\nhere?\n\nEUELPIDES. By Phoebus! what a cloud! The entrance to the stage is no\nlonger visible, so closely do they fly together.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Here is the partridge.\n\nEUELPIDES. Faith! there is the francolin.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. There is the poachard.\n\nEUELPIDES. Here is the kingfisher. And over yonder?\n\nEPOPS. 'Tis the barber.\n\nEUELPIDES. What? a bird a barber?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Why, Sporgilus is one.[211] Here comes the owl.\n\nEUELPIDES. And who is it brings an owl to Athens?[212]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Here is the magpie, the turtle-dove, the swallow, the\nhorned owl, the buzzard, the pigeon, the falcon, the ring-dove, the\ncuckoo, the red-foot, the red-cap, the purple-cap, the kestrel, the\ndiver, the ousel, the osprey, the wood-pecker.\n\nEUELPIDES. Oh! oh! what a lot of birds! what a quantity of blackbirds!\nhow they scold, how they come rushing up! What a noise! what a noise! Can\nthey be bearing us ill-will? Oh! there! there! they are opening their\nbeaks and staring at us.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Why, so they are.\n\nCHORUS. Popopopopopopopoi. Where is he who called me? Where am I to find\nhim?\n\nEPOPS. I have been waiting for you this long while; I never fail in my\nword to my friends.\n\nCHORUS. Titititititititi. What good thing have you to tell me?\n\nEPOPS. Something that concerns our common safety, and that is just as\npleasant as it is to the purpose. Two men, who are subtle reasoners, have\ncome here to seek me.\n\nCHORUS. Where? What? What are you saying?\n\nEPOPS. I say, two old men have come from the abode of men to propose a\nvast and splendid scheme to us.\n\nCHORUS. Oh! 'tis a horrible, unheard-of crime! What are you saying?\n\nEPOPS. Nay! never let my words scare you.\n\nCHORUS. What have you done then?\n\nEPOPS. I have welcomed two men, who wish to live with us.\n\nCHORUS. And you have dared to do that!\n\nEPOPS. Aye, and am delighted at having done so.\n\nCHORUS. Where are they?\n\nEPOPS. In your midst, as I am.\n\nCHORUS. Ah! ah! we are betrayed; 'tis sacrilege! Our friend, he who\npicked up corn-seeds in the same plains as ourselves, has violated our\nancient laws; he has broken the oaths that bind all birds; he has laid a\nsnare for me, he has handed us over to the attacks of that impious race\nwhich, throughout all time, has never ceased to war against us. As for\nthis traitorous bird, we will decide his case later, but the two old men\nshall be punished forthwith; we are going to tear them to pieces.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis all over with us.\n\nEUELPIDES. You are the sole cause of all our trouble. Why did you bring\nme from down yonder?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. To have you with me.\n\nEUELPIDES. Say rather to have me melt into tears.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Go to! you are talking nonsense.\n\nEUELPIDES. How so?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. How will you be able to cry when once your eyes are pecked\nout?\n\nCHORUS. Io! io! forward to the attack, throw yourselves upon the foe,\nspill his blood; take to your wings and surround them on all sides. Woe\nto them! let us get to work with our beaks, let us devour them. Nothing\ncan save them from our wrath, neither the mountain forests, nor the\nclouds that float in the sky, nor the foaming deep. Come, peck, tear to\nribbons. Where is the chief of the cohort? Let him engage the right wing.\n\nEUELPIDES. This is the fatal moment. Where shall I fly to, unfortunate\nwretch that I am?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Stay!  stop here!\n\nEUELPIDES. That they may tear me to pieces?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. And how do you think to escape them?\n\nEUELPIDES. I don't know at all.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Come, I will tell you. We must stop and fight them. Let us\narm ourselves with these stew-pots.\n\nEUELPIDES. Why with the stew-pots?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. The owl will not attack us.[213]\n\nEUELPIDES. But do you see all those hooked claws?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Seize the spit and pierce the foe on your side.\n\nEUELPIDES. And how about my eyes?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Protect them with this dish or this vinegar-pot.\n\nEUELPIDES. Oh! what cleverness! what inventive genius! You are a great\ngeneral, even greater than Nicias,[214] where stratagem is concerned.\n\nCHORUS. Forward, forward, charge with your beaks! Come, no delay. Tear,\npluck, strike, flay them, and first of all smash the stew-pot.\n\nEPOPS. Oh, most cruel of all animals, why tear these two men to pieces,\nwhy kill them? What have they done to you? They belong to the same tribe,\nto the same family as my wife.[215]\n\nCHORUS. Are wolves to be spared? Are they not our most mortal foes? So\nlet us punish them.\n\nEPOPS. If they are your foes by nature, they are your friends in heart,\nand they come here to give you useful advice.\n\nCHORUS. Advice or a useful word from their lips, from them, the enemies\nof my forbears!\n\nEPOPS. The wise can often profit by the lessons of a foe, for caution is\nthe mother of safety. 'Tis just such a thing as one will not learn from a\nfriend and which an enemy compels you to know. To begin with, 'tis the\nfoe and not the friend that taught cities to build high walls, to equip\nlong vessels of war; and 'tis this knowledge that protects our children,\nour slaves and our wealth.\n\nCHORUS. Well then, I agree, let us first hear them, for 'tis best; one\ncan even learn something in an enemy's school.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Their wrath seems to cool. Draw back a little.\n\nEPOPS. 'Tis only justice, and you will thank me later.\n\nCHORUS. Never have we opposed your advice up to now.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. They are in a more peaceful mood; put down your stew-pot\nand your two dishes; spit in hand, doing duty for a spear, let us mount\nguard inside the camp close to the pot and watch in our arsenal closely;\nfor we must not fly.\n\nEUELPIDES. You are right. But where shall we be buried, if we die?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. In the Ceramicus;[216] for, to get a public funeral, we\nshall tell the Strategi that we fell at Orneae,[217] fighting the\ncountry's foes.\n\nCHORUS. Return to your ranks and lay down your courage beside your wrath\nas the Hoplites do. Then let us ask these men who they are, whence they\ncome, and with what intent. Here, Epops, answer me.\n\nEPOPS. Are you calling me? What do you want of me?\n\nCHORUS. Who are they? From what country?\n\nEPOPS. Strangers, who have come from Greece, the land of the wise.\n\nCHORUS. And what fate has led them hither to the land of the birds?\n\nEPOPS. Their love for you and their wish to share your kind of life; to\ndwell and remain with you always.\n\nCHORUS. Indeed, and what are their plans?\n\nEPOPS. They are wonderful, incredible, unheard of.\n\nCHORUS. Why, do they think to see some advantage that determines them to\nsettle here? Are they hoping with our help to triumph over their foes or\nto be useful to their friends?\n\nEPOPS. They speak of benefits so great it is impossible either to\ndescribe or conceive them; all shall be yours, all that we see here,\nthere, above and below us; this they vouch for.\n\nCHORUS. Are they mad?\n\nEPOPS. They are the sanest people in the world.\n\nCHORUS. Clever men?\n\nEPOPS. The slyest of foxes, cleverness its very self, men of the world,\ncunning, the cream of knowing folk.\n\nCHORUS. Tell them to speak and speak quickly; why, as I listen to you, I\nam beside myself with delight.\n\nEPOPS. Here, you there, take all these weapons and hang them up inside\nclose to the fire, near the figure of the god who presides there and\nunder his protection;[218] as for you, address the birds, tell them why I\nhave gathered them together.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Not I, by Apollo, unless they agree with me as the little\nape of an armourer agreed with his wife, not to bite me, nor pull me by\nthe testicles, nor shove things up my....\n\nCHORUS. You mean the.... (_Puts finger to bottom._) Oh! be quite at ease.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. No, I mean my eyes.\n\nCHORUS. Agreed.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Swear it.\n\nCHORUS. I swear it and, if I keep my promise, let judges and spectators\ngive me the victory unanimously.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. It is a bargain.\n\nCHORUS. And if I break my word, may I succeed by one vote only.\n\nHERALD. Hearken, ye people! Hoplites, pick up your weapons and return to\nyour firesides; do not fail to read the decrees of dismissal we have\nposted.\n\nCHORUS. Man is a truly cunning creature, but nevertheless explain.\nPerhaps you are going to show me some good way to extend my power, some\nway that I have not had the wit to find out and which you have\ndiscovered. Speak! 'tis to your own interest as well as to mine, for if\nyou secure me some advantage, I will surely share it with you. But what\nobject can have induced you to come among us? Speak boldly, for I shall\nnot break the truce,--until you have told us all.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I am bursting with desire to speak; I have already mixed\nthe dough of my address and nothing prevents me from kneading it....\nSlave! bring the chaplet and water, which you must pour over my hands. Be\nquick![219]\n\nEUELPIDES. Is it a question of feasting? What does it all mean?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. By Zeus, no! but I am hunting for fine, tasty words to\nbreak down the hardness of their hearts.--I grieve so much for you, who\nat one time were kings....\n\nCHORUS. We kings! Over whom?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. ... of all that exists, firstly of me and of this man, even\nof Zeus himself. Your race is older than Saturn, the Titans and the\nEarth.\n\nCHORUS. What, older than the Earth!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. By Phoebus, yes.\n\nCHORUS. By Zeus, but I never knew that before!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis because you are ignorant and heedless, and have never\nread your Aesop. 'Tis he who tells us that the lark was born before all\nother creatures, indeed before the Earth; his father died of sickness,\nbut the Earth did not exist then; he remained unburied for five days,\nwhen the bird in its dilemma decided, for want of a better place, to\nentomb its father in its own head.\n\nEUELPIDES. So that the lark's father is buried at Cephalae.[220]\n\nEPOPS. Hence, if we existed before the Earth, before the gods, the\nkingship belongs to us by right of priority.\n\nEUELPIDES. Undoubtedly, but sharpen your beak well; Zeus won't be in a\nhurry to hand over his sceptre to the woodpecker.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. It was not the gods, but the birds, who were formerly the\nmasters and kings over men; of this I have a thousand proofs. First of\nall, I will point you to the cock, who governed the Persians before all\nother monarchs, before Darius and Megabyzus.[221] 'Tis in memory of his\nreign that he is called the Persian bird.\n\nEUELPIDES. For this reason also, even to-day, he alone of all the birds\nwears his tiara straight on his head, like the Great King.[222]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. He was so strong, so great, so feared, that even now, on\naccount of his ancient power, everyone jumps out of bed as soon as ever\nhe crows at daybreak. Blacksmiths, potters, tanners, shoemakers, bathmen,\ncorn-dealers, lyre-makers and armourers, all put on their shoes and go to\nwork before it is daylight.\n\nEUELPIDES. I can tell you something anent that. 'Twas the cock's fault\nthat I lost a splendid tunic of Phrygian wool. I was at a feast in town,\ngiven to celebrate the birth of a child; I had drunk pretty freely and\nhad just fallen asleep, when a cock, I suppose in a greater hurry than\nthe rest, began to crow. I thought it was dawn and set out for\nAlimos.[223] I had hardly got beyond the walls, when a footpad struck me\nin the back with his bludgeon; down I went and wanted to shout, but he\nhad already made off with my mantle.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Formerly also the kite was ruler and king over the Greeks.\n\nEPOPS. The Greeks?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. And when he was king, 'twas he who first taught them to\nfall on their knees before the kites.[224]\n\nEUELPIDES. By Zeus! 'tis what I did myself one day on seeing a kite; but\nat the moment I was on my knees, and leaning backwards[225] with mouth\nagape, I bolted an obolus and was forced to carry my bag home empty.[226]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. The cuckoo was king of Egypt and of the whole of Phoenicia.\nWhen he called out \"cuckoo,\" all the Phoenicians hurried to the fields to\nreap their wheat and their barley.[227]\n\nEUELPIDES. Hence no doubt the proverb, \"Cuckoo! cuckoo! go to the fields,\nye circumcised.\"[228]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. So powerful were the birds, that the kings of Grecian\ncities, Agamemnon, Menelaus, for instance, carried a bird on the tip of\ntheir sceptres, who had his share of all presents.[229]\n\nEUELPIDES. That I didn't know and was much astonished when I saw Priam\ncome upon the stage in the tragedies with a bird, which kept watching\nLysicrates[230] to see if he got any present.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. But the strongest proof of all is, that Zeus, who now\nreigns, is represented as standing with an eagle on his head as a symbol\nof his royalty;[231] his daughter has an owl, and Phoebus, as his\nservant, has a hawk.\n\nEUELPIDES. By Demeter, 'tis well spoken. But what are all these birds\ndoing in heaven?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. When anyone sacrifices and, according to the rite, offers\nthe entrails to the gods, these birds take their share before Zeus.\nFormerly the men always swore by birds and never by the gods; even now\nLampon[232] swears by the goose, when he wants to lie.... Thus 'tis clear\nthat you were great and sacred, but now you are looked upon as slaves, as\nfools, as Helots; stones are thrown at you as at raving madmen, even in\nholy places. A crowd of bird-catchers sets snares, traps, limed-twigs and\nnets of all sorts for you; you are caught, you are sold in heaps and the\nbuyers finger you over to be certain you are fat. Again, if they would\nbut serve you up simply roasted; but they rasp cheese into a mixture of\noil, vinegar and laserwort, to which another sweet and greasy sauce is\nadded, and the whole is poured scalding hot over your back, for all the\nworld as if you were diseased meat.\n\nCHORUS. Man, your words have made my heart bleed; I have groaned over the\ntreachery of our fathers, who knew not how to transmit to us the high\nrank they held from their forefathers. But 'tis a benevolent Genius, a\nhappy Fate, that sends you to us; you shall be our deliverer and I place\nthe destiny of my little ones and my own in your hands with every\nconfidence. But hasten to tell me what must be done; we should not be\nworthy to live, if we did not seek to regain our royalty by every\npossible means,\n\nPISTHETAERUS. First I advise that the birds gather together in one city\nand that they build a wall of great bricks, like that at Babylon, round\nthe plains of the air and the whole region of space that divides earth\nfrom heaven.\n\nEPOPS. Oh, Cebriones! oh, Porphyrion![233] what a terribly strong place!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. This, this being well done and completed, you demand back\nthe empire from Zeus; if he will not agree, if he refuses and does not at\nonce confess himself beaten, you declare a sacred war against him and\nforbid the gods henceforward to pass through your country with standing\norgan, as hitherto, for the purpose of fondling their Alcmenas, their\nAlop\u00e9s, or their Semel\u00e9s;[234] if they try to pass through, you\ninfibulate them with rings so that they can fuck no longer. You send\nanother messenger to mankind, who will proclaim to them that the birds\nare kings, that for the future they must first of all sacrifice to them,\nand only afterwards to the gods; that it is fitting to appoint to each\ndeity the bird that has most in common with it. For instance, are they\nsacrificing to Aphrodit\u00e9, let them at the same time offer barley to the\ncoot;[235] are they immolating a sheep to Posidon, let them consecrate\nwheat in honour of the duck;[236] is a steer being offered to Heracles,\nlet honey-cakes be dedicated to the gull;[237] is a goat being slain for\nKing Zeus, there is a King-Bird, the wren,[238] to whom the sacrifice of\na male gnat is due before Zeus himself even.\n\nEUELPIDES. This notion of an immolated gnat delights me! And now let the\ngreat Zeus thunder!\n\nEPOPS. But how will mankind recognize us as gods and not as jays? Us, who\nhave wings and fly?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. You talk rubbish! Hermes is a god and has wings and flies,\nand so do many other gods. First of all, Victory flies with golden wings,\nEros is undoubtedly winged too, and Iris is compared by Homer to a\ntimorous dove.[239] If men in their blindness do not recognize you as\ngods and continue to worship the dwellers in Olympus, then a cloud of\nsparrows greedy for corn must descend upon their fields and eat up all\ntheir seeds; we shall see then if Demeter will mete them out any wheat.\n\nEUELPIDES. By Zeus, she'll take good care she does not, and you will see\nher inventing a thousand excuses.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. The crows too will prove your divinity to them by pecking\nout the eyes of their flocks and of their draught-oxen; and then let\nApollo cure them, since he is a physician and is paid for the\npurpose.[240]\n\nEUELPIDES. Oh! don't do that! Wait first until I have sold my two young\nbullocks.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. If on the other hand they recognize that you are God, the\nprinciple of life, that you are Earth, Saturn, Posidon, they shall be\nloaded with benefits.\n\nEPOPS Name me one of these then.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Firstly, the locusts shall not eat up their vine-blossoms;\na legion of owls and kestrels will devour them. Moreover, the gnats and\nthe gall-bugs shall no longer ravage the figs; a flock of thrushes shall\nswallow the whole host down to the very last.\n\nEPOPS. And how shall we give wealth to mankind? This is their strongest\npassion.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. When they consult the omens, you will point them to the\nrichest mines, you will reveal the paying ventures to the diviner, and\nnot another shipwreck will happen or sailor perish.\n\nEPOPS. No more shall perish? How is that?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. When the auguries are examined before starting on a voyage,\nsome bird will not fail to say, \"Don't start! there will be a storm,\" or\nelse, \"Go! you will make a most profitable venture.\"\n\nEUELPIDES. I shall buy a trading-vessel and go to sea. I will not stay\nwith you.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. You will discover treasures to them, which were buried in\nformer times, for you know them. Do not all men say, \"None know where my\ntreasure lies, unless perchance it be some bird.\"[241]\n\nEUELPIDES. I shall sell my boat and buy a spade to unearth the vessels.\n\nEPOPS. And how are we to give them health, which belongs to the gods?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. If they are happy, is not that the chief thing towards\nhealth? The miserable man is never well.\n\nEPOPS. Old Age also dwells in Olympus. How will they get at it? Must they\ndie in early youth?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Why, the birds, by Zeus, will add three hundred years to\ntheir life.\n\nEPOPS. From whom will they take them?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. From whom? Why, from themselves. Don't you know the cawing\ncrow lives five times as long as a man?\n\nEUELPIDES. Ah! ah! these are far better kings for us than Zeus!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Far better, are they not? And firstly, we shall not have to\nbuild them temples of hewn stone, closed with gates of gold; they will\ndwell amongst the bushes and in the thickets of green oak; the most\nvenerated of birds will have no other temple than the foliage of the\nolive tree; we shall not go to Delphi or to Ammon to sacrifice;[242] but\nstanding erect in the midst of arbutus and wild olives and holding forth\nour hands filled with wheat and barley, we shall pray them to admit us to\na share of the blessings they enjoy and shall at once obtain them for a\nfew grains of wheat.\n\nCHORUS. Old man, whom I detested, you are now to me the dearest of all;\nnever shall I, if I can help it, fail to follow your advice. Inspirited\nby your words, I threaten my rivals the gods, and I swear that if you\nmarch in alliance with me against the gods and are faithful to our just,\nloyal and sacred bond, we shall soon have shattered their sceptre. 'Tis\nour part to undertake the toil, 'tis yours to advise.\n\nEPOPS. By Zeus! 'tis no longer the time to delay and loiter like\nNicias;[243] let us act as promptly as possible.... In the first place,\ncome, enter my nest built of brushwood and blades of straw, and tell me\nyour names.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. That is soon done; my name is Pisthetaerus.\n\nEPOPS. And his?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Euelpides, of the deme of Thria.\n\nEPOPS. Good! and good luck to you.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. We accept the omen.\n\nEPOPS. Come in here.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Very well, 'tis you who lead us and must introduce us.\n\nEPOPS. Come then.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh! my god! do come back here. Hi! tell us how we are to\nfollow you. You can fly, but we cannot.\n\nEPOPS. Well, well.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Remember Aesop's fables. It is told there, that the fox\nfared very ill, because he had made an alliance with the eagle.\n\nEPOPS. Be at ease. You shall eat a certain root and wings will grow on\nyour shoulders.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Then let us enter. Xanthias and Manes,[244] pick up our\nbaggage.\n\nCHORUS. Hi! Epops!  do you hear me?\n\nEPOPS. What's the matter?\n\nCHORUS. Take them off to dine well and call your mate, the melodious\nProcn\u00e9, whose songs are worthy of the Muses; she will delight our leisure\nmoments.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh! I conjure you, accede to their wish; for this\ndelightful bird will leave her rushes at the sound of your voice; for the\nsake of the gods, let her come here, so that we may contemplate the\nnightingale.[245]\n\nEPOPS. Let it be as you desire. Come forth, Procn\u00e9, show yourself to\nthese strangers.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh! great Zeus! what a beautiful little bird! what a dainty\nform! what brilliant plumage![246]\n\nEUELPIDES. Do you know how dearly I should like to split her legs for\nher?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. She is dazzling all over with gold, like a young girl.[247]\n\nEUELPIDES. Oh! how I should like to kiss her!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Why, wretched man, she has two little sharp points on her\nbeak.\n\nEUELPIDES. I would treat her like an egg, the shell of which we remove\nbefore eating it; I would take off her mask and then kiss her pretty\nface.\n\nEPOPS. Let us go in.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Lead the way, and may success attend us.\n\nCHORUS. Lovable golden bird, whom I cherish above all others, you, whom I\nassociate with all my songs, nightingale, you have come, you have come,\nto show yourself to me and to charm me with your notes. Come, you, who\nplay spring melodies upon the harmonious flute,[248] lead off our\nanapaests.[249]\n\nWeak mortals, chained to the earth, creatures of clay as frail as the\nfoliage of the woods, you unfortunate race, whose life is but darkness,\nas unreal as a shadow, the illusion of a dream, hearken to us, who are\nimmortal beings, ethereal, ever young and occupied with eternal thoughts,\nfor we shall teach you about all celestial matters; you shall know\nthoroughly what is the nature of the birds, what the origin of the gods,\nof the rivers, of Erebus, and Chaos; thanks to us, Prodicus[250] will\nenvy you your knowledge.\n\nAt the beginning there was only Chaos, Night, dark Erebus, and deep\nTartarus. Earth, the air and heaven had no existence. Firstly,\nblack-winged Night laid a germless egg in the bosom of the infinite deeps\nof Erebus, and from this, after the revolution of long ages, sprang the\ngraceful Eros with his glittering golden wings, swift as the whirlwinds\nof the tempest. He mated in deep Tartarus with dark Chaos, winged like\nhimself, and thus hatched forth our race, which was the first to see the\nlight. That of the Immortals did not exist until Eros had brought\ntogether all the ingredients of the world, and from their marriage\nHeaven, Ocean, Earth and the imperishable race of blessed gods sprang\ninto being. Thus our origin is very much older than that of the dwellers\nin Olympus. We are the offspring of Eros; there are a thousand proofs to\nshow it. We have wings and we lend assistance to lovers. How many\nhandsome youths, who had sworn to remain insensible, have not been\nvanquished by our power and have yielded themselves to their lovers when\nalmost at the end of their youth, being led away by the gift of a quail,\na waterfowl, a goose, or a cock.[251]\n\nAnd what important services do not the birds render to mortals! First of\nall, they mark the seasons for them, springtime, winter, and autumn. Does\nthe screaming crane migrate to Libya,--it warns the husbandman to sow,\nthe pilot to take his ease beside his tiller hung up in his\ndwelling,[252] and Orestes[253] to weave a tunic, so that the rigorous\ncold may not drive him any more to strip other folk. When the kite\nreappears, he tells of the return of spring and of the period when the\nfleece of the sheep must be clipped. Is the swallow in sight? All hasten\nto sell their warm tunic and to buy some light clothing. We are your\nAmmon, Delphi, Dodona, your Phoebus Apollo.[254] Before undertaking\nanything, whether a business transaction, a marriage, or the purchase of\nfood, you consult the birds by reading the omens, and you give this name\nof omen[255] to all signs that tell of the future. With you a word is an\nomen, you call a sneeze an omen, a meeting an omen, an unknown sound an\nomen, a slave or an ass an omen.[256] Is it not clear that we are a\nprophetic Apollo to you? If you recognize us as gods, we shall be your\ndivining Muses, through us you will know the winds and the seasons,\nsummer, winter, and the temperate months. We shall not withdraw ourselves\nto the highest clouds like Zeus, but shall be among you and shall give to\nyou and to your children and the children of your children, health and\nwealth, long life, peace, youth, laughter, songs and feasts; in short,\nyou will all be so well off, that you will be weary and satiated with\nenjoyment.\n\nOh, rustic Muse of such varied note, tio, tio, tio, tiotinx, I sing with\nyou in the groves and on the mountain tops, tio, tio, tio, tio,\ntiotinx.[257] I pour forth sacred strains from my golden throat in honour\nof the god Pan,[258] tio, tio, tio, tiotinx, from the top of the thickly\nleaved ash, and my voice mingles with the mighty choirs who extol Cybel\u00e9\non the mountain tops,[259] tototototototototinx. 'Tis to our concerts\nthat Phrynicus comes to pillage like a bee the ambrosia of his songs, the\nsweetness of which so charms the ear, tio, tio, tio, tio, tinx.\n\nIf there be one of you spectators who wishes to spend the rest of his\nlife quietly among the birds, let him come to us. All that is disgraceful\nand forbidden by law on earth is on the contrary honourable among us, the\nbirds. For instance, among you 'tis a crime to beat your father, but with\nus 'tis an estimable deed; it's considered fine to run straight at your\nfather and hit him, saying, \"Come, lift your spur if you want to\nfight.\"[260] The runaway slave, whom you brand, is only a spotted\nfrancolin with us.[261] Are you Phrygian like Spintharus?[262] Among us\nyou would be the Phrygian bird, the goldfinch, of the race of\nPhilemon.[263] Are you a slave and a Carian like Execestides? Among us\nyou can create yourself forefathers;[264] you can always find relations.\nDoes the son of Pisias want to betray the gates of the city to the foe?\nLet him become a partridge, the fitting offspring of his father; among us\nthere is no shame in escaping as cleverly as a partridge.\n\nSo the swans on the banks of the Hebrus, tio, tio, tio, tio, tiotinx,\nmingle their voices to serenade Apollo, tio, tio, tio, tio, tiotinx,\nflapping their wings the while, tio, tio, tio, tio, tiotinx; their notes\nreach beyond the clouds of heaven; all the dwellers in the forests stand\nstill with astonishment and delight; a calm rests upon the waters, and\nthe Graces and the choirs in Olympus catch up the strain, tio, tio, tio,\ntio, tiotinx.\n\nThere is nothing more useful nor more pleasant than to have wings. To\nbegin with, just let us suppose a spectator to be dying with hunger and\nto be weary of the choruses of the tragic poets; if he were winged, he\nwould fly off, go home to dine and come back with his stomach filled.\nSome Patroclides in urgent need would not have to soil his cloak, but\ncould fly off, satisfy his requirements, and, having recovered his\nbreath, return. If one of you, it matters not who, had adulterous\nrelations and saw the husband of his mistress in the seats of the\nsenators, he might stretch his wings, fly thither, and, having appeased\nhis craving, resume his place. Is it not the most priceless gift of all,\nto be winged? Look at Diitrephes![265] His wings were only wicker-work\nones, and yet he got himself chosen Phylarch and then Hipparch; from\nbeing nobody, he has risen to be famous; 'tis now the finest gilded cock\nof his tribe.[266]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Halloa! What's this? By Zeus! I never saw anything so funny\nin all my life.[267]\n\nEUELPIDES. What makes you laugh?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis your bits of wings. D'you know what you look like?\nLike a goose painted by some dauber-fellow.\n\nEUELPIDES. And you look like a close-shaven blackbird.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis ourselves asked for this transformation, and, as\nAeschylus has it, \"These are no borrowed feathers, but truly our\nown.\"[268]\n\nEPOPS. Come now, what must be done?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. First give our city a great and famous name, then sacrifice\nto the gods.\n\nEUELPIDES. I think so too.\n\nEPOPS. Let's see. What shall our city be called?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Will you have a high-sounding Laconian name? Shall we call\nit Sparta?\n\nEUELPIDES. What! call my town Sparta? Why, I would not use esparto for my\nbed,[269] even though I had nothing but bands of rushes.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Well then, what name can you suggest?\n\nEUELPIDES. Some name borrowed from the clouds, from these lofty regions\nin which we dwell--in short, some well-known name.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Do you like Nephelococcygia?[270]\n\nEPOPS. Oh! capital! truly 'tis a brilliant thought!\n\nEUELPIDES. Is it in Nephelococcygia that all the wealth of Theogenes[271]\nand most of Aeschines'[272] is?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. No, 'tis rather the plain of Phlegra,[273] where the gods\nwithered the pride of the sons of the Earth with their shafts.\n\nEUELPIDES. Oh! what a splendid city! But what god shall be its patron?\nfor whom shall we weave the peplus?[274]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Why not choose Athen\u00e9 Polias?[275]\n\nEUELPIDES. Oh! what a well-ordered town 'twould be to have a female deity\narmed from head to foot, while Clisthenes[276] was spinning!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Who then shall guard the Pelargicon?[277]\n\nEPOPS. One of ourselves, a bird of Persian strain, who is everywhere\nproclaimed to be the bravest of all, a true chick of Ares.[278]\n\nEUELPIDES. Oh! noble chick! what a well-chosen god for a rocky home!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Come! into the air with you to help the workers, who are\nbuilding the wall; carry up rubble, strip yourself to mix the mortar,\ntake up the hod, tumble down the ladder, an you like, post sentinels,\nkeep the fire smouldering beneath the ashes, go round the walls, bell in\nhand,[279] and go to sleep up there yourself; then despatch two heralds,\none to the gods above, the other to mankind on earth and come back here.\n\nEUELPIDES. As for yourself, remain here, and may the plague take you for\na troublesome fellow!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Go, friend, go where I send you, for without you my orders\ncannot be obeyed. For myself, I want to sacrifice to the new god, and I\nam going to summon the priest who must preside at the ceremony. Slaves!\nslaves! bring forward the basket and the lustral water.\n\nCHORUS. I do as you do, and I wish as you wish, and I implore you to\naddress powerful and solemn prayers to the gods, and in addition to\nimmolate a sheep as a token of our gratitude. Let us sing the Pythian\nchant in honour of the god, and let Chaeris accompany our voices.\n\nPISTHETAERUS (_to the flute-player_). Enough! but, by Heracles! what is\nthis? Great gods! I have seen many prodigious things, but I never saw a\nmuzzled raven.[280]\n\nEPOPS. Priest! 'tis high time! Sacrifice to the new gods.\n\nPRIEST. I begin, but where is he with the basket? Pray to the Vesta of\nthe birds, to the kite, who presides over the hearth, and to all the god\nand goddess-birds who dwell in Olympus.\n\nCHORUS. Oh! Hawk, the sacred guardian of Sunium, oh, god of the storks!\n\nPRIEST. Pray to the swan of Delos, to Latona the mother of the quails,\nand to Artemis, the goldfinch.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis no longer Artemis Colaenis, but Artemis the\ngoldfinch.[281]\n\nPRIEST. And to Bacchus, the finch and Cybel\u00e9, the ostrich and mother of\nthe gods and mankind.\n\nCHORUS. Oh! sovereign ostrich, Cybel\u00e9, the mother of Cleocritus,[282]\ngrant health and safety to the Nephelococcygians as well as to the\ndwellers in Chios....\n\nPISTHETAERUS. The dwellers in Chios! Ah! I am delighted they should be\nthus mentioned on all occasions.[283]\n\nCHORUS. ... to the heroes, the birds, to the sons of heroes, to the\nporphyrion, the pelican, the spoon-bill, the redbreast, the grouse, the\npeacock, the horned-owl, the teal, the bittern, the heron, the stormy\npetrel, the fig-pecker, the titmouse....\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Stop! stop! you drive me crazy with your endless list. Why,\nwretch, to what sacred feast are you inviting the vultures and the\nsea-eagles? Don't you see that a single kite could easily carry off the\nlot at once? Begone, you and your fillets and all; I shall know how to\ncomplete the sacrifice by myself.\n\nPRIEST. It is imperative that I sing another sacred chant for the rite of\nthe lustral water, and that I invoke the immortals, or at least one of\nthem, provided always that you have some suitable food to offer him; from\nwhat I see here, in the shape of gifts, there is naught whatever but horn\nand hair.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Let us address our sacrifices and our prayers to the winged\ngods.\n\nA POET. Oh, Muse! celebrate happy Nephelococcygia in your hymns.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What have we here? Where do you come from, tell me? Who are\nyou?\n\nPOET. I am he whose language is sweeter than honey, the zealous slave of\nthe Muses, as Homer has it.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. You a slave! and yet you wear your hair long?\n\nPOET. No, but the fact is all we poets are the assiduous slaves of the\nMuses according to Homer.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. In truth your little cloak is quite holy too through zeal!\nBut, poet, what ill wind drove you here?\n\nPOET. I have composed verses in honour of your Nephelococcygia, a host of\nsplendid dithyrambs and parthenians,[284] worthy of Simonides himself.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. And when did you compose them? How long since?\n\nPOET. Oh! 'tis long, aye, very long, that I have sung in honour of this\ncity.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. But I am only celebrating its foundation with this\nsacrifice;[285] I have only just named it, as is done with little babies.\n\nPOET. \"Just as the chargers fly with the speed of the wind, so does the\nvoice of the Muses take its flight. Oh! thou noble founder of the town of\nAetna,[286] thou, whose name recalls the holy sacrifices,[287] make us\nsuch gift as thy generous heart shall suggest.\"\n\nPISTHETAERUS. He will drive us silly if we do not get rid of him by some\npresent. Here! you, who have a fur as well as your tunic, take it off and\ngive it to this clever poet. Come, take this fur; you look to me to be\nshivering with cold.\n\nPOET. My Muse will gladly accept this gift; but engrave these verses of\nPindar's on your mind.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh! what a pest! 'Tis impossible then to be rid of him.\n\nPOET. \"Straton wanders among the Scythian nomads, but has no linen\ngarment. He is sad at only wearing an animal's pelt and no tunic.\" Do you\nconceive my bent?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I understand that you want me to offer you a tunic. Hi! you\n(_to Euelpides_), take off yours; we must help the poet.... Come, you,\ntake it and begone.\n\nPOET. I am going, and these are the verses that I address to this city:\n\"Phoebus of the golden throne, celebrate this shivery, freezing city; I\nhave travelled through fruitful and snow-covered plains. Tralala!\nTralala!\"[288]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What are you chanting us about frosts? Thanks to the tunic,\nyou no longer fear them. Ah! by Zeus! I could not have believed this\ncursed fellow could so soon have learnt the way to our city. Come,\npriest, take the lustral water and circle the altar.\n\nPRIEST. Let all keep silence!\n\nA PROPHET. Let not the goat be sacrificed.[289]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Who are you?\n\nPROPHET. Who am I? A prophet.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Get you gone.\n\nPROPHET. Wretched man, insult not sacred things. For there is an oracle\nof Bacis, which exactly applies to Nephelococcygia.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Why did you not reveal it to me before I founded my city?\n\nPROPHET. The divine spirit was against it.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Well, 'tis best to know the terms of the oracle.\n\nPROPHET. \"But when the wolves and the white crows shall dwell together\nbetween Corinth and Sicyon....\"[290]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. But how do the Corinthians concern me?\n\nPROPHET. 'Tis the regions of the air that Bacis indicated in this manner.\n\"They must first sacrifice a white-fleeced goat to Pandora, and give the\nprophet, who first reveals my words, a good cloak and new sandals.\"\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Are the sandals there?\n\nPROPHET.\n\nRead. \"And besides this a goblet of wine and a good share of the entrails\nof the victim.\"\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Of the entrails--is it so written?\n\nPROPHET. Read. \"If you do as I command, divine youth, you shall be an\neagle among the clouds; if not, you shall be neither turtle-dove, nor\neagle, nor woodpecker.\"\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Is all that there?\n\nPROPHET. Read.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. This oracle in no sort of way resembles the one Apollo\ndictated to me: \"If an impostor comes without invitation to annoy you\nduring the sacrifice and to demand a share of the victim, apply a stout\nstick to his ribs.\"\n\nPROPHET. You are drivelling.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. \"And don't spare him, were he an eagle from out of the\nclouds, were it Lampon himself[291] or the great Diopithes.\"[292]\n\nPROPHET. Is all that there?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Here, read it yourself, and go and hang yourself.\n\nPROPHET. Oh! unfortunate wretch that I am.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Away with you, and take your prophecies elsewhere.\n\nMETON.[293] I have come to you.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Yet another pest. What have you come to do? What's your\nplan? What's the purpose of your journey? Why these splendid buskins?\n\nMETON. I want to survey the plains of the air for you and to parcel them\ninto lots.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. In the name of the gods, who are you?\n\nMETON. Who am I? Meton, known throughout Greece and at Colonus.[294]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What are these things?\n\nMETON. Tools for measuring the air. In truth, the spaces in the air have\nprecisely the form of a furnace. With this bent ruler I draw a line from\ntop to bottom; from one of its points I describe a circle with the\ncompass. Do you understand?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Not the very least.\n\nMETON. With the straight ruler I set to work to inscribe a square within\nthis circle; in its centre will be the marketplace, into which all the\nstraight streets will lead, converging to this centre like a star, which,\nalthough only orbicular, sends forth its rays in a straight line from all\nsides.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Meton, you new Thales....[295]\n\nMETON. What d'you want with me?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I want to give you a proof of my friendship. Use your legs.\n\nMETON. Why, what have I to fear?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis the same here as in Sparta. Strangers are driven away,\nand blows rain down as thick as hail.\n\nMETON. Is there sedition in your city?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. No, certainly not.\n\nMETON. What's wrong then?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. We are agreed to sweep all quacks and impostors far from\nour borders.\n\nMETON. Then I'm off.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I fear me 'tis too late. The thunder growls already.\n(_Beats him._)\n\nMETON. Oh, woe! oh, woe!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I warned you. Now, be off, and do your surveying somewhere\nelse. (_Meton takes to his heels._)\n\nAN INSPECTOR. Where are the Proxeni?[296]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Who is this Sardanapalus?[297]\n\nINSPECTOR. I have been appointed by lot to come to Nephelococcygia as\ninspector.[298]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. An inspector! and who sends you here, you rascal?\n\nINSPECTOR. A decree of Taleas.[299]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Will you just pocket your salary, do nothing, and be off?\n\nINSPECTOR. I' faith! that I will; I am urgently needed to be at Athens to\nattend the assembly; for I am charged with the interests of\nPharnaces.[300]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Take it then, and be off. See, here is your salary. (_Beats\nhim._)\n\nINSPECTOR. What does this mean?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis the assembly where you have to defend Pharnaces.\n\nINSPECTOR. You shall testify that they dare to strike me, the inspector.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Are you not going to clear out with your urns. 'Tis not to\nbe believed; they send us inspectors before we have so much as paid\nsacrifice to the gods.\n\nA DEALER IN DECREES. \"If the Nephelococcygian does wrong to the\nAthenian....\"\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Now whatever are these cursed parchments?\n\nDEALER IN DECREES. I am a dealer in decrees, and I have come here to sell\nyou the new laws.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Which?\n\nDEALER IN DECREES. \"The Nephelococcygians shall adopt the same weights,\nmeasures and decrees as the Olophyxians.\"[301]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. And you shall soon be imitating the Ototyxians. (_Beats\nhim._)\n\nDEALER IN DECREES. Hullo! what are you doing?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Now will you be off with your decrees? For I am going to\nlet _you_ see some severe ones.\n\nINSPECTOR (_returning_). I summon Pisthetaerus for outrage for the month\nof Munychion.[302]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ha! my friend! are you still there?\n\nDEALER IN DECREES. \"Should anyone drive away the magistrates and not\nreceive them, according to the decree duly posted...\"\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What! rascal! you are there too?\n\nINSPECTOR. Woe to you! I'll have you condemned to a fine of ten thousand\ndrachmae.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. And I'll smash your urns.[303]\n\nINSPECTOR. Do you recall that evening when you stooled against the column\nwhere the decrees are posted?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Here! here! let him be seized. (_The inspectors run off._)\nWell! don't you want to stop any longer?\n\nPRIEST. Let us get indoors as quick as possible; we will sacrifice the\ngoat inside.[304]\n\nCHORUS. Henceforth it is to me that mortals must address their sacrifices\nand their prayers. Nothing escapes my sight nor my might. My glance\nembraces the universe, I preserve the fruit in the flower by destroying\nthe thousand kinds of voracious insects the soil produces, which attack\nthe trees and feed on the germ when it has scarcely formed in the calyx;\nI destroy those who ravage the balmy terrace gardens like a deadly\nplague; all these gnawing crawling creatures perish beneath the lash of\nmy wing. I hear it proclaimed everywhere: \"A talent for him who shall\nkill Diagoras of Melos,[305] and a talent for him who destroys one of the\ndead tyrants.\"[306] We likewise wish to make our proclamation: \"A talent\nto him among you who shall kill Philocrates, the Strouthian;[307] four,\nif he brings him to us alive. For this Philocrates skewers the finches\ntogether and sells them at the rate of an obolus for seven. He tortures\nthe thrushes by blowing them out, so that they may look bigger, sticks\ntheir own feathers into the nostrils of blackbirds, and collects pigeons,\nwhich he shuts up and forces them, fastened in a net, to decoy others.\"\nThat is what we wish to proclaim. And if anyone is keeping birds shut up\nin his yard, let him hasten to let them loose; those who disobey shall be\nseized by the birds and we shall put them in chains, so that in their\nturn they may decoy other men.\n\nHappy indeed is the race of winged birds who need no cloak in winter!\nNeither do I fear the relentless rays of the fiery dog-days; when the\ndivine grasshopper, intoxicated with the sunlight, when noon is burning\nthe ground, is breaking out into shrill melody, my home is beneath the\nfoliage in the flowery meadows. I winter in deep caverns, where I frolic\nwith the mountain nymphs, while in spring I despoil the gardens of the\nGraces and gather the white, virgin berry on the myrtle bushes.\n\nI want now to speak to the judges about the prize they are going to\naward; if they are favourable to us, we will load them with benefits far\ngreater than those Paris[308] received. Firstly, the owls of\nLaurium,[309] which every judge desires above all things, shall never be\nwanting to you; you shall see them homing with you, building their nests\nin your money-bags and laying coins. Besides, you shall be housed like\nthe gods, for we shall erect gables[310] over your dwellings; if you hold\nsome public post and want to do a little pilfering, we will give you the\nsharp claws of a hawk. Are you dining in town, we will provide you with\ncrops.[311] But, if your award is against us, don't fail to have metal\ncovers fashioned for yourselves, like those they place over statues;[312]\nelse, look out! for the day you wear a white tunic all the birds will\nsoil it with their droppings.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Birds! the sacrifice is propitious. But I see no messenger\ncoming from the wall to tell us what is happening. Ah! here comes one\nrunning himself out of breath as though he were running the Olympic\nstadium.\n\nMESSENGER. Where, where is he? Where, where, where is he? Where, where,\nwhere is he? Where is Pisthetaerus, our leader?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Here am I.\n\nMESSENGER. The wall is finished.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. That's good news.\n\nMESSENGER. 'Tis a most beautiful, a most magnificent work of art. The\nwall is so broad, that Proxenides, the Braggartian, and Theogenes could\npass each other in their chariots, even if they were drawn by steeds as\nbig as the Trojan horse.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis wonderful!\n\nMESSENGER. Its length is one hundred stadia; I measured it myself.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. A decent length, by Posidon! And who built such a wall?\n\nMESSENGER. Birds--birds only; they had neither Egyptian brickmaker, nor\nstonemason, nor carpenter; the birds did it all themselves, I could\nhardly believe my eyes. Thirty thousand cranes came from Libya with a\nsupply of stones,[313] intended for the foundations. The water-rails\nchiselled them with their beaks. Ten thousand storks were busy making\nbricks; plovers and other water fowl carried water into the air.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. And who carried the mortar?\n\nMESSENGER. Herons, in hods.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. But how could they put the mortar into hods?\n\nMESSENGER. Oh! 'twas a truly clever invention; the geese used their feet\nlike spades; they buried them in the pile of mortar and then emptied them\ninto the hods.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ah! to what use cannot feet be put?[314]\n\nMESSENGER. You should have seen how eagerly the ducks carried bricks. To\ncomplete the tale, the swallows came flying to the work, their beaks full\nof mortar and their trowel on their back, just the way little children\nare carried.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Who would want paid servants after this? But, tell me, who\ndid the woodwork?\n\nMESSENGER. Birds again, and clever carpenters too, the pelicans, for they\nsquared up the gates with their beaks in such a fashion that one would\nhave thought they were using axes; the noise was just like a dockyard.\nNow the whole wall is tight everywhere, securely bolted and well guarded;\nit is patrolled, bell in hand; the sentinels stand everywhere and beacons\nburn on the towers. But I must run off to clean myself; the rest is your\nbusiness.\n\nCHORUS. Well! what do you say to it? Are you not astonished at the wall\nbeing completed so quickly?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. By the gods, yes, and with good reason. 'Tis really not to\nbe believed. But here comes another messenger from the wall to bring us\nsome further news! What a fighting look he has!\n\nSECOND MESSENGER. Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! oh!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What's the matter?\n\nSECOND MESSENGER. A horrible outrage has occurred; a god sent by Zeus has\npassed through our gates and has penetrated the realms of the air without\nthe knowledge of the jays, who are on guard in the daytime.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Tis an unworthy and criminal deed. What god was it?\n\nSECOND MESSENGER. We don't know that. All we know is, that he has got\nwings.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Why were not guards sent against him at once?\n\nSECOND MESSENGER. We have despatched thirty thousand hawks of the legion\nof mounted archers.[315] All the hook-clawed birds are moving against\nhim, the kestrel, the buzzard, the vulture, the great-horned owl; they\ncleave the air, so that it resounds with the flapping of their wings;\nthey are looking everywhere for the god, who cannot be far away; indeed,\nif I mistake not, he is coming from yonder side.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. All arm themselves with slings and bows! This way, all our\nsoldiers; shoot and strike! Some one give me a sling!\n\nCHORUS. War, a terrible war is breaking out between us and the gods!\nCome, let each one guard the Air, the son of Erebus,[316] in which the\nclouds float. Take care no immortal enters it without your knowledge.\nScan all sides with your glance. Hark! methinks I can hear the rustle of\nthe swift wings of a god from heaven.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Hi! you woman! where are you flying to? Halt, don't stir!\nkeep motionless! not a beat of your wing!--Who are you and from what\ncountry? You must say whence you come.[317]\n\nIRIS. I come from the abode of the Olympian gods.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What's your name, ship or cap?[318]\n\nIRIS. I am swift Iris.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Paralus or Salaminia?[319]\n\nIRIS. What do you mean?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Let a buzzard rush at her and seize her.[320]\n\nIRIS. Seize me! But what do all these insults betoken?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Woe to you!\n\nIRIS. 'Tis incomprehensible.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. By which gate did you pass through the wall, wretched\nwoman?\n\nIRIS. By which gate? Why, great gods, I don't know.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. You hear how she holds us in derision. Did you present\nyourself to the officers in command of the jays? You don't answer. Have\nyou a permit, bearing the seal of the storks?\n\nIRIS. Am I awake?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Did you get one?\n\nIRIS. Are you mad?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. No head-bird gave you a safe-conduct?\n\nIRIS. A safe-conduct to me, you poor fool!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ah! and so you slipped into this city on the sly and into\nthese realms of air-land that don't belong to you.\n\nIRIS. And what other road can the gods travel?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. By Zeus! I know nothing about that, not I. But they won't\npass this way. And you still dare to complain! Iris would ever have more\njustly suffered death.\n\nIRIS. I am immortal.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. You would have died nevertheless.--Oh! 'twould be truly\nintolerable! What! should the universe obey us and the gods alone\ncontinue their insolence and not understand that they must submit to the\nlaw of the strongest in their due turn? But tell me, where are you flying\nto?\n\nIRIS. I? The messenger of Zeus to mankind, I am going to tell them to\nsacrifice sheep and oxen on the altars and to fill their streets with the\nrich smoke of burning fat.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Of which gods are you speaking?\n\nIRIS. Of which?  Why, of ourselves, the gods of heaven.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. You, gods?\n\nIRIS. Are there others then?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Men now adore the birds as gods, and 'tis to them, by Zeus,\nthat they must offer sacrifices, and not to Zeus at all!\n\nIRIS. Oh! fool! fool! Rouse not the wrath of the gods, for 'tis terrible\nindeed. Armed with the brand of Zeus, Justice would annihilate your race;\nthe lightning would strike you as it did Lycimnius and consume both your\nbody and the porticos of your palace.[321]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Here! that's enough tall talk. Just you listen and keep\nquiet! Do you take me for a Lydian or a Phrygian[322] and think to\nfrighten me with your big words? Know, that if Zeus worries me again, I\nshall go at the head of my eagles, who are armed with lightning, and\nreduce his dwelling and that of Amphion to cinders.[323] I shall send\nmore than six hundred porphyrions clothed in leopards' skins[324] up to\nheaven against him; and formerly a single Porphyrion gave him enough to\ndo. As for you, his messenger, if you annoy me, I shall begin by\nstretching your legs asunder and so conduct myself, Iris though you be,\nthat despite my age, you will be astonished. I will show you a fine long\ntool that will fuck you three times over.\n\nIRIS. May you perish, you wretch, you and your infamous words!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Won't you be off quickly? Come, stretch your wings or look\nout for squalls!\n\nIRIS. If my father does not punish you for your insults....\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ha!... but just you be off elsewhere to roast younger folk\nthan us with your lightning.\n\nCHORUS. We forbid the gods, the sons of Zeus, to pass through our city\nand the mortals to send them the smoke of their sacrifices by this road.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis odd that the messenger we sent to the mortals has\nnever returned.\n\nHERALD. Oh! blessed Pisthetaerus, very wise, very illustrious, very\ngracious, thrice happy, very.... Come, prompt me, somebody, do.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Get to your story!\n\nHERALD. All peoples are filled with admiration for your wisdom, and they\naward you this golden crown.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I accept it. But tell me, why do the people admire me?\n\nHERALD. Oh you, who have founded so illustrious a city in the air, you\nknow not in what esteem men hold you and how many there are who burn with\ndesire to dwell in it. Before your city was built, all men had a mania\nfor Sparta; long hair and fasting were held in honour, men went dirty\nlike Socrates and carried staves. Now all is changed. Firstly, as soon as\n'tis dawn, they all spring out of bed together to go and seek their food,\nthe same as you do; then they fly off towards the notices and finally\ndevour the decrees. The bird-madness is so clear, that many actually bear\nthe names of birds. There is a halting victualler, who styles himself the\npartridge; Menippus calls himself the swallow; Opontius the one-eyed\ncrow; Philocles the lark; Theogenes the fox-goose; Lycurgus the ibis;\nChaerephon the bat; Syracosius the magpie; Midias the quail;[325] indeed\nhe looks like a quail that has been hit heavily over the head. Out of\nlove for the birds they repeat all the songs which concern the swallow,\nthe teal, the goose or the pigeon; in each verse you see wings, or at all\nevents a few feathers. This is what is happening down there. Finally,\nthere are more than ten thousand folk who are coming here from earth to\nask you for feathers and hooked claws; so, mind you supply yourself with\nwings for the immigrants.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ah! by Zeus, 'tis not the time for idling. Go as quick as\npossible and fill every hamper, every basket you can find with wings.\nManes[326] will bring them to me outside the walls, where I will welcome\nthose who present themselves.\n\nCHORUS. This town will soon be inhabited by a crowd of men.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. If fortune favours us.\n\nCHORUS. Folk are more and more delighted with it.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Come, hurry up and bring them along.\n\nCHORUS. Will not man find here everything that can please him--wisdom,\nlove, the divine Graces, the sweet face of gentle peace?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh! you lazy servant! won't you hurry yourself?\n\nCHORUS. Let a basket of wings be brought speedily. Come, beat him as I\ndo, and put some life into him; he is as lazy as an ass.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Aye, Manes is a great craven.\n\nCHORUS. Begin by putting this heap of wings in order; divide them in\nthree parts according to the birds from whom they came; the singing, the\nprophetic[327] and the aquatic birds; then you must take care to\ndistribute them to the men according to their character.\n\nPISTHETAERUS (_to Manes_). Oh! by the kestrels! I can keep my hands off\nyou no longer; you are too slow and lazy altogether.\n\nA PARRICIDE.[328] Oh! might I but become an eagle, who soars in the\nskies! Oh! might I fly above the azure waves of the barren sea![329]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ha! 'twould seem the news was true; I hear someone coming\nwho talks of wings.\n\nPARRICIDE. Nothing is more charming than to fly; I burn with desire to\nlive under the same laws as the birds; I am bird-mad and fly towards you,\nfor I want to live with you and to obey your laws.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Which laws? The birds have many laws.\n\nPARRICIDE. All of them; but the one that pleases me most is, that among\nthe birds it is considered a fine thing to peck and strangle one's\nfather.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Aye, by Zeus! according to us, he who dares to strike his\nfather, while still a chick, is a brave fellow.\n\nPARRICIDE. And therefore I want to dwell here, for I want to strangle my\nfather and inherit his wealth.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. But we have also an ancient law written in the code of the\nstorks, which runs thus, \"When the stork father has reared his young and\nhas taught them to fly, the young must in their turn support the father.\"\n\nPARRICIDE. 'Tis hardly worth while coming all this distance to be\ncompelled to keep my father!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. No, no, young friend, since you have come to us with such\nwillingness, I am going to give you these black wings, as though you were\nan orphan bird; furthermore, some good advice, that I received myself in\ninfancy. Don't strike your father, but take these wings in one hand and\nthese spurs in the other; imagine you have a cock's crest on your head\nand go and mount guard and fight; live on your pay and respect your\nfather's life. You're a gallant fellow! Very well, then! Fly to Thrace\nand fight.[330]\n\nPARRICIDE. By Bacchus! 'Tis well spoken; I will follow your counsel.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis acting wisely, by Zeus.\n\nCINESIAS.[331] \"On my light pinions I soar off to Olympus; in its\ncapricious flight my Muse flutters along the thousand paths of poetry in\nturn ...\"\n\nPISTHETAERUS. This is a fellow will need a whole shipload of wings.\n\nCINESIAS. ... it is seeking fresh outlet.\"\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Welcome, Cinesias, you lime-wood man![332] Why have you\ncome here a-twisting your game leg in circles?\n\nCINESIAS. \"I want to become a bird, a tuneful nightingale.\"\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Enough of that sort of ditty. Tell me what you want.\n\nCINESIAS. Give me wings and I will fly into the topmost airs to gather\nfresh songs in the clouds, in the midst of the vapours and the fleecy\nsnow.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Gather songs in the clouds?\n\nCINESIAS. 'Tis on them the whole of our latter-day art depends. The most\nbrilliant dithyrambs are those that flap their wings in void space and\nare clothed in mist and dense obscurity. To appreciate this, just listen.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh! no, no, no!\n\nCINESIAS. By Hermes! but indeed you shall. \"I shall travel through thine\nethereal empire like a winged bird, who cleaveth space with his long\nneck....\"\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Stop! easy all, I say![333]\n\nCINESIAS. ... as I soar over the seas, carried by the breath of the winds\n...\n\nPISTHETAERUS. By Zeus! but I'll cut your breath short.\n\nCINESIAS. ... now rushing along the tracks of Notus, now nearing Boreas\nacross the infinite wastes of the ether.\" (_Pisthetaerus beats him._) Ah!\nold man, that's a pretty and clever idea truly!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What! are you not delighted to be cleaving the air?[334]\n\nCINESIAS. To treat a dithyrambic poet, for whom the tribes dispute with\neach other, in this style![335]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Will you stay with us and form a chorus of winged birds as\nslender as Leotrophides[336] for the Cecropid tribe?\n\nCINESIAS. You are making game of me, 'tis clear; but know that I shall\nnever leave you in peace if I do not have wings wherewith to traverse the\nair.\n\nAN INFORMER. What are these birds with downy feathers, who look so\npitiable to me? Tell me, oh swallow with the long dappled wings.[337]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh! but 'tis a perfect invasion that threatens us. Here\ncomes another of them, humming along.\n\nINFORMER. Swallow with the long dappled wings, once more I summon you.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. It's his cloak I believe he's addressing; 'faith, it stands\nin great need of the swallows' return.[338]\n\nINFORMER. Where is he who gives out wings to all comers?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis I, but you must tell me for what purpose you want\nthem.\n\nINFORMER. Ask no questions. I want wings, and wings I must have.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Do you want to fly straight to Pellen\u00e9?[339]\n\nINFORMER. I? Why, I am an accuser of the islands,[340] an informer ...\n\nPISTHETAERUS. A fine trade, truly!\n\nINFORMER. ... a hatcher of lawsuits. Hence I have great need of wings to\nprowl round the cities and drag them before justice.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Would you do this better if you had wings?\n\nINFORMER. No, but I should no longer fear the pirates; I should return\nwith the cranes, loaded with a supply of lawsuits by way of ballast.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. So it seems, despite all your youthful vigour, you make it\nyour trade to denounce strangers?\n\nINFORMER. Well, and why not? I don't know how to dig.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. But, by Zeus! there are honest ways of gaining a living at\nyour age without all this infamous trickery.\n\nINFORMER. My friend, I am asking you for wings, not for words.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis just my words that give you wings.\n\nINFORMER. And how can you give a man wings with your words?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. 'Tis thus that all first start.\n\nINFORMER. All?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Have you not often heard the father say to young men in the\nbarbers' shops, \"It's astonishing how Diitrephes' advice has made my son\nfly to horse-riding.\"--\"Mine,\" says another, \"has flown towards tragic\npoetry on the wings of his imagination.\"\n\nINFORMER. So that words give wings?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Undoubtedly; words give wings to the mind and make a man\nsoar to heaven. Thus I hope that my wise words will give you wings to fly\nto some less degrading trade.\n\nINFORMER. But I do not want to.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What do you reckon on doing then?\n\nINFORMER. I won't belie my breeding; from generation to generation we\nhave lived by informing. Quick, therefore, give me quickly some light,\nswift hawk or kestrel wings, so that I may summon the islanders, sustain\nthe accusation here, and haste back there again on flying pinions.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I see. In this way the stranger will be condemned even\nbefore he appears.\n\nINFORMER. That's just it.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. And while he is on his way here by sea, you will be flying\nto the islands to despoil him of his property.\n\nINFORMER. You've hit it, precisely; I must whirl hither and thither like\na perfect humming-top.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I catch the idea. Wait, i' faith, I've got some fine\nCorcyraean wings.[341] How do you like them?\n\nINFORMER. Oh! woe is me! Why, 'tis a whip!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. No, no; these are the wings, I tell you, that set the top\na-spinning.\n\nINFORMER. Oh! oh! oh!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Take your flight, clear off, you miserable cur, or you will\nsoon see what comes of quibbling and lying. Come, let us gather up our\nwings and withdraw.\n\nCHORUS. In my ethereal nights I have seen many things new and strange and\nwondrous beyond belief. There is a tree called Cleonymus belonging to an\nunknown species; it has no heart, is good for nothing and is as tall as\nit is cowardly. In springtime it shoots forth calumnies instead of buds\nand in autumn it strews the ground with bucklers in place of leaves.[342]\n\nFar away in the regions of darkness, where no ray of light ever enters,\nthere is a country, where men sit at the table of the heroes and dwell\nwith them always--save always in the evening. Should any mortal meet the\nhero Orestes at night, he would soon be stripped and covered with blows\nfrom head to foot.[343]\n\nPROMETHEUS. Ah! by the gods! if only Zeus does not espy me! Where is\nPisthetaerus?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ha! what is this? A masked man!\n\nPROMETHEUS. Can you see any god behind me?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. No, none. But who are you, pray?\n\nPROMETHEUS. What's the time, please?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. The time? Why, it's past noon. Who are you?\n\nPROMETHEUS. Is it the fall of day? Is it no later than that?[344]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh! 'pon my word! but you grow tiresome!\n\nPROMETHEUS. What is Zeus doing? Is he dispersing the clouds or gathering\nthem?[345]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Take care, lest I lose all patience.\n\nPROMETHEUS. Come, I will raise my mask.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ah! my dear Prometheus!\n\nPROMETHEUS. Stop! stop! speak lower!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Why, what's the matter, Prometheus?\n\nPROMETHEUS. H'sh, h'sh! Don't call me by my name; you will be my ruin, if\nZeus should see me here. But, if you want me to tell you how things are\ngoing in heaven, take this umbrella and shield me, so that the gods don't\nsee me.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I can recognize Prometheus in this cunning trick. Come,\nquick then, and fear nothing; speak on.\n\nPROMETHEUS. Then listen.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I am listening, proceed!\n\nPROMETHEUS. It's all over with Zeus.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ah! and since when, pray?\n\nPROMETHEUS. Since you founded this city in the air. There is not a man\nwho now sacrifices to the gods; the smoke of the victims no longer\nreaches us. Not the smallest offering comes! We fast as though it were\nthe festival of Demeter.[346] The barbarian gods, who are dying of\nhunger, are bawling like Illyrians[347] and threaten to make an armed\ndescent upon Zeus, if he does not open markets where joints of the\nvictims are sold.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What! there are other gods besides you, barbarian gods who\ndwell above Olympus?\n\nPROMETHEUS. If there were no barbarian gods, who would be the patron of\nExecestides?[348]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. And what is the name of these gods?\n\nPROMETHEUS. Their name? Why, the Triballi.[349]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ah, indeed! 'tis from that no doubt that we derive the word\n'tribulation.'[350]\n\nPROMETHEUS. Most likely. But one thing I can tell you for certain,\nnamely, that Zeus and the celestial Triballi are going to send deputies\nhere to sue for peace. Now don't you treat, unless Zeus restores the\nsceptre to the birds and gives you Basileia[351] in marriage.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Who is this Basileia?\n\nPROMETHEUS. A very fine young damsel, who makes the lightning for Zeus;\nall things come from her, wisdom, good laws, virtue, the fleet,\ncalumnies, the public paymaster and the triobolus.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ah! then she is a sort of general manageress to the god.\n\nPROMETHEUS. Yes, precisely. If he gives you her for your wife, yours will\nbe the almighty power. That is what I have come to tell you; for you know\nmy constant and habitual goodwill towards men.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh, yes! 'tis thanks to you that we roast our meat.[352]\n\nPROMETHEUS. I hate the gods, as you know.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Aye, by Zeus, you have always detested them.\n\nPROMETHEUS. Towards them I am a veritable Timon;[353] but I must return\nin all haste, so give me the umbrella; if Zeus should see me from up\nthere, he would think I was escorting one of the Canephori.[354]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Wait, take this stool as well.\n\nCHORUS. Near by the land of the Sciapodes[355] there is a marsh, from the\nborders whereof the odious Socrates evokes the souls of men.\nPisander[356] came one day to see his soul, which he had left there when\nstill alive. He offered a little victim, a camel,[357] slit his throat\nand, following the example of Ulysses, stepped one pace backwards.[358]\nThen that bat of a Chaerephon[359] came up from hell to drink the camel's\nblood.\n\nPOSIDON.[360] This is the city of Nephelococcygia, Cloud-cuckoo-town,\nwhither we come as ambassadors. (_To Triballus_.) Hi! what are you up to?\nyou are throwing your cloak over the left shoulder. Come, fling it quick\nover the right! And why, pray, does it draggle this fashion? Have you\nulcers to hide like Laespodias?[361] Oh! democracy![362] whither, oh!\nwhither are you leading us? Is it possible that the gods have chosen such\nan envoy?\n\nTRIBALLUS. Leave me alone.\n\nPOSIDON. Ugh! the cursed savage! you are by far the most barbarous of all\nthe gods.--Tell me, Heracles, what are we going to do?\n\nHERACLES. I have already told you that I want to strangle the fellow who\nhas dared to block us in.\n\nPOSIDON. But, my friend, we are envoys of peace.\n\nHERACLES. All the more reason why I wish to strangle him.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Hand me the cheese-grater; bring me the silphium for sauce;\npass me the cheese and watch the coals.[363]\n\nHERACLES. Mortal! we who greet you are three gods.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Wait a bit till I have prepared my silphium pickle.\n\nHERACLES. What are these meats?[364]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. These are birds that have been punished with death for\nattacking the people's friends.\n\nHERACLES. And you are seasoning them before answering us?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ah! Heracles! welcome, welcome! What's the matter?[365]\n\nHERACLES. The gods have sent us here as ambassadors to treat for peace.\n\nA SERVANT. There's no more oil in the flask.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. And yet the birds must be thoroughly basted with it.[366]\n\nHERACLES. We have no interest to serve in fighting you; as for you, be\nfriends and we promise that you shall always have rain-water in your\npools and the warmest of warm weather. So far as these points go we are\narmed with plenary authority.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. We have never been the aggressors, and even now we are as\nwell disposed for peace as yourselves, provided you agree to one\nequitable condition, namely, that Zeus yield his sceptre to the birds. If\nonly this is agreed to, I invite the ambassadors to dinner.\n\nHERACLES. That's good enough for me. I vote for peace.\n\nPOSIDON. You wretch! you are nothing but a fool and a glutton. Do you\nwant to dethrone your own father?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What an error! Why, the gods will be much more powerful if\nthe birds govern the earth. At present the mortals are hidden beneath the\nclouds, escape your observation, and commit perjury in your name; but if\nyou had the birds for your allies, and a man, after having sworn by the\ncrow and Zeus, should fail to keep his oath, the crow would dive down\nupon him unawares and pluck out his eye.\n\nPOSIDON. Well thought of, by Posidon![367]\n\nHERACLES. My notion too.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. (_to the Triballian_). And you, what's your opinion?\n\nTRIBALLUS. Nabaisatreu.[368]\n\nPISTHETAERUS. D'you see? he also approves. But hear another thing in\nwhich we can serve you. If a man vows to offer a sacrifice to some god\nand then procrastinates, pretending that the gods can wait, and thus does\nnot keep his word, we shall punish his stinginess.\n\nPOSIDON. Ah! ah! and how?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. While he is counting his money or is in the bath, a kite\nwill relieve him, before he knows it, either in coin or in clothes, of\nthe value of a couple of sheep, and carry it to the god.\n\nHERACLES. I vote for restoring them the sceptre.\n\nPOSIDON. Ask the Triballian.\n\nHERACLES. Hi! Triballian, do you want a thrashing?\n\nTRIBALLUS. Saunaka baktarikrousa.[368]\n\nHERACLES. He says, \"Right willingly.\"\n\nPOSIDON. If that be the opinion of both of you, why, I consent too.\n\nHERACLES. Very well! we accord the sceptre.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Ah! I was nearly forgetting another condition. I will leave\nHer\u00e9 to Zeus, but only if the young Basileia is given me in marriage.\n\nPOSIDON. Then you don't want peace. Let us withdraw.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. It matters mighty little to me. Cook, look to the gravy.\n\nHERACLES. What an odd fellow this Posidon is! Where are you off to? Are\nwe going to war about a woman?\n\nPOSIDON. What else is there to do?\n\nHERACLES. What else? Why, conclude peace.\n\nPOSIDON. Oh! the ninny! do you always want to be fooled? Why, you are\nseeking your own downfall. If Zeus were to die, after having yielded them\nthe sovereignty, you would be ruined, for you are the heir of all the\nwealth he will leave behind.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Oh! by the gods! how he is cajoling you. Step aside, that I\nmay have a word with you. Your uncle is getting the better of you, my\npoor friend.[369] The law will not allow you an obolus of the paternal\nproperty, for you are a bastard and not a legitimate child.\n\nHERACLES. I a bastard! What's that you tell me?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Why, certainly; are you not born of a stranger woman?[370]\nBesides, is not Athen\u00e9 recognized as Zeus' sole heiress? And no daughter\nwould be that, if she had a legitimate brother.\n\nHERACLES. But what if my father wished to give me his property on his\ndeath-bed, even though I be a bastard?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. The law forbids it, and this same Posidon would be the\nfirst to lay claim to his wealth, in virtue of being his legitimate\nbrother. Listen; thus runs Solon's law: \"A bastard shall not inherit, if\nthere are legitimate children; and if there are no legitimate children,\nthe property shall pass to the nearest kin.\"\n\nHERACLES. And I get nothing whatever of the paternal property?\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Absolutely nothing. But tell me, has your father had you\nentered on the registers of his phratria?[371]\n\nHERACLES. No, and I have long been surprised at the omission.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. What ails you, that you should shake your fist at heaven?\nDo you want to fight it? Why, be on my side, I will make you a king and\nwill feed you on bird's milk and honey.\n\nHERACLES. Your further condition seems fair to me. I cede you the young\ndamsel.\n\nPOSIDON. But I, I vote against this opinion.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Then all depends on the Triballian. (_To the Triballian._)\nWhat do you say?\n\nTRIBALLUS. Big bird give daughter pretty and queen.\n\nHERACLES. You say that you give her?\n\nPOSIDON. Why no, he does not say anything of the sort, that he gives her;\nelse I cannot understand any better than the swallows.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Exactly so. Does he not say she must be given to the\nswallows?\n\nPOSIDON. Very well! you two arrange the matter; make peace, since you\nwish it so; I'll hold my tongue.\n\nHERACLES. We are of a mind to grant you all that you ask. But come up\nthere with us to receive Basileia and the celestial bounty.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Here are birds already cut up, and very suitable for a\nnuptial feast.\n\nHERACLES. You go and, if you like, I will stay here to roast them.\n\nPISTHETAERUS. You to roast them! you are too much the glutton; come along\nwith us.\n\nHERACLES. Ah! how well I would have treated myself!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Let some bring me a beautiful and magnificent tunic for the\nwedding.\n\nCHORUS.[372] At Phanae,[373] near the Clepsydra,[374] there dwells a\npeople who have neither faith nor law, the Englottogastors,[375] who\nreap, sow, pluck the vines and the figs[376] with their tongues; they\nbelong to a barbaric race, and among them the Philippi and the\nGorgiases[377] are to be found; 'tis these Englottogastorian Phillippi\nwho introduced the custom all over Attica of cutting out the tongue\nseparately at sacrifices.[378]\n\nA MESSENGER. Oh, you, whose unbounded happiness I cannot express in\nwords, thrice happy race of airy birds, receive your king in your\nfortunate dwellings. More brilliant than the brightest star that illumes\nthe earth, he is approaching his glittering golden palace; the sun itself\ndoes not shine with more dazzling glory. He is entering with his bride at\nhis side[379] whose beauty no human tongue can express; in his hand he\nbrandishes the lightning, the winged shaft of Zeus; perfumes of\nunspeakable sweetness pervade the ethereal realms. 'Tis a glorious\nspectacle to see the clouds of incense wafting in light whirlwinds before\nthe breath of the Zephyr! But here he is himself. Divine Muse! let thy\nsacred lips begin with songs of happy omen.\n\nCHORUS. Fall back! to the right! to the left! advance![380] Fly around\nthis happy mortal, whom Fortune loads with her blessings. Oh! oh! what\ngrace! what beauty! Oh, marriage so auspicious for our city! All honour\nto this man! 'tis through him that the birds are called to such glorious\ndestinies. Let your nuptial hymns, your nuptial songs, greet him and his\nBasileia! 'Twas in the midst of such festivities that the Fates formerly\nunited Olympian Here to the King who governs the gods from the summit of\nhis inaccessible throne. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus! Rosy Eros with the\ngolden wings held the reins and guided the chariot; 'twas he, who\npresided over the union of Zeus and the fortunate Her\u00e9. Oh! Hymen! oh!\nHymenaeus!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. I am delighted with your songs, I applaud your verses. Now\ncelebrate the thunder that shakes the earth, the flaming lightning of\nZeus and the terrible flashing thunderbolt.\n\nCHORUS. Oh, thou golden flash of the lightning! oh, ye divine shafts of\nflame, that Zeus has hitherto shot forth! Oh, ye rolling thunders, that\nbring down the rain! 'Tis by the order of our king that ye shall now\nstagger the earth! Oh, Hymen! 'tis through thee that he commands the\nuniverse and that he makes Basileia, whom he has robbed from Zeus, take\nher seat at his side. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!\n\nPISTHETAERUS. Let all the winged tribes of our fellow-citizens follow the\nbridal couple to the palace of Zeus[381] and to the nuptial couch!\nStretch forth your hands, my dear wife! Take hold of me by my wings and\nlet us dance; I am going to lift you up and carry you through the air.\n\nCHORUS. Oh, joy! Io Paean! Tralala! victory is thine, oh, thou greatest\nof the gods!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFINIS OF \"THE BIRDS\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFootnotes:\n\n[175] Euelpides is holding a jay and Pisthetaerus a crow; they are the\nguides who are to lead them to the kingdom of the birds.\n\n[176] A stranger, who wanted to pass as an Athenian, although coming\noriginally from a far-away barbarian country.\n\n[177] A king of Thrace, a son of Ares, who married Procn\u00e9, the daughter\nof Pandion, King of Athens, whom he had assisted against the Megarians.\nHe violated his sister-in-law, Philomela, and then cut out her tongue;\nshe nevertheless managed to convey to her sister how she had been\ntreated. They both agreed to kill Itys, whom Procn\u00e9 had born to Tereus,\nand dished up the limbs of his own son to the father; at the end of the\nmeal Philomela appeared and threw the child's head upon the table. Tereus\nrushed with drawn sword upon the princesses, but all the actors in this\nterrible scene were metamorphised. Tereus became an Epops (hoopoe),\nProcn\u00e9 a swallow, Philomela a nightingale, and Itys a goldfinch.\nAccording to Anacreon and Apollodorus it was Procn\u00e9 who became the\nnightingale and Philomela the swallow, and this is the version of the\ntradition followed by Aristophanes.\n\n[178] An Athenian who had some resemblance to a jay--so says the\nScholiast, at any rate.\n\n[179] Literally, _to go to the crows_, a proverbial expression equivalent\nto our _going to the devil_.\n\n[180] They leave Athens because of their hatred of lawsuits and\ninformers; this is the especial failing of the Athenians satirized in\n'The Wasps.'\n\n[181] Myrtle boughs were used in sacrifices, and the founding of every\ncolony was started by a sacrifice.\n\n[182] The actors wore masks made to resemble the birds they were supposed\nto represent.\n\n[183] Fear had had disastrous effects upon Euelpides' internal economy,\nthis his feet evidenced.\n\n[184] The same mishap had occurred to Pisthetaerus.\n\n[185] The Greek word for a wren, [Greek: trochilos], is derived from the\nsame root as [Greek: trechein], to run.\n\n[186] No doubt there was some scenery to represent a forest. Besides,\nthere is a pun intended. The words answering for _forest_ and _door_\n([Greek: hul_e and thura]) in Greek only differ slightly in sound.\n\n[187] Sophocles had written a tragedy about Tereus, in which, no doubt,\nthe king finally appears as a hoopoe.\n\n[188] A [Greek: para prosdokian]; one would expect the question to be\n\"bird or man.\"--Are you a peacock? The hoopoe resembles the peacock\ninasmuch as both have crests.\n\n[189] Athens.\n\n[190] The Athenians were madly addicted to lawsuits. (_Vide_ 'The\nWasps.')\n\n[191] As much as to say, _Then you have such things as anti-dicasts?_ And\nEuelpides practically replies, _Very few_.\n\n[192] His name was Aristocrates; he was a general and commanded a fleet\nsent in aid of Corcyra.\n\n[193] The State galley, which carried the officials of the Athenian\nrepublic to their several departments and brought back those whose time\nhad expired; it was this galley that was sent to Sicily to fetch back\nAlcibiades, who was accused of sacrilege.\n\n[194] A tragic poet, who was a leper; there is a play, of course, on the\nLepreum.\n\n[195] An allusion to Opuntius, who was one-eyed.\n\n[196] The newly-married ate a sesame cake, decorated with garlands of\nmyrtle, poppies, and mint.\n\n[197] From [Greek: polein], to turn.\n\n[198] The Greek words for _pole_ and _city_ ([Greek: polos] and [Greek:\npolis]) only differ by a single letter.\n\n[199] Boeotia separated Attica from Phocis.\n\n[200] He swears by the powers that are to him dreadful.\n\n[201] As already stated, according to the legend, accepted by\nAristophanes, it was Procn\u00e9 who was turned into the nightingale.\n\n[202] The son of Tereus and Procn\u00e9.\n\n[203] An African bird, that comes to the southern countries of Europe, to\nGreece, Italy, and Spain; it is even seen in Provence.\n\n[204] Aristophanes amusingly mixes up real birds with people and\nindividuals, whom he represents in the form of birds; he is personifying\nthe Medians here.\n\n[205] Philocles, a tragic poet, had written a tragedy on Tereus, which\nwas simply a plagiarism of the play of the same name by Sophocles.\nPhilocles is the son of Epops, because he got his inspiration from\nSophocles' Tereus, and at the same time is father to Epops, since he\nhimself produced another Tereus.\n\n[206] This Hipponicus is probably the orator whose ears Alcibiades boxed\nto gain a bet; he was a descendant of Callias, who was famous for his\nhatred of Pisistratus.\n\n[207] This Callias, who must not be confounded with the foe of\nPisistratus, had ruined himself.\n\n[208] Cleonymus had cast away his shield; he was as great a glutton as he\nwas a coward.\n\n[209] A race in which the track had to be circled twice.\n\n[210] A people of Asia Minor; when pursued by the Ionians they took\nrefuge in the mountains.\n\n[211] An Athenian barber.\n\n[212] The owl was dedicated to Athen\u00e9, and being respected at Athens, it\nhad greatly multiplied. Hence the proverb, _taking owls to Athens_,\nsimilar to our English _taking coals to Newcastle_.\n\n[213] An allusion to the Feast of Pots; it was kept at Athens on the\nthird day of the Anthesteria, when all sorts of vegetables were stewed\ntogether and offered for the dead to Bacchus and Athen\u00e9. This Feast was\npeculiar to Athens.--Hence Pisthetaerus thinks that the owl will\nrecognize they are Athenians by seeing the stew-pots, and as he is an\nAthenian bird, he will not attack them.\n\n[214] Nicias, the famous Athenian general.--The siege of Melos in 417\nB.C., or two years previous to the production of 'The Birds,' had\nespecially done him great credit. He was joint commander of the Sicilian\nexpedition.\n\n[215] Procn\u00e9, the daughter of Pandion, King of Athens.\n\n[216] A space beyond the walls of Athens which contained the gardens of\nthe Academy and the graves of citizens who had died for their country.\n\n[217] A town in Western Argolis, where the Athenians had been recently\ndefeated. The somewhat similar word in Greek, [Greek: ornithes],\nsignifies _birds_.\n\n[218] Epops is addressing the two slaves, no doubt Xanthias and Manes,\nwho are mentioned later on.\n\n[219] It was customary, when speaking in public and also at feasts, to\nwear a chaplet; hence the question Euelpides puts. The guests wore\nchaplets of flowers, herbs, and leaves, which had the property of being\nrefreshing.\n\n[220] A deme of Attica. In Greek the word ([Greek: kephalai]) also means\n_heads_, and hence the pun.\n\n[221] One of Darius' best generals. After his expedition against the\nScythians, this prince gave him the command of the army which he left in\nEurope. Megabyzus took Perinthos (afterwards called Heraclea) and\nconquered Thrace.\n\n[222] All Persians wore the tiara, but always on one side; the Great King\nalone wore it straight on his head.\n\n[223]  Noted as the birthplace of Thucydides, a deme of Attica of the\ntribe of Leontis. Demosthenes tells us it was thirty-five stadia from\nAthens.\n\n[224] The appearance of the kite in Greece betokened the return of\nspringtime; it was therefore worshipped as a symbol of that season.\n\n[225] To look at the kite, who no doubt was flying high in the sky.\n\n[226] As already shown, the Athenians were addicted to carrying small\ncoins in their mouths.--This obolus was for the purpose of buying flour\nto fill the bag he was carrying.\n\n[227] In Phoenicia and Egypt the cuckoo makes its appearance about\nharvest-time.\n\n[228] This was an Egyptian proverb, meaning, _When the cuckoo sings we go\nharvesting_. Both the Phoenicians and the Egyptians practised\ncircumcision.\n\n[229] The staff, called a sceptre, generally terminated in a piece of\ncarved work, representing a flower, a fruit, and most often a bird.\n\n[230] A general accused of treachery. The bird watches Lysicrates,\nbecause, according to Pisthetaerus, he had a right to a share of the\npresents.\n\n[231] It is thus that Phidias represents his Olympian Zeus.\n\n[232] One of the diviners sent to Sybaris (in Magna Graecia, S. Italy)\nwith the Athenian colonists, who rebuilt the town under the new name of\nThurium.\n\n[233] As if he were saying, \"Oh, gods!\" Like Lampon, he swears by the\nbirds, instead of swearing by the gods.--The names of these birds are\nthose of two of the Titans.\n\n[234] Alcmena, wife of Amphitryon, King of Thebes and mother of\nHeracles.--Semel\u00e9, the daughter of Cadmus and Hermion\u00e9 and mother of\nBacchus; both seduced by Zeus.--Alop\u00e9, daughter of Cercyon, a robber, who\nreigned at Eleusis and was conquered by Perseus. Alop\u00e9 was honoured with\nPosidon's caresses; by him she had a son named Hippothous, at first\nbrought up by shepherds but who afterwards was restored to the throne of\nhis grandfather by Theseus.\n\n[235] Because the bald patch on the coot's head resembles the shaven and\ndepilated 'motte.'\n\n[236] Because water is the duck's domain, as it is that of Posidon.\n\n[237] Because the gull, like Heracles, is voracious.\n\n[238] The Germans still call it _Zaunk\u00f6nig_ and the French _roitelet_,\nboth names thus containing the idea of _king_.\n\n[239] The Scholiast draws our attention to the fact that Homer says this\nof Her\u00e9 and not of Iris (Iliad, V. 778); it is only another proof that\nthe text of Homer has reached us in a corrupted form, or it may be that\nAristophanes was liable, like other people, to occasional mistakes of\nquotation.\n\n[240] In sacrifices.\n\n[241] An Athenian proverb.\n\n[242] A celebrated temple to Zeus in an oasis of Libya.\n\n[243] Nicias was commander, along with Demosthenes, and later on\nAlcibiades, of the Athenian forces before Syracuse, in the ill-fated\nSicilian Expedition, 415-413 B.C. He was much blamed for dilatoriness and\nindecision.\n\n[244] Servants of Pisthetaerus and Euelpides.\n\n[245] It has already been mentioned that, according to the legend\nfollowed by Aristophanes, Procn\u00e9 had been changed into a nightingale and\nPhilomela into a swallow.\n\n[246] The actor, representing Procn\u00e9, was dressed out as a courtesan, but\nwore the mask of a bird.\n\n[247] Young unmarried girls wore golden ornaments; the apparel of married\nwomen was much simpler.\n\n[248] The actor, representing Procn\u00e9, was a flute-player.\n\n[249] The parabasis.\n\n[250] A sophist of the island of Ceos, a disciple of Protagoras, as\ncelebrated for his knowledge as for his eloquence. The Athenians\ncondemned him to death as a corrupter of youth in 396 B.C.\n\n[251] Lovers were wont to make each other presents of birds. The cock and\nthe goose are mentioned, of course, in jest.\n\n[252] i.e. that it gave notice of the approach of winter, during which\nseason the Ancients did not venture to sea.\n\n[253] A notorious robber.\n\n[254] Meaning, \"_We are your oracles._\"--Dodona was an oracle in\nEpirus.--The temple of Zeus there was surrounded by a dense forest, all\nthe trees of which were endowed with the gift of prophecy; both the\nsacred oaks and the pigeons that lived in them answered the questions of\nthose who came to consult the oracle in pure Greek.\n\n[255] The Greek word for _omen_ is the same as that for _bird_--[Greek:\nornis].\n\n[256] A satire on the passion of the Greeks for seeing an omen in\neverything.\n\n[257] An imitation of the nightingale's song.\n\n[258] God of the groves and wilds.\n\n[259] The 'Mother of the Gods'; roaming the mountains, she held dances,\nalways attended by Pan and his accompanying rout of Fauns and Satyrs.\n\n[260] An allusion to cock-fighting; the birds are armed with brazen\nspurs.\n\n[261] An allusion to the spots on this bird, which resemble the scars\nleft by a branding iron.\n\n[262] He was of Asiatic origin, but wished to pass for an Athenian.\n\n[263] Or Philamnon, King of Thrace; the Scholiast remarks that the\nPhrygians and the Thracians had a common origin.\n\n[264] The Greek word here, [Greek: pappos], is also the name of a little\nbird.\n\n[265] A basket-maker who had become rich.--The Phylarchs were the headmen\nof the tribes, [Greek: Phulai]. They presided at the private assemblies\nand were charged with the management of the treasury.--The Hipparchs, as\nthe name implies, were the leaders of the cavalry; there were only two of\nthese in the Athenian army.\n\n[266] He had now become a senator, member of the [Greek: Boul_e].\n\n[267] Pisthetaerus and Euelpides now both return with wings.\n\n[268] Meaning, 'tis we who wanted to have these wings.--The verse from\nAeschylus, quoted here, is taken from 'The Myrmidons,' a tragedy of which\nonly a few fragments remain.\n\n[269] The Greek word signified the city of Sparta, and also a kind of\nbroom used for weaving rough matting, which served for the beds of the\nvery poor.\n\n[270] A fanciful name constructed from [Greek: nephel_e], a\ncloud, and [Greek: kokkux], a cuckoo; thus a city of clouds and\ncuckoos.--_Wolkenkukelheim_[*] is a clever approximation in German.\nCloud-cuckoo-town, perhaps, is the best English equivalent.\n\n[* Transcriber's note: So in original. The correct German word is\n_Wolkenkuckucksheim_.]\n\n[271] He was a boaster nicknamed [Greek: Kapnos], _smoke_, because he\npromised a great deal and never kept his word.\n\n[272] Also mentioned in 'The Wasps.'\n\n[273] Because the war of the Titans against the gods was only a fiction\nof the poets.\n\n[274] A sacred cloth, with which the statue of Athen\u00e9 in the Acropolis\nwas draped.\n\n[275] Meaning, to be patron-goddess of the city. Athen\u00e9 had a temple of\nthis name.\n\n[276] An Athenian effeminate, frequently ridiculed by Aristophanes.\n\n[277] This was the name of the wall surrounding the Acropolis.\n\n[278] i.e. the fighting-cock.\n\n[279] To waken the sentinels, who might else have fallen asleep.--There\nare several merry contradictions in the various parts of this list of\ninjunctions.\n\n[280] In allusion to the leather strap which flute-players wore to\nconstrict the cheeks and add to the power of the breath. The performer\nhere no doubt wore a raven's mask.\n\n[281] Hellanicus, the Mitylenian historian, tells that this surname of\nArtemis is derived from Colaenus, King of Athens before Cecrops and a\ndescendant of Hermes. In obedience to an oracle he erected a temple to\nthe goddess, invoking her as Artemis Colaenis (the Artemis of Colaenus).\n\n[282] This Cleocritus, says the Scholiast, was long-necked and strutted\nlike an ostrich.\n\n[283] The Chians were the most faithful allies of Athens, and hence their\nname was always mentioned in prayers, decrees, etc.\n\n[284] Verses sung by maidens.\n\n[285] This ceremony took place on the tenth day after birth, and may be\nstyled the pagan baptism.\n\n[286] Hiero, tyrant of Syracuse.--This passage is borrowed from Pindar.\n\n[287] [Greek: Hier\u00f3n] in Greek means sacrifice.\n\n[288] A parody of poetic pathos, not to say bathos.\n\n[289] Which the priest was preparing to sacrifice.\n\n[290] Orneae, a city in Argolis ([Greek: ornis] in Greek means a bird).\nIt was because of this similarity in sound that the prophet alludes to\nOrneae.\n\n[291] Noted Athenian diviner, who, when the power was still shared\nbetween Thucydides and Pericles, predicted that it would soon be centred\nin the hands of the latter; his ground for this prophecy was the sight of\na ram with a single horn.\n\n[292] No doubt another Athenian diviner, and possibly the same person\nwhom Aristophanes names in 'The Knights' and 'The Wasps' as being a\nthief.\n\n[293] A celebrated geometrician and astronomer.\n\n[294] A deme contiguous to Athens. It is as though he said, \"Well known\nthroughout all England and at Croydon.\"\n\n[295] Thales was no less famous as a geometrician than he was as a sage.\n\n[296] Officers of Athens, whose duty was to protect strangers who came on\npolitical or other business, and see to their interests generally.\n\n[297] He addresses the inspector thus because of the royal and\nmagnificent manners he assumes.\n\n[298] Magistrates appointed to inspect the tributary towns.\n\n[299] A much-despised citizen, already mentioned. He ironically supposes\nhim invested with the powers of an Archon, which ordinarily were\nentrusted only to men of good repute.\n\n[300] A Persian satrap.--An allusion to certain orators, who, bribed with\nAsiatic gold, had often defended the interests of the foe in the Public\nAssembly.\n\n[301] A Macedonian people in the peninsula of Chalcidic\u00e9. This name is\nchosen because of its similarity to the Greek word [Greek:\nolophuresthai], _to groan_. It is from another verb, [Greek: ototuzein],\nmeaning the same thing, that Pisthetaerus coins the name of Ototyxians,\ni.e. groaners, because he is about to beat the dealer.--The\nmother-country had the right to impose any law it chose upon its\ncolonies.\n\n[302] Corresponding to our month of April.\n\n[303] Which the inspector had brought with him for the purpose of\ninaugurating the assemblies of the people or some tribunal.\n\n[304] So that the sacrifices might no longer be interrupted.\n\n[305] A disciple of Democrites; he passed over from superstition to\natheism. The injustice and perversity of mankind led him to deny the\nexistence of the gods, to lay bare the mysteries and to break the idols.\nThe Athenians had put a price on his head, so he left Greece and perished\nsoon afterwards in a storm at sea.\n\n[306] By this jest Aristophanes means to imply that tyranny is dead, and\nthat no one aspires to despotic power, though this silly accusation was\nconstantly being raised by the demagogues and always favourably received\nby the populace.\n\n[307] A poulterer.--Strouthian, used in joke to designate him, as if from\nthe name of his 'deme,' is derived from [Greek: strouthos], _a sparrow_.\nThe birds' foe is thus grotesquely furnished with an ornithological\nsurname.\n\n[308] From Aphrodit\u00e9 (Venus), to whom he had awarded the apple, prize of\nbeauty, in the contest of the \"goddesses three.\"\n\n[309] Laurium was an Athenian deme at the extremity of the Attic\npeninsula containing valuable silver mines, the revenues of which were\nlargely employed in the maintenance of the fleet and payment of the\ncrews. The \"owls of Laurium,\" of course, mean pieces of money; the\nAthenian coinage was stamped with a representation of an owl, the bird of\nAthen\u00e9.\n\n[310] A pun impossible to keep in English, on the two meanings of the\nword [Greek: aetos], which signifies both an eagle and the gable of a\nhouse or pediment of a temple.\n\n[311] That is, birds' crops, into which they could stow away plenty of\ngood things.\n\n[312] The Ancients appear to have placed metal discs over statues\nstanding in the open air, to save them from injury from the weather, etc.\n\n[313] So as not to be carried away by the wind when crossing the sea,\ncranes are popularly supposed to ballast themselves with stones, which\nthey carry in their beaks.\n\n[314] Pisthetaerus modifies the Greek proverbial saying, \"To what use\ncannot hands be put?\"\n\n[315] A corps of Athenian cavalry was so named.\n\n[316] Chaos, Night, Tartarus, and Erebus alone existed in the beginning;\nEros was born from Night and Erebus, and he wedded Chaos and begot Earth,\nAir, and Heaven; so runs the fable.\n\n[317] Iris appears from the top of the stage and arrests her flight in\nmid-career.\n\n[318] Ship, because of her wings, which resemble oars; cap, because she\nno doubt wore the head-dress (as a messenger of the gods) with which\nHermes is generally depicted.\n\n[319] The names of the two sacred galleys which carried Athenian\nofficials on State business.\n\n[320] A buzzard is named in order to raise a laugh, the Greek name\n[Greek: triorchos] also meaning, etymologically, provided with three\ntesticles, vigorous in love.\n\n[321] Iris' reply is a parody of the tragic style.--'Lycimnius' is,\naccording to the Scholiast, the title of a tragedy by Euripides, which is\nabout a ship that is struck by lightning.\n\n[322] i.e. for a poltroon, like the slaves, most of whom came to Athens\nfrom these countries.\n\n[323] A parody of a passage in the lost tragedy of 'Niobe' of Aeschylus.\n\n[324] Because this bird has a spotted plumage.--Porphyrion is also the\nname of one of the Titans who tried to storm heaven.\n\n[325] All these surnames bore some relation to the character or the build\nof the individual to whom the poet applies them.--Chaerephon, Socrates'\ndisciple, was of white and ashen hue.--Opontius was one-eyed.--Syracosius\nwas a braggart.--Midias had a passion for quail-fights, and, besides,\nresembled that bird physically.\n\n[326] Pisthetaerus' servant, already mentioned.\n\n[327] From the inspection of which auguries were taken, e.g. the eagles,\nthe vultures, the crows.\n\n[328] Or rather, a young man who contemplated parricide.\n\n[329] A parody of verses in Sophocles' 'Oenomaus.'\n\n[330] The Athenians were then besieging Amphipolis in the Thracian\nChalcidic\u00e9.\n\n[331] There was a real Cinesias--a dithyrambic poet, born at Thebes.\n\n[332] The Scholiast thinks that Cinesias, who was tall and slight of\nbuild, wore a kind of corset of lime-wood to support his waist--surely\nrather a far-fetched interpretation!\n\n[333] The Greek word used here was the word of command employed to stop\nthe rowers.\n\n[334] Cinesias makes a bound each time that Pisthetaerus struck him.\n\n[335] The tribes of Athens, or rather the rich citizens belonging to\nthem, were wont on feast-days to give representations of dithyrambic\nchoruses as well as of tragedies and comedies.\n\n[336] Another dithyrambic poet, a man of extreme leanness.\n\n[337] A parody of a hemistich from 'Alcaeus.'--The informer is\ndissatisfied at only seeing birds of sombre plumage and poor appearance.\nHe would have preferred to denounce the rich.\n\n[338] The informer, says the Scholiast, was clothed with a ragged cloak,\nthe tatters of which hung down like wings, in fact, a cloak that could\nnot protect him from the cold and must have made him long for the\nswallows' return, i.e. the spring.\n\n[339] A town in Achaia, where woollen cloaks were made.\n\n[340] His trade was to accuse the rich citizens of the subject islands,\nand drag them before the Athenian courts; he explains later the special\nadvantages of this branch of the informer's business.\n\n[341] That is, whips--Corcyra being famous for these articles.\n\n[342] Cleonymus is a standing butt of Aristophanes' wit, both as an\ninformer and a notorious poltroon.\n\n[343] In allusion to the cave of the bandit Orestes; the poet terms him a\nhero only because of his heroic name Orestes.\n\n[344] Prometheus wants night to come and so reduce the risk of being seen\nfrom Olympus.\n\n[345] The clouds would prevent Zeus seeing what was happening below him.\n\n[346] The third day of the festival of Demeter was a fast.\n\n[347] A semi-savage people, addicted to violence and brigandage.\n\n[348] Who, being reputed a stranger despite his pretension to the title\nof a citizen, could only have a strange god for his patron or tutelary\ndeity.\n\n[349] The Triballi were a Thracian people; it was a term commonly used in\nAthens to describe coarse men, obscene debauchees and greedy parasites.\n\n[350] There is a similar pun in the Greek.\n\n[351] i.e. the _supremacy_ of Greece, the real object of the war.\n\n[352] Prometheus had stolen the fire from the gods to gratify mankind.\n\n[353] A celebrated misanthrope, contemporary to Aristophanes. Hating the\nsociety of men, he had only a single friend, Apimantus, to whom he was\nattached, because of their similarity of character; he also liked\nAlcibiades, because he foresaw that this young man would be the ruin of\nhis country.\n\n[354] The Canephori were young maidens, chosen from the first families of\nthe city, who carried baskets wreathed with myrtle at the feast of\nAthen\u00e9, while at those of Bacchus and Demeter they appeared with gilded\nbaskets.--The daughters of 'Metics,' or resident aliens, walked behind\nthem, carrying an umbrella and a stool.\n\n[355] According to Ctesias, the Sciapodes were a people who dwelt on the\nborders of the Atlantic. Their feet were larger than the rest of their\nbodies, and to shield themselves from the sun's rays they held up one of\ntheir feet as an umbrella.--By giving the Socratic philosophers the name\nof Sciapodes here ([Greek: _podes_], feet, and [Greek: _skia_], shadow)\nAristophanes wishes to convey that they are walking in the dark and\nbusying themselves with the greatest nonsense.\n\n[356] This Pisander was a notorious coward; for this reason the poet\njestingly supposes that he had lost his soul, the seat of courage.\n\n[357] A [Greek: para prosdokian], considering the shape and height of the\ncamel, which can certainly not be included in the list of _small_\nvictims, e.g. the sheep and the goat.\n\n[358] In the evocation of the dead, Book XI of the Odyssey.\n\n[359] Chaerephon was given this same title by the Herald earlier in this\ncomedy.--Aristophanes supposes him to have come from hell because he is\nlean and pallid.\n\n[360] Posidon appears on the stage accompanied by Heracles and a\nTriballian god.\n\n[361] An Athenian general.--Neptune is trying to give Triballus some\nnotions of elegance and good behaviour.\n\n[362] Aristophanes supposes that democracy is in the ascendant in Olympus\nas it is in Athens.\n\n[363] He is addressing his servant, Manes.\n\n[364] Heracles softens at sight of the food.--Heracles is the glutton of\nthe comic poets.\n\n[365] He pretends not to have seen them at first, being so much engaged\nwith his cookery.\n\n[366] He pretends to forget the presence of the ambassadors.\n\n[367] Posidon jestingly swears by himself.\n\n[368] The barbarian god utters some gibberish which Pisthetaerus\ninterprets into consent.\n\n[369] Heracles, the god of strength, was far from being remarkable in the\nway of cleverness.\n\n[370] This was Athenian law.\n\n[371] The poet attributes to the gods the same customs as those which\ngoverned Athens, and according to which no child was looked upon as\nlegitimate unless his father had entered him on the registers of his\nphratria. The phratria was a division of the tribe and consisted of\nthirty families.\n\n[372] The chorus continues to tell what it has seen on its flights.\n\n[373] The harbour of the island of Chios; but this name is here used in\nthe sense of being the land of informers ([Greek: phainein], to\ndenounce).\n\n[374] i.e. near the orators' platform, or [Greek: B_ema], in the Public\nAssembly, or [Greek: Ekkl_esia], because there stood the [Greek:\nklepsudra], or water-clock, by which speeches were limited.\n\n[375] A coined name, made up of [Greek: gl_otta], the tongue, and [Greek:\ngast_er], the stomach, and meaning those who fill their stomach with what\nthey gain with their tongues, to wit, the orators.\n\n[376] [Greek: Sukon] a fig, forms part of the word, [Greek:\nsukophant_es], which in Greek means an informer.\n\n[377] Both rhetoricians.\n\n[378] Because they consecrated it specially to the god of eloquence.\n\n[379] Basileia, whom he brings back from heaven.\n\n[380] Terms used in regulating a dance.\n\n[381] Where Pisthetaerus is henceforth to reign.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FROGS\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nLike 'The Birds' this play rather avoids politics than otherwise, its\nleading _motif_, over and above the pure fun and farce for their own sake\nof the burlesque descent into the infernal regions, being a literary one,\nan onslaught on Euripides the Tragedian and all his works and ways.\n\nIt was produced in the year 405 B.C., the year after 'The Birds,' and\nonly one year before the Peloponnesian War ended disastrously for the\nAthenian cause in the capture of the city by Lysander. First brought out\nat the Lenaean festival in January, it was played a second time at the\nDionysia in March of the same year--a far from common honour. The drama\nwas not staged in the Author's own name, we do not know for what reasons,\nbut it won the first prize, Phrynichus' 'Muses' being second.\n\nThe plot is as follows. The God Dionysus, patron of the Drama, is\ndissatisfied with the condition of the Art of Tragedy at Athens, and\nresolves to descend to Hades in order to bring back again to earth one of\nthe old tragedians--Euripides, he thinks, for choice. Dressing himself\nup, lion's skin and club complete, as Heracles, who has performed the\nsame perilous journey before, and accompanied by his slave Xanthias (a\nsort of classical Sancho Panza) with the baggage, he starts on the\nfearful expedition.\n\nComing to the shores of Acheron, he is ferried over in Charon's\nboat--Xanthias has to walk round--the First Chorus of Marsh Frogs (from\nwhich the play takes its title) greeting him with prolonged croakings.\nApproaching Pluto's Palace in fear and trembling, he knocks timidly at\nthe gate. Being presently admitted, he finds a contest on the point of\nbeing held before the King of Hades and the Initiates of the Eleusinian\nMysteries, who form the Second Chorus, between Aeschylus, the present\noccupant of the throne of tragic excellence in hell, and the pushing,\nself-satisfied, upstart Euripides, who is for ousting him from his pride\nof place.\n\nEach poet quotes in turn from his Dramas, and the indignant Aeschylus\nmakes fine fun of his rival's verses, and shows him up in the usual\nAristophanic style as a corrupter of morals, a contemptible casuist, and\na professor of the dangerous new learning of the Sophists, so justly held\nin suspicion by true-blue Athenian Conservatives. Eventually a pair of\nscales is brought in, and verses alternately spouted by the two\ncandidates are weighed against each other, the mighty lines of the Father\nof Tragedy making his flippant, finickin little rival's scale kick the\nbeam every time.\n\nDionysus becomes a convert to the superior merits of the old school of\ntragedy, and contemptuously dismisses Euripides, to take Aeschylus back\nwith him to the upper world instead, leaving Sophocles meantime in\noccupation of the coveted throne of tragedy in the nether regions.\n\nNeedless to say, the various scenes of the journey to Hades, the crossing\nof Acheron, the Frogs' choric songs, and the trial before Pluto, afford\nopportunities for much excellent fooling in our Author's very finest vein\nof drollery, and \"seem to have supplied the original idea for those\nmodern burlesques upon the Olympian and Tartarian deities which were at\none time so popular.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE FROGS\n\n\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\n\nDIONYSUS.\nXANTHIAS, his Servant.\nHERACLES.\nA DEAD MAN.\nCHARON.\nAEACUS.\nFEMALE ATTENDANT OF PERSEPHON\u00c9.\nINKEEPERS' WIVES.\nEURIPIDES.\nAESCHYLUS.\nPLUTO.\nCHORUS OF FROGS.\nCHORUS OF INITIATES.\n\nSCENE: In front of the temple of Heracles, and on the banks of Acheron in\nthe Infernal Regions.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE FROGS\n\n\nXANTHIAS. Now am I to make one of those jokes that have the knack of\nalways making the spectators laugh?\n\nDIONYSUS. Aye, certainly, any one you like, excepting \"I am worn out.\"\nTake care you don't say that, for it gets on my nerves.\n\nXANTHIAS. Do you want some other drollery?\n\nDIONYSUS. Yes, only not, \"I am quite broken up.\"\n\nXANTHIAS. Then what witty thing shall I say?\n\nDIONYSUS. Come, take courage; only ...\n\nXANTHIAS. Only what?\n\nDIONYSUS. ... don't start saying as you shift your package from shoulder\nto shoulder, \"Ah! that's a relief!\"\n\nXANTHIAS. May I not at least say, that unless I am relieved of this\ncursed load I shall let wind?\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh! for pity's sake, no! you don't want to make me spew.\n\nXANTHIAS. What need then had I to take this luggage, if I must not copy\nthe porters that Phrynichus, Lycis and Amipsias[382] never fail to put on\nthe stage?\n\nDIONYSUS. Do nothing of the kind. Whenever I chance to see one of these\nstage tricks, I always leave the theatre feeling a good year older.\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh! my poor back! you are broken and I am not allowed to make a\nsingle joke.\n\nDIONYSUS. Just mark the insolence of this Sybarite! I, Dionysus, the son\nof a ... wine-jar,[383] I walk, I tire myself, and I set yonder rascal\nupon an ass, that he may not have the burden of carrying his load.\n\nXANTHIAS. But am I not carrying it?\n\nDIONYSUS. No, since you are on your beast.\n\nXANTHIAS. Nevertheless I am carrying this....\n\nDIONYSUS. What?\n\nXANTHIAS. ... and it is very heavy.\n\nDIONYSUS. But this burden you carry is borne by the ass.\n\nXANTHIAS. What I have here, 'tis certainly I who bear it, and not the\nass, no, by all the gods, most certainly not!\n\nDIONYSUS. How can you claim to be carrying it, when you are carried?\n\nXANTHIAS. That I can't say; but this shoulder is broken, anyhow.\n\nDIONYSUS. Well then, since you say that the ass is no good to you, pick\nher up in your turn and carry her.\n\nXANTHIAS. What a pity I did not fight at sea;[384] I would baste your\nribs for that joke.\n\nDIONYSUS. Dismount, you clown! Here is a door,[385] at which I want to\nmake my first stop. Hi! slave! hi! hi! slave!\n\nHERACLES (_from inside the Temple_). Do you want to beat in the door? He\nknocks like a Centaur.[386] Why, what's the matter?\n\nDIONYSUS. Xanthias!\n\nXANTHIAS. Well?\n\nDIONYSUS. Did you notice?\n\nXANTHIAS. What?\n\nDIONYSUS. How I frightened him?\n\nXANTHIAS. Bah! you're mad!\n\nHERACLES. Ho, by Demeter! I cannot help laughing; it's no use biting my\nlips, I must laugh.\n\nDIONYSUS. Come out, friend; I have need of you.\n\nHERACLES. Oh! 'tis enough to make a fellow hold his sides to see this\nlion's-skin over a saffron robe![387] What does this mean? Buskins[388]\nand a bludgeon! What connection have they? Where are you off to in this\nrig?\n\nDIONYSUS. When I went aboard Clisthenes[389]....\n\nHERACLES. Did you fight?\n\nDIONYSUS. We sank twelve or thirteen ships of the enemy.\n\nHERACLES. You?\n\nDIONYSUS. Aye, by Apollo!\n\nHERACLES. You have dreamt it.[390]\n\nDIONYSUS. As I was reading the 'Andromeda'[391] on the ship, I suddenly\nfelt my heart afire with a wish so violent....\n\nHERACLES. A wish! of what nature?\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh, quite small, like Molon.[392]\n\nHERACLES. You wished for a woman?\n\nDIONYSUS. No.\n\nHERACLES. A young boy, then?\n\nDIONYSUS. Nothing of the kind.\n\nHERACLES. A man?\n\nDIONYSUS. Faugh!\n\nHERACLES. Might you then have had dealings with Clisthenes?\n\nDIONYSUS. Have mercy, brother; no mockery! I am quite ill, so greatly\ndoes my desire torment me!\n\nHERACLES. And what desire is it, little brother?\n\nDIONYSUS. I cannot disclose it, but I will convey it to you by hints.\nHave you ever been suddenly seized with a desire for pea-soup?\n\nHERACLES. For pea-soup! oh! oh! yes, a thousand times in my life.[393]\n\nDIONYSUS. Do you take me or shall I explain myself in some other way?\n\nHERACLES. Oh! as far as the pea-soup is concerned, I understand\nmarvellously well.\n\nDIONYSUS. So great is the desire, which devours me, for Euripides.\n\nHERACLES. But he is dead.[394]\n\nDIONYSUS. There is no human power can prevent my going to him.\n\nHERACLES. To the bottom of Hades?\n\nDIONYSUS. Aye, and further than the bottom, an it need.\n\nHERACLES. And what do you want with him?\n\nDIONYSUS. I want a master poet; \"some are dead and gone, and others are\ngood for nothing.\"[395]\n\nHERACLES. Is Iophon[396] dead then?\n\nDIONYSUS. He is the only good one left me, and even of him I don't know\nquite what to think.\n\nHERACLES. Then there's Sophocles, who is greater than Euripides; if you\nmust absolutely bring someone back from Hades, why not make him live\nagain?\n\nDIONYSUS. No, not until I have taken Iophon by himself and tested him for\nwhat he is worth. Besides, Euripides is very artful and won't leave a\nstone unturned to get away with me, whereas Sophocles is as easy-going\nwith Pluto as he was when on earth.\n\nHERACLES. And Agathon? Where is he?[397]\n\nDIONYSUS. He has left me; 'twas a good poet and his friends regret him.\n\nHERACLES. And whither has the poor fellow gone?\n\nDIONYSUS. To the banquet of the blest.\n\nHERACLES. And Xenocles?[398]\n\nDIONYSUS. May the plague seize him!\n\nHERACLES. And Pythangelus?[399]\n\nXANTHIAS. They don't say ever a word of poor me, whose shoulder is quite\nshattered.\n\nHERACLES. Is there not a crowd of other little lads, who produce\ntragedies by the thousand and are a thousand times more loquacious than\nEuripides?\n\nDIONYSUS. They are little sapless twigs, chatterboxes, who twitter like\nthe swallows, destroyers of the art, whose aptitude is withered with a\nsingle piece and who sputter forth all their talent to the tragic Muse at\ntheir first attempt. But look where you will, you will not find a\ncreative poet who gives vent to a noble thought.\n\nHERACLES. How creative?\n\nDIONYSUS. Aye, creative, who dares to risk \"the ethereal dwellings of\nZeus,\" or \"the wing of Time,\" or \"a heart that is above swearing by the\nsacred emblems,\" and \"a tongue that takes an oath, while yet the soul is\nunpledged.\"[400]\n\nHERACLES. Is that the kind of thing that pleases you?\n\nDIONYSUS. I'm more than madly fond of it.\n\nHERACLES. But such things are simply idiotic, you feel it yourself.\n\nDIONYSUS. \"Don't come trespassing on my mind; you have a brain of your\nown to keep thoughts in.\"[401]\n\nHERACLES. But nothing could be more detestable.\n\nDIONYSUS. Where cookery is concerned, you can be my master.[402]\n\nXANTHIAS. They don't say a thing about me!\n\nDIONYSUS. If I have decked myself out according to your pattern, 'tis\nthat you may tell me, in case I should need them, all about the hosts who\nreceived you, when you journeyed to Cerberus; tell me of them as well as\nof the harbours, the bakeries, the brothels, the drinking-shops, the\nfountains, the roads, the eating-houses and of the hostels where there\nare the fewest bugs.\n\nXANTHIAS. They never speak of me.[403]\n\nHERACLES. Go down to hell? Will you be ready to dare that, you madman?\n\nDIONYSUS. Enough of that; but tell me the shortest road, that is neither\ntoo hot nor too cold, to get down to Pluto.\n\nHERACLES. Let me see, what is the best road to show you? Aye, which? Ah!\nthere's the road of the gibbet and the rope. Go and hang yourself.\n\nDIONYSUS. Be silent! your road is choking me.\n\nHERACLES. There is another path, both very short and well-trodden; the\none that goes through the mortar.[404]\n\nDIONYSUS. 'Tis hemlock you mean to say.\n\nHERACLES. Precisely so.\n\nDIONYSUS. That road is both cold and icy. Your legs get frozen at\nonce.[405]\n\nHERACLES. Do you want me to tell you a very steep road, one that descends\nvery quickly?\n\nDIONYSUS. Ah! with all my heart; I don't like long walks.\n\nHERACLES. Go to the Ceramicus.[406]\n\nDIONYSUS. And then?\n\nHERACLES. Mount to the top of the highest tower ...\n\nDIONYSUS. To do what?\n\nHERACLES. ... and there keep your eye on the torch, which is to be the\nsignal. When the spectators demand it to be flung, fling yourself ...\n\nDIONYSUS. Where?\n\nHERACLES. ... down.\n\nDIONYSUS. But I should break the two hemispheres of my brain. Thanks for\nyour road, but I don't want it.\n\nHERACLES. But which one then?\n\nDIONYSUS. The one you once travelled yourself.\n\nHERACLES. Ah! that's a long journey. First you will reach the edge of the\nvast, deep mere of Acheron.\n\nDIONYSUS. And how is that to be crossed?\n\nHERACLES. There is an ancient ferryman, Charon by name, who will pass you\nover in his little boat for a diobolus.\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh! what might the diobolus has everywhere! But however has it\ngot as far as that?\n\nHERACLES. 'Twas Theseus who introduced its vogue.[407] After that you\nwill see snakes and all sorts of fearful monsters ...\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh! don't try to frighten me and make me afraid, for I am quite\ndecided.\n\nHERACLES. ... then a great slough with an eternal stench, a veritable\ncesspool, into which those are plunged who have wronged a guest, cheated\na young boy out of the fee for his complaisance, beaten their mother,\nboxed their father's ears, taken a false oath or transcribed some tirade\nof Morsimus.[408]\n\nDIONYSUS. For mercy's sake, add likewise--or learnt the Pyrrhic dance of\nCinesias.[409]\n\nHERACLES. Further on 'twill be a gentle concert of flutes on every side,\na brilliant light, just as there is here, myrtle groves, bands of happy\nmen and women and noisy plaudits.\n\nDIONYSUS. Who are these happy folk?\n\nHERACLES. The initiate.[410]\n\nXANTHIAS. And I am the ass that carries the Mysteries;[411] but I've had\nenough of it.\n\nHERACLES. They will give you all the information you will need, for they\nlive close to Pluto's palace, indeed on the road that leads to it.\nFarewell, brother, and an agreeable journey to you. (_He returns into his\nTemple._)\n\nDIONYSUS. And you, good health. Slave! take up your load again.\n\nXANTHIAS. Before having laid it down?\n\nDIONYSUS. And be quick about it too.\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh, no, I adjure you! Rather hire one of the dead, who is going\nto Hades.\n\nDIONYSUS. And should I not find one....\n\nXANTHIAS. Then you can take me.\n\nDIONYSUS. You talk sense. Ah! here they are just bringing a dead man\nalong. Hi! man, 'tis you I'm addressing, you, dead fellow there! Will you\ncarry a package to Pluto for me?\n\nDEAD MAN. Is't very heavy?\n\nDIONYSUS. This. (_He shows him the baggage, which Xanthias has laid on\nthe ground._)\n\nDEAD MAN. You will pay me two drachmae.\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh! that's too dear.\n\nDEAD MAN. Well then, bearers, move on.\n\nDIONYSUS. Stay, friend, so that I may bargain with you.\n\nDEAD MAN. Give me two drachmae, or it's no deal.\n\nDIONYSUS. Hold! here are nine obols.\n\nDEAD MAN. I would sooner go back to earth again.\n\nXANTHIAS. Is that cursed rascal putting on airs? Come, then, I'll go.\n\nDIONYSUS. You're a good and noble fellow. Let us make the best of our way\nto the boat.\n\nCHARON. Ahoy, ahoy! put ashore.\n\nXANTHIAS. What's that?\n\nDIONYSUS. Why, by Zeus, 'tis the mere of which Heracles spoke, and I see\nthe boat.\n\nXANTHIAS. Ah! there's Charon.\n\nDIONYSUS. Hail! Charon.\n\nDEAD MAN. Hail! Charon.\n\nCHARON. Who comes hither from the home of cares and misfortunes to rest\non the banks of Leth\u00e9? Who comes to the ass's fleece, who is for the land\nof the Cerberians, or the crows, or Taenarus?\n\nDIONYSUS. I am.\n\nCHARON. Get aboard quick then.\n\nDIONYSUS. Where will you ferry me to? Where are you going to land me?\n\nCHARON. In hell, if you wish. But step in, do.\n\nDIONYSUS. Come here, slave.\n\nCHARON. I carry no slave, unless he has fought at sea to save his skin.\n\nXANTHIAS. But I could not, for my eyes were bad.\n\nCHARON. Well then! be off and walk round the mere.\n\nXANTHIAS. Where shall I come to a halt?\n\nCHARON. At the stone of Auaenus, near the drinking-shop.\n\nDIONYSUS. Do you understand?\n\nXANTHIAS. Perfectly. Oh! unhappy wretch that I am, surely, surely I must\nhave met something of evil omen as I came out of the house?[412]\n\nCHARON. Come, sit to your oar. If there be anyone else who wants to\ncross, let him hurry. Hullo! what are you doing?\n\nDIONYSUS. What am I doing? I am sitting on the oar[413] as you told me.\n\nCHARON. Will you please have the goodness to place yourself there,\npot-belly?\n\nDIONYSUS. There.\n\nCHARON. Put out your hands, stretch your arms.\n\nDIONYSUS. There.\n\nCHARON. No tomfoolery! row hard, and put some heart into the work!\n\nDIONYSUS. Row! and how can I? I, who have never set foot on a ship?\n\nCHARON. There's nothing easier; and once you're at work, you will hear\nsome enchanting singers.\n\nDIONYSUS. Who are they?\n\nCHARON. Frogs with the voices of swans; 'tis most delightful.\n\nDIONYSUS. Come, set the stroke.\n\nCHARON. Yo ho! yo ho!\n\nFROGS. Brekekekex, coax, coax, brekekekekex, coax. Slimy offspring of the\nmarshland, let our harmonious voices mingle with the sounds of the flute,\ncoax, coax! let us repeat the songs that we sing in honour of the Nysaean\nDionysus[414] on the day of the feast of pots,[415] when the drunken\nthrong reels towards our temple in the Limnae.[416] Brekekekex, coax,\ncoax.\n\nDIONYSUS. I am beginning to feel my bottom getting very sore, my dear\nlittle coax, coax.\n\nFROGS. Brekekekex, coax, coax.\n\nDIONYSUS. But doubtless you don't care.\n\nFROGS. Brekekekex, coax, coax.\n\nDIONYSUS. May you perish with your coax, your endless coax!\n\nFROGS. And why change it, you great fool? I am beloved by the Muses with\nthe melodious lyre, by the goat-footed Pan, who draws soft tones out of\nhis reed; I am the delight of Apollo, the god of the lyre, because I make\nthe rushes, which are used for the bridge of the lyre, grow in my\nmarshes. Brekekekex, coax, coax.\n\nDIONYSUS. I have got blisters and my behind is all of a sweat; by dint of\nconstant movement, it will soon be saying....\n\nFROGS. Brekekekex, coax, coax.\n\nDIONYSUS. Come, race of croakers, be quiet.\n\nFROGS. Not we; we shall only cry the louder. On fine sunny days, it\npleases us to hop through galingale and sedge and to sing while we swim;\nand when Zeus is pouring down his rain, we join our lively voices to the\nrustle of the drops. Brekekekex, coax, coax.\n\nDIONYSUS. I forbid you to do it.\n\nFROGS. Oh! that would be too hard!\n\nDIONYSUS. And is it not harder for me to wear myself out with rowing?\n\nFROGS. Brekekekex, coax, coax.\n\nDIONYSUS. May you perish! I don't care.\n\nFROGS. And from morning till night we will shriek with the whole width of\nour gullets, \"Brekekekex, coax, coax.\"\n\nDIONYSUS. I will cry louder than you all.\n\nFROGS. Oh! don't do that!\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh, yes, I will. I shall cry the whole day, if necessary, until\nI no longer hear your coax. (_He begins to cry against the frogs, who\nfinally stop._) Ah! I knew I would soon put an end to your coax.\n\nCHARON. Enough, enough, a last pull, ship oars, step ashore and pay your\npassage money.\n\nDIONYSUS. Look! here are my two obols.... Xanthias! where is Xanthias?\nHi! Xanthias!\n\nXANTHIAS (_from a distance_). Hullo!\n\nDIONYSUS. Come here.\n\nXANTHIAS. I greet you, master.\n\nDIONYSUS. What is there that way?\n\nXANTHIAS. Darkness and mud!\n\nDIONYSUS. Did you see the parricides and the perjured he told us of?\n\nXANTHIAS. Did you?\n\nDIONYSUS. Ha! by Posidon! I see some of them now.[417] Well, what are we\ngoing to do?\n\nXANTHIAS. The best is to go on, for 'tis here that the horrible monsters\nare, Heracles told us of.\n\nDIONYSUS. Ah! the wag! He spun yarns to frighten me, but I am a brave\nfellow and he is jealous of me. There exists no greater braggart than\nHeracles. Ah! I wish I might meet some monster, so as to distinguish\nmyself by some deed of daring worthy of my daring journey.\n\nXANTHIAS. Ah! hark! I hear a noise.\n\nDIONYSUS (_all of a tremble_). Where then, where?\n\nXANTHIAS. Behind you.\n\nDIONYSUS. Place yourself behind me.\n\nXANTHIAS. Ah! 'tis in front now.\n\nDIONYSUS. Then pass to the front.\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh! what a monster I can see!\n\nDIONYSUS. What's it like?\n\nXANTHIAS. Dreadful, terrible! it assumes every shape; now 'tis a bull,\nthen a mule; again it is a most beautiful woman.\n\nDIONYSUS. Where is she that I may run toward her?\n\nXANTHIAS. The monster is no longer a woman; 'tis now a dog.\n\nDIONYSUS. Then it is the Empusa.[418]\n\nXANTHIAS. Its whole face is ablaze.\n\nDIONYSUS. And it has a brazen leg?\n\nXANTHIAS. Aye, i' faith! and the other is an ass's leg,[419] rest well\nassured of that.\n\nDIONYSUS. Where shall I fly to?\n\nXANTHIAS. And I?\n\nDIONYSUS. Priest,[420] save me, that I may drink with you.\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh! mighty Heracles! we are dead men.\n\nDIONYSUS. Silence! I adjure you. Don't utter that name.\n\nXANTHIAS. Well then, we are dead men, Dionysus!\n\nDIONYSUS. That still less than the other.\n\nXANTHIAS. Keep straight on, master, here, here, this way.\n\nDIONYSUS. Well?\n\nXANTHIAS. Be at ease, all goes well and we can say with Hegelochus,\n\"After the storm, I see the return of the _cat_.\"[421] The Empusa has\ngone.\n\nDIONYSUS. Swear it to me.\n\nXANTHIAS. By Zeus!\n\nDIONYSUS. Swear it again.\n\nXANTHIAS. By Zeus!\n\nDIONYSUS. Once more.\n\nXANTHIAS. By Zeus!\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh! my god! how white I went at the sight of the Empusa! But\nyonder fellow got red instead, so horribly afraid was he![422] Alas! to\nwhom do I owe this terrible meeting? What god shall I accuse of having\nsought my death? Might it be \"the Aether, the dwelling of Zeus,\" or \"the\nwing of Time\"?[423]\n\nXANTHIAS. Hist!\n\nDIONYSUS. What's the matter?\n\nXANTHIAS. Don't you hear?\n\nDIONYSUS. What then?\n\nXANTHIAS. The sound of flutes.\n\nDIONYSUS. Aye, certainly, and the wind wafts a smell of torches hither,\nwhich bespeaks the Mysteries a league away. But make no noise; let us\nhide ourselves and listen.\n\nCHORUS.[424] Iacchus, oh! Iacchus! Iacchus, oh! Iacchus!\n\nXANTHIAS. Master, these are the initiates, of whom Heracles spoke and who\nare here at their sports; they are incessantly singing of Iacchus, just\nlike Diagoras.[425]\n\nDIONYSUS. I believe you are right, but 'tis best to keep ourselves quiet\ntill we get better information.\n\nCHORUS. Iacchus, venerated god, hasten at our call. Iacchus, oh! Iacchus!\ncome into this meadow, thy favourite resting-place; come to direct the\nsacred choirs of the Initiate; may a thick crown of fruit-laden myrtle\nbranches rest on thy head and may thy bold foot step this free and joyful\ndance, taught us by the Graces--this pure, religious measure, that our\nsacred choirs rehearse.\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh! thou daughter of Demeter, both mighty and revered, what a\ndelicious odour of pork!\n\nDIONYSUS. Cannot you keep still then, fellow, once you get a whiff of a\nbit of tripe?\n\nCHORUS. Brandish the flaming torches and so revive their brilliancy.\nIacchus, oh! Iacchus! bright luminary of our nocturnal Mysteries. The\nmeadow sparkles with a thousand fires; the aged shake off the weight of\ncares and years; they have once more found limbs of steel, wherewith to\ntake part in thy sacred measures; and do thou, blessed deity, lead the\ndances of youth upon this dewy carpet of flowers with a torch in thine\nhand.\n\nSilence, make way for our choirs, you profane and impure souls, who have\nneither been present at the festivals of the noble Muses, nor ever footed\na dance in their honour, and who are not initiated into the mysterious\nlanguage of the dithyrambs of the voracious Cratinus;[426] away from here\nhe who applauds misplaced buffoonery. Away from here the bad citizen, who\nfor his private ends fans and nurses the flame of sedition, the chief who\nsells himself, when his country is weathering the storms, and surrenders\neither fortresses or ships; who, like Thorycion,[427] the wretched\ncollector of tolls, sends prohibited goods from Aegina to Epidaurus, such\nas oar-leathers, sailcloth and pitch, and who secures a subsidy for a\nhostile fleet,[428] or soils the statues of Hecat\u00e9,[429] while he is\nhumming some dithyramb. Away from here, the orator who nibbles at the\nsalary of the poets, because he has been scouted in the ancient\nsolemnities of Dionysus; to all such I say, and I repeat, and I say it\nagain for the third time, \"Make way for the choruses of the Initiate.\"\nBut you, raise you your voice anew; resume your nocturnal hymns as it is\nmeet to do at this festival.\n\nLet each one advance boldly into the retreats of our flowery meads, let\nhim mingle in our dances, let him give vent to jesting, to wit and to\nsatire. Enough of junketing, lead forward! let our voices praise the\ndivine protectress[430] with ardent love, yea! praise her, who promises\nto assure the welfare of this country for ever, in spite of Thorycion.\n\nLet our hymns now be addressed to Demeter, the Queen of Harvest, the\ngoddess crowned with ears of corn; to her be dedicated the strains of our\ndivine concerts. Oh! Demeter, who presidest over the pure mysteries, help\nus and protect thy choruses; far from all danger, may I continually yield\nmyself to sports and dancing, mingle laughter with seriousness, as is\nfitting at thy festivals, and as the reward for my biting sarcasms may I\nwreathe my head with the triumphal fillets. And now let our songs summon\nhither the lovable goddess, who so often joins in our dances.\n\nOh, venerated Dionysus, who hast created such soft melodies for this\nfestival, come to accompany us to the goddess, show that you can traverse\na long journey without wearying.[431] Dionysus, the king of the dance,\nguide my steps. 'Tis thou who, to raise a laugh and for the sake of\neconomy,[432] hast torn our sandals and our garments; let us bound, let\nus dance at our pleasure, for we have nothing to spoil. Dionysus, king of\nthe dance, guide my steps. Just now I saw through a corner of my eye a\nravishing young girl, the companion of our sports; I saw the nipple of\nher bosom peeping through a rent in her tunic. Dionysus, king of the\ndance, guide my steps.\n\nDIONYSUS. Aye, I like to mingle with these choruses; I would fain dance\nand sport with that young girl.\n\nXANTHIAS. And I too.\n\nCHORUS. Would you like us to mock together at Archidemus? He is still\nawaiting his seven-year teeth to have himself entered as a citizen;[433]\nbut he is none the less a chief of the people among the Athenians and the\ngreatest rascal of 'em all. I am told that Clisthenes is tearing the hair\nout of his rump and lacerating his cheeks on the tomb of Sebinus, the\nAnaphlystian;[434] with his forehead against the ground, he is beating\nhis bosom and groaning and calling him by name. As for Callias,[435] the\nillustrious son of Hippobinus, the new Heracles, he is fighting a\nterrible battle of love on his galleys; dressed up in a lion's skin, he\nfights a fierce naval battle--with the girls' cunts.\n\nDIONYSUS. Could you tell us where Pluto dwells? We are strangers and have\njust arrived.\n\nCHORUS. Go no farther, and know without further question that you are at\nhis gates.\n\nDIONYSUS. Slave, pick up your baggage.\n\nXANTHIAS. This wretched baggage, 'tis like Corinth, the daughter of Zeus,\nfor it's always in his mouth.[436]\n\nCHORUS. And now do ye, who take part in this religious festival, dance a\ngladsome round in the flowery grove in honour of the goddess.[437]\n\nDIONYSUS. As for myself, I will go with the young girls and the women\ninto the enclosure, where the nocturnal ceremonies are held; 'tis I will\nbear the sacred torch.\n\nCHORUS. Let us go into the meadows, that are sprinkled with roses, to\nform, according to our rites, the graceful choirs, over which the blessed\nFates preside. 'Tis for us alone that the sun doth shine; his glorious\nrays illumine the Initiate, who have led the pious life, that is equally\ndear to strangers and citizens.\n\nDIONYSUS. Come now! how should we knock at this door? How do the dwellers\nin these parts knock?\n\nXANTHIAS. Lose no time and attack the door with vigour, if you have the\ncourage of Heracles as well as his costume.\n\nDIONYSUS. Ho! there! Slave!\n\nAEACUS. Who's there?\n\nDIONYSUS. Heracles, the bold.\n\nAEACUS. Ah! wretched, impudent, shameless, threefold rascal, the most\nrascally of rascals. Ah! 'tis you who hunted out our dog Cerberus, whose\nkeeper I was! But I have got you to-day; and the black stones of Styx,\nthe rocks of Acheron, from which the blood is dripping, and the roaming\ndogs of Cocytus shall account to me for you; the hundred-headed Hydra\nshall tear your sides to pieces; the Tartessian Muraena[438] shall fasten\nitself on your lungs and the Tithrasian[439] Gorgons shall tear your\nkidneys and your gory entrails to shreds; I will go and fetch them as\nquickly as possible.\n\nXANTHIAS. Eh! what are you doing there?\n\nDIONYSUS (_stooping down_). I have just shit myself! Invoke the god.[440]\n\nXANTHIAS. Get up at once. How a stranger would laugh, if he saw you.\n\nDIONYSUS. Ah! I'm fainting. Place a sponge on my heart.\n\nXANTHIAS. Here, take it.\n\nDIONYSUS. Place it yourself.\n\nXANTHIAS. But where? Good gods, where _is_ your heart?\n\nDIONYSUS. It has sunk into my shoes with fear. (_Takes his slave's hand\nholding the sponge, and applies it to his bottom._)\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh! you most cowardly of gods and men!\n\nDIONYSUS. What! I cowardly? I, who have asked you for a sponge! 'Tis what\nno one else would have done.\n\nXANTHIAS. How so?\n\nDIONYSUS. A poltroon would have fallen backwards, being overcome with the\nfumes; as for me, I got up and moreover I wiped myself clean.\n\nXANTHIAS. Ah! by Posidon! a wonderful feat of intrepidity!\n\nDIONYSUS. Aye, certainly. And you did not tremble at the sound of his\nthreatening words?\n\nXANTHIAS. They never troubled me.\n\nDIONYSUS. Well then, since you are so brave and fearless, become what I\nam, take this bludgeon and this lion's hide, you, whose heart has no\nknowledge of fear; I, in return, will carry the baggage.\n\nXANTHIAS. Here, take it, take it quick! 'this my duty to obey you, and\nbehold, Heracles-Xanthias! Do I look like a coward of your kidney?\n\nDIONYSUS. No. You are the exact image of the god of Melit\u00e9,[441] dressed\nup as a rascal. Come, I will take the baggage.\n\nFEMALE ATTENDANT OF PERSEPHON\u00c9. Ah! is it you then, beloved Heracles?\nCome in. As soon as ever the goddess, my mistress Persephon\u00e9, knew of\nyour arrival, she quickly had the bread into the oven and clapped two or\nthree pots of bruised peas upon the fire; she has had a whole bullock\nroasted and both cakes and rolled backed. Come in quick!\n\nXANTHIAS. No, thank you.\n\nATTENDANT. Oh! by Apollo! I shall not let you off. She has also had\npoultry boiled for you, sweetmeats makes, and has prepared you some\ndelicious wine. Come then, enter with me.\n\nXANTHIAS. I am much obliged.\n\nATTENDANT. Are you mad? I will not let you go. There is likewise and\nenchanted flute-girl specially for you, and two or three dancing wenches.\n\nXANTHIAS. What do you say? Dancing wenches?\n\nATTENDANT. In the prime of their life and all freshly depilated. Come,\nenter, for the cook was going to take the fish off the fire and the table\nwas being spread.\n\nXANTHIAS. Very well then! Run in quickly and tell the dancing-girls I am\ncoming. Slave! pick up the baggage and follow me.\n\nDIONYSUS. Not so fast! Oh! indeed! I disguise you as Heracles for a joke\nand you take the thing seriously! None of your nonsense, Xanthias! Take\nback the baggage.\n\nXANTHIAS. What? You are not thinking of taking back what you gave me\nyourself?\n\nDIONYSUS. No, I don't think about it; I do it. Off with that skin!\n\nXANTHIAS. Witness how i am treated, ye great dogs, and be my judges!\n\nDIONYSUS. What gods? Are you so stupid, such a fool? How can you, a slave\nand a mortal, be the son of Alcmena?\n\nXANTHIAS. Come then! 'tis well! take them. But perhaps you will be\nneeding me one day, an it please the gods.\n\nCHORUS. 'Tis the act of a wise and sensible man, who has done much\nsailing, always to trim his sail towards the quarter whence the fair wind\nwafts, rather than stand stiff and motionless like a god Terminus.[442]\nTo change your part to serve your own interest is to act like a clever\nman, a true Theramenes.[443]\n\nDIONYSUS. Faith! 'twould be funny indeed if Xanthias, a slave, were\nindolently stretched out on purple cushions and fucking the dancing-girl;\nif he were then to ask me for a pot, while I, looking on, would be\nrubbing my tool, and this master rogue, on seeing it, were to know out my\nfront teeth with a blow of his fist.\n\nFIRST INKEEPER'S WIFE. Here! Plathan\u00e9, Plathan\u00e9! do come! here is the\nrascal who once came into our shop and ate up sixteen loaves for us.\n\nSECOND INKEEPER'S WIFE. Aye, truly, 'tis he himself!\n\nXANTHIAS. This is turning out rough for somebody.\n\nFIRST WIFE. And besides that, twenty pieces of boiled meat at half an\nobolus apiece.\n\nXANTHIAS. There's someone going to get punished.\n\nFIRST WIFE. And I don't know how many cloves of garlic.\n\nDIONYSUS. You are rambling, my dear, you don't know what you are saying.\n\nFIRST WIFE. Hah! you thought I should not know you, because of your\nbuskins! And then all the salt fish, I had forgotten that!\n\nSECOND WIFE. And then, alas! the fresh cheese that he devoured, osier\nbaskets and all! Ten, when I asked for my money, he started to roar and\nshoot terrible looks at me.\n\nXANTHIAS. As! I recognize him well by that token; 'tis just his way.\n\nSECOND WIFE. And he drew out his sword like a madman.\n\nFIRST WIFE. By the gods, yes.\n\nSECOND WIFE. Terrified to death, we clambered up to the upper storey, and\nhe fled at top speed, carrying off our baskets with him.\n\nXANTHIAS. Ah! this is again his style! But you ought to take action.\n\nFIRST WIFE. Run quick and call Cleon, my patron.\n\nSECOND WIFE. And you, should you run against Hyperbolus,[444] bring him\nto me; we will knock the life out of our robber.\n\nFIRST WIFE. Oh! you miserable glutton! how I should delight in breaking\nthose grinders of yours, which devoured my goods!\n\nSECOND WIFE. And I in hurling you into the malefactor's pit.\n\nFIRST WIFE. And I in slitting with one stroke of the sickle that gullet\nthat bolted down the tripe. But I am going to fetch Cleon; he shall\nsummon you before the court this very day and force you to disgorge.\n\nDIONYSUS. May I die, if Xanthias is not my dearest friend.\n\nXANTHIAS. Can I be the son of Alcmena, I, a slave and a mortal?\n\nDIONYSUS. I know, I know, that you are in a fury and you have the right\nto be; you can even beat me and I will not reply. But if I ever take this\ncostume from you again, may I die of the most fearful torture--I, my\nwife, my children, all those who belong to me, down to the very last, and\nblear-eyed Archidemus[445] into the bargain.\n\nXANTHIAS. I accept your oath, and on those terms I agree.\n\nCHORUS. 'Tis now your cue, since you have resumed the dress, to act the\nbrave and to throw terror into your glance, thus recalling the god whom\nyou represent. But if you play your part badly, if you yield to any\nweakness, you will again have to load your shoulders with the baggage.\n\nXANTHIAS. Friends, your advice is good, but I was thinking the same\nmyself; if there is any good to be got, my master will again want to\ndespoil me of this costume, of that I am quite certain. Ne'ertheless, I\nam going to show a fearless heart and shoot forth ferocious looks. And\nlo! the time for it has come, for I hear a noise at the door.\n\nAEACUS (_to his slaves_). Bind me this dog-thief,[446] that he may be\npunished. Hurry yourselves, hurry!\n\nDIONYSUS. This is going to turn out badly for someone.\n\nXANTHIAS. Look to yourselves and don't come near me.\n\nAEACUS. Hah! you would show fight! Ditylas, Sceblyas, Pardocas,[447] come\nhere and have at him!\n\nDIONYSUS. Ah! you would strike him because he has stolen!\n\nXANTHIAS. 'Tis horrible!\n\nDIONYSUS. 'Tis a revolting cruelty!\n\nXANTHIAS. By Zeus! may I die, if I ever came here or stole from you the\nvalue of a pin!  But I will act nobly; take this slave, put him to the\nquestion, and if you obtain the proof of my guilt, put me to death.\n\nAEACUS. In what manner shall I put him to the question?\n\nXANTHIAS. In every manner; you may lash him to the wooden horse, hang\nhim, cut him open with scourging, flay him, twist his limbs, pour vinegar\ndown his nostrils, load him with bricks, anything you like; only don't\nbeat him with leeks or fresh garlic.[448]\n\nAEACUS. 'Tis well conceived; but if the blows maim your slave, you will\nbe claiming damages from me.\n\nXANTHIAS. No, certainly not! set about putting him to the question.\n\nAEACUS. It shall be done here, for I wish him to speak in your presence.\nCome, put down your pack, and be careful not to lie.\n\nDIONYSUS. I forbid you to torture me, for I am immortal; if you dare it,\nwoe to you!\n\nAEACUS. What say you?\n\nDIONYSUS. I say that I am an immortal, Dionysus, the son of Zeus, and\nthat this fellow is only a slave.\n\nAEACUS (_to Xanthias_). D'you hear him?\n\nXANTHIAS. Yes. 'Tis all the better reason for beating him with rods, for,\nif he is a god, he will not feel the blows.\n\nDIONYSUS (_to Xanthias_).\n\nBut why, pray, since you also claim to be a god, should you not be beaten\nlike myself?\n\nXANTHIAS (_to Aeacus_).\n\nThat's fair. Very well then, whichever of us two you first see crying and\ncaring for the blows, him believe not to be a god.\n\n\nAEACUS. 'Tis spoken like a brave fellow; you don't refuse what is right.\nStrip yourselves.\n\nXANTHIAS. To do the thing fairly, how do you propose to act?\n\nAEACUS. Oh! that's easy. I shall hit you one after the other.\n\nXANTHIAS. Well thought of.\n\nAEACUS. There! (_He strikes Xanthias_.)\n\nXANTHIAS. Watch if you see me flinch.\n\nAEACUS. I have already struck you.\n\nXANTHIAS. No, you haven't.\n\nAEACUS. Why, you have not felt it at all, I think. Now for t'other one.\n\nDIONYSUS. Be quick about it.\n\nAEACUS. But I have struck you.\n\nDIONYSUS. Ah! I did not even sneeze. How is that?\n\nAEACUS. I don't know; come, I will return to the first one.\n\nXANTHIAS. Get it over. Oh, oh!\n\nAEACUS. What does that \"oh, oh!\" mean? Did it hurt you?\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh, no! but I was thinking of the feasts of Heracles, which are\nbeing held at Diomeia.[449]\n\nAEACUS. Oh! what a pious fellow! I pass on to the other again.\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh! oh!\n\nAEACUS. What's wrong?\n\nDIONYSUS. I see some knights.[450]\n\nAEACUS. Why are you weeping?\n\nDIONYSUS. Because I can smell onions.\n\nAEACUS. Ha! so you don't care a fig for the blows?\n\nDIONYSUS. Not the least bit in the world.\n\nAEACUS. Well, let us proceed. Your turn now.\n\nXANTHIAS. Oh, I say!\n\nAEACUS. What's the matter?\n\nXANTHIAS. Pull out this thorn.[451]\n\nAEACUS. What? Now the other one again.\n\nDIONYSUS. \"Oh, Apollo!... King of Delos and Delphi!\"\n\nXANTHIAS. He felt that. Do you hear?\n\nDIONYSUS. Why, no! I was quoting an iambic of Hipponax.\n\nXANTHIAS. 'Tis labour in vain. Come, smite his flanks.\n\nAEACUS. No, present your belly.\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh, Posidon ...\n\nXANTHIAS. Ah! here's someone who's feeling it.\n\nDIONYSUS. ... who reignest on the Aegean headland and in the depths of\nthe azure sea.[452]\n\nAEACUS. By Demeter, I cannot find out which of you is the god. But come\nin; the master and Persephon\u00e9 will soon tell you, for they are gods\nthemselves.\n\nDIONYSUS. You are quite right; but you should have thought of that before\nyou beat us.\n\nCHORUS. Oh! Muse, take part in our sacred choruses; our songs will\nenchant you and you shall see a people of wise men, eager for a nobler\nglory than that of Cleophon,[453] the braggart, the swallow, who deafens\nus with his hoarse cries, while perched upon a Thracian tree. He whines\nin his barbarian tongue and repeats the lament of Philomela with good\nreason, for even if the votes were equally divided, he would have to\nperish.[454]\n\nThe sacred chorus owes the city its opinion and its wise lessons. First I\ndemand that equality be restored among the citizens, so that none may be\ndisquieted. If there be any whom the artifices of Phrynichus have drawn\ninto any error,[455] let us allow them to offer their excuses and let us\nforget these old mistakes. Furthermore, that there be not a single\ncitizen in Athens who is deprived of his rights; otherwise would it not\nbe shameful to see slaves become masters and treated as honourably as\nPlataeans, because they helped in a single naval fight?[456] Not that I\ncensure this step, for, on the contrary I approve it; 'tis the sole thing\nyou have done that is sensible. But those citizens, both they and their\nfathers, have so often fought with you and are allied to you by ties of\nblood, so ought you not to listen to their prayers and pardon them their\nsingle fault? Nature has given you wisdom, therefore let your anger cool\nand let all those who have fought together on Athenian galleys live in\nbrotherhood and as fellow-citizens, enjoying the same equal rights; to\nshow ourselves proud and intractable about granting the rights of the\ncity, especially at a time when we are riding at the mercy of the\nwaves,[457] is a folly, of which we shall later repent.\n\nIf I am adept at reading the destiny or the soul of a man, the fatal hour\nfor little Cligenes[458] is near, that unbearable ape, the greatest rogue\nof all the washermen, who use a mixture of ashes and Cimolian earth and\ncall it potash.[458] He knows it; hence he is always armed for war; for\nhe fears, if he ventures forth without his bludgeon, he would be stripped\nof his clothes when he is drunk.\n\nI have often noticed that there are good and honest citizens in Athens,\nwho are as old gold is to new money. The ancient coins are excellent in\npoint of standard; they are assuredly the best of all moneys; they alone\nare well struck and give a pure ring; everywhere they obtain currency,\nboth in Greece and in strange lands; yet we make no use of them and\nprefer those bad copper pieces quite recently issued and so wretchedly\nstruck. Exactly in the same way do we deal with our citizens. If we know\nthem to be well-born, sober, brave, honest, adepts in the exercises of\nthe gymnasium and in the liberal arts, they are the butts of our\ncontumely and we have only a use for the petty rubbish, consisting of\nstrangers, slaves and low-born folk not worth a whit more, mushrooms of\nyesterday, whom formerly Athens would not have even wanted as scapegoats.\nMadmen, do change your ways at last; employ the honest men afresh; if you\nare fortunate through doing this, 'twill be but right, and if Fate\nbetrays you, the wise will at least praise you for having fallen\nhonourably.\n\nAEACUS. By Zeus, the Deliverer! what a brave man your master is.\n\nXANTHIAS. A brave man! I should think so indeed, for he only knows how to\ndrink and to make love!\n\nAEACUS. He has convicted you of lying and did not thrash the impudent\nrascal who had dared to call himself the master.\n\nXANTHIAS. Ah! he would have rued it if he had.\n\nAEACUS. Well spoken! that's a reply that does a slave credit; 'tis thus\nthat I like to act too.\n\nXANTHIAS. How, pray?\n\nAEACUS. I am beside myself with joy, when I can curse my master in\nsecret.\n\nXANTHIAS. And when you go off grumbling, after having been well thrashed?\n\nAEACUS. I am delighted.\n\nXANTHIAS. And when you make yourself important?\n\nAEACUS. I know of nothing sweeter.\n\nXANTHIAS. Ah! by Zeus! we are brothers. And when you are listening to\nwhat your masters are saying?\n\nAEACUS. 'Tis a pleasure that drives me to distraction.\n\nXANTHIAS. And when you repeat it to strangers?\n\nAEACUS. Oh! I feel as happy as if I were emitting semen.\n\nXANTHIAS. By Phoebus Apollo! reach me your hand; come hither, that I may\nembrace you; and, in the name of Zeus, the Thrashed one, tell me what all\nthis noise means, these shouts, these quarrels, that I can hear going on\ninside yonder.\n\nAEACUS. 'Tis Aeschylus and Euripides.\n\nXANTHIAS. What do you mean?\n\nAEACUS. The matter is serious, very serious indeed; all Hades is in\ncommotion.\n\nXANTHIAS. What's it all about?\n\nAEACUS. We have a law here, according to which, whoever in each of the\ngreat sciences and liberal arts beats all his rivals, is fed at the\nPrytaneum and sits at Pluto's side ...\n\nXANTHIAS. I know that.\n\nAEACUS. ... until someone cleverer than he in the same style of thing\ncomes along; then he has to give way to him.\n\nXANTHIAS. And how has this law disturbed Aeschylus?\n\nAEACUS. He held the chair for tragedy, as being the greatest in his art.\n\nXANTHIAS. And who has it now?\n\nAEACUS. When Euripides descended here, he started reciting his verses to\nthe cheats, cut-purses, parricides, and brigands, who abound in Hades;\nhis supple and tortuous reasonings filled them with enthusiasm, and they\npronounced him the cleverest by far. So Euripides, elated with pride,\ntook possession of the throne on which Aeschylus was installed.\n\nXANTHIAS. And did he not get stoned?\n\nAEACUS. No, but the folk demanded loudly that a regular trial should\ndecide to which of the two the highest place belonged.\n\nXANTHIAS. What folk? this mob of rascals? (_Points to the spectators._)\n\nAEACUS. Their clamour reached right up to heaven.\n\nXANTHIAS. And had Aeschylus not his friends too?\n\nAEACUS. Good people are very scarce here, just the same as on earth.\n\nXANTHIAS. What does Pluto reckon to do?\n\nAEACUS. To open a contest as soon as possible; the two rivals will show\ntheir skill, and finally a verdict will be given.\n\nXANTHIAS. What! has not Sophocles also claimed the chair then?\n\nAEACUS. No, no! he embraced Aeschylus and shook his hand, when he came\ndown; he could have taken the seat, for Aeschylus vacated it for him; but\naccording to Clidemides,[459] he prefers to act as his second; if\nAeschylus triumphs, he will stay modestly where he is, but if not, he has\ndeclared that he will contest the prize with Euripides.\n\nXANTHIAS. When is the contest to begin?\n\nAEACUS. Directly! the battle royal is to take place on this very spot.\nPoetry is to be weighed in the scales.\n\nXANTHIAS. What? How can tragedy be weighed?\n\nAEACUS. They will bring rulers and compasses to measure the words, and\nthose forms which are used for moulding bricks, also diameter measures\nand wedges, for Euripides says he wishes to torture every verse of his\nrival's tragedies.\n\nXANTHIAS. If I mistake not, Aeschylus must be in a rage.\n\nAEACUS. With lowered head he glares fiercely like a bull.\n\nXANTHIAS. And who will be the judge?\n\nAEACUS. The choice was difficult; it was seen that there was a dearth of\nable men. Aeschylus took exception to the Athenians ...\n\nXANTHIAS. No doubt he thought there were too many thieves among them.\n\nAEACUS. ... and moreover believed them too light-minded to judge of a\npoet's merits. Finally they fell back upon your master, because he\nunderstands tragic poetry.[460] But let us go in; when the masters are\nbusy, we must look out for blows!\n\nCHORUS. Ah! what fearful wrath will be surging in his heart! what a roar\nthere'll be when he sees the babbler who challenges him sharpening his\nteeth! how savagely his eyes will roll! What a battle of words like\nplumed helmets and waving crests hurling themselves against fragile\noutbursts and wretched parings! We shall see the ingenious architect of\nstyle defending himself against immense periods. Then, the close hairs of\nhis thick mane all a-bristle, the giant will knit his terrible brow; he\nwill pull out verses as solidly bolted together as the framework of a\nship and will hurl them forth with a roar, while the pretty speaker with\nthe supple and sharpened tongue, who weighs each syllable and submits\neverything to the lash of his envy, will cut this grand style to\nmincemeat and reduce to ruins this edifice erected by one good sturdy\npuff of breath.[461]\n\nEURIPIDES (_to Dionysus_). Your advice is in vain, I shall not vacate the\nchair, for I contend I am superior to him.\n\nDIONYSUS. Aeschylus, why do you keep silent? You understand what he says.\n\nEURIPIDES. He is going to stand on his dignity first; 'tis a trick he\nnever failed to use in his tragedies.\n\nDIONYSUS. My dear fellow, a little less arrogance, please.\n\nEURIPIDES. Oh! I know him for many a day. I have long had a thorough hold\nof his ferocious heroes, for his high-flown language and of the monstrous\nblustering words which his great, gaping mouth hurls forth thick and\nclose without curb or measure.\n\nAESCHYLUS. It is indeed you, the son of a rustic goddess,[462] who dare\nto treat me thus, you, who only know how to collect together stupid\nsayings and to stitch the rags of your beggars?[463] I shall make you rue\nyour insults.\n\nDIONYSUS. Enough said, Aeschylus, calm the wild wrath that is turning\nyour heart into a furnace.\n\nAESCHYLUS. No, not until I have clearly shown the true value of this\nimpudent fellow with his lame men.[464]\n\nDIONYSUS. A lamb, a black lamb! Slaves, bring it quickly, the storm-cloud\nis about to burst.[465]\n\nAESCHYLUS. Shame on your Cretan monologues![466] Shame on the infamous\nnuptials[467] that you introduce into the tragic art!\n\nDIONYSUS. Curb yourself, noble Aeschylus, and as for you, my poor\nEuripides, be prudent, protect yourself from this hailstorm, or he may\neasily in his rage hit you full in the temple with some terrible word,\nthat would let out your Telephus.[468] Come, Aeschylus, no flying into a\ntemper! discuss the question coolly; poets must not revile each other\nlike market wenches. Why, you shout at the very outset and burst out like\na pine that catches fire in the forest.\n\nEURIPIDES. I am ready for the contest and don't flinch; let him choose\nthe attack or the defence; let him discuss everything, the dialogue, the\nchoruses, the tragic genius, Peleus, Aeolus, Meleager[469] and especially\nTelephus.\n\nDIONYSUS. And what do you propose to do, Aeschylus? Speak!\n\nAESCHYLUS. I should have wished not to maintain a contest that is not\nequal or fair.\n\nDIONYSUS. Why not fair?\n\nAESCHYLUS. Because my poetry has outlived me, whilst his died with him\nand he can use it against me. However, I submit to your ruling.\n\nDIONYSUS. Let incense and a brazier be brought, for I want to offer a\nprayer to the gods. Thanks to their favour, may I be able to decide\nbetween these ingenious rivals as a clever expert should! And do you sing\na hymn in honour of the Muses.\n\nCHORUS. Oh! ye chaste Muses, the daughters of Zeus, you who read the fine\nand subtle minds of thought-makers when they enter upon a contest of\nquibbles and tricks, look down on these two powerful athletes; inspire\nthem, one with mighty words and the other with odds and ends of verses.\nNow the great mind contest is beginning.\n\nDIONYSUS. And do you likewise make supplication to the gods before\nentering the lists.\n\nAESCHYLUS. Oh, Demeter! who hast formed my mind, may I be able to prove\nmyself worthy of thy Mysteries![470]\n\nDIONYSUS. And you, Euripides, prove yourself meet to sprinkle incense on\nthe brazier.\n\nEURIPIDES. Thanks, but I sacrifice to other gods.[471]\n\nDIONYSUS. To private gods of your own, which you have made after your own\nimage?\n\nEURIPIDES. Why, certainly!\n\nDIONYSUS. Well then, invoke your gods.\n\nEURIPIDES. Oh! thou Aether, on which I feed, oh! thou Volubility of\nSpeech, oh! Craftiness, oh! Subtle Scent! enable me to crush the\narguments of my opponent.\n\nCHORUS. We are curious to see upon what ground these clever tilters are\ngoing to measure each other. Their tongue is keen, their wit is ready,\ntheir heart is full of audacity. From the one we must expect both\nelegance and polish of language, whereas the other, armed with his\nponderous words, will fall hip and thigh upon his foe and with a single\nblow tear down and scatter all his vain devices.\n\nDIONYSUS. Come, be quick and speak and let your words be elegant, but\nwithout false imagery or platitude.\n\nEURIPIDES. I shall speak later of my poetry, but I want first to prove\nthat Aeschylus is merely a wretched impostor; I shall relate by what\nmeans he tricked a coarse audience, trained in the school of\nPhrynichus.[472] First one saw some seated figure, who was veiled, some\nAchilles or Niob\u00e9,[473] who then strutted about the stage, but neither\nuncovered their face nor uttered a syllable.\n\nDIONYSUS. I' faith!  that's true!\n\nEURIPIDES. Meanwhile, the Chorus would pour forth as many as four tirades\none after the other, without stopping, and the characters would still\nmaintain their stony silence.\n\nDIONYSUS. I liked their silence, and these mutes pleased me no less than\nthose characters that have such a heap to say nowadays.\n\nEURIPIDES. 'Tis because you were a fool, understand that well.\n\nDIONYSUS. Possibly; but what was his object?\n\nEURIPIDES. 'Twas pure quackery; in this way the spectator would sit\nmotionless, waiting, waiting for Niob\u00e9 to say something, and the piece\nwould go running on.\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh! the rogue! how he deceived me! Well, Aeschylus, why are you\nso restless? Why this impatience, eh?\n\nEURIPIDES. 'Tis because he sees himself beaten. Then when he had rambled\non well, and got half-way through the piece, he would spout some dozen\nbig, blustering, winged words, tall as mountains, terrible scarers, which\nthe spectator admired without understanding what they meant.\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh! great gods!\n\nAESCHYLUS. Silence!\n\nEURIPIDES. There was no comprehending one word.\n\nDIONYSUS (_to Aeschylus_). Don't grind your teeth.\n\nEURIPIDES. There were Scamanders, abysses, griffins with eagles' beaks\nchiselled upon brazen bucklers, all words with frowning crests and hard,\nhard to understand.\n\nDIONYSUS. 'Faith, I was kept awake almost an entire night, trying to\nthink out his yellow bird, half cock and half horse.[474]\n\nAESCHYLUS. Why, fool, 'tis a device that is painted on the prow of a\nvessel.\n\nDIONYSUS. Ah! I actually thought 'twas Eryxis, the son of\nPhiloxenus.[475]\n\nEURIPIDES. But what did you want with a cock in tragedy?\n\nAESCHYLUS. But you, you foe of the gods, what have you done that is so\ngood?\n\nEURIPIDES. Oh! I have not made horses with cocks' heads like you, nor\ngoats with deer's horns, as you may see 'em on Persian tapestries; but,\nwhen I received tragedy from your hands, it was quite bloated with\nenormous, ponderous words, and I began by lightening it of its heavy\nbaggage and treated it with little verses, with subtle arguments, with\nthe sap of white beet and decoctions of philosophical folly, the whole\nbeing well filtered together;[476] then I fed it with monologues, mixing\nin some Cephisophon;[477] but I did not chatter at random nor mix in any\ningredients that first came to hand; from the outset I made my subject\nclear, and told the origin of the piece.\n\nAESCHYLUS. Well, that was better than telling your own.[478]\n\nEURIPIDES. Then, starting with the very first verse, each character\nplayed his part; all spoke, both woman and slave and master, young girl\nand old hag.[479]\n\nAESCHYLUS. And was not such daring deserving of death?\n\nEURIPIDES. No, by Apollo! 'twas to please the people.\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh! leave that alone, do; 'tis not the best side of your case.\n\nEURIPIDES. Furthermore, I taught the spectators the art of speech ...\n\nAESCHYLUS. 'Tis true indeed! Would that you had burst before you did it!\n\nEURIPIDES. ... the use of the straight lines and of the corners of\nlanguage, the science of thinking, of reading, of understanding,\nplotting, loving deceit, of suspecting evil, of thinking of\neverything....\n\nAESCHYLUS. Oh! true, true again!\n\nEURIPIDES. I introduced our private life upon the stage, our common\nhabits; and 'twas bold of me, for everyone was at home with these and\ncould be my critic; I did not burst out into big noisy words to prevent\ntheir comprehension; nor did I terrify the audience by showing them\nCycni[480] and Memnons[481] on chariots harnessed with steeds and\njingling bells. Look at his disciples and look at mine. His are\nPhormisius and Megaenetus of Magnesia[482], all a-bristle with long\nbeards, spears and trumpets, and grinning with sardonic and ferocious\nlaughter, while my disciples are Clitophon and the graceful\nTheramenes.[483]\n\nDIONYSUS. Theramenes? An able man and ready for anything; a man, who in\nimminent dangers knew well how to get out of the scrape by saying he was\nfrom Chios and not from Ceos.[484]\n\nEURIPIDES. 'Tis thus that I taught my audience how to judge, namely, by\nintroducing the art of reasoning and considering into tragedy. Thanks to\nme, they understand everything, discern all things, conduct their\nhouseholds better and ask themselves, \"What is to be thought of this?\nWhere is that? Who has taken the other thing?\"\n\nDIONYSUS. Yes, certainly, and now every Athenian who returns home, bawls\nto his slaves, \"Where is the stew-pot? Who has eaten off the sprat's\nhead? Where is the clove of garlic that was left over from yesterday? Who\nhas been nibbling at my olives?\" Whereas formerly they kept their seats\nwith mouths agape like fools and idiots.\n\nCHORUS. You hear him, illustrious Achilles,[485] and what are you going\nto reply? Only take care that your rage does not lead you astray, for he\nhas handled you brutally. My noble friend, don't get carried away; furl\nall your sails, except the top-gallants, so that your ship may only\nadvance slowly, until you feel yourself driven forward by a soft and\nfavourable wind. Come then, you who were the first of the Greeks to\nconstruct imposing monuments of words and to raise the old tragedy above\nchildish trifling, open a free course to the torrent of your words.\n\nAESCHYLUS. This contest rouses my gall; my heart is boiling over with\nwrath. Am I bound to dispute with this fellow? But I will not let him\nthink me unarmed and helpless. So, answer me! what is it in a poet one\nadmires?\n\nEURIPIDES. Wise counsels, which make the citizens better.\n\nAESCHYLUS. And if you have failed in this duty, if out of honest and\npure-minded men you have made rogues, what punishment do you think is\nyour meet?\n\nDIONYSUS. Death. I will reply for him.\n\nAESCHYLUS. Behold then what great and brave men I bequeathed to him! They\ndid not shirk the public burdens; they were not idlers, rogues and\ncheats, as they are to-day; their very breath was spears, pikes, helmets\nwith white crests, breastplates and greaves; they were gallant souls\nencased in seven folds of ox-leather.\n\nEURIPIDES. I must beware! he will crush me beneath the sheer weight of\nhis hail of armour.\n\nDIONYSUS. And how did you teach them this bravery? Speak, Aeschylus, and\ndon't display so much haughty swagger.\n\nAESCHYLUS. By composing a drama full of the spirit of Ares.\n\nDIONYSUS. Which one?\n\nAESCHYLUS. The Seven Chiefs before Thebes. Every man who had once seen it\nlonged to be marching to battle.\n\nDIONYSUS. And you did very wrongly; through you the Thebans have become\nmore warlike; for this misdeed you deserve to be well beaten.\n\nAESCHYLUS. You too might have trained yourself, but you were not willing.\nThen, by producing 'The Persae,' I have taught you to conquer all your\nenemies; 'twas my greatest work.\n\nDIONYSUS. Aye, I shook with joy at the announcement of the death of\nDarius; and the Chorus immediately clapped their hands and shouted,\n\"Triumph!\"[486]\n\nAESCHYLUS. Those are the subjects that poets should use. Note how useful,\neven from remotest times, the poets of noble thought have been! Orpheus\ntaught us the mystic rites and the horrid nature of murder; Musaeus, the\nhealing of ailments and the oracles; Hesiod, the tilling of the soil and\nthe times for delving and harvest. And does not divine Homer owe his\nimmortal glory to his noble teachings? Is it not he who taught the\nwarlike virtues, the art of fighting and of carrying arms?\n\nDIONYSUS. At all events he has not taught it to Pantacles,[487] the most\nawkward of all men; t'other day, when he was directing a procession,\n'twas only after he had put on his helmet that he thought of fixing in\nthe crest.\n\nAESCHYLUS. But he has taught a crowd of brave warriors, such as\nLamachus,[488] the hero of Athens. 'Tis from Homer that I borrowed the\nPatrocli and the lion-hearted Teucers,[489] whom I revived to the\ncitizens, to incite them to show themselves worthy of these illustrious\nexamples when the trumpets sounded. But I showed them neither\nSthenoboea[490] nor shameless Phaedra; and I don't remember ever having\nplaced an amorous woman on the stage.\n\nEURIPIDES. No, no, you have never known Aphrodit\u00e9.\n\nAESCHYLUS. And I am proud of it. Whereas with you and those like you, she\nappears everywhere and in every shape; so that even you yourself were\nruined and undone by her.[491]\n\nDIONYSUS. That's true; the crimes you imputed to the wives of others, you\nsuffered from in turn.\n\nEURIPIDES. But, cursed man, what harm have my Sthenoboeas done to Athens?\n\nAESCHYLUS. You are the cause of honest wives of honest citizens drinking\nhemlock, so greatly have your Bellerophons made them blush.[492]\n\nEURIPIDES. Why, did I invent the story of Phaedra?\n\nAESCHYLUS. No, the story is true enough; but the poet should hide what is\nvile and not produce nor represent it on the stage. The schoolmaster\nteaches little children and the poet men of riper age. We must only\ndisplay what is good.\n\nEURIPIDES. And when you talk to us of towering mountains--Lycabettus and\nof the frowning Parnes[493]--is that teaching us what is good? Why not\nuse human language?\n\nAESCHYLUS. Why, miserable man, the expression must always rise to the\nheight of great maxims and of noble thoughts. Thus as the garment of the\ndemi-gods is more magnificent, so also is their language more sublime. I\nennobled the stage, while you have degraded it.\n\nEURIPIDES. And how so, pray?\n\nAESCHYLUS. Firstly you have dressed the kings in rags,[494] so that they\nmight inspire pity.\n\nEURIPIDES. Where's the harm?\n\nAESCHYLUS. You are the cause why no rich man will now equip the galleys,\nthey dress themselves in tatters, groan and say they are poor.\n\nDIONYSUS. Aye, by Demeter! and he wears a tunic of fine wool underneath;\nand when he has deceived us with his lies, he may be seen turning up on\nthe fish-market.[495]\n\nAESCHYLUS. Moreover, you have taught boasting and quibbling; the\nwrestling schools are deserted and the young fellows have submitted their\narses to outrage,[496] in order that they might learn to reel off idle\nchatter, and the sailors have dared to bandy words with their\nofficers.[497] In my day they only knew how to ask for their\nship's-biscuit and to shout \"Yo ho! heave ho!\"\n\nDIONYSUS. ... and to let wind under the nose of the rower below them, to\nbefoul their mate with filth and to steal when they went ashore. Nowadays\nthey argue instead of rowing and the ship can travel as slow as she\nlikes.\n\nAESCHYLUS. Of what crimes is he not the author? Has he not shown us\nprocurers, women who get delivered in the temples, have traffic with\ntheir brothers,[498] and say that life is not life.[499] 'Tis thanks to\nhim that our city is full of scribes and buffoons, veritable apes, whose\ngrimaces are incessantly deceiving the people; but there is no one left\nwho knows how to carry a torch,[500] so little is it practised.\n\nDIONYSUS. I' faith, that's true! I almost died of laughter at the last\nPanathenaea at seeing a slow, fat, pale-faced fellow, who ran well behind\nall the rest, bent completely double and evidently in horrible pain. At\nthe gate of the Ceramicus the spectators started beating his belly,\nsides, flanks and thighs; these slaps knocked so much wind out of him\nthat it extinguished his torch and he hurried away.\n\nCHORUS. 'Tis a serious issue and an important debate; the fight is\nproceeding hotly and its decision will be difficult; for, as violently as\nthe one attacks, as cleverly and as subtly does the other reply. But\ndon't keep always to the same ground; you are not at the end of your\nspecious artifices. Make use of every trick you have, no matter whether\nit be old or new! Out with everything boldly, blunt though it be; risk\nanything--that is smart and to the point. Perchance you fear that the\naudience is too stupid to grasp your subtleties, but be reassured, for\nthat is no longer the case. They are all well-trained folk; each has his\nbook, from which he learns the art of quibbling; such wits as they are\nhappily endowed with have been rendered still keener through study. So\nhave no fear! Attack everything, for you face an enlightened audience.\n\nEURIPIDES. Let's take your prologues; 'tis the beginnings of this able\npoet's tragedies that I wish to examine at the outset. He was obscure in\nthe description of his subjects.\n\nDIONYSUS. And which prologue are you going to examine?\n\nEURIPIDES. A lot of them. Give me first of all that of the\n'Orestes.'[501]\n\nDIONYSUS. All keep silent, Aeschylus, recite.\n\nAESCHYLUS. \"Oh! Hermes of the nether world, whose watchful power executes\nthe paternal bidding, be my deliverer, assist me, I pray thee. I come, I\nreturn to this land.\"[502]\n\nDIONYSUS. Is there a single word to condemn in that?\n\nEURIPIDES. More than a dozen.\n\nDIONYSUS. But there are but three verses in all.\n\nEURIPIDES. And there are twenty faults in each.\n\nDIONYSUS. Aeschylus, I beg you to keep silent; otherwise, besides these\nthree iambics, there will be many more attacked.\n\nAESCHYLUS. What? Keep silent before this fellow?\n\nDIONYSUS. If you will take my advice.\n\nEURIPIDES. He begins with a fearful blunder. Do you see the stupid thing?\n\nDIONYSUS. Faith! I don't care if I don't.\n\nAESCHYLUS. A blunder? In what way?\n\nEURIPIDES. Repeat the first verse.\n\nAESCHYLUS. \"Oh! Hermes of the nether world, whose watchful power executes\nthe paternal bidding.\"\n\nEURIPIDES. Is not Orestes speaking in this fashion before his father's\ntomb?\n\nAESCHYLUS. Agreed.\n\nEURIPIDES. Does he mean to say that Hermes had watched, only that\nAgamemnon should perish at the hands of a woman and be the victim of a\ncriminal intrigue?\n\nAESCHYLUS. 'Tis not to the god of trickery, but to Hermes the benevolent,\nthat he gives the name of god of the nether world, and this he proves by\nadding that Hermes is accomplishing the mission given him by his father.\n\nEURIPIDES. The blunder is even worse than I had thought to make it out;\nfor if he holds his office in the nether world from his father....\n\nDIONYSUS. It means his father has made him a grave-digger.\n\nAESCHYLUS. Dionysus, your wine is not redolent of perfume.[503]\n\nDIONYSUS. Continue, Aeschylus, and you, Euripides, spy out the faults as\nhe proceeds.\n\nAESCHYLUS. \"Be my deliverer, assist me, I pray thee. I come, I return to\nthis land.\"\n\nEURIPIDES. Our clever Aeschylus says the very same thing twice over.\n\nAESCHYLUS. How twice over?\n\nEURIPIDES. Examine your expressions, for I am going to show you the\nrepetition. \"I come, I return to this land.\" But I _come_ is the same\nthing as I _return._\n\nDIONYSUS. Undoubtedly. 'Tis as though I said to my neighbour, \"Lend me\neither your kneading-trough or your trough to knead in.\"\n\nAESCHYLUS. No, you babbler, no, 'tis not the same thing, and the verse is\nexcellent.\n\nDIONYSUS. Indeed! then prove it.\n\nAESCHYLUS. To come is the act of a citizen who has suffered no\nmisfortune; but the exile both comes and returns.\n\nDIONYSUS. Excellent! by Apollo! What do you say to that, Euripides?\n\nEURIPIDES. I say that Orestes did not return to his country, for he came\nthere secretly, without the consent of those in power.\n\nDIONYSUS. Very good indeed! by Hermes! only I have not a notion what it\nis you mean.\n\nEURIPIDES. Go on.\n\nDIONYSUS. Come, be quick, Aeschylus, continue; and you look out for the\nfaults.\n\nAESCHYLUS. \"At the foot of this tomb I invoke my father and beseech him\nto hearken to me and to hear.\"\n\nEURIPIDES. Again a repetition, to hearken and to hear are obviously the\nsame thing.\n\nDIONYSUS. Why, wretched man, he's addressing the dead, whom to call\nthrice even is not sufficient.\n\nAESCHYLUS. And you, how do you form your prologues?\n\nEURIPIDES. I am going to tell you, and if you find a repetition, an idle\nword or inappropriate, let me be scouted!\n\nDIONYSUS. Come, speak; 'tis my turn to listen. Let us hear the beauty of\nyour prologues,\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Oedipus was a fortunate man at first ...\"\n\nAESCHYLUS. Not at all; he was destined to misfortune before he even\nexisted, since Apollo predicted he would kill his father before ever he\nwas born. How can one say he was fortunate at first?\n\nEURIPIDES. \"... and he became the most unfortunate of mortals\nafterwards.\"\n\nAESCHYLUS. No, he did not become so, for he never ceased being so. Look\nat the facts! First of all, when scarcely born, he is exposed in the\nmiddle of winter in an earthenware vessel, for fear he might become the\nmurderer of his father, if brought up; then he came to Polybus with his\nfeet swollen; furthermore, while young, he marries an old woman, who is\nalso his mother, and finally he blinds himself.\n\nDIONYSUS. 'Faith! I think he could not have done worse to have been a\ncolleague of Erasinidas.[504]\n\nEURIPIDES. You can chatter as you will, my prologues are very fine.\n\nAESCHYLUS. I will take care not to carp at them verse by verse and word\nfor word;[505] but, an it please the gods, a simple little bottle will\nsuffice me for withering every one of your prologues.\n\nEURIPIDES. You will wither my prologues with a little bottle?[506]\n\nAESCHYLUS. With only one. You make verses of such a kind, that one can\nadapt what one will to your iambics: a little bit of fluff, a little\nbottle, a little bag. I am going to prove it.\n\nEURIPIDES. You will prove it?\n\nAESCHYLUS. Yes.\n\nDIONYSUS. Come, recite.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Aegyptus, according to the most widely spread reports, having\nlanded at Argos with his fifty daughters[507] ...\"\n\nAESCHYLUS. ... lost his little bottle.\n\nEURIPIDES. What little bottle? May the plague seize you!\n\nDIONYSUS. Recite another prologue to him. We shall see.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Dionysus, who leads the choral dance on Parnassus with the\nthyrsus in his hand and clothed in skins of fawns[508] ...\"\n\nAESCHYLUS. ... lost his little bottle.\n\nDIONYSUS. There again his little bottle upsets us.\n\nEURIPIDES. He won't bother us much longer. I have a certain prologue to\nwhich he cannot adapt his tag: \"There is no perfect happiness; this one\nis of noble origin, but poor; another of humble birth[509] ...\"\n\nAESCHYLUS. ... lost his little bottle.\n\nDIONYSUS. Euripides!\n\nEURIPIDES. What's the matter?\n\nDIONYSUS. Clue up your sails, for this damned little bottle is going to\nblow a gale.\n\nEURIPIDES. Little I care, by Demeter! I am going to make it burst in his\nhands.\n\nDIONYSUS. Then out with it; recite another prologue, but beware, beware\nof the little bottle.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Cadmus, the son of Agenor, while leaving the city of\nSidon[510] ...\"\n\nAESCHYLUS. ... lost his little bottle.\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh! my poor friend; buy that bottle, do, for it is going to\ntear all your prologues to ribbons.\n\nEURIPIDES. What? Am I to buy it of him?\n\nDIONYSUS. If you take my advice.\n\nEURIPIDES. No, not I, for I have many prologues to which he cannot\npossibly fit his catchword: \"Pelops, the son of Tantalus, having started\nfor Pisa on his swift chariot[511] ...\"\n\nAESCHYLUS. ... lost his little bottle.\n\nDIONYSUS. D'ye see? Again he has popped in his little bottle. Come,\nAeschylus, he is going to buy it of you at any price, and you can have a\nsplendid one for an obolus.\n\nEURIPIDES. By Zeus, no, not yet! I have plenty of other prologues.\n\"Oeneus in the fields one day[512] ...\"\n\nAESCHYLUS. ... lost his little bottle.\n\nEURIPIDES. Let me first finish the opening verse: \"Oeneus in the fields\none day, having made an abundant harvest and sacrificed the first-fruits\nto the gods ...\"\n\nAESCHYLUS. ... lost his little bottle.\n\nDIONYSUS. During the sacrifice? And who was the thief?\n\nEURIPIDES. Allow him to try with this one: \"Zeus, as even Truth has\nsaid[513] ...\"\n\nDIONYSUS (_to Euripides_). You have lost again; he is going to say, \"lost\nhis little bottle,\" for that bottle sticks to your prologues like a\nringworm. But, in the name of the gods, turn now to his choruses.\n\nEURIPIDES. I will prove that he knows nothing of lyric poetry, and that\nhe repeats himself incessantly.\n\nCHORUS. What's he going to say now? I am itching to know what criticisms\nhe is going to make on the poet, whose sublime songs so far outclass\nthose of his contemporaries. I cannot imagine with what he is going to\nreproach the king of the Dionysia, and I tremble for the aggressor.\n\nEURIPIDES. Oh! those wonderful songs! But watch carefully, for I am going\nto condense them all into a single one.\n\nDIONYSUS. And I am going to take pebbles to count the fragments.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Oh, Achilles, King of Phthiotis, hearken to the shout of the\nconquering foe and haste to sustain the assault. We dwellers in the\nmarshes do honour to Hermes, the author of our race. Haste to sustain the\nassault.\"\n\nDIONYSUS. There, Aeschylus, you have already two assaults against you.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Oh, son of Atreus, the most illustrious of the Greeks, thou,\nwho rulest so many nations, hearken to me. Haste to the assault.\"\n\nDIONYSUS. A third assault. Beware, Aeschylus.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Keep silent, for the inspired priestesses are opening the\ntemple of Artemis. Haste to sustain the assault. I have the right to\nproclaim that our warriors are leaving under propitious auspices. Haste\nto sustain the assault.\"[514]\n\nDIONYSUS. Great gods, what a number of assaults! my kidneys are quite\nswollen with fatigue; I shall have to go to the bath after all these\nassaults.\n\nEURIPIDES. Not before you have heard this other song arranged for the\nmusic of the cithara.\n\nDIONYSUS. Come then, continue; but, prithee, no more \"assaults.\"\n\nEURIPIDES. \"What! the two powerful monarchs, who reign over the Grecian\nyouth, phlattothrattophlattothrat, are sending the Sphinx, that terrible\nharbinger of death, phlattothrattophlattothrat. With his avenging arm\nbearing a spear, phlattothrattophlattothrat, the impetuous bird delivers\nthose who lean to the side of Ajax, phlattothrattophlattothrat, to the\ndogs who roam in the clouds, phlattothrattophlattothrat.\"[515]\n\nDIONYSUS (_to Aeschylus_). What is this 'phlattothrat'? Does it come from\nMarathon or have you picked it out of some labourer's chanty?\n\nAESCHYLUS. I took what was good and improved it still more, so that I\nmight not be accused of gathering the same flowers as Phrynichus in the\nmeadow of the Muse. But this man borrows from everybody, from the\nsuggestions of prostitutes, from the sons of Melitus,[516] from the\nCarian flute-music, from wailing women, from dancing-girls. I am going to\nprove it, so let a lyre be brought. But what need of a lyre in his case?\nWhere is the girl with the castanets? Come, thou Muse of Euripides; 'tis\nquite thy business to accompany songs of this sort.\n\nDIONYSUS. This Muse has surely done fellation in her day, like a Lesbian\nwanton.[517]\n\nAESCHYLUS. \"Ye halcyons, who twitter over the ever-flowing billows of the\nsea, the damp dew of the waves glistens on your wings; and you spiders,\nwho we-we-we-we-we-weave the long woofs of your webs in the corners of\nour houses with your nimble feet like the noisy shuttle, there where the\ndolphin by bounding in the billows, under the influence of the flute,\npredicts a favourable voyage; thou glorious ornaments of the vine, the\nslender tendrils that support the grape. Child, throw thine arms about my\nneck.\"[518] Do you note the harmonious rhythm?\n\nDIONYSUS. Yes.\n\nAESCHYLUS. Do you note it?\n\nDIONYSUS. Yes, undoubtedly.\n\nAESCHYLUS. And does the author of such rubbish dare to criticize my\nsongs? he, who imitates the twelve postures of Cyren\u00e9 in his poetry?[519]\nThere you have his lyric melodies, but I still want to give you a sample\nof his monologues. \"Oh! dark shadows of the night! what horrible dream\nare you sending me from the depths of your sombre abysses! Oh! dream,\nthou bondsman of Pluto, thou inanimate soul, child of the dark night,\nthou dread phantom in long black garments, how bloodthirsty, bloodthirsty\nis thy glance! how sharp are thy claws! Handmaidens, kindle the lamp,\ndraw up the dew of the rivers in your vases and make the water hot; I\nwish to purify myself of this dream sent me by the gods. Oh! king of the\nocean, that's right, that's right! Oh! my comrades, behold this wonder.\nGlyc\u00e9 has robbed me of my cock and has fled. Oh, Nymphs of the mountains!\noh! Mania! seize her! How unhappy I am! I was full busy with my work, I\nwas sp-sp-sp-sp-spinning the flax that was on my spindle, I was rounding\noff the clew that I was to go and sell in the market at dawn; and he flew\noff, flew off, cleaving the air with his swift wings; he left to me\nnothing but pain, pain! What tears, tears, poured, poured from my\nunfortunate eyes! Oh! Cretans, children of Ida, take your bows; help me,\nhaste hither, surround the house. And thou, divine huntress, beautiful\nArtemis, come with thy hounds and search through the house. And thou\nalso, daughter of Zeus, seize the torches in thy ready hands and go\nbefore me to Glyc\u00e9's home, for I propose to go there and rummage\neverywhere.\"[520]\n\nDIONYSUS. That's enough of choruses.\n\nAESCHYLUS. Yes, faith, enough indeed! I wish now to see my verses weighed\nin the scales; 'tis the only way to end this poetic struggle.\n\nDIONYSUS. Well then, come, I am going to sell the poet's genius the same\nway cheese is sold in the market.\n\nCHORUS. Truly clever men are possessed of an inventive mind. Here again\nis a new idea that is marvellous and strange, and which another would not\nhave thought of; as for myself I would not have believed anyone who had\ntold me of it, I would have treated him as a driveller.\n\nDIONYSUS. Come, hither to the scales.\n\nAESCHYLUS AND EURIPIDES. Here we are.\n\nDIONYSUS. Let each one hold one of the scales, recite a verse, and not\nlet go until I have cried, \"Cuckoo!\"\n\nAESCHYLUS AND EURIPIDES. We understand.\n\nDIONYSUS. Well then, recite and keep your hands on the scales.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Would it had pleased the gods that the vessel Argo had never\nunfurled the wings of her sails!\"[521]\n\nAESCHYLUS. \"Oh! river Sperchius! oh! meadows, where the oxen graze!\"[522]\n\nDIONYSUS. Cuckoo! let go! Oh! the verse of Aeschylus sinks far the lower\nof the two.\n\nEURIPIDES. And why?\n\nDIONYSUS. Because, like the wool-merchants, who moisten their wares, he\nhas thrown a river into his verse and has made it quite wet, whereas\nyours was winged and flew away.\n\nEURIPIDES. Come, another verse! You recite, Aeschylus, and you, weigh.\n\nDIONYSUS. Hold the scales again.\n\nAESCHYLUS AND EURIPIDES. Ready.\n\nDIONYSUS (_to Euripides_). You begin.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Eloquence is Persuasion's only sanctuary.\"[523]\n\nAESCHYLUS. \"Death is the only god whom gifts cannot bribe.\"[524]\n\nDIONYSUS. Let go! let go! Here again our friend Aeschylus' verse drags\ndown the scale; 'tis because he has thrown in Death, the weightiest of\nall ills.\n\nEURIPIDES. And I Persuasion; my verse is excellent.\n\nDIONYSUS. Persuasion has both little weight and little sense. But hunt\nagain for a big weighty verse and solid withal, that it may assure you\nthe victory.\n\nEURIPIDES. But where am I to find one--where?\n\nDIONYSUS. I'll tell you one: \"Achilles has thrown two and four.\"[525]\nCome, recite! 'tis the last trial.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"With his arm he seized a mace, studded with iron.\"[526]\n\nAESCHYLUS. \"Chariot upon chariot and corpse upon corpse.\"[527]\n\nDIONYSUS (_to Euripides_) There you're foiled again.\n\nEURIPIDES. Why?\n\nDIONYSUS. There are two chariots and two corpses in the verse; why, 'tis\na weight a hundred Egyptians could not lift.[528]\n\nAESCHYLUS. 'Tis no longer verse against verse that I wish to weigh, but\nlet him clamber into the scale himself, he, his children, his wife,\nCephisophon[529] and all his works; against all these I will place but\ntwo of my verses on the other side.\n\nDIONYSUS. I will _not_ be their umpire, for they are dear to me and I\nwill not have a foe in either of them; meseems the one is mighty clever,\nwhile the other simply delights me.\n\nPLUTO. Then you are foiled in the object of your voyage.\n\nDIONYSUS. And if I do decide?\n\nPLUTO. You shall take with you whichever of the twain you declare the\nvictor; thus you will not have come in vain.\n\nDIONYSUS. That's all right! Well then, listen; I have come down to find a\npoet.\n\nEURIPIDES. And with what intent?\n\nDIONYSUS. So that the city, when once it has escaped the imminent dangers\nof the war, may have tragedies produced. I have resolved to take back\nwhichever of the two is prepared to give good advice to the citizens. So\nfirst of all, what think you of Alcibiades?  For the city is in most\ndifficult labour over this question.\n\nEURIPIDES. And what does it think about it?\n\nDIONYSUS. What does it think? It regrets him, hates him, and yet wishes\nto have him, all at the same time. But tell me your opinion, both of you.\n\nEURIPIDES. I hate the citizen who is slow to serve his country, quick to\ninvolve it in the greatest troubles, ever alert to his own interests, and\na bungler where those of the State are at stake.\n\nDIONYSUS. That's good, by Posidon! And you, what is your opinion?\n\nAESCHYLUS. A lion's whelp should not be reared within the city. No doubt\nthat's best; but if the lion has been reared, one must submit to his\nways.\n\nDIONYSUS. Zeus, the Deliverer! this puzzles me greatly. The one is\nclever, the other clear and precise. Now each of you tell me your idea of\nthe best way to save the State.\n\nEURIPIDES. If Cinesias were fitted to Cleocritus as a pair of wings, and\nthe wind were to carry the two of them across the waves of the sea ...\n\nDIONYSUS. 'Twould be funny. But what is he driving at?\n\nEURIPIDES. ... they could throw vinegar into the eyes of the foe in the\nevent of a sea-fight. But I know something else I want to tell you.\n\nDIONYSUS. Go on.\n\nEURIPIDES. When we put trust in what we mistrust and mistrust what we\ntrust....\n\nDIONYSUS. What? I don't understand. Tell us something less profound, but\nclearer.\n\nEURIPIDES. If we were to mistrust the citizens, whom we trust, and to\nemploy those whom we to-day neglect, we should be saved. Nothing succeeds\nwith us; very well then, let's do the opposite thing, and our deliverance\nwill be assured.\n\nDIONYSUS. Very well spoken. You are the most ingenious of men, a true\nPalamedes![530] Is this fine idea your own or is it Cephisophon's?\n\nEURIPIDES. My very own,--bar the vinegar, which is Cephisophon's.\n\nDIONYSUS (_to Aeschylus_). And you, what have you to say?\n\nAESCHYLUS. Tell me first who the commonwealth employs. Are they the just?\n\nDIONYSUS. Oh! she holds _them_ in abhorrence.\n\nAESCHYLUS. What, are then the wicked those she loves?\n\nDIONYSUS. Not at all, but she employs them against her will.\n\nAESCHYLUS. Then what deliverance can there be for a city that will\nneither have cape nor cloak?[531]\n\nDIONYSUS. Discover, I adjure you, discover a way to save her from\nshipwreck.\n\nAESCHYLUS. I will tell you the way on earth, but I won't here.\n\nDIONYSUS. No, send her this blessing from here.\n\nAESCHYLUS. They will be saved when they have learnt that the land of the\nfoe is theirs and their own land belongs to the foe; that their vessels\nare their true wealth, the only one upon which they can rely.[532]\n\nDIONYSUS. That's true, but the dicasts devour everything.[533]\n\nPLUTO (_to Dionysus_). Now decide.\n\nDIONYSUS. 'Tis for you to decide, but I choose him whom my heart prefers.\n\nEURIPIDES. You called the gods to witness that you would bear me through;\nremember your oath and choose your friends.\n\nDIONYSUS. Yes, \"my tongue has sworn.\"[534] ... But I choose Aeschylus.\n\nEURIPIDES. What have you done, you wretch?\n\nDIONYSUS. I? I have decided that Aeschylus is the victor. What then?\n\nEURIPIDES. And you dare to look me in the face after such a shameful\ndeed?\n\nDIONYSUS. \"Why shameful, if the spectators do not think so?\"[535]\n\nEURIPIDES. Cruel wretch, will you leave me pitilessly among the dead?\n\nDIONYSUS. \"Who knows if living be not dying,[536] if breathing be not\nfeasting, if sleep be not a fleece?\"[537]\n\nPLUTO. Enter my halls. Come, Dionysus.\n\nDIONYSUS. What shall we do there?\n\nPLUTO. I want to entertain my guests before they leave.\n\nDIONYSUS. Well said, by Zeus; 'tis the very thing to please me best.\n\nCHORUS. Blessed the man who has perfected wisdom! Everything is happiness\nfor him. Behold Aeschylus; thanks to the talent, to the cleverness he has\nshown, he returns to his country; and his fellow-citizens, his relations,\nhis friends will all hail his return with joy. Let us beware of jabbering\nwith Socrates and of disdaining the sublime notes of the tragic Muse. To\npass an idle life reeling off grandiloquent speeches and foolish\nquibbles, is the part of a madman.\n\nPLUTO. Farewell, Aeschylus! Go back to earth and may your noble precepts\nboth save our city[538] and cure the mad; there are such, a many of them!\nCarry this rope from me to Cleophon, this one to Myrmex and Nichomachus,\nthe public receivers, and this other one to Archenomous.[539] Bid them\ncome here at once and without delay; if not, by Apollo, I will brand them\nwith the hot iron.[540] I will make one bundle of them and\nAdimantus,[541] the son of Leucolophus,[542] and despatch the lot into\nhell with all possible speed.\n\nAESCHYLUS. I will do your bidding, and do you make Sophocles occupy my\nseat. Let him take and keep it for me, against I should ever return here.\nIn fact I award him the second place among the tragic poets. As for this\nimpostor, watch that he never usurps my throne, even should he be placed\nthere in spite of himself.\n\nPLUTO (_to the Chorus of the Initiate_). Escort him with your sacred\ntorches, singing to him as you go his own hymns and choruses.\n\nCHORUS. Ye deities of the nether world, grant a pleasant journey to the\npoet who is leaving us to return to the light of day; grant likewise wise\nand healthy thoughts to our city. Put an end to the fearful calamities\nthat overwhelm us, to the awful clatter of arms. As for Cleophon and the\nlikes of him, let them go, an it please them, and fight in their own\nland.[543]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFINIS OF \"THE FROGS\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFootnotes:\n\n[382] These were comic poets contemporary with Aristophanes. Phrynichus,\nthe best known, gained the second prize with his 'Muses' when the present\ncomedy was put upon the stage. Amipsias had gained the first prize over\nour author's first edition of 'The Clouds' and again over his 'Birds.'\nAristophanes is ridiculing vulgar and coarse jests, which, however, he\ndoes not always avoid himself.\n\n[383] Instead of the expected \"son of Zeus,\" he calls himself the \"son of\na wine-jar.\"\n\n[384] At the sea-fight at Arginusae the slaves who had distinguished\nthemselves by their bravery were presented with their freedom. This\nbattle had taken place only a few months before the production of 'The\nFrogs.' Had Xanthias been one of these slaves he could then have treated\nhis master as he says, for he would have been his equal.\n\n[385] The door of the Temple of Heracles, situated in the deme of Melit\u00e9,\nclose to Athens. This temple contained a very remarkable statue of the\ngod, the work of Eleas, the master of Phidias.\n\n[386] A fabulous monster, half man and half horse.\n\n[387] So also, in 'The Thesmophoriazusae,' Agathon is described as\nwearing a saffron robe, which was a mark of effeminacy.\n\n[388] A woman's foot-gear.\n\n[389] He speaks of him as though he were a vessel. Clisthenes, who was\nscoffed at for his ugliness, was completely beardless, which fact gave\nhim the look of a eunuch. He was accused of prostituting himself.\n\n[390] Heracles cannot believe it. Dionysus had no repute for bravery. His\ncowardice is one of the subjects for jesting which we shall most often\ncome upon in 'The Frogs.'\n\n[391] A tragedy by Euripides, produced some years earlier, some fragments\nof which are quoted by Aristophanes in his 'Thesmophoriazusae.'\n\n[392] An actor of immense stature.\n\n[393] The gluttony of Heracles was a byword. See 'The Birds.'\n\n[394] Euripides, weary, it is said, of the ridicule and envy with which\nhe was assailed in Athens, had retired in his old age to the court of\nArchelaus, King of Macedonia, where he had met with the utmost\nhospitality. We are assured that he perished through being torn to pieces\nby dogs, which set upon him in a lonely spot. His death occurred in 407\nB.C., the year before the production of 'The Frogs.'\n\n[395] This is a hemistich, the Scholiast says, from Euripides.\n\n[396] The son of Sophocles. Once, during his father's lifetime, he gained\nthe prize for tragedy, but it was suspected that the piece itself was\nlargely the work of Sophocles himself. It is for this reason that\nDionysus wishes to try him when he is dependent on his own resources, now\nthat his father is dead. The death of the latter was quite recent at the\ntime of the production of 'The Frogs,' and the fact lent all the greater\ninterest to this piece.\n\n[397] Agathon was a contemporary of Euripides, and is mentioned in terms\nof praise by Aristotle for his delineation of the character of Achilles,\npresumably in his tragedy of 'Telephus.' From the fragments which remain\nof this author it appears that his style was replete with ornament,\nparticularly antithesis.\n\n[398] Son of Caminus, an inferior poet, often made the butt of\nAristophanes' jeers.\n\n[399] A poet apparently, unknown.\n\n[400] Expressions used by Euripides in different tragedies.\n\n[401] Parody of a verse in Euripides' 'Andromeda,' a lost play.\n\n[402] Heracles, being such a glutton, must be a past master in matters of\ncookery, but this does not justify him in posing as a dramatic critic.\n\n[403] Xanthias, bent double beneath his load, gets more and more out of\npatience with his master's endless talk with Heracles.\n\n[404] The mortar in which hemlock was pounded.\n\n[405] An allusion to the effect of hemlock.\n\n[406] A quarter of Athens where the Lampadephoria was held in honour of\nAthen\u00e9, Hephaestus, and Prometheus, because the first had given the\nmortals oil, the second had invented the lamp, and the third had stolen\nfire from heaven. The principal part of this festival consisted in the\n_lampadedromia_, or torch-race. This name was given to a race in which\nthe competitors for the prize ran with a torch in their hand; it was\nessential that the goal should be reached with the torch still alight.\nThe signal for starting was given by throwing a torch from the top of the\ntower mentioned a few verses later on.\n\n[407] Theseus had descended into Hades with Pirithous to fetch away\nPersephon\u00e9. Aristophanes doubtless wishes to say that in consequence of\nthis descent Pluto established a toll across Acheron, in order to render\naccess to his kingdom less easy, and so that the poor and the greedy, who\ncould not or would not pay, might be kept out.\n\n[408] Morsimus was a minor poet, who is also mentioned with disdain in\n'The Knights,' and is there called the son of Philocles. Aristophanes\njestingly likens anyone who helps to disseminate his verses to the worst\nof criminals.\n\n[409] The Pyrrhic dance was a lively and quick-step dance. Cinesias was\nnot a dancer, but a dithyrambic poet, who declaimed with much\ngesticulation and movement that one might almost think he was performing\nthis dance.\n\n[410] Those initiated into the Mysteries of Demeter, who, according to\nthe belief of the ancients, enjoyed a kind of beatitude after death.\n\n[411] Xanthias, his strength exhausted and his patience gone, prepares to\nlay down his load. Asses were used for the conveyance from Athens to\nEleusis of everything that was necessary for the celebration of the\nMysteries. They were often overladen, and from this fact arose the\nproverb here used by Xanthias, as indicating any heavy burden.\n\n[412] The Ancients believed that meeting this or that person or thing at\nthe outset of a journey was of good or bad omen. The superstition is not\nentirely dead even to-day.\n\n[413] Dionysus had seated himself _on_ instead of _at_ the oar.\n\n[414] One of the titles given to Dionysus, because of the worship\naccorded him at Nysa, a town in Ethiopia, where he was brought up by the\nnymphs.\n\n[415] This was the third day of the Anthesteria or feasts of Dionysus.\nAll kinds of vegetables were cooked in pots and offered to Dionysus and\nAthen\u00e9. It was also the day of the dramatic contests.\n\n[416] Dionysus' temple, the Lenaeum, was situated in the district of\nAthens known as the _Linnae_, or Marshes, on the south side of the\nAcropolis.\n\n[417] He points to the audience.\n\n[418] A spectre, which Hecat\u00e9 sent to frighten men. It took all kinds of\nhideous shapes. It was exorcised by abuse.\n\n[419] This was one of the monstrosities which credulity attributed to the\nEmpusa.\n\n[420] He is addressing a priest of Bacchus, who occupied a seat reserved\nfor him in the first row of the audience.\n\n[421] A verse from the Orestes of Euripides.--Hegelochus was an actor\nwho, in a recent representation, had spoken the line in such a manner as\nto lend it an absurd meaning; instead of saying, [Greek: gal_en_en],\nwhich means _calm_, he had pronounced it [Greek: gal_en], which means _a\ncat_.\n\n[422] The priest of Bacchus, mentioned several verses back.\n\n[423] High-flown expressions from Euripides' Tragedies.\n\n[424] A second Chorus, comprised of Initiates into the Mysteries of\nDemeter and Dionysus.\n\n[425] A philosopher, a native of Melos, and originally a dithyrambic\npoet. He was prosecuted on a charge of atheism.\n\n[426] A comic and dithyrambic poet.\n\n[427] This Thorycion, a toll collector at Aegina, which then belonged to\nAthens, had taken advantage of his position to send goods to Epidaurus,\nan Argolian town, thereby defrauding the treasury of the duty of 5 per\ncent, which was levied on every import and export.\n\n[428] An allusion to Alcibiades, who is said to have obtained a subsidy\nfor the Spartan fleet from Cyrus, satrap of Asia Minor.\n\n[429] An allusion to the dithyrambic poet, Cinesias, who was accused of\nhaving sullied, by stooling against it, the pedestal of a statue of\nHecat\u00e9 at one of the street corners of Athens.\n\n[430] Athen\u00e9.\n\n[431] The route of the procession of the Initiate was from the Ceramicus\n(a district of Athens) to Eleusis, a distance of twenty-five stadia.\n\n[432] A shaft shot at the _choragi_ by the poet, because they had failed\nto have new dresses made for the actors on this occasion.\n\n[433] It was at the age of seven that children were entered on the\nregisters of their father's tribe. Aristophanes is accusing Archidemus,\nwho at that time was the head of the popular party, of being no citizen,\nbecause his name is not entered upon the registers of any tribe.\n\n[434] At funerals women tore their hair, rent their garments, and beat\ntheir bosoms. Aristophanes parodies these demonstrations of grief and\nattributes them to the effeminate Clisthenes. Sebinus the Anaphlystian is\na coined name containing an obscene allusion, implying he was in the\nhabit of allowing connexion with himself a posteriori, and being\nmasturbated by the other in turn.\n\n[435] Callias, the son of Hipponicus, which the poet turns into\nHippobinus, i.e. one who treads a mare, was an Athenian general, who had\ndistinguished himself at the battle of Arginusae; he was notorious for\nhis debauched habits, which he doubtless practised even on board his\ngalleys. He is called a new Heracles, because of the legend that Heracles\ntriumphed over fifty virgins in a single night; no doubt the poet alludes\nto some exploit of the kind here.\n\n[436] A proverb applied to silly boasters. The Corinthians had sent an\nenvoy to Megara, who, in order to enhance the importance of his city,\nincessantly repeated the phrase, \"_The Corinth of Zeus_.\"\n\n[437] Demeter.\n\n[438] Tartessus was an Iberian town, near the Avernian marshes, which\nwere said to be tenanted by reptiles, the progeny of vipers and muraenae,\na kind of fish.\n\n[439] Tithrasios was a part of Libya, fabled to be peopled by Gorgons.\n\n[440] \"Invoke the god\" was the usual formula which immediately followed\nthe offering of the libation in the festival of Dionysus. Here he uses\nthe words after a libation of a new kind and induced by fear.\n\n[441] That is, Heracles, whose temple was at Melit\u00e9, a suburban deme of\nAthens.\n\n[442] Whose statues were placed to make the boundaries of land.\n\n[443] One of the Thirty Tyrants, noted for his versatility.\n\n[444] Celon and Hyperbolus were both dead, and are therefore supposed to\nhave become the leaders and patrons of the populace in Hades, the same as\nthey had been on earth.\n\n[445] Already mentioned; one of the chiefs of the popular party in 406\nB.C.\n\n[446] Heracles had carried of Cerberus.\n\n[447] Names of Thracian slaves.\n\n[448] As was done to unruly children; he allows every kind of torture\nwith the exception of the mildest.\n\n[449] A deme of Attica, where there was a temple to Heracles. No doubt\nthose present uttered the cry \"Oh! oh!\" in honour of the god.\n\n[450] He pretends it was not a cry of pain at all, but of astonishment\nand admiration.\n\n[451] Pretending that it was the thorn causing him pain, and not the lash\nof the whip.\n\n[452] According to the Scholiast this is a quotation from the 'Laocoon,'\na lost play of Sophocles.\n\n[453] A general known for his cowardice; he was accused of not being a\ncitizen, but of Thracian origin; in 406 B.C. he was in disfavour, and he\nperished shortly after in a popular tumult.\n\n[454] According to Athenian law, the accused was acquitted when the\nvoting was equal.\n\n[455] He had helped to establish the oligarchical government of the Four\nHundred, who had just been overthrown.\n\n[456] The fight of Arginusae; the slaves who had fought there had been\naccorded their freedom.--The Plataeans had had the title of citizens\nsince the battle of Marathon.\n\n[457] Things were not going well for Athens at the time; it was only two\nyears later, 404 B.C., that Lysander took the city.\n\n[458] A demagogue; because he deceived the people, Aristophanes compares\nhim with the washermen who cheated their clients by using some mixture\nthat was cheaper than potash.\n\n[459] Callistrates says that Clidemides was one of Sophocles' sons;\nApollonius states him to have been an actor.\n\n[460] Dionysus was, of course, the patron god of the drama and dramatic\ncontests.\n\n[461] The majestic grandeur of Aeschylus' periods, coupled with a touch\nof parody, is to be recognized in this piece.\n\n[462] It is said that Euripides was the son of a fruit-seller.\n\n[463] Euripides is constantly twitted by Aristophanes with his\npredilection for ragged beggars and vagabonds as characters in his plays.\n\n[464] Bellerophon, Philoctetes, and Telephus, were all characters in\ndifferent Tragedies of Euripides.\n\n[465] Sailors, when in danger, sacrificed a black lamb to Typhon, the god\nof storms.\n\n[466] An allusion to a long monologue of Icarus in the tragedy called\n'The Cretans.'\n\n[467] In 'Aeolus,' Macareus violates his own sister; in 'The Clouds,'\nthis incest, which Euripides introduced upon the stage, is also\nmentioned.\n\n[468] The title of one of Euripides' pieces.\n\n[469] The titles of three lost Tragedies of Euripides.\n\n[470] A verse from one of the lost Tragedies of Euripides; the poet was\nborn at Eleusis.\n\n[471] Aristophanes often makes this accusation of religious heterodoxy\nagainst Euripides.\n\n[472] A dramatic poet, who lived about the end of the sixth century B.C.,\nand a disciple of Thespis; the scenic art was then comparatively in its\ninfancy.\n\n[473] The Scholiast tells us that Achilles remained mute in the tragedy\nentitled 'The Phrygians' or 'The Ransom of Hector,' and that his face was\nveiled; he only spoke a few words at the beginning of the drama during a\ndialogue with Hermes.--We have no information about the Niob\u00e9 mentioned\nhere.\n\n[474] The Scholiast tells us that this expression ([Greek:\nhippalektru_on]) was used in 'The Myrmidons' of Aeschylus; Aristophanes\nridicules it again both in the 'Peace' and in 'The Birds.'\n\n[475] An individual apparently noted for his uncouth ugliness.\n\n[476] The beet and the decoctions are intended to indicate the insipidity\nof Euripides' style.\n\n[477] An intimate friend of Euripides, who is said to have worked with\nhim on his Tragedies, to have been 'ghost' to him in fact.\n\n[478] An allusion to Euripides' obscure birth; his mother had been, so it\nwas said, a vegetable-seller in the public market.\n\n[479] Euripides had introduced every variety of character into his\npieces, whereas Aeschylus only staged divinities or heroes.\n\n[480] There are two Cycni, one, the son of Ares, was killed by Heracles\naccording to the testimony of Hesiod in his description of the \"Shield of\nHeracles\"; the other, the son of Posidon, who, according to Pindar,\nperished under the blows of Achilles. It is not known in which Tragedy of\nAeschylus this character was introduced.\n\n[481] Memnon, the son of Aurora, was killed by Achilles; in the list of\nthe Tragedies of Aeschylus there is one entitled 'Memnon.'\n\n[482] These two were not poets, but Euripides supposes them disciples of\nAeschylus, because of their rude and antiquated manners.\n\n[483] Clitophon and Theramenes were elegants of effeminate habits and\nadept talkers.\n\n[484] A proverb which was applied to versatile people; the two Greek\nnames [Greek: Chios] and [Greek: Keios] might easily be mistaken for one\nanother. Both, of course, are islands of the Cyclades.\n\n[485] A verse from the 'Myrmidons' of Aeschylus; here Achilles is\nAeschylus himself.\n\n[486] The 'Persae' of Aeschylus (produced 472 B.C.) was received with\ntransports of enthusiasm, reviving as it did memories of the glorious\ndefeat of Xerxes at Salamis, where the poet had fought, only a few years\nbefore, 480 B.C.\n\n[487] Nothing is known of this Pantacles, whom Eupolis, in his 'Golden\nAge,' also describes as awkward ([Greek: skaios]).\n\n[488] Aristophanes had by this time modified his opinion of this general,\nwhom he had so flouted in 'The Acharnians.'\n\n[489] Son of Telamon, the King of Salamis and brother of Ajax.\n\n[490] The wife of Proetus, King of Argos. Bellerophon, who had sought\nrefuge at the court of this king after the accidental murder of his\nbrother Bellerus, had disdained her amorous overtures. Therefore she\ndenounced him to her husband as having wanted to attempt her virtue and\nurged him to cause his death. She killed herself immediately after the\ndeparture of the young hero.\n\n[491] Cephisophon, Euripides' friend, is said to have seduced his wife.\n\n[492] Meaning, they have imitated Sthenoboea in everything; like her,\nthey have conceived adulterous passions and, again like her, they have\npoisoned themselves.\n\n[493] Lycabettus, a mountain of Attica, just outside the walls of Athens,\nthe \"Arthur's Seat\" of the city. Parnassus, the famous mountain of\nPhocis, the seat of the temple and oracle of Delphi and the home of the\nMuses. The whole passage is, of course, in parody of the grandiloquent\nstyle of Aeschylus.\n\n[494] An allusion to Oeneus, King of Aetolia, and to Telephus, King of\nMysia; characters put upon the stage by Euripides.\n\n[495] It was only the rich Athenians who could afford fresh fish, because\nof their high price; we know how highly the gourmands prized the eels\nfrom the Copaic lake.\n\n[496] If Aristophanes is to be believed, the orators were of depraved\nhabits, and exacted infamous complaisances as payment for their lessons\nin rhetoric.\n\n[497] Aristophanes attributes the general dissoluteness to the influence\nof Euripides; he suggests that the subtlety of his poetry, by sharpening\nthe wits of the vulgar and even of the coarsest, has instigated them to\ninsubordination.\n\n[498] Aug\u00e9, who was seduced by Heracles, was delivered in the temple of\nAthen\u00e9 (Scholiast); it is unknown in what piece this fact is\nmentioned.--Macareus violates his sister Canac\u00e9 in the 'Aeolus.'\n\n[499] i.e. they busy themselves with philosophic subtleties. This line is\ntaken from 'The Phryxus,' of which some fragments have come down to us.\n\n[500] In the torch-race the victor was the runner who attained the goal\nfirst without having allowed his torch to go out. This race was a very\nancient institution. Aristophanes means to say that the old habits had\nfallen into disuse.\n\n[501] A tetralogy composed of three tragedies, the 'Agamemnon,' the\n'Cho\u00ebphorae,' the 'Eumenides,' together with a satirical drama, the\n'Proteus.'\n\n[502] This is the opening of the 'Cho\u00ebphorae.' Aeschylus puts the words\nin the mouth of Orestes, who is returning to his native land and visiting\nhis father's tomb.\n\n[503] i.e. your jokes are very coarse.\n\n[504] He was one of the Athenian generals in command at Arginusae; he and\nhis colleagues were condemned to death for not having given burial to the\nmen who fell in that naval fight.\n\n[505] As Euripides had done to those of Aeschylus; that sort of criticism\nwas too low for him.\n\n[506] [Greek: D_ekuthion ap_olesa], _oleum perdidi,_ I have lost my\nlabour, was a proverbial expression, which was also possibly the refrain\nof some song. Aeschylus means to say that all Euripides' phrases are cast\nin the same mould, and that his style is so poor and insipid that one can\nadapt to it any foolery one wishes; as for the phrase he adds to every\none of the phrases his rival recites, he chooses it to insinuate that the\nwork of Euripides is _labour lost_, and that he would have done just as\nwell not to meddle with tragedy. The joke is mediocre at its best and is\nkept up far too long.\n\n[507] Prologue of the 'Archelaus' of Euripides, a tragedy now lost.\n\n[508] From prologue of the 'Hypsipil\u00e9' of Euripides, a play now lost.\n\n[509] From prologue of the 'Sthenoboea' of Euripides, a play now lost.\n\n[510] From prologue of the 'Phryxus' of Euripides, a play now lost.\n\n[511] From prologue of the 'Iphigeneia in Tauris' of Euripides.\n\n[512] Prologue of 'The Meleager' by Euripides, lost.\n\n[513] Prologue of 'The Menalipp\u00e9 Sapiens,' by Euripides, lost.\n\n[514] The whole of these fragments are quoted at random and have no\nmeaning. Euripides, no doubt, wants to show that the choruses of\nAeschylus are void of interest or coherence. As to the refrain, \"haste to\nsustain the assault,\" Euripides possibly wants to insinuate that\nAeschylus incessantly repeats himself and that a wearying monotony\npervades his choruses. However, all these criticisms are in the main\ndevoid of foundation.\n\n[515] This ridiculous couplet pretends to imitate the redundancy and\nnonsensicality of Aeschylus' language; it can be seen how superficial and\nunfair the criticism of Euripides is; probably this is just what\nAristophanes wanted to convey by this long and wearisome scene.\n\n[516] The Scholiast conjectures this Melitus to be the same individual\nwho later accused Socrates.\n\n[517] The most infamous practices were attributed to the Lesbian women,\namongst others, that of _fellation_, that is the vile trick of taking a\nman's penis in the mouth, to give him gratification by sucking and\nlicking it with the tongue. Dionysus means to say that Euripides takes\npleasure in describing shameful passions.\n\n[518] Here the criticism only concerns the rhythm and not either the\nmeaning or the style. This passage was sung to one of the airs that\nEuripides had adopted for his choruses and which have not come down to\nus; we are therefore absolutely without any data that would enable us to\nunderstand and judge a criticism of this kind.\n\n[519] A celebrated courtesan, who was skilled in twelve different\npostures of Venus. Aeschylus returns to his idea, which he has so often\nindicated, that Euripides' poetry is low and impure; he at the same time\nscoffs at the artifices to which Euripides had recourse when inspiration\nand animation failed him.\n\n[520] No monologue of Euripides that has been preserved bears the\nfaintest resemblance to this specimen which. Aeschylus pretends to be\ngiving here.\n\n[521] Beginning of Euripides' 'Medea.'\n\n[522] Fragment from Aeschylus 'Philoctetes.' The Sperchius is a river in\nThessaly, which has its source in the Pindus range and its mouth in the\nMaliac gulf.\n\n[523] A verse from Euripides' 'Antigon\u00e9.' Its meaning is, that it is\nbetter to speak well than to speak the truth, if you want to persuade.\n\n[524] From the 'Niobe,' a lost play, of Aeschylus.\n\n[525] From the 'Telephus' of Euripides, in which he introduces Achilles\nplaying at dice. This line was also ridiculed by Eupolis.\n\n[526] From Euripides' 'Meleager.' All these plays, with the one exception\nof the 'Medea,' are lost.\n\n[527] From the 'Glaucus Potniensis,' a lost play of Aeschylus.\n\n[528] i.e. one hundred porters, either because many of the Athenian\nporters were Egyptians, or as an allusion to the Pyramids and other great\nworks, which had habituated them to carrying heavy burdens.\n\n[529] Euripides' friend and collaborator.\n\n[530] The invention of weights and measures, of dice, and of the game of\nchess are attributed to him, also that of four additional letters of the\nalphabet.\n\n[531] i.e. that cannot decide for either party.\n\n[532] i.e. that a country can always be invaded and that the fleet alone\nis a safe refuge. This is the same advice as that given by Pericles, and\nwhich Thucydides expresses thus, \"Let your country be devastated, or even\ndevastate it yourself, and set sail for Laconia with your fleet.\"\n\n[533] An allusion to the fees of the dicasts, or jurymen; we have already\nseen that at this period it was two obols, and later three.\n\n[534] A half-line from Euripides' 'Hippolytus.' The full line is: [Greek:\nh_e gl_ott' om_omok', h_e de phr_en an_omotos,] \"my tongue has taken an\noath, but my mind is unsworn,\" a bit of casuistry which the critics were\nnever tired of bringing up against the author.\n\n[535] A verse from the 'Aeolus' of Euripides, but slightly altered.\nEuripides said, \"Why is is shameful, if the spectators, who enjoy it, do\nnot think so?\"\n\n[536] A verse from the 'Phrixus' of Euripides; what follows is a parody.\n\n[537] We have already seen Aeschylus pretending that it was possible to\nadapt any foolish expression one liked to the verses of Euripides: \"a\nlittle bottle, a little bag, a little fleece.\"\n\n[538] Pluto speaks as though he were an Athenian himself.\n\n[539] That they should hang themselves. Cleophon is said to have been an\ninfluential alien resident who was opposed to concluding peace; Myrmex\nand Nicomachus were two officials guilty of peculation of public funds;\nArchenomus is unknown.\n\n[540] He would brand them as fugitive slaves, if, despite his orders,\nthey refused to come down.\n\n[541] An Athenian admiral.\n\n[542] The real name of the father of Adimantus was Leucolophides, which\nAristophanes jestingly turns into Leucolophus, i.e. _White Crest_.\n\n[543] i.e. in a foreign country; Cleophon, as we have just seen, was not\nan Athenian.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THESMOPHORIAZUSAE\n\nor\n\nThe Women's Festival\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nLike the 'Lysistrata,' the 'Thesmophoriazusae, or Women's Festival,' and\nthe next following play, the 'Ecclesiazusae, or Women in Council' are\ncomedies in which the fair sex play a great part, and also resemble that\nextremely _scabreux_ production in the plentiful crop of doubtful 'double\nentendres' and highly suggestive situations they contain.\n\nThe play has more of a proper intrigue and formal d\u00e9nouement than is\ngeneral with our Author's pieces, which, like modern extravaganzas and\nmusical comedies, are often strung on a very slender thread of plot. The\nidea of the 'Thesmophoriazusae' is as follows.\n\nEuripides is summoned as a notorious woman-hater and detractor of the\nfemale sex to appear for trial and judgment before the women of Athens\nassembled to celebrate the Thesmophoria, a festival held in honour of the\ngoddesses Demeter and Persephone, from which men were rigidly excluded.\nThe poet is terror-stricken, and endeavours to persuade his confr\u00e8re, the\ntragedian Agathon, to attend the meeting in the guise of a woman to plead\nhis cause, Agathon's notorious effeminacy of costume and way of life\nlending itself to the deception; but the latter refuses point-blank. He\nthen prevails on his father-in-law, Mnesilochus, to do him this favour,\nand shaves, depilates, and dresses him up accordingly. But so far from\nthrowing oil on the troubled waters, Mnesilochus indulges in a long\nharangue full of violent abuse of the whole sex, and relates some\nscandalous stories of the naughty ways of peccant wives. The assembly\nsuspects at once there is a man amongst them, and on examination of the\nold fellow's person, this is proved to be the case. He flies for\nsanctuary to the altar, snatching a child from the arms of one of the\nwomen as a hostage, vowing to kill it if they molest him further. On\ninvestigation, however, the infant turns out to be a wine-skin dressed in\nbaby's clothes.\n\nIn despair Mnesilochus sends urgent messages to Euripides to come and\nrescue him from his perilous predicament. The latter then appears, and in\nsuccessive characters selected from his different Tragedies--now Menelaus\nmeeting Helen again in Egypt, now Echo sympathising with the chained\nAndromeda, presently Perseus about to release the heroine from her\nrock--pleads for his unhappy father-in-law. At length he succeeds in\ngetting him away in the temporary absence of the guard, a Scythian\narcher, whom he entices from his post by the charms of a dancing-girl.\n\nAs may be supposed, the appearance of Mnesilochus among the women dressed\nin women's clothes, the examination of his person to discover his true\nsex and his final detection, afford fine opportunities for a display of\nthe broadest Aristophanic humour. The latter part of the play also, where\nvarious pieces of Euripides are burlesqued, is extremely funny; and must\nhave been still more so when represented before an audience familiar with\nevery piece and almost every line parodied, and played by actors trained\nand got up to imitate every trick and mannerism of appearance and\ndelivery of the tragic actors who originally took the parts.\n\nThe 'Thesmophoriazusae' was produced in the year 412 B.C., six years\nbefore the death of Euripides, who is held up to ridicule in it, as he is\nin 'The Wasps' and several other of our Author's comedies.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE THESMOPHORIAZUSAE\n\nor\n\nThe Women's Festival\n\n\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\n\nEURIPIDES.\nMNESILOCHUS, Father-in-law of Euripides.\nAGATHON.\nSERVANT OF AGATHON.\nCHORUS attending AGATHON.\nHERALD.\nWOMEN.\nCLISTHENES.\nA PRYTANIS or Member of the Council.\nA SCYTHIAN or Police Officer.\nCHORUS OF THESMOPHORIAZUSAE--women keeping the Feast of Demeter.\n\nSCENE: In front of Agathon's house; afterwards in the precincts of the\nTemple of Demeter.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE THESMOPHORIAZUSAE\n\nor\n\nThe Women's Festival\n\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Great Zeus! will the swallow never appear to end the winter\nof my discontent? Why the fellow has kept me on the run ever since early\nthis morning; he wants to kill me, that's certain. Before I lose my\nspleen entirely, Euripides, can you at least tell me whither you are\nleading me?\n\nEURIPIDES. What need for you to hear what you are going to see?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. How is that? Repeat it. No need for me to hear....\n\nEURIPIDES. What you are going to see.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Nor consequently to see....\n\nEURIPIDES. What you have to hear.[544]\n\nMNESILOCHUS. What is this wiseacre stuff you are telling me? I must\nneither see nor hear.\n\nEURIPIDES. Ah! but you have two things there that are essentially\ndistinct.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Seeing and hearing.\n\nEURIPIDES. Undoubtedly.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. In what way distinct?\n\nEURIPIDES. In this way. Formerly, when Ether separated the elements and\nbore the animals that were moving in her bosom, she wished to endow them\nwith sight, and so made the eye round like the sun's disc and bored ears\nin the form of a funnel.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. And because of this funnel I neither see nor hear. Ah! great\ngods! I am delighted to know it. What a fine thing it is to talk with\nwise men!\n\nEURIPIDES. I will teach you many another thing of the sort.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. That's well to know; but first of all I should like to find\nout how to grow lame, so that I need not have to follow you all about.\n\nEURIPIDES. Come, hear and give heed!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. I'm here and waiting.\n\nEURIPIDES. Do you see that little door?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Yes, certainly.\n\nEURIPIDES. Silence!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Silence about what? About the door?\n\nEURIPIDES. Pay attention!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Pay attention and be silent about the door? Very well.\n\nEURIPIDES. 'Tis there that Agathon, the celebrated tragic poet,\ndwells.[545]\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Who is this Agathon?\n\nEURIPIDES. 'Tis a certain Agathon....\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Swarthy, robust of build?\n\nEURIPIDES. No, another. You have never seen him?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. He has a big beard?\n\nEURIPIDES. No, no, evidently you have never seen him.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Never, so far as I know.\n\nEURIPIDES. And yet you have pedicated him. Well, it must have been\nwithout knowing who he was. Ah! let us step aside; here is one of his\nslaves bringing a brazier and some myrtle branches; no doubt he is going\nto offer a sacrifice and pray for a happy poetical inspiration for\nAgathon.\n\nSERVANT OF AGATHON. Silence! oh, people! keep your mouths sedately shut!\nThe chorus of the Muses is moulding songs at my master's hearth. Let the\nwinds hold their breath in the silent Ether! Let the azure waves cease\nmurmuring on the shore!...\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Brououou! brououou! (_Imitates the buzzing of a fly._)\n\nEURIPIDES. Keep quiet!  what are you saying there?\n\nSERVANT. ... Take your rest, ye winged races, and you, ye savage\ninhabitants of the woods, cease from your erratic wandering ...\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Broum, broum, brououou.\n\nSERVANT. ... for Agathon, our master, the sweet-voiced poet, is going ...\n\nMNESILOCHUS. ... to be pedicated?\n\nSERVANT. Whose voice is that?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. 'Tis the silent Ether.\n\nSERVANT. ... is going to construct the framework of a drama. He is\nrounding fresh poetical forms, he is polishing them in the lathe and is\nwelding them; he is hammering out sentences and metaphors; he is working\nup his subject like soft wax. First he models it and then he casts it in\nbronze ...\n\nMNESILOCHUS. ... and sways his buttocks amorously.\n\nSERVANT. Who is the rustic who approaches this sacred enclosure?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Take care of yourself and of your sweet-voiced poet! I have\na strong instrument here both well rounded and well polished, which will\npierce your enclosure and penetrate your bottom.\n\nSERVANT. Old man, you must have been a very insolent fellow in your\nyouth!\n\nEURIPIDES (_to the servant_). Let him be, friend, and, quick, go and call\nAgathon to me.\n\nSERVANT. 'Tis not worth the trouble, for he will soon be here himself. He\nhas started to compose, and in winter[546] it is never possible to round\noff strophes without coming to the sun to excite the imagination. (_He\ndeparts._)\n\nMNESILOCHUS. And what am I to do?\n\nEURIPIDES. Wait till he comes.... Oh, Zeus! what hast thou in store for\nme to-day?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. But, great gods, what is the matter then? What are you\ngrumbling and groaning for? Tell me; you must not conceal anything from\nyour father-in-law.\n\nEURIPIDES. Some great misfortune is brewing against me.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. What is it?\n\nEURIPIDES. This day will decide whether it is all over with Euripides or\nnot.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. But how? Neither the tribunals nor the Senate are sitting,\nfor it is the third of the five days consecrated to Demeter.[547]\n\nEURIPIDES. That is precisely what makes me tremble; the women have\nplotted my ruin, and to-day they are to gather in the Temple of Demeter\nto execute their decision.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Why are they against you?\n\nEURIPIDES. Because I mishandle them in my tragedies.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. By Posidon, you would seem to have thoroughly deserved your\nfate. But how are you going to get out of the mess?\n\nEURIPIDES. I am going to beg Agathon, the tragic poet, to go to the\nThesmophoria.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. And what is he to do there?\n\nEURIPIDES. He would mingle with the women, and stand up for me, if\nneedful.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Would he be openly present or secretly?\n\nEURIPIDES. Secretly, dressed in woman's clothes.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. That's a clever notion, thoroughly worthy of you. The prize\nfor trickery is ours.\n\nEURIPIDES. Silence!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. What's the matter?\n\nEURIPIDES. Here comes Agathon.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Where, where?\n\nEURIPIDES. That's the man they are bringing out yonder on the\nmachine.[548]\n\nMNESILOCHUS. I am blind then! I see no man here, I only see Cyren\u00e9.[549]\n\nEURIPIDES. Be still! He is getting ready to sing.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. What subtle trill, I wonder, is he going to warble to us?\n\nAGATHON. Damsels, with the sacred torch[550] in hand, unite your dance to\nshouts of joy in honour of the nether goddesses; celebrate the freedom of\nyour country.\n\nCHORUS. To what divinity is your homage addressed? I wish to mingle mine\nwith it.\n\nAGATHON. Oh! Muse! glorify Phoebus with his golden bow, who erected the\nwalls of the city of the Simois.[551]\n\nCHORUS. To thee, oh Phoebus, I dedicate my most beauteous songs; to thee,\nthe sacred victor in the poetical contests.\n\nAGATHON. And praise Artemis too, the maiden huntress, who wanders on the\nmountains and through the woods....\n\nCHORUS. I, in my turn, celebrate the everlasting happiness of the chaste\nArtemis, the mighty daughter of Latona!\n\nAGATHON. ... and Latona and the tones of the Asiatic lyre, which wed so\nwell with the dances of the Phrygian Graces.[552]\n\nCHORUS. I do honour to the divine Latona and to the lyre, the mother of\nsongs of male and noble strains. The eyes of the goddess sparkle while\nlistening to our enthusiastic chants. Honour to the powerful Phoebus!\nHail! thou blessed son of Latona!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh! ye venerable Genetyllides,[553] what tender and\nvoluptuous songs! They surpass the most lascivious kisses in sweetness; I\nfeel a thrill of delight pass up my rectum as I listen to them. Young\nman, whoever you are, answer my questions, which I am borrowing from\nAeschylus' 'Lycurgeia.'[554] Whence comes this effeminate? What is his\ncountry? his dress? What contradictions his life shows! A lyre and a\nhair-net! A wrestling school oil flask and a girdle![555] What could be\nmore contradictory? What relation has a mirror to a sword? And you\nyourself, who are you? Do you pretend to be a man? Where is the sign of\nyour manhood, your penis, pray? Where is the cloak, the footgear that\nbelong to that sex? Are you a woman? Then where are your breasts? Answer\nme. But you keep silent. Oh! just as you choose; your songs display your\ncharacter quite sufficiently.\n\nAGATHON. Old man, old man, I hear the shafts of jealousy whistling by my\nears, but they do not hit me. My dress is in harmony with my thoughts. A\npoet must adopt the nature of his characters. Thus, if he is placing\nwomen on the stage, he must contract all their habits in his own person.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Then you ride the high horse[556] when you are composing a\nPhaedra.\n\nAGATHON. If the heroes are men, everything in him will be manly. What we\ndon't possess by nature, we must acquire by imitation.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. When you are staging Satyrs, call me; I will do my best to\nhelp you from behind with standing tool.\n\nAGATHON. Besides, it is bad taste for a poet to be coarse and hairy. Look\nat the famous Ibycus, at Anacreon of Teos, and at Alcaeus,[557] who\nhandled music so well; they wore headbands and found pleasure in the\nlascivious dances of Ionia. And have you not heard what a dandy\nPhrynichus was[558] and how careful in his dress? For this reason his\npieces were also beautiful, for the works of a poet are copied from\nhimself.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Ah! so it is for this reason that Philocles, who is so\nhideous, writes hideous pieces; Xenocles, who is malicious, malicious\nones, and Theognis,[559] who is cold, such cold ones?\n\nAGATHON. Yes, necessarily and unavoidably; and 'tis because I knew this\nthat I have so well cared for my person.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. How, in the gods' name?\n\nEURIPIDES. Come, leave off badgering him; I was just the same at his age,\nwhen I began to write.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. At! then, by Zeus! I don't envy you your fine manners.\n\nEURIPIDES (_to Agathon_). But listen to the cause that brings me here.\n\nAGATHON. Say on.\n\nEURIPIDES. Agathon, wise is he who can compress many thoughts into few\nwords.[560] Struck by a most cruel misfortune, I come to you as a\nsuppliant.\n\nAGATHON. What are you asking?\n\nEURIPIDES. The women purpose killing me to-day during the Thesmophoria,\nbecause I have dared to speak ill of them.\n\nAGATHON. And what can I do for you in the matter?\n\nEURIPIDES. Everything. Mingle secretly with the women by making yourself\npass as one of themselves; then do you plead my cause with your own lips,\nand I am saved. You, and you alone, are capable of speaking of me\nworthily.\n\nAGATHON. But why not go and defend yourself?\n\nEURIPIDES. 'Tis impossible. First of all, I am known; further, I have\nwhite hair and a long beard; whereas you, you are good-looking, charming,\nand are close-shaven; you are fair, delicate, and have a woman's voice.\n\nAGATHON. Euripides!\n\nEURIPIDES. Well?\n\nAGATHON. Have you not said in one of your pieces, \"You love to see the\nlight, and don't you believe your father loves it too?\"[561]\n\nEURIPIDES. Yes.\n\nAGATHON. Then never you think I am going to expose myself in your stead;\n'twould be madness. 'Tis for you to submit to the fate that overtakes\nyou; one must not try to trick misfortune, but resign oneself to it with\ngood grace.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. This is why you, you wretch, offer your posterior with a\ngood grace to lovers, not in words, but in actual fact.\n\nEURIPIDES. But what prevents your going there?\n\nAGATHON. I should run more risk than you would.\n\nEURIPIDES. Why?\n\nAGATHON. Why? I should look as if I were wanting to trespass on secret\nnightly pleasures of the women and to ravish their Aphrodit\u00e9.[562]\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Of wanting to ravish indeed! you mean wanting to be\nravished--in the rearward mode. Ah! great gods! a fine excuse truly!\n\nEURIPIDES. Well then, do you agree?\n\nAGATHON. Don't count upon it.\n\nEURIPIDES. Oh! I am unfortunate indeed! I am undone!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Euripides, my friend, my son-in-law, never despair.\n\nEURIPIDES. What can be done?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Send him to the devil and do with me as you like.\n\nEURIPIDES. Very well then, since you devote yourself to my safety, take\noff your cloak first.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. There, it lies on the ground. But what do you want to do\nwith me?\n\nEURIPIDES. To shave off this beard of yours, and to remove your hair\nbelow as well.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Do what you think fit; I yield myself entirely to you.\n\nEURIPIDES. Agathon, you have always razors about you; lend me one.\n\nAGATHON. Take if yourself, there, out of that case.\n\nEURIPIDES. Thanks. Sit down and puff out the right cheek.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh! oh! oh!\n\nEURIPIDES. What are you shouting for? I'll cram a spit down your gullet,\nif you're not quiet.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! (_He springs up and starts running\naway._)\n\nEURIPIDES. Where are you running to now?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. To the temple of the Eumenides.[563] No, by Demeter I won't\nlet myself be gashed like that.\n\nEURIPIDES. But you will get laughed at, with your face half-shaven like\nthat.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Little care I.\n\nEURIPIDES. In the gods' names, don't leave me in the lurch. Come here.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh! by the gods! (_Resumes his seat._)\n\nEURIPIDES. Keep still and hold up your head. Why do you want to fidget\nabout like this?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Mu, mu.\n\nEURIPIDES. Well! why, mu, mu? There! 'tis done and well done too!\n\nMNESILOCHUS Ah! great god! It makes me feel quite light.\n\nEURIPIDES. Don't worry yourself; you look charming. Do you want to see\nyourself?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Aye, that I do; hand the mirror here.\n\nEURIPIDES. Do you see yourself?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. But this is not I, it is Clisthenes![564]\n\nEURIPIDES. Stand up; I am now going to remove your hair. Bend down.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Alas! alas! they are going to grill me like a pig.\n\nEURIPIDES. Come now, a torch or a lamp! Bend down and take care of the\ntender end of your tail!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Aye, aye! but I'm afire! oh! oh! Water, water, neighbour, or\nmy rump will be alight!\n\nEURIPIDES. Keep up your courage!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Keep my courage, when I'm being burnt up?\n\nEURIPIDES. Come, cease your whining, the worst is over.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh! it's quite black, all burnt below there all about the\nhole!\n\nEURIPIDES. Don't worry! that will be washed off with a sponge.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Woe to him who dares to wash my rump!\n\nEURIPIDES. Agathon, you refuse to devote yourself to helping me; but at\nany rate lend me a tunic and a belt. You cannot say you have not got\nthem.\n\nAGATHON. Take them and use them as you like; I consent.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. What must be taken?\n\nEURIPIDES. What must be taken? First put on this long saffron-coloured\nrobe.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. By Aphrodit\u00e9! what a sweet odour! how it smells of a man's\ngenitals![565] Hand it me quickly. And the belt?\n\nEURIPIDES. Here it is.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Now some rings for my legs.\n\nEURIPIDES. You still want a hair-net and a head-dress.\n\nAGATHON. Here is my night-cap.\n\nEURIPIDES. Ah! that's capital.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Does it suit me?\n\nAGATHON. It could not be better.\n\nEURIPIDES. And a short mantle?\n\nAGATHON. There's one on the couch; take it.\n\nEURIPIDES. He wants slippers.\n\nAGATHON. Here are mine.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Will they fit me? You like a loose fit.[566]\n\nAGATHON. Try them on. Now that you have all you need, let me be taken\ninside.[567]\n\nEURIPIDES. You look for all the world like a woman. But when you talk,\ntake good care to give your voice a woman's tone.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. I'll try my best.\n\nEURIPIDES. Come, get yourself to the temple.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. No, by Apollo, not unless you swear to me ...\n\nEURIPIDES. What?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. ... that, if anything untoward happen to me, you will leave\nnothing undone to save me.\n\nEURIPIDES Very well! I swear it by the Ether, the dwelling-place of the\nking of the gods.[568]\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Why not rather swear it by the disciples of\nHippocrates?[569]\n\nEURIPIDES. Come, I swear it by all the gods, both great and small.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Remember, 'tis the heart, and not the tongue, that has\nsworn;[570] for the oaths of the tongue concern me but little.\n\nEURIPIDES. Hurry yourself! The signal for the meeting has just been\ndisplayed on the Temple of Demeter. Farewell. [_Exit._\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Here, Thratta, follow me.[571] Look, Thratta, at the cloud\nof smoke that arises from all these lighted torches. Ah! beautiful\nThesmophorae![572] grant me your favours, protect me, both within the\ntemple and on my way back! Come, Thratta, put down the basket and take\nout the cake, which I wish to offer to the two goddesses. Mighty\ndivinity, oh, Demeter, and thou, Persephon\u00e9, grant that I may be able to\noffer you many sacrifices; above all things, grant that I may not be\nrecognized. Would that my young daughter might marry a man as rich as he\nis foolish and silly, so that she may have nothing to do but amuse\nherself. But where can a place be found for hearing well? Be off,\nThratta, be off; slaves have no right to be present at this\ngathering.[573]\n\nHERALD. Silence! Silence! Pray to the Thesmophorae, Demeter and Cora;\npray to Plutus,[574] Calligenia,[575] Curotrophos,[576] the Earth, Hermes\nand the Graces, that all may happen for the best at this gathering, both\nfor the greatest advantage of Athens and for our own personal happiness!\nMay the award be given her, who, by both deeds and words, has most\ndeserved it from the Athenian people and from the women! Address these\nprayers to heaven and demand happiness for yourselves. Io Paean! Io\nPaean! Let us rejoice!\n\nCHORUS. May the gods deign to accept our vows and our prayers! Oh!\nalmighty Zeus, and thou, god with the golden lyre,[577] who reignest on\nsacred Delos, and thou, oh, invincible virgin, Pallas, with the eyes of\nazure and the spear of gold, who protectest our illustrious city, and\nthou, the daughter of the beautiful Latona, the queen of the\nforests,[578] who art adored under many names, hasten hither at my call.\nCome, thou mighty Posidon, king of the Ocean, leave thy stormy whirlpools\nof Nereus; come goddesses of the seas, come, ye nymphs, who wander on the\nmountains. Let us unite our voices to the sounds of the golden lyre, and\nmay wisdom preside at the gathering of the noble matrons of Athens.\n\nHERALD. Address your prayers to the gods and goddesses of Olympus, of\nDelphi, Delos and all other places; if there be a man who is plotting\nagainst the womenfolk or who, to injure them, is proposing peace to\nEuripides and the Medes, or who aspires to usurping the tyranny, plots\nthe return of a tyrant, or unmasks a supposititious child; or if there be\na slave who, a confidential party to a wife's intrigues, reveals them\nsecretly to her husband, or who, entrusted with a message, does not\ndeliver the same faithfully; if there be a lover who fulfils naught of\nwhat he has promised a woman, whom he has abused on the strength of his\nlies, if there be an old woman who seduces the lover of a maiden by dint\nof her presents and treacherously receives him in her house; if there be\na host or hostess who sells false measure, pray the gods that they will\noverwhelm them with their wrath, both them and their families, and that\nthey may reserve all their favours for you.\n\nCHORUS. Let us ask the fulfilment of these wishes both for the city and\nfor the people, and may the wisest of us cause her opinion to be\naccepted. But woe to those women who break their oaths, who speculate on\nthe public misfortune, who seek to alter the laws and the decrees, who\nreveal our secrets to the foe and admit the Medes into our territory so\nthat they may devastate it! I declare them both impious and criminal. Oh!\nalmighty Zeus! see to it that the gods protect us, albeit we are but\nwomen!\n\nHERALD. Hearken, all of you! this is the decree passed by the Senate of\nthe Women under the presidency of Timoclea and at the suggestion of\nSostrata; it is signed by Lysilla, the secretary: \"There will be a\ngathering of the people on the morning of the third day of the\nThesmophoria, which is a day of rest for us; the principal business there\nshall be the punishment that it is meet to inflict upon Euripides for the\ninsults with which he has loaded us.\" Now who asks to speak?\n\nFIRST WOMAN. I do.\n\nHERALD. First put on this garland, and then speak. Silence! let all be\nquiet! Pay attention! for here she is spitting as orators generally do\nbefore they begin; no doubt she has much to say.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. If I have asked to speak, may the goddesses bear me witness,\nit was not for sake of ostentation. But I have long been pained to see us\nwomen insulted by this Euripides, this son of the green-stuff woman,[579]\nwho loads us with every kind of indignity. Has he not hit us enough,\ncalumniated us sufficiently, wherever there are spectators, tragedians,\nand a chorus? Does he not style us gay, lecherous, drunken, traitorous,\nboastful? Does he not repeat that we are all vice, that we are the curse\nof our husbands? So that, directly they come back from the theatre, they\nlook at us doubtfully and go searching every nook, fearing there may be\nsome hidden lover. We can do nothing as we used to, so many are the false\nideas which he has instilled into our husbands. Is a woman weaving a\ngarland for herself? 'Tis because she is in love.[580] Does she let some\nvase drop while going or returning to the house? her husband asks her in\nwhose honour she has broken it, \"It can only be for that Corinthian\nstranger.\"[581] Is a maiden unwell? Straightway her brother says, \"That\nis a colour that does not please me.\"[582] And if a childless woman\nwishes to substitute one, the deceit can no longer be a secret, for the\nneighbours will insist on being present at her delivery. Formerly the old\nmen married young girls, but they have been so calumniated that none\nthink of them now, thanks to the verse: \"A woman is the tyrant of the old\nman who marries her.\"[583] Again, it is because of Euripides that we are\nincessantly watched, that we are shut up behind bolts and bars, and that\ndogs are kept to frighten off the gallants. Let that pass; but formerly\nit was we who had the care of the food, who fetched the flour from the\nstoreroom, the oil and the wine; we can do it no more. Our husbands now\ncarry little Spartan keys on their persons, made with three notches and\nfull of malice and spite.[584] Formerly it sufficed to purchase a ring\nmarked with the same sign for three obols, to open the most securely\nsealed-up door;[585] but now this pestilent Euripides has taught men to\nhang seals of worm-eaten wood about their necks.[586] My opinion,\ntherefore, is that we should rid ourselves of our enemy by poison or by\nany other means, provided he dies. That is what I announce publicly; as\nto certain points, which I wish to keep secret, I propose to record them\non the secretary's minutes.\n\nCHORUS. Never have I listened to a cleverer or more eloquent woman.\nEverything she says is true; she has examined the matter from all sides\nand has weighed up every detail. Her arguments are close, varied, and\nhappily chosen. I believe that Xenocles himself, the son of Carcinus,\nwould seem to talk mere nonsense, if placed beside her.\n\nSECOND WOMAN. I have only a very few words to add, for the last speaker\nhas covered the various points of the indictment; allow me only to tell\nyou what happened to me. My husband died at Cyprus, leaving me five\nchildren, whom I had great trouble to bring up by weaving chaplets on the\nmyrtle market. Anyhow, I lived as well as I could until this wretch had\npersuaded the spectators by his tragedies that there were no gods; since\nthen I have not sold as many chaplets by half. I charge you therefore and\nexhort you all to punish him, for does he not deserve it in a thousand\nrespects, he who loads you with troubles, who is as coarse toward you as\nthe green-stuff upon which his mother reared him? But I must back to the\nmarket to weave my chaplets; I have twenty to deliver yet.\n\nCHORUS. This is even more animated and more trenchant than the first\nspeech; all she has just said is full of good sense and to the point; it\nis clever, clear and well calculated to convince. Yes! we must have\nstriking vengeance on the insults of Euripides.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh, women! I am not astonished at these outbursts of fiery\nrage; how could your bile not get inflamed against Euripides, who has\nspoken so ill of you? As for myself, I hate the man, I swear it by my\nchildren; 'twould be madness not to hate him! Yet, let us reflect a\nlittle; we are alone and our words will not be repeated outside. Why be\nso bent on his ruin? Because he has known and shown up two or three of\nour faults, when we have a thousand? As for myself, not to speak of other\nwomen, I have more than one great sin upon my conscience, but this is the\nblackest of them. I had been married three days and my husband was asleep\nby my side; I had a lover, who had seduced me when I was seven years old;\nimpelled by his passion, he came scratching at the door; I understood at\nonce he was there and was going down noiselessly. \"Where are you going?\"\nasked my husband. \"I am suffering terribly with colic,\" I told him, \"and\nam going to the closet.\" \"Go,\" he replied, and started pounding together\njuniper berries, aniseed, and sage.[587] As for myself, I moistened the\ndoor-hinge[588] and went to find my lover, who embraced me,\nhalf-reclining upon Apollo's altar[589] and holding on to the sacred\nlaurel with one hand. Well now! Consider! that is a thing of which\nEuripides has never spoken. And when we bestow our favours on slaves and\nmuleteers for want of better, does he mention this? And when we eat\ngarlic early in the morning after a night of wantonness, so that our\nhusband, who has been keeping guard upon the city wall, may be reassured\nby the smell and suspect nothing,[590] has Euripides ever breathed a word\nof this? Tell me. Neither has he spoken of the woman who spreads open a\nlarge cloak before her husband's eyes to make him admire it in full\ndaylight to conceal her lover by so doing and afford him the means of\nmaking his escape. I know another, who for ten whole days pretended to be\nsuffering the pains of labour until she had secured a child; the husband\nhurried in all directions to buy drugs to hasten her deliverance, and\nmeanwhile an old woman brought the infant in a stew-pot; to prevent its\ncrying she had stopped up its mouth with honey. With a sign she told the\nwife that she was bringing a child for her, who at once began exclaiming,\n\"Go away, friend, go away, I think I am going to be delivered; I can feel\nhim kicking his heels in the belly ... of the stew-pot.\"[591] The husband\ngoes off full of joy, and the old wretch quickly picks the honey out of\nthe child's mouth, which sets a-crying; then she seizes the babe, runs to\nthe father and tells him with a smile on her face, \"'Tis a lion, a lion,\nthat is born to you; 'tis your very image. Everything about it is like\nyou, even to its little tool, which is all twisty like a fir-cone.\" Are\nthese not our everyday tricks? Why certainly, by Artemis, and we are\nangry with Euripides, who assuredly treats us no worse than we deserve!\n\nCHORUS. Great gods! where has she unearthed all that? What country gave\nbirth to such an audacious woman? Oh! you wretch! I should not have\nthought ever a one of us could have spoken in public with such impudence.\n'Tis clear, however, that we must expect everything and, as the old\nproverb says, must look beneath every stone, lest it conceal some\norator[592] ready to sting us. There is but one thing in the world worse\nthan a shameless woman, and that's another woman.\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. By Aglaurus![593] you have lost your wits, friends! You must\nbe bewitched to suffer this plague to belch forth insults against us all.\nIs there no one has any spirit at all? If not, we and our maid-servants\nwill punish her. Run and fetch coals and let's depilate her cunt in\nproper style, to teach her not to speak ill of her sex.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh! no! have mercy, friends. Have we not the right to speak\nfrankly at this gathering? And because I have uttered what I thought\nright in favour of Euripides, do you want to depilate me for my trouble?\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. What! we ought not to punish you, who alone have dared to\ndefend the man who has done us so much harm, whom it pleases to put all\nthe vile women that ever were upon the stage, who only shows us\nMelanipp\u00e9s Phaedras? But of Penelop\u00e9 he has never said a word, because\nshe was reputed chaste and good.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. I know the reason. 'Tis because not a single Penelop\u00e9 exists\namong the women of to-day, but all without exception are Phaedras.\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. Women, you hear how this creature still dares to speak of us\nall.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. And, 'faith, I have not said all that I know. Do you want\nany more?\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. You cannot tell us any more; you have emptied your bag.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Why, I have not told the thousandth part of what we women\ndo. Have I said how we use the hollow handles of our brooms to draw up\nwine unbeknown to our husbands.\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. The cursed jade!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. And how we give meats to our lovers at the feast of the\nApaturia and then accuse the cat....\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. She's mad!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. ... Have I mentioned the woman who killed her husband with a\nhatchet? Of another, who caused hers to lose his reason with her potions?\nAnd of the Acharnian woman ...\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. Die, you bitch!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. ... who buried her father beneath the bath?[594]\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. And yet we listen to such things?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Have I told how you attributed to yourself the male child\nyour slave had just borne and gave her your little daughter?\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. This insult calls for vengeance. Look out for your hair!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. By Zeus! don't touch me.\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. There!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. There! tit for tat! (_They exchange blows._)\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. Hold my cloak, Philista!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Come on then, and by Demeter ...\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. Well! what?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. ... I'll make you disgorge the sesame-cake you have\neaten.[595]\n\nCHORUS. Cease wrangling! I see a woman[596] running here in hot haste.\nKeep silent, so that we may hear the better what she has to say.\n\nCLISTHENES. Friends, whom I copy in all things, my hairless chin\nsufficiently evidences how dear you are to me; I am women-mad and make\nmyself their champion wherever I am. Just now on the market-place I heard\nmention of a thing that is of the greatest importance to you; I come to\ntell it you, to let you know it, so that you may watch carefully and be\non your guard against the danger which threatens you.\n\nCHORUS. What is it, my child? I can well call you child, for you have so\nsmooth a skin.\n\nCLISTHENES. 'Tis said that Euripides has sent an old man here to-day, one\nof his relations ...\n\nCHORUS. With what object? What is his purpose?\n\nCLISTHENES. ... so that he may hear your speeches and inform him of your\ndeliberations and intentions.\n\nCHORUS. But how would a man fail to be recognized amongst women?\n\nCLISTHENES. Euripides singed and depilated him and disguised him as a\nwoman.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. This is pure invention! What man is fool enough to let\nhimself be depilated? As for myself, I don't believe a word of it.\n\nCLISTHENES. Are you mad? I should not have come here to tell you, if I\ndid not know it on indisputable authority.\n\nCHORUS. Great gods! what is it you tell us! Come, women, let us not lose\na moment; let us search and rummage everywhere! Where can this man have\nhidden himself escape our notice? Help us to look, Clisthenes; we shall\nthus owe you double thanks, dear friend.\n\nCLISTHENES (_to a fourth woman_). Well then! let us see. To begin with\nyou; who are you?\n\nMNESILOCHUS (_aside_). Wherever am I to stow myself?\n\nCLISTHENES. Each and every one must pass the scrutiny.\n\nMNESILOCHUS (_aside_). Oh! great gods!\n\nFOURTH WOMAN. You ask me who I am? I am the wife of Cleonymus.[597]\n\nCLISTHENES. Do you know this woman?\n\nCHORUS. Yes, yes, pass on to the rest.\n\nCLISTHENES. And she who carries the child?\n\nMNESILOCHUS (_aside_). I'm a dead man. (_He runs off._)\n\nCLISTHENES (_to Mnesilochus_). Hi! you there! where are you off to? Stop\nthere. What are you running away for?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. I want to relieve myself.\n\nCLISTHENES. The shameless thing! Come, hurry yourself; I will wait here\nfor you.\n\nCHORUS. Wait for her and examine her closely; 'tis the only one we do\nnot know.\n\nCLISTHENES. You are a long time about your business.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Aye, my god, yes; 'tis because I am unwell, for I ate cress\nyesterday.[598]\n\nCLISTHENES. What are you chattering about cress? Come here and be quick.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh! don't pull a poor sick woman about like that.\n\nCLISTHENES. Tell me, who is your husband?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. My husband? Do you know a certain individual at\nCothocidae[599]...?\n\nCLISTHENES. Whom do you mean? Give his name.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. 'Tis an individual to whom the son of a certain individual\none day....\n\nCLISTHENES. You are drivelling! Let's see, have you ever been here\nbefore?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Why certainly, every year.\n\nCLISTHENES. Who is your tent companion?[600]\n\nMNESILOCHUS. 'Tis a certain.... Oh! my god!\n\nCLISTHENES. You don't answer.\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. Withdraw, all of you; I am going to examine her thoroughly\nabout last year's mysteries. But move away, Clisthenes, for no man may\nhear what is going to be said. Now answer my questions! What was done\nfirst?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Let's see then. What was done first? Oh! we drank.\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. And then?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. We drank to our healths.\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. You will have heard that from someone. And then?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Xenylla relieved herself in a cup, for there was no other\nvessel.\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. You trifle. Here, Clisthenes, here! This is the man of whom\nyou spoke.\n\nCLISTHENES. What is to be done then?\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. Take off his clothes, I can get nothing out of him.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. What! are you going to strip a mother of nine children\nnaked?\n\nCLISTHENES. Come, undo your girdle, you shameless thing.\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. Ah! what a sturdy frame! but she has no breasts like we\nhave.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. That's because I'm barren. I never had any children.\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. Oh! indeed! just now you were the mother of nine.\n\nCLISTHENES. Stand up straight. Hullo! what do I see there?  Why, a penis\nsticking out behind.\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. There's no mistaking it; you can see it projecting, and a\nfine red it is.\n\nCLISTHENES. Where has it gone to now?\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. To the front.\n\nCLISTHENES. No.\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. Ah! 'tis behind now.\n\nCLISTHENES. Why, friend, 'tis for all the world like the Isthmus; you\nkeep pulling your tool backwards and forwards just as the Corinthians do\ntheir ships.[601]\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. Ah! the wretch! this is why he insulted us and defended\nEuripides.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Aye, wretch indeed, what troubles have I not got into now!\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. What shall we do?\n\nCLISTHENES. Watch him closely, so that he does not escape. As for me, I\ngo to report the matter to the magistrates, the Prytanes.\n\nCHORUS. Let us kindle our lamps; let us go firmly to work and with\ncourage, let us take off our cloaks and search whether some other man has\nnot come here too; let us pass round the whole Pnyx,[602] examine the\ntents and the passages.[603] Come, be quick, let us start off on a light\ntoe[604] and rummage all round in silence. Let us hasten, let us finish\nour round as soon as possible. Look quickly for the traces that might\nshow you a man hidden here, let your glance fall on every side; look well\nto the right and to the left. If we seize some impious fellow, woe to\nhim! He will know how we punish the outrage, the crime, the sacrilege.\nThe criminal will then acknowledge at last that gods exist; his fate will\nteach all men that the deities must be revered, that justice must be\nobserved and that they must submit to the sacred laws. If not, then woe\nto them! Heaven itself will punish sacrilege; being aflame with fury and\nmad with frenzy, all their deeds will prove to mortals, both men and\nwomen, that the deity punishes injustice and impiety, and that she is not\nslow to strike. But I think I have now searched everywhere and that no\nother man is hidden among us.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Where is he flying to? Stop him! stop him! Ah! miserable\nwoman that I am, he has torn my child from my breast and has disappeared\nwith it.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Scream as loud as you will, but he shall never suck your\nbosom more. If you do not let me go this very instant, I am going to cut\nopen the veins of his thighs with this cutlass and his blood shall flow\nover the altar.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Oh! great gods! oh! friends, help me! terrify him with your\nshrieks, triumph over this monster, permit him not to rob me of my only\nchild.\n\nCHORUS. Oh! oh! venerable Parcae, what fresh attack is this? 'Tis the\ncrowning act of audacity and shamelessness! What has he done now,\nfriends, what has he done?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Ah! this insolence passes all bounds, but I shall know how\nto curb it.\n\nCHORUS. What a shameful deed! the measure of his iniquities is full!\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Aye, 'tis shameful that he should have robbed me of my\nchild.\n\nCHORUS. 'Tis past belief to be so criminal and so impudent!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Ah! you're not near the end of it yet.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Little I care whence you come; you shall not return to boast\nof having acted so odiously with impunity, for you shall be punished.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. You won't do it, by the gods!\n\nCHORUS. And what immortal would protect you for your crime?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. 'Tis in vain you talk! I shall not let go the child.\n\nCHORUS. By the goddesses, you will not laugh presently over your crime\nand your impious speech. For with impiety, as 'tis meet, shall we reply\nto your impiety. Soon fortune will turn round and overwhelm you. Come!\nbring wood along. Let us burn the wretch, let us roast him as quickly as\npossible.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Bring faggots, Mania! (_To Mnesilochus._) You will be mere\ncharcoal soon.\n\nCHORUS. Grill away, roast me, but you, my child, take off this Cretan\nrobe and blame no one but your mother for your death. But what does this\nmean? The little girl is nothing but a skin filled with wine and shod\nwith Persian slippers.[605] Oh! you wanton, you tippling woman, who think\nof nothing but wine; you are a fortune to the drinking-shops and are our\nruin; for the sake of drink, you neglect both your household and your\nshuttle!\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Faggots, Mania, plenty of them.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Bring as many as you like. But answer me; are you the mother\nof this brat?\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. I carried it ten months.[606]\n\nMNESILOCHUS. You carried it?\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. I swear it by Artemis.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. How much does it hold? Three cotylae?[607] Tell me.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Oh! what have you done? You have stripped the poor child\nquite naked, and it is so small, so small.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. So small?\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Yes, quite small, to be sure.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. How old is it? Has it seen the feast of cups thrice or four\ntimes?\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. It was born about the time of the last Dionysia.[608] But\ngive it back to me.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. No, may Apollo bear me witness.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Well, then we are going to burn him.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Burn me, but then I shall rip this open instantly.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. No, no, I adjure you, don't; do anything you like to me\nrather than that.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. What a tender mother you are; but nevertheless I shall rip\nit open. (_Tears open the wine-skin_.)\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Oh, my beloved daughter! Mania, hand me the sacred cup, that\nI may at least catch the blood of my child.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Hold it below; 'tis the sole favour I grant you.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Out upon you, you pitiless monster!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. This robe belongs to the priestess.[609]\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. What belongs to the priestess?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Here, take it. (_Throws her the Cretan robe._)\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Ah! unfortunate Mica! who has robbed you of your daughter,\nyour beloved child?\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. That wretch. But as you are here, watch him well, while I go\nwith Clisthenes to the Prytanes and denounce him for his crimes.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Ah! how can I secure safety? what device can I hit on? what\ncan I think of? He whose fault it is, he who hurried me into this\ntrouble, will not come to my rescue. Let me see, whom could I best send\nto him? Ha! I know a means taken from Palamedes; like him, I will write\nmy misfortune on some oars, which I will cast into the sea. But there are\nno oars here. Where might I find some?[610] Where indeed? Bah! what if I\ntook these statues[611] instead of oars, wrote upon them and then threw\nthem towards this side and that. 'Tis the best thing to do. Besides, like\noars they are of wood. Oh! my hands, keep up your courage, for my safety\nis at stake. Come, my beautiful tablets, receive the traces of my stylus\nand be the messengers of my sorry fate. Oh! oh! this B looks miserable\nenough! Where is it running to then? Come, off with you in all\ndirections, to the right and to the left; and hurry yourselves, for\nthere's much need indeed!\n\nCHORUS. Let us address ourselves to the spectators to sing our praises,\ndespite the fact that each one says much ill of women. If the men are to\nbe believed, we are a plague to them; through us come all their troubles,\nquarrels, disputes, sedition, griefs and wars. But if we are truly such a\npest, why marry us? Why forbid us to go out or show ourselves at the\nwindow? You want to keep this pest, and take a thousand cares to do it.\nIf your wife goes out and you meet her away from the house, you fly into\na fury. Ought you not rather to rejoice and give thanks to the gods? for\nif the pest has disappeared, you will no longer find it at home. If we\nfall asleep at friends' houses from the fatigue of playing and sporting,\neach of you comes prowling round the bed to contemplate the features of\nthis pest. If we seat ourselves at the window, each one wants to see the\npest, and if we withdraw through modesty, each wants all the more to see\nthe pest perch herself there again. It is thus clear that we are better\nthan you, and the proof of this is easy. Let us find out which is worse\nof the two sexes. We say, \"'Tis you,\" while you aver, 'tis we. Come, let\nus compare them in detail, each individual man with a woman. Charminus is\nnot equal to Nausimach\u00e9,[612] that's certain. Cleophon[613] is in every\nrespect inferior to Salabaccho.[614] 'Tis long now since any of you has\ndared to contest the prize with Aristomach\u00e9, the heroine of Marathon, or\nwith Stratonic\u00e9.[615]\n\nAmong the last year's Senators, who have just yielded their office to\nother citizens, is there one who equals Eubul\u00e9?[616] Therefore we\nmaintain that men are greatly our inferiors. You see no woman who has\nrobbed the State of fifty talents rushing about the city in a magnificent\nchariot; our greatest peculations are a measure of corn, which we steal\nfrom our husbands, and even then we return it them the very same day. But\nwe could name many amongst you who do quite as much, and who are, even\nmore than ourselves, gluttons, parasites, cheats and kidnappers of\nslaves. We know how to keep our property better than you. We still have\nour cylinders, our beams,[617] our baskets and our sunshades; whereas\nmany among you have lost the wood of your spears as well as the iron, and\nmany others have cast away their bucklers on the battlefield.\n\nThere are many reproaches we have the right to bring against men. The\nmost serious is this, that the woman, who has given birth to a useful\ncitizen, whether taxiarch or strategus[618] should receive some\ndistinction; a place of honour should be reserved for her at the Sthenia,\nthe Scirophoria,[619] and the other festivals that we keep. On the other\nhand, she of whom a coward was born or a worthless man, a bad\ntrierarch[620] or an unskilful pilot, should sit with shaven head, behind\nher sister who had borne a brave man. Oh! citizens! is it just, that the\nmother of Hyperbolus should sit dressed in white and with loosened\ntresses beside that of Lamachus[621] and lend out money on usury? He, who\nmay have done a deal of this nature with her, so far from paying her\ninterest, should not even repay the capital, saying, \"What, pay you\ninterest? after you have given us this delightful son?\"\n\nMNESILOCHUS. I have contracted quite a squint by looking round for him,\nand yet Euripides does not come. Who is keeping him? No doubt he is\nashamed of his cold Palamedes.[622] What will attract him? Let us see! By\nwhich of his pieces does he set most store? Ah! I'll imitate his\nHelen,[623] his lastborn. I just happen to have a complete woman's\noutfit.\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. What are you ruminating over now again? Why are you\nrolling up your eyes? You'll have no reason to be proud of your Helen, if\nyou don't keep quiet until one of the Prytanes arrives.\n\nMNESILOCHUS (_as Helen_). \"These shores are those of the Nile with the\nbeautiful nymphs, these waters take the place of heaven's rain and\nfertilize the white earth, that produces the black syrmea.\"[624]\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. By bright Hecat\u00e9, you're a cunning varlet.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"Glorious Sparta is my country and Tyndareus is my\nfather.\"[625]\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. He your father, you rascal! Why, 'tis Phrynondas.[626]\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"I was given the name of Helen.\"\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. What! you are again becoming a woman, before we have\npunished you for having pretended it a first time!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"A thousand warriors have died on my account on the banks of\nthe Scamander.\"\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Why have you not done the same?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"And here I am upon these shores; Menelaus, my unhappy\nhusband, does not yet come. Ah! how life weighs upon me! Oh! ye cruel\ncrows, who have not devoured my body! But what sweet hope is this that\nsets my heart a-throb? Oh, Zeus! grant it may not prove a lying one!\"\n\nEURIPIDES (_as Menelaus_). \"To what master does this splendid palace\nbelong? Will he welcome strangers who have been tried on the billows of\nthe sea by storm and shipwreck?\"[627]\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"This is the palace of Proteus.\"[628]\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Of what Proteus?\"\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Oh! the thrice cursed rascal! how he lies! By the\ngoddesses, 'tis ten years since Proteas[629] died.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"What is this shore whither the wind has driven our boat?\"\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"It's Egypt.\"\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Alas! how far we are from our own country!\"\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. But don't believe that cursed fool. This is Demeter's\nTemple.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Is Proteus in these parts?\"\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Ah, now, stranger, it must be sea-sickness that makes you\nso distraught! You have been told that Proteas is dead, and yet you ask\nif he is in these parts.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"He is no more! Oh! woe! where lie his ashes?\"\n\nMNESILOCHUS. 'Tis on his tomb you see me sitting.\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. You call an altar a tomb! Beware of the rope!\n\nEURIPIDES. \"And why remain sitting on this tomb, wrapped in this long\nveil, oh, stranger lady?\"[630]\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"They want to force me to marry a son of Proteus.\"\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Ah! wretch, why tell such shameful lies? Stranger, this is\na rascal who has slipped in amongst us women to rob us of our trinkets.\n\nMNESILOCHUS (_to Seventh Woman_) \"Shout! load me with your insults, for\nlittle care I.\"\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Who is the old woman who reviles you, stranger lady?\"\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"'Tis Theono\u00e9, the daughter of Proteus.\"\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. I! Why, my name's Critylla, the daughter of\nAntitheus,[631] of the deme of Gargettus;[632] as for you, you are a\nrogue.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"Your entreaties are vain. Never shall I wed your brother;\nnever shall I betray the faith I owe my husband Menelaus, who is fighting\nbefore Troy.\"\n\nEURIPIDES. \"What are you saying? Turn your face towards me.\"\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"I dare not; my cheeks show the marks of the insults I have\nbeen forced to suffer.\"\n\nEURIPIDES \"Oh! great gods! I cannot speak, for very emotion.... Ah! what\ndo I see? Who are you?\"\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"And you, what is your name? for my surprise is as great as\nyours.\"\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Are you Grecian or born in this country?\"\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"I am Grecian. But now your name, what is it?\"\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Oh! how you resemble Helen!\"\n\nMNESILOCHUS. And you Menelaus, if I can judge by those pot-herbs.[633]\n\nEURIPIDES. \"You are not mistaken, 'tis that unfortunate mortal who stands\nbefore you.\"\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"Ah! how you have delayed coming to your wife's arms! Press\nme to your heart, throw your arms about me, for I wish to cover you with\nkisses. Carry me away, carry me away, quick, quick, far, very far from\nhere.\"\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. By the goddesses, woe to him who would carry you away! I\nshould thrash him with my torch.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Do you propose to prevent me from taking my wife, the\ndaughter of Tyndareus, to Sparta?\"\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN You seem to me to be a cunning rascal too; you are in\ncollusion with this man, and 'twas not for nothing that you kept babbling\nabout Egypt. But the hour for punishment has come; here is the magistrate\ncome with his archer.\n\nEURIPIDES. This grows awkward. Let me hide myself.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. And what is to become of me, poor unfortunate man?\n\nEURIPIDES. Be at ease. I shall never abandon you, as long as I draw\nbreath and one of my numberless artifices remains untried.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. The fish has not bitten this time.\n\nTHE PRYTANIS. Is this the rascal of whom Clisthenes told us? Why are you\ntrying to make yourself so small? Archer, arrest him, fasten him to the\npost, then take up your position there and keep guard over him. Let none\napproach him. A sound lash with your whip for him who attempts to break\nthe order.\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Excellent, for just now a rogue almost took him from me.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Prytanis, in the name of that hand which you know so well\nhow to bend, when money is placed in it, grant me a slight favour before\nI die.\n\nPRYTANIS. What favour?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Order the archer to strip me before lashing me to the post;\nthe crows, when they make their meal on the poor old man, would laugh too\nmuch at this robe and head-dress.\n\nPRYTANIS. 'Tis in that gear that you must be exposed by order of the\nSenate, so that your crime may be patent to the passers-by.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh! cursed robe, the cause of all my misfortune! My last\nhope is thus destroyed!\n\nCHORUS. Let us now devote ourselves to the sports which the women are\naccustomed to celebrate here, when time has again brought round the\nmighty Mysteries of the great goddesses, the sacred days which\nPauson[634] himself honours by fasting and would wish feast to succeed\nfeast, that he might keep them all holy. Spring forward with a light\nstep, whirling in mazy circles; let your hands interlace, let the eager\nand rapid dancers sway to the music and glance on every side as they\nmove. Let the chorus sing likewise and praise the Olympian gods in their\npious transport.\n\n'Tis wrong to suppose that, because I am a woman and in this Temple, I am\ngoing to speak ill of men; but since we want something fresh, we are\ngoing through the rhythmic steps of the round dance for the first time.\n\nStart off while you sing to the god of the lyre and to the chaste goddess\narmed with the bow. Hail! thou god who flingest thy darts so far,[635]\ngrant us the victory! The homage of our song is also due to Her\u00e9, the\ngoddess of marriage, who interests herself in every chorus and guards the\napproach to the nuptial couch. I also pray Hermes, the god of the\nshepherds, and Pan and the beloved Graces to bestow a benevolent smile\nupon our songs.\n\nLet us lead off anew, let us double our zeal during our solemn days, and\nespecially let us observe a close fast; let us form fresh measures that\nkeep good time, and may our songs resound to the very heavens. Do thou,\noh divine Bacchus, who art crowned with ivy, direct our chorus; 'tis to\nthee that both my hymns and my dances are dedicated; oh, Evius, oh,\nBromius,[636] oh, thou son of Semel\u00e9, oh, Bacchus, who delightest to\nmingle with the dear choruses of the nymphs upon the mountains, and who\nrepeatest, while dancing with them, the sacred hymn, Evius, Evius, Evoe.\nEcho, the nymph of Cithaeron returns thy words, which resound beneath the\ndark vaults of the thick foliage and in the midst of the rocks of the\nforest; the ivy enlaces thy brow with its tendrils charged with flowers.\n\nSCYTHIAN ARCHER.[637] You shall stay here in the open air to wail.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Archer, I adjure you.\n\nSCYTHIAN. 'Tis labour lost.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Loosen the wedge a little.[638]\n\nSCYTHIAN. Aye, certainly.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh! by the gods! why, you are driving it in tighter.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Is that enough?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh! la, la! oh! la, la! May the plague take you!\n\nSCYTHIAN. Silence! you cursed old wretch! I am going to get a mat to lie\nupon, so as to watch you close at hand at my ease.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Ah! what exquisite pleasures Euripides is securing for me!\nBut, oh, ye gods! oh, Zeus the Deliverer, all is not yet lost! I don't\nbelieve him the man to break his word; I just caught sight of him\nappearing in the form of Perseus, and he told me with a mysterious sign\nto turn myself into Andromeda. And in truth am I not really bound? 'Tis\ncertain, then, that he is coming to my rescue; for otherwise he would not\nhave steered his flight this way.[639]\n\nEURIPIDES (_as Perseus_). Oh Nymphs, ye virgins who are dear to me, how\nam I to approach him? how can I escape the sight of this Scythian? And\nEcho, thou who reignest in the inmost recesses of the caves, oh! favour\nmy cause and permit me to approach my spouse.\n\nMNESILOCHUS (_as Andromeda_).[640] A pitiless ruffian has chained up the\nmost unfortunate of mortal maids. Alas! I had barely escaped the filthy\nclaws of an old fury, when another mischance overtook me! This Scythian\ndoes not take his eye off me and he has exposed me as food for the crows.\nAlas! what is to become of me, alone here and without friends! I am not\nseen mingling in the dances nor in the games of my companions, but\nheavily loaded with fetters I am given over to the voracity of a\nGlaucetes.[641] Sing no bridal hymn for me, oh women, but rather the hymn\nof captivity, and in tears. Ah! how I suffer! great gods! how I suffer!\nAlas! alas! and through my own relatives too![642] My misery would make\nTartarus dissolve into tears! Alas! in my terrible distress, I implore\nthe mortal who first shaved me and depilated me, then dressed me in this\nlong robe, and then sent me to this Temple into the midst of the women,\nto save me. Oh, thou pitiless Fate! I am then accursed, great gods! Ah!\nwho would not be moved at the sight of the appalling tortures under which\nI succumb? Would that the blazing shaft of the lightning would wither...\nthis barbarian for me! (_pointing to the Scythian archer_) for the\nimmortal light has no further charm for my eyes since I have been\ndescending the shortest path to the dead, tied up, strangled, and\nmaddened with pain.\n\nEURIPIDES (as _Echo_). Hail! beloved girl. As for your father, Cepheus,\nwho has exposed you in this guise, may the gods annihilate him.\n\nMNESILOCHUS (_as Andromeda_). And who are you whom my misfortunes have\nmoved to pity?\n\nEURIPIDES. I am Echo, the nymph who repeats all she hears. 'Tis I, who\nlast year lent my help to Euripides in this very place.[643] But, my\nchild, give yourself up to the sad laments that belong to your pitiful\ncondition.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. And you will repeat them?\n\nEURIPIDES. I will not fail you. Begin.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"Oh! thou divine Night! how slowly thy chariot threads its\nway through the starry vault, across the sacred realms of the Air and\nmighty Olympus.\"\n\nEURIPIDES. Mighty Olympus.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"Why is it necessary that Andromeda should have all the woes\nfor her share?\"\n\nEURIPIDES. For her share.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. \"Sad death!\"\n\nEURIPIDES. Sad death!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. You weary me, old babbler.\n\nEURIPIDES. Old babbler.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Oh! you are too unbearable.\n\nEURIPIDES. Unbearable.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Friend, let me talk by myself. Do please let me. Come,\nthat's enough.\n\nEURIPIDES. That's enough.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Go and hang yourself!\n\nEURIPIDES. Go and hang yourself!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. What a plague!\n\nEURIPIDES. What a plague!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Cursed brute!\n\nEURIPIDES. Cursed brute!\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Beware of blows!\n\nEURIPIDES. Beware of blows!\n\nSCYTHIAN. Hullo! what are you jabbering about?\n\nEURIPIDES. What are you jabbering about?\n\nSCYTHIAN. I go to call the Prytanes.\n\nEURIPIDES. I go to call the Prytanes.\n\nSCYTHIAN. This is odd!\n\nEURIPIDES. This is odd!\n\nSCYTHIAN. Whence comes this voice?\n\nEURIPIDES. Whence comes this voice.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Ah! beware!\n\nEURIPIDES. Ah! beware!\n\nSCYTHIAN (_to Mnesilochus_). Are you mocking me?\n\nEURIPIDES. Are you mocking me?\n\nMNESILOCHUS. No, 'tis this woman, who stands near you.\n\nEURIPIDES. Who stands near you.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Where is the hussy? Ah! she is escaping! Whither, whither are\nyou escaping?\n\nEURIPIDES. Whither, whither are you escaping?\n\nSCYTHIAN. You shall not get away.\n\nEURIPIDES. You shall not get away.\n\nSCYTHIAN. You are chattering still?\n\nEURIPIDES. You are chattering still?\n\nSCYTHIAN. Stop the hussy.\n\nEURIPIDES. Stop the hussy.\n\nSCYTHIAN. What a babbling, cursed woman!\n\nEURIPIDES (_as Perseus_). \"Oh! ye gods! to what barbarian land has my\nswift flight taken me? I am Perseus, who cleaves the plains of the air\nwith my winged feet, and I am carrying the Gorgon's head to Argos.\"\n\nSCYTHIAN. What, are you talking about the head of Gorgos,[644] the\nscribe?\n\nEURIPIDES. No, I am speaking of the head of the Gorgon.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Why, yes! of Gorgus!\n\nEURIPIDES. \"But what do I behold? A young maiden, beautiful as the\nimmortals, chained to this rock like a vessel in port?\"\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Take pity on me, oh, stranger! I am so unhappy and\ndistraught! Free me from these bonds.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Don't you talk! a curse upon your impudence! you are going to\ndie, and yet you will be chattering!\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Oh! virgin! I take pity on your chains.\"\n\nSCYTHIAN. But this is no virgin; 'tis an old rogue, a cheat and a thief.\n\nEURIPIDES. You have lost your wits, Scythian. This is Andromeda, the\ndaughter of Cepheus.\n\nSCYTHIAN. But just look at this tool; is that like a woman?\n\nEURIPIDES. Give me your hand, that I may descend near this young maiden.\nEach man has his own particular weakness; as for me I am aflame with love\nfor this virgin.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Oh! I'm not jealous; and as he has his back turned this way,\nwhy, I make no objection to your pedicating him.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Ah! let me release her, and hasten to join her on the bridal\ncouch.\"\n\nSCYTHIAN. If this old man instils you with such ardent concupiscence,\nwhy, you can bore through the plank, and so get at his behind.\n\nEURIPIDES. No, I will break his bonds.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Beware of my lash!\n\nEURIPIDES. No matter.\n\nSCYTHIAN. This blade shall cut off your head.\n\nEURIPIDES. \"Ah! what can be done? what arguments can I use? This savage\nwill understand nothing! The newest and most cunning fancies are a dead\nletter to the ignorant. Let us invent some artifice to fit in with his\ncoarse nature.\"\n\nSCYTHIAN. I can see the rascal is trying to outwit me.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. Ah! Perseus! remember in what condition you are leaving me.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Are you wanting to feel my lash again!\n\nCHORUS.\n\nOh! Pallas, who art fond of dances, hasten hither at my call. Oh! thou\nchaste virgin, the protectress of Athens, I call thee in accordance with\nthe sacred rites, thee, whose evident protection we adore and who keepest\nthe keys of our city in thy hands. Do thou appear, thou whose just hatred\nhas overturned our tyrants. The womenfolk are calling thee; hasten hither\nat their bidding along with Peace, who shall restore the festivals. And\nye, august goddesses,[645] display a smiling and propitious countenance\nto our gaze; come into your sacred grove, the entry to which is forbidden\nto men; 'tis there in the midst of sacred orgies that we contemplate your\ndivine features. Come, appear, we pray it of you, oh, venerable\nThesmophoriae! If you have ever answered our appeal, oh! come into our\nmidst.\n\nEURIPIDES. Women, if you will be reconciled with me, I am willing, and I\nundertake never to say anything ill of you in future. Those are my\nproposals for peace.\n\nCHORUS. And what impels you to make these overtures?\n\nEURIPIDES. This unfortunate man, who is chained to the post, is my\nfather-in-law; if you will restore him to me, you will have no more cause\nto complain of me; but if not, I shall reveal your pranks to your\nhusbands when they return from the war.\n\nCHORUS. We accept peace, but there is this barbarian whom you must buy\nover.\n\nEURIPIDES. That's my business. (_He returns as an old woman and is\naccompanied by a dancing-girl and a flute-girl._) Come, my little wench,\nbear in mind what I told you on the road and do it well. Come, go past\nhim and gird up your robe. And you, you little dear, play us the air of a\nPersian dance.\n\nSCYTHIAN. What is this music that makes me so blithe?\n\nEURIPIDES (_as an old woman_). Scythian, this young girl is going to\npractise some dances, which she has to perform at a feast presently.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Very well! let her dance and practise; I won't hinder her. How\nnimbly she bounds! one might think her a flea on a fleece.\n\nEURIPIDES. Come, my dear, off with your robe and seat yourself on the\nScythian's knee; stretch forth your feet to me, that I may take off your\nslippers.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Ah! yes, seat yourself, my little girl, ah! yes, to be sure.\nWhat a firm little bosom! 'tis just like a turnip.\n\nEURIPIDES (_to the flute-girl_). An air on the flute, quick! (_To the\ndancing-girl._) Well! are you still afraid of the Scythian?\n\nSCYTHIAN. What beautiful thighs!\n\nEURIPIDES. Come! keep still, can't you?\n\nSCYTHIAN. 'Tis altogether a very fine morsel to make a man's cock stand.\n\nEURIPIDES. That's so! (_To the dancing-girl._) Resume your dress, it is\ntime to be going.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Give me a kiss.\n\nEURIPIDES (_to the dancing-girl_). Come, give him a kiss.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Oh! oh! oh! my goodness, what soft lips! 'tis like Attic honey.\nBut might she not stop with me?\n\nEURIPIDES. Impossible, archer; good evening.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Oh! oh! old woman, do me this pleasure.\n\nEURIPIDES. Will you give a drachma?\n\nSCYTHIAN. Aye, that I will.\n\nEURIPIDES. Hand over the money.\n\nSCYTHIAN. I have not got it, but take my quiver in pledge.\n\nEURIPIDES. You will bring her back?\n\nSCYTHIAN. Follow me, my beautiful child. And you, old woman, just keep\nguard over this man. But what is your name?\n\nEURIPIDES. Artemisia. Can you remember that name?\n\nSCYTHIAN. Artemuxia.[646] Good!\n\nEURIPIDES (_aside_). Hermes, god of cunning, receive my thanks!\neverything is turning out for the best. (_To the Scythian._) As for you,\nfriend, take away this girl, quick. (_Exit the Scythian with the\ndancing-girl._) Now let me loose his bonds. (_To Mnesilochus._) And you,\ndirectly I have released you, take to your legs and run off full tilt to\nyour home to find your wife and children.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. I shall not fail in that as soon as I am free.\n\nEURIPIDES (_releases Mnesilochus_). There! 'Tis done. Come, fly, before\nthe archer lays his hand on you again.\n\nMNESILOCHUS. That's just what I am doing. [_Exit with Euripides._\n\nSCYTHIAN. Ah! old woman! what a charming little girl! Not at all the\nprude, and so obliging! Eh! where is the old woman? Ah! I am undone! And\nthe old man, where is he? Hi! old woman! old woman! Ah! but this is a\ndirty trick! Artemuxia! she has tricked me, that's what the little old\nwoman has done! Get clean out of my sight, you cursed quiver! (_Picks it\nup and throws it across the stage._) Ha! you are well named quiver, for\nyou have made me quiver indeed.[647] Oh! what's to be done? Where is the\nold woman then? Artemuxia!\n\nCHORUS. Are you asking for the old woman who carried the lyre?\n\nSCYTHIAN. Yes, yes; have you seen her?\n\nCHORUS. She has gone that way along with an old man.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Dressed in a long robe?\n\nCHORUS. Yes; run quick, and you will overtake them.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Ah! rascally old woman! Which way has she fled? Artemuxia!\n\nCHORUS. Straight on; follow your nose. But, hi! where are you running to\nnow? Come back, you are going exactly the wrong way.\n\nSCYTHIAN. Ye gods! ye gods! and all this while Artemuxia is escaping.\n[_Exit running._\n\nCHORUS. Go your way! and a pleasant journey to you! But our sports have\nlasted long enough; it is time for each of us to be off home; and may the\ntwo goddesses reward us for our labours!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFINIS OF \"THE THESMOPHORIAZUSAE\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFootnotes:\n\n[544] Aristophanes parodies Euripides' language, which is occasionally\nsillily sententious.\n\n[545] He flourished about 420 B.C. and composed many tragedies, such as\n'Telephus,' 'Thyestes,' which are lost. Some fragments of his work are to\nbe found in Aristotle and in Athenaeus; he also distinguished himself as\na musician. The banquet, which gave his name to one of Plato's dialogues,\nis supposed to have taken place at his house.\n\n[546] The Thesmophoria were celebrated in the month of Pyanepsion, or\nNovember.\n\n[547] The Thesmophoria lasted five days; they were dedicated to Demeter\nThesmophoros, or Legislatress, in recognition of the wise laws she had\ngiven mankind. For many days before the solemn event, the women of high\nbirth (who alone were entitled to celebrate it) had to abstain from all\npleasures that appealed to the senses, even the most legitimate, and to\nlive with the greatest sobriety. The presiding priest at the Thesmophoria\nwas always chosen from the sacerdotal family of the Eumolpidae, the\ndescendants of Eumolpus, the son of Posidon. At these feasts, the worship\nof Persephon\u00e9 was associated with that of Demeter.\n\n[548] Refers presumably to the [Greek: ekkukl_ema], a piece of machinery\nby means of which interiors were represented on the Greek stage--room and\noccupant being in some way wheeled out into view of the spectators\nbodily.\n\n[549] A celebrated 'lady of pleasure'; Agathon is like her by reason of\nhis effeminate, wanton looks and dissolute habits.\n\n[550] Demeter is represented wandering, torch in hand, about the universe\nlooking for her lost child Proserpine (Persephon\u00e9).\n\n[551] Troy.\n\n[552] Agathon, in accordance with his character, voluptuousness, is\nrepresented as preferring the effeminate music and lascivious dances of\nAsia.\n\n[553] Goddesses who presided over generation; see also the 'Lysistrata.'\n\n[554] A tetralogy, a series of four dramas connected by subject, of which\nthe principal character was Lycurgus, king of the Thracians. When Bacchus\nreturned to Thrace as conqueror of the Indies he dared to deride the god,\nand was punished by him in consequence. All four plays are lost.\n\n[555] That is, the attributes of a man and those of a woman combined.\n\n[556] That is, you make love in the posture known as 'the horse,'\n_equus_, in other words the woman atop of the man. There is a further\njoke intended here, inasmuch as Euripides, in his 'Phaedra,' represents\nthe heroine as being passionately addicted to hunting and horses.\n\n[557] Ibycus, a lyric poet of the sixth century, originally from Rhegium\nin Magna Graecia.--Anacreon, a celebrated erotic poet of the beginning of\nthe fifth century.--Alcaeus, a lyric poet, born about 600 B.C. at\nMytilen\u00e9, in the island of Lesbos, was driven out of his country by a\ntyrant and sang of his loves, his services as a warrior, his travels and\nthe miseries of his exile. He was a contemporary of Sappho, and conceived\na passion for her, which she only rewarded with disdain.\n\n[558] Phrynichus, a disciple of Thespis, improved the dramatic art, when\nstill no more than a child; it was he who first introduced female\ncharacters upon the stage and made use of the iambic of six feet in\ntragedies. He flourished about 500 B.C.\n\n[559] Philocles, Xenocles, and Theognis were dramatic poets and\ncontemporaries of Aristophanes. The two first were sons of Carcinus, the\npoet and dancer.\n\n[560] Fragment of Euripides' 'Aeolus,' a lost drama.\n\n[561] Fragment of Euripides' well-known play, the 'Alcestis.'\n\n[562] An allusion to the secret practices of mutual love which the women\nassembled for the Thesmophoria were credited by popular repute with\nindulging in.\n\n[563] That is, to sanctuary.\n\n[564] An effeminate often mentioned by Aristophanes.\n\n[565] An allusion to the pederastic habits which the poet attributes to\nAgathon.\n\n[566] An obscene allusion.\n\n[567] On the machine upon which he is perched.\n\n[568] A fragment of the 'Menalipp\u00e9' of Euripides.\n\n[569] The ether played an important part in the physical theories of\nHippocrates, the celebrated physician.\n\n[570] An allusion to a verse in his 'Hippolytus,' where Euripides says,\n\"_The tongue has sworn, but the heart is unsworn._\" See also 'The Frogs.'\n\n[571] The name of a slave; being disguised as a woman, Mnesilochus has\nhimself followed by a female servant, a Thracian slave-woman.\n\n[572] Demeter and Cora (or Persephon\u00e9), who were adored together during\nthe Thesmophoria.\n\n[573] Women slaves were forbidden by law to be present at the\nThesmophoria; they remained at the door of the temple and there waited\nfor the orders of their mistresses.\n\n[574] The god of riches.\n\n[575] The nurse of Demeter. According to another version, Calligenia was\na surname of Demeter herself, who was adored as presiding over the growth\nof a child at its mother's breast.\n\n[576] A surname of Demeter, who, by means of the food she produces as\ngoddess of abundance, presides over the development of the bodies of\nchildren and young people. Curotrophos is derived from [Greek: trephein],\nto nourish, and [Greek: kouros], young boy.\n\n[577] Apollo.\n\n[578] Artemis.\n\n[579] An insult which Aristophanes constantly repeats in every way he\ncan; as we have seen before, Euripides' mother was, or was commonly said\nto be, a market-woman.\n\n[580] Lovers sent each other chaplets and flowers.\n\n[581] In parody of a passage in the 'Sthenoboea' of Euripides, which is\npreserved in Athenaeus.\n\n[582] He believes her pregnant.\n\n[583] A fragment from the 'Phoenix,' by Euripides.\n\n[584] It seems that the Spartan locksmiths were famous for their skill.\n\n[585] The women broke the seals their husbands had affixed, and then,\nwith the aid of their ring bearing the same device, they replaced them as\nbefore.\n\n[586] The impression of which was too complicated and therefore could not\nbe imitated.\n\n[587] As a remedy against the colic.\n\n[588] So that it might not creak when opened.\n\n[589] An altar in the form of a column in the front vestibule of houses\nand dedicated to Apollo.\n\n[590] Because the smell of garlic is not inviting to gallants.\n\n[591] The last words are the thoughts of the woman, who pretends to be in\nchild-bed; she is, however, careful not to utter them to her husband.\n\n[592] The proverb runs, \"_There is a scorpion beneath every stone._\" By\nsubstituting _orator_ for _scorpion_, Aristophanes means it to be\nunderstood that one is no less venomous than the other.\n\n[593] There were two women named Aglaurus. One, the daughter of Actaeus,\nKing of Attica, married Cecrops and brought him the kingship as her\ndowry; the other was the daughter of Cecrops, and was turned into stone\nfor having interfered from jealousy with Hermes' courtship of Hers\u00e9 her\nsister. It was this second Aglaurus the Athenian women were in the habit\nof invoking; they often associated with her her sister Pandrosus.\n\n[594] Underneath the baths were large hollow chambers filled with steam\nto maintain the temperature of the water.\n\n[595] By kicking her in the stomach.\n\n[596] Clisthenes is always represented by Aristophanes as effeminate in\nthe extreme in dress and habits.\n\n[597] The coward, often mentioned with contempt by Aristophanes, had\nthrown away his shield.\n\n[598] The ancients believed that cress reduced the natural secretions.\n\n[599] A deme of Attica.\n\n[600] The women lodged in pairs during the Thesmophoria in tents erected\nnear the Temple of Demeter.\n\n[601] The Corinthians were constantly passing their vessels across the\nisthmus from one sea to the other; we know that the Grecian ships were of\nvery small dimensions.\n\n[602] This was the name of the place where the Ecclesia, the public\nmeeting of the people, took place; the chorus gives this name here to\nDemeter's temple, because the women are gathered there.\n\n[603] The spaces left free between the tents, and which served as\npassage-ways.\n\n[604] A choric dance began here.\n\n[605] A woman's footgear.--On undressing the supposed child, Mnesilochus\nperceives that it is nothing but a skin of wine.\n\n[606] Dr. P. Menier repeatedly points out in his \"La m\u00e9decine et les\npo\u00e8tes latins,\" that the ancient writers constantly spoke of ten months\nas being a woman's period of gestation.\n\n[607] A cotyla contained nearly half a pint.\n\n[608] Both the Feast of Cups and the Dionysia were dedicated to Bacchus,\nthe god of wine; it is for this reason that Mnesilochus refers to the\nformer when guessing the wine-skin's age.\n\n[609] The Cretan robe that had covered the wine-skin.\n\n[610] An allusion to the tragedy by Euripides called 'Palamedes,' which\nbelonged to the tetralogy of the Troades, and was produced in 414 B.C.\nAristophanes is railing at the strange device which the poet makes Oeax\nresort to. Oeax was Palamedes' brother, and he is represented as\ninscribing the death of the latter on a number of oars with the hope that\nat least one would reach the shores of Euboea and thus inform his father,\nNauplias, the king of the fact.\n\n[611] The images of the various gods which were invoked at the\nThesmophoria, and the enumeration of which we have already had.\n\n[612] Charminus, an Athenian general, who had recently been defeated at\nsea by the Spartans.--Nausimach\u00e9 was a courtesan, but her name is\npurposely chosen because of its derivation ([Greek: naus], ship, and\n[Greek: mach_e], fight), so as to point more strongly to Charminus'\ndisgrace.\n\n[613] A general and an Athenian orator.\n\n[614] A courtesan.\n\n[615] Aristomach\u00e9 ([Greek: mach_e], fight, and [Greek: arist_e],\nexcellent) and Stratonic\u00e9 ([Greek: stratos], army, and [Greek: nik_e],\nvictory) are imaginary names, invented to show the decadence of the\nAthenian armies.\n\n[616] Eubul\u00e9 ([Greek: eu], well, and [Greek: bouleuesthai], to\ndeliberate) is also an imaginary name. The poet wishes to say that in\nthat year wisdom had not ruled the decisions of the Senate; they had\nallowed themselves to be humbled by the tyranny of the Four Hundred.\n\n[617] The cylinder and the beams were the chief tools of the weaver. It\nwas the women who did this work.\n\n[618] The taxiarch had the command of 128 men; the strategus had the\ndirection of an army.\n\n[619] The Sthenia were celebrated in honour of Athen\u00e9 Sthenias, or the\ngoddess of force; the women were then wont to attack each other with\nbitter sarcasms.--During the Scirophoria ([Greek: skiron], canopy) the\nstatues of Athen\u00e9, Demeter, Persephone, the Sun and Posidon were carried\nin procession under canopies with great pomp.\n\n[620] The trierarchs were rich citizens, whose duty it was to maintain\nthe galleys or triremes of the fleet.\n\n[621] Hyperbolus is incessantly railed at by Aristophanes as a traitor\nand an informer. Lamachus, although our poet does not always spare him,\nwas a brave general; he had been one of the commanders of the Sicilian\nExpedition.\n\n[622] It will be remembered that Mnesilochus had employed a similar\ndevice to one imputed to Oeax by Euripides in his 'Palamedes,' in order\nto inform his father-in-law of his predicament.\n\n[623] A tragedy, in which Menelaus is seen in Egypt, whither he has gone\nto seek Helen, who is detained there.\n\n[624] These are the opening verses of Euripides' 'Helen,'  with the\nexception of the last words, which are a parody.--Syrmea is a purgative\nplant very common in Egypt. Aristophanes speaks jestingly of the white\nsoil of Egypt, because the slime of the Nile is very black.\n\n[625] This reply and those that follow are fragments from 'Helen.'\n\n[626] An infamous Athenian, whose name had become a byword for everything\nthat was vile.\n\n[627] The whole of this dialogue between Mnesilochus and Euripides is\ncomposed of fragments taken from 'Helen,' slightly parodied at times.\n\n[628] King of Egypt.\n\n[629] Son of Epicles, and mentioned by Thucydides.\n\n[630] Aristophanes invents this in order to give coherence to what\nfollows.\n\n[631] An Athenian general whom Thucydides mentions.\n\n[632] A deme of Attica.\n\n[633] No doubt Euripides appeared on the stage carrying some herbs in his\nhand or wearing them in his belt, so as to recall his mother's calling.\nIf the gibes of Aristophanes can be believed, she dealt in vegetables, as\nwe have noted repeatedly.\n\n[634] A ruined man, living in penury, presumably well known to the\naudience.\n\n[635] Apollo.\n\n[636] Surnames of Bacchus.\n\n[637] The archers, or the police officers, at Athens were mostly\nScythians. If not from that country always, they were known generally by\nthat name.\n\n[638] Which the archer had driven in to tighten up the rope binding the\nprison to the pillory.\n\n[639] Perseus was returning from the land of the Gorgons mounted upon\nPegasus, when, while high up in the air, he saw Andromeda bound to a rock\nand exposed to the lusts and voracity of a sea monster. Touched by the\nmisfortune and the beauty of the princess, he turned the monster to stone\nby showing him the head of Medusa, released Andromeda and married\nher.--Euripides had just produced a tragedy on this subject.\n\n[640] Mnesilochus speaks alternately in his own person and as though he\nwere Andromeda, the effect being comical in the extreme.\n\n[641] A notorious glutton, mentioned also in the 'Peace.'\n\n[642] Through Euripides, his father-in-law.\n\n[643] On the occasion of the presentation of the tragedy of 'Andromeda,'\nin which the nymph Echo plays an important part.\n\n[644] Unknown; Aristophanes plays upon the similarity of name.\n\n[645] That is, the Thesmophoriae, viz. Demeter and Persephon\u00e9.\n\n[646] Throughout the whole scene the Scythian speaks with a grotesque\nbarbarian accent.\n\n[647] The pun depends in the Greek on the similarity of the final\nsyllables of [Greek: subin_e], and [Greek: katabin_esi]. It can be given\nliterally in English.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ECCLESIAZUSAE\n\nor\n\nWomen In Council\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nThe 'Ecclesiazusae, or Women in Council,' was not produced till twenty\nyears after the preceding play, the 'Thesmophoriazusae' (at the Great\nDionysia of 392 B.C.), but is conveniently classed with it as being also\nlargely levelled against the fair sex. \"It is a broad, but very amusing,\nsatire upon those ideal republics, founded upon communistic principles,\nof which Plato's well-known treatise is the best example. His 'Republic'\nhad been written, and probably delivered in the form of oral lectures at\nAthens, only two or three years before, and had no doubt excited a\nconsiderable sensation. But many of its most startling principles had\nlong ago been ventilated in the Schools.\"\n\nLike the 'Lysistrata,' the play is a picture of woman's ascendancy in the\nState, and the topsy-turvy consequences resulting from such a reversal of\nordinary conditions. The women of Athens, under the leadership of the\nwise Praxagora, resolve to reform the constitution. To this end they don\nmen's clothes, and taking seats in the Assembly on the Pnyx, command a\nmajority of votes and carry a series of revolutionary proposals--that the\ngovernment be vested in a committee of women, and further, that property\nand women be henceforth held in common. The main part of the comedy deals\nwith the many amusing difficulties that arise inevitably from this new\nstate of affairs, the community of women above all necessitating special\nsafeguarding clauses to secure the rights of the less attractive members\nof the sex to the service of the younger and handsomer men. Community of\ngoods again, private property being abolished, calls for a regulation\nwhereby all citizens are to dine at the public expense in the various\npublic halls of the city, the particular place of each being determined\nby lot; and the drama winds up with one of these feasts, the elaborate\nmenu of which is given in burlesque, and with the jubilations of the\nwomen over their triumph.\n\n\"This comedy appears to labour under the very same faults as the 'Peace.'\nThe introduction, the secret assembly of the women, their rehearsal of\ntheir parts as men, the description of the popular assembly, are all\nhandled in the most masterly manner; but towards the middle the action\nstands still. Nothing remains but the representation of the perplexities\nand confusion which arise from the new arrangements, especially in\nconnection with the community of women, and from the prescribed equality\nof rights in love both for the old and ugly and for the young and\nbeautiful. These perplexities are pleasant enough, but they turn too much\non a repetition of the same joke.\"\n\nWe learn from the text of the play itself that the 'Ecclesiazusae' was\ndrawn by lot for first representation among the comedies offered for\ncompetition at the Festival, the Author making a special appeal to his\naudience not to let themselves be influenced unfavourably by the\ncircumstance; but whether the play was successful in gaining a prize is\nnot recorded.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ECCLESIAZUSAE\n\nor\n\nWomen In Council\n\n\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\n\nPRAXAGORA.\nBLEPYRUS, husband of Praxagora.\nWOMEN.\nA MAN.\nCHREMES.\nTWO CITIZENS.\nHERALD.\nAN OLD MAN.\nA GIRL.\nA YOUNG MAN.\nTHREE OLD WOMEN.\nA SERVANT MAID.\nHER MASTER.\nCHORUS OF WOMEN.\n\nSCENE: Before a house in a Public Square at Athens; a lamp is burning\nover the door. Time: a little after midnight.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ECCLESIAZUSAE\n\nor\n\nWomen In Council\n\n\nPRAXAGORA (_enters carrying a lamp in her hand_). Oh! thou shining light\nof my earthenware lamp, from this high spot shalt thou look abroad. Oh!\nlamp, I will tell thee thine origin and thy future; 'tis the rapid whirl\nof the potter's wheel that has lent thee thy shape, and thy wick\ncounterfeits the glory of the sun;[648] mayst thou send the agreed signal\nflashing afar! In thee alone do we confide, and thou art worthy, for thou\nart near us when we practise the various postures in which Aphrodit\u00e9\ndelights upon our couches, and none dream even in the midst of her sports\nof seeking to avoid thine eye that watches our swaying bodies. Thou alone\nshinest into the depths of our most secret charms, and with thy flame\ndost singe the hairy growth of our privates. If we open some cellar\nstored with fruits and wine, thou art our companion, and never dost thou\nbetray or reveal to a neighbour the secrets thou hast learned about us.\nTherefore thou shalt know likewise the whole of the plot that I have\nplanned with my friends, the women, at the festival of the\nScirophoria.[649]\n\nI see none of those I was expecting, though dawn approaches; the Assembly\nis about to gather and we must take our seats in spite of\nPhyromachus,[650] who forsooth would say, \"It is meet the women sit apart\nand hidden from the eyes of the men.\" Why, have they not been able then\nto procure the false beards that they must wear, or to steal their\nhusbands cloaks? Ah! I see a light approaching; let us draw somewhat\naside, for fear it should be a man.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. Let us start, it is high time; as we left our dwellings, the\ncock was crowing for the second time.\n\nPRAXAGORA. And I have spent the whole night waiting for you. But come,\nlet us call our neighbour by scratching at her door; and gently too, so\nthat her husband may hear nothing.\n\nSECOND WOMAN. I was putting on my shoes, when I heard you scratching, for\nI was not asleep, so there! Oh! my dear, my husband (he is a Salaminian)\nnever left me an instant's peace, but was at me, for ever at me, all\nnight long, so that it was only just now that I was able to filch his\ncloak.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. I see Clinaret\u00e9 coming too, along with Sostrat\u00e9 and their\nnext-door neighbour Philaenet\u00e9.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Hurry yourselves then, for Glyc\u00e9 has sworn that the last comer\nshall forfeit three measures of wine and a _choenix_ of pease.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. Don't you see Melistic\u00e9, the wife of Smicythion, hurrying\nhither in her great shoes? Methinks she is the only one of us all who has\nhad no trouble in getting rid of her husband.\n\nSECOND WOMAN. And can't you see Gusistrat\u00e9, the tavern-keeper's wife,\nwith a lamp in her hand, and the wives of Philodoretus and Chaeretades?\n\nPRAXAGORA. I can see many others too, indeed the whole of the flower of\nAthens.\n\nTHIRD WOMAN. Oh! my dear, I have had such trouble in getting away! My\nhusband ate such a surfeit of sprats last evening that he was coughing\nand choking the whole night long.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Take your seats, and, since you are all gathered here at last,\nlet us see if what we decided on at the feast of the Scirophoria has been\nduly done.\n\nFOURTH WOMAN. Yes. Firstly, as agreed, I have let the hair under my\narmpits grow thicker than a bush; furthermore, whilst my husband was at\nthe Assembly, I rubbed myself from head to foot with oil and then stood\nthe whole day long in the sun.[651]\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. So did I. I began by throwing away my razor, so that I might\nget quite hairy, and no longer resemble a woman.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Have you the beards that we had all to get ourselves for the\nAssembly?\n\nFOURTH WOMAN. Yea, by Hecat\u00e9! Is this not a fine one?\n\nFIFTH WOMAN. Aye, much finer than Epicrates'.[652]\n\nPRAXAGORA (_to the other women_). And you?\n\nFOURTH WOMAN. Yes, yes; look, they all nod assent.\n\nPRAXAGORA. I see that you have got all the rest too, Spartan shoes,\nstaffs and men's cloaks, as 'twas arranged.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. I have brought Lamias'[653] club, which I stole from him\nwhile he slept.\n\nPRAXAGORA. What, the club that makes him puff and pant with its weight?\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. By Zeus the Deliverer, if he had the skin of Argus, he would\nknow better than any other how to shepherd the popular herd.\n\nPRAXAGORA. But come, let us finish what has yet to be done, while the\nstars are still shining; the Assembly, at which we mean to be present,\nwill open at dawn.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. Good; you must take up your place at the foot of the\nplatform and facing the Prytanes.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. I have brought this with me to card during the Assembly.\n(_She shows some wool._)\n\nPRAXAGORA. During the Assembly, wretched woman?\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. Aye, by Artemis! shall I hear any less well if I am doing a\nbit of carding? My little ones are all but naked.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Think of her wanting to card! whereas we must not let anyone\nsee the smallest part of our bodies.[654] 'Twould be a fine thing if one\nof us, in the midst of the discussion, rushed on to the speaker's\nplatform and, flinging her cloak aside, showed her hairy privates. If, on\nthe other hand, we are the first to take our seats closely muffled in our\ncloaks, none will know us. Let us fix these beards on our chins, so that\nthey spread all over our bosoms. How can we fail then to be mistaken for\nmen? Agyrrhius has deceived everyone, thanks to the beard of\nPronomus;[655] yet he was no better than a woman, and you see how he now\nholds the first position in the city. Thus, I adjure you by this day that\nis about to dawn, let us dare to copy him and let us be clever enough to\npossess ourselves of the management of affairs. Let us save the vessel of\nState, which just at present none seems able either to sail or row.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. But where shall we find orators in an Assembly of women?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Nothing simpler. Is it not said, that the cleverest speakers\nare those who submit themselves oftenest to men? Well, thanks to the\ngods, we are that by nature.\n\nSIXTH WOMAN. There's no doubt of that; but the worst of it is our\ninexperience.\n\nPRAXAGORA. That's the very reason we are gathered here, in order to\nprepare the speech we must make in the Assembly. Hasten, therefore, all\nyou who know aught of speaking, to fix on your beards.\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Oh! you great fool! is there ever a one among us cannot\nuse her tongue?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Come, look sharp, on with your beard and become a man. As for\nme, I will do the same in case I should have a fancy for getting on to\nthe platform. Here are the chaplets.\n\nSECOND WOMAN. Oh! great gods! my dear Praxagora, do look here! Is it not\nlaughable?\n\nPRAXAGORA. How laughable?\n\nSECOND WOMAN. Our beards look like broiled cuttle-fishes.\n\nPRAXAGORA. The priest is bringing in--the cat.[656] Make ready, make\nready! Silence, Ariphrades![657] Go and take your seat. Now, who wishes\nto speak?\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. I do.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Then put on this chaplet[658] and success be with you.\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. There, 'tis done!\n\nPRAXAGORA. Well then! begin.\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Before drinking?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Hah! she wants to drink![659]\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Why, what else is the meaning of this chaplet?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Get you hence! you would probably have played us this trick\nalso before the people.\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Well! don't the men drink then in the Assembly?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Now she's telling us the men drink!\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Aye, by Artemis, and neat wine too. That's why their\ndecrees breathe of drunkenness and madness. And why libations, why so\nmany ceremonies, if wine plays no part in them? Besides, they abuse each\nother like drunken men, and you can see the archers dragging more than\none uproarious drunkard out of the Agora.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Go back to your seat, you are wandering.\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Ah! I should have done better not to have muffled myself\nin this beard; my throat's afire and I feel I shall die of thirst.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Who else wishes to speak?\n\nEIGHTH WOMAN. I do.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Quick then, take the chaplet, for time's running short. Try to\nspeak worthily, let your language be truly manly, and lean on your staff\nwith dignity.\n\nEIGHTH WOMAN. I had rather have seen one of your regular orators giving\nyou wise advice; but, as that is not to be, it behoves me to break\nsilence; I cannot, for my part indeed, allow the tavern-keepers to fill\nup their wine-pits with water.[660] No, by the two goddesses....\n\nPRAXAGORA. What? by the two goddesses![661] Wretched woman, where are\nyour senses?\n\nEIGHTH WOMAN. Eh! what?... I have not asked you for a drink!\n\nPRAXAGORA. No, but you want to pass for a man, and you swear by the two\ngoddesses. Otherwise 'twas very well.\n\nEIGHTH WOMAN. Well then. By Apollo....\n\nPRAXAGORA. Stop! All these details of language must be adjusted; else it\nis quite useless to go to the Assembly.\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. Pass me the chaplet; I wish to speak again, for I think I\nhave got hold of something good. You women who are listening to me....\n\nPRAXAGORA. Women again; why, wretched creature, 'tis men that you are\naddressing.\n\nSEVENTH WOMAN. 'Tis the fault of Epigonus;[662] I caught sight of him\nover yonder, and I thought I was speaking to women.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Come, withdraw and remain seated in future. I am going to take\nthis chaplet myself and speak in your name. May the gods grant success to\nmy plans!\n\nMy country is as dear to me as it is to you, and I groan, I am grieved at\nall that is happening in it. Scarcely one in ten of those who rule it is\nhonest, and all the others are bad. If you appoint fresh chiefs, they\nwill do still worse. It is hard to correct your peevish humour; you fear\nthose who love you and throw yourselves at the feet of those who betray\nyou. There was a time when we had no assemblies, and then we all thought\nAgyrrhius a dishonest man;[663] now they are established, he who gets\nmoney thinks everything is as it should be, and he who does not, declares\nall who sell their votes to be worthy of death.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. By Aphrodit\u00e9, that is well spoken.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Why, wretched woman, you have actually called upon Aphrodit\u00e9.\nOh! what a fine thing 'twould have been had you said that in the\nAssembly!\n\nFIRST WOMAN. I should never have done that!\n\nPRAXAGORA. Well, mind you don't fall into the habit.--When we were\ndiscussing the alliance,[664] it seemed as though it were all over with\nAthens if it fell through. No sooner was it made than we were vexed and\nangry, and the orator who had caused its adoption was compelled to seek\nsafety in flight.[665] Is there talk of equipping a fleet? The poor man\nsays, yes, but the rich citizen and the countryman say, no. You were\nangered against the Corinthians and they with you; now they are well\ndisposed towards you, be so towards them. As a rule the Argives are dull,\nbut the Argive Hieronymus[666] is a distinguished chief. Herein lies a\nspark of hope; but Thrasybulus is far from Athens[667] and you do not\nrecall him.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. Oh! what a brilliant man!\n\nPRAXAGORA. That's better! that's fitting applause.--Citizens, 'tis you\nwho are the cause of all this trouble. You vote yourselves salaries out\nof the public funds and care only for your own personal interests; hence\nthe State limps along like Aesimus.[668] But if you hearken to me, you\nwill be saved. I assert that the direction of affairs must be handed over\nto the women, for 'tis they who have charge and look after our\nhouseholds.\n\nSECOND WOMAN. Very good, very good, 'tis perfect! Say on, say on.\n\nPRAXAGORA. They are worth more than you are, as I shall prove. First of\nall they wash all their wool in warm water, according to the ancient\npractice; you will never see them changing their method. Ah! if Athens\nonly acted thus, if it did not take delight in ceaseless innovations,\nwould not its happiness be assured? Then the women sit down to cook, as\nthey always did; they carry things on their head as was their wont; they\nkeep the Thesmophoria, as they have ever done; they knead their cakes\njust as they used to; they make their husbands angry as they have always\ndone; they receive their lovers in their houses as was their constant\ncustom; they buy dainties as they always did; they love unmixed wine as\nwell as ever; they delight in being loved just as much as they always\nhave. Let us therefore hand Athens over to them without endless\ndiscussions, without bothering ourselves about what they will do; let us\nsimply hand them over the power, remembering that they are mothers and\nwill therefore spare the blood of our soldiers; besides, who will know\nbetter than a mother how to forward provisions to the front? Woman is\nadept at getting money for herself and will not easily let herself be\ndeceived; she understands deceit too well herself. I omit a thousand\nother advantages. Take my advice and you will live in perfect happiness.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. How beautiful this is, my dearest Praxagora, how clever! But\nwhere, pray, did you learn all these pretty things?\n\nPRAXAGORA. When the countryfolk were seeking refuge in the city,[669] I\nlived on the Pnyx with my husband, and there I learnt to speak through\nlistening to the orators.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. Then, dear, 'tis not astonishing that you are so eloquent\nand clever; henceforward you shall be our leader, so put your great ideas\ninto execution. But if Cephalus[670] belches forth insults against you,\nwhat answer will you give him in the Assembly?\n\nPRAXAGORA. I shall say that he drivels.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. But all the world knows that.\n\nPRAXAGORA. I shall furthermore say that he is a raving madman.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. There's nobody who does not know it.\n\nPRAXAGORA. That he, as excellent a statesman as he is, is a clumsy\ntinker.[671]\n\nFIRST WOMAN. And if the blear-eyed Neoclides[672] comes to insult you?\n\nPRAXAGORA. To him I shall say, \"Go and look at a dog's backside\".[673]\n\nFIRST WOMAN. And if they fly at you?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Oh! I shall shake them off as best I can; never fear, I know\nhow to use this tool.[674]\n\nFIRST WOMAN. But there is one thing we don't think of. If the archers\ndrag you away, what will you do?\n\nPRAXAGORA. With my arms akimbo like this, I will never, never let myself\nbe taken round the middle.\n\nFIRST WOMAN. If they seize you, we will bid them let you go.\n\nSECOND WOMAN. That's the best way. But how are we going to lift up our\narm[675] in the Assembly, we, who only know how to lift our legs in the\nact of love?\n\nPRAXAGORA. 'Tis difficult; yet it must be done, and the arm shown naked\nto the shoulder in order to vote. Quick now, put on these tunics and\nthese Laconian shoes, as you see the men do each time they go to the\nAssembly or for a walk. Then this done, fix on your beards, and when they\nare arranged in the best way possible, dress yourselves in the cloaks you\nhave abstracted from your husbands; finally start off leaning on your\nstaffs and singing some old man's song as the villagers do.\n\nSECOND WOMAN. Well spoken; and let us hurry to get to the Pnyx before the\nwomen from the country, for they will no doubt not fail to come there.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Quick, quick, for 'tis all the custom that those who are not\nat the Pnyx early in the morning, return home empty-handed.\n\nCHORUS. Move forward, citizens, move forward; let us not forget to give\nourselves this name and may that of _woman_ never slip out of our mouths;\nwoe to us, if it were discovered that we had laid such a plot in the\ndarkness of night. Let us go to the Assembly then, fellow-citizens; for\nthe Thesmothetae have declared that only those who arrive at daybreak\nwith haggard eye and covered with dust, without having snatched time to\neat anything but a snack of garlic-pickle, shall alone receive the\ntriobolus. Walk up smartly, Charitimides,[676] Smicythus and Draces, and\ndo not fail in any point of your part; let us first demand our fee and\nthen vote for all that may perchance be useful for our partisans.... Ah!\nwhat am I saying? I meant to say, for our fellow-citizens. Let us drive\naway these men of the city,[677] who used to stay at home and chatter\nround the table in the days when only an obolus was paid, whereas now one\nis stifled by the crowds at the Pnyx.[678] No! during the Archonship of\ngenerous Myronides,[679] none would have dared to let himself be paid for\nthe trouble he spent over public business; each one brought his own meal\nof bread, a couple of onions, three olives and some wine in a little\nwine-skin. But nowadays we run here to earn the three obols, for the\ncitizen has become as mercenary as the stonemason. (_The Chorus marches\naway._)\n\nBLEPYRUS (_husband of Praxagora_). What does this mean? My wife has\nvanished! it is nearly daybreak and she does not return! Wanting to\nrelieve myself, lo! I awake and hunt in the darkness for my shoes and my\ncloak; but grope where I will, I cannot find them. Meanwhile my need grew\neach moment more urgent and I had only just time to seize my wife's\nlittle mantle and her Persian slippers. But where shall I find a spot\nsuitable for my purpose. Bah! One place is as good as another at\nnight-time, for no one will see me. Ah! what fatal folly 'twas to take a\nwife at my age, and how I could thrash myself for having acted so\nfoolishly! 'Tis a certainty she's not gone out for any honest purpose.\nHowever, that's not our present business.\n\nA MAN. Who's there? Is that not my neighbour Blepyrus? Why, yes, 'tis\nhimself and no other. Tell me, what's all that yellow about you? Can it\nbe Cinesias[680] who has befouled you so?\n\nBLEPYRUS. No, no, I only slipped on my wife's tunic[681] to come out in.\n\nMAN. And where is your cloak?\n\nBLEPYRUS. I cannot tell you, for I hunted for it vainly on the bed.\n\nMAN. And why did you not ask your wife for it?\n\nBLEPYRUS. Ah! why indeed! because she is not in the house; she has run\naway, and I greatly fear that she may be doing me an ill turn.\n\nMAN. But, by Posidon, 'tis the same with myself. My wife has disappeared\nwith my cloak, and what is still worse, with my shoes as well, for I\ncannot find them anywhere.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Nor can I my Laconian shoes; but as I had urgent need, I popped\nmy feet into these slippers, so as not to soil my blanket, which is quite\nnew.\n\nMAN. What does it mean? Can some friend have invited her to a feast?\n\nBLEPYRUS. I expect so, for she does not generally misconduct herself, as\nfar as I know.\n\nMAN. Come, I say, you seem to be making ropes. Are you never going to be\ndone? As for myself, I would like to go to the Assembly, and it is time\nto start, but the thing is to find my cloak, for I have only one.\n\nBLEPYRUS. I am going to have a look too, when I have done; but I really\nthink there must be a wild pear obstructing my rectum.\n\nMAN. Is it the one which Thrasybulus spoke about to the\nLacedaemonians?[682]\n\nBLEPYRUS. Oh! oh! oh! how the obstruction holds! Whatever am I to do?\n'Tis not merely for the present that I am frightened; but when I have\neaten, where is it to find an outlet now? This cursed Achradusian\nfellow[683] has bolted the door. Let a doctor be fetched; but which is\nthe cleverest in this branch of the science? Amynon?[684] Perhaps he\nwould not come. Ah! Antithenes![685] Let him be brought to me, cost what\nit will. To judge by his noisy sighs, that man knows what a rump wants,\nwhen in urgent need. Oh! venerated Ilithyia![686] I shall burst unless\nthe door gives way. Have pity! pity! Let me not become the night-stool of\nthe comic poets.[687]\n\nCHREMES. Hi! friend, what are you after there? Easing yourself!\n\nBLEPYRUS. Oh! there! it is over and I can get up again at last.\n\nCHREMES. What's this? You have your wife's tunic on.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Aye, 'twas the first thing that came to my hand in the\ndarkness. But where do you hail from?\n\nCHREMES. From the Assembly.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Is it already over then?\n\nCHREMES. Certainly.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Why, it is scarcely daylight.\n\nCHREMES. I did laugh, ye gods, at the vermilion rope-marks that were to\nbe seen all about the Assembly.[688]\n\nBLEPYRUS. Did you get the triobolus?\n\nCHREMES. Would it had so pleased the gods! but I arrived just too late,\nand am quite ashamed of it; I bring back nothing but this empty wallet.\n\nBLEPYRUS. But why is that?\n\nCHREMES. There was a crowd, such as has never been seen at the Pnyx, and\nthe folk looked pale and wan, like so many shoemakers, so white were they\nin hue; both I and many another had to go without the triobolus.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Then if I went now, I should get nothing.\n\nCHREMES. No, certainly not, nor even had you gone at the second\ncock-crow.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Oh! what a misfortune! Oh, Antilochus![689] no triobolus! Even\ndeath would be better! I am undone! But what can have attracted such a\ncrowd at that early hour?\n\nCHREMES. The Prytanes started the discussion of measures nearly\nconcerning the safety of the State; immediately, that blear-eyed fellow,\nthe son of Neoclides,[690] was the first to mount the platform. Then the\nfolk shouted with their loudest voice, \"What! he dares to speak, and\nthat, too, when the safety of the State is concerned, and he a man who\nhas not known how to save even his own eyebrows!\" He, however, shouted\nlouder than they all, and looking at them asked, \"Why, what ought I to\nhave done?\"\n\nBLEPYRUS. Pound together garlic and laserpitium juice, add to this\nmixture some Laconian spurge, and rub it well into the eyelids at night.\nThat's what I should have answered, had I been there.\n\nCHREMES. After him that clever rascal Evaeon[691] began to speak; he was\nnaked, so far as we all could see, but he declared he had a cloak; he\npropounded the most popular, the most democratic, doctrines. \"You see,\"\nhe said, \"I have the greatest need of sixteen drachmae, the cost of a new\ncloak, my health demands it; nevertheless I wish first to care for that\nof my fellow-citizens and of my country. If the fullers were to supply\ntunics to the indigent at the approach of winter, none would be exposed\nto pleurisy. Let him who has neither beds nor coverlets go to sleep at\nthe tanners' after taking a bath; and if they shut the door in winter,\nlet them be condemned to give him three goat-skins.\"\n\nBLEPYRUS. By Dionysus, a fine, a very fine notion! Not a soul will vote\nagainst his proposal, especially if he adds that the flour-sellers must\nsupply the poor with three measures of corn, or else suffer the severest\npenalties of the law; 'tis only in this way that Nausicydes[692] can be\nof any use to us.\n\nCHREMES. Then we saw a handsome young man rush into the tribune, he was\nall pink and white like young Nicias,[693] and he began to say that the\ndirection of matters should be entrusted to the women; this the crowd of\nshoemakers[694] began applauding with all their might, while the\ncountry-folk assailed him with groans.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And, 'faith, they did well.\n\nCHREMES. But they were outnumbered, and the orator shouted louder than\nthey, saying much good of the women and much ill of you.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And what did he say?\n\nCHREMES. First he said you were a rogue...\n\nBLEPYRUS. And you?\n\nCHREMES. Let me speak ... and a thief....\n\nBLEPYRUS. I alone?\n\nCHREMES. And an informer.\n\nBLEPYRUS. I alone?\n\nCHREMES. Why, no, by the gods! all of us.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And who avers the contrary?\n\nCHREMES. He maintained that women were both clever and thrifty, that they\nnever divulged the Mysteries of Demeter, while you and I go about\nbabbling incessantly about whatever happens at the Senate.\n\nBLEPYRUS. By Hermes, he was not lying!\n\nCHREMES. Then he added, that the women lend each other clothes, trinkets\nof gold and silver, drinking-cups, and not before witnesses too, but all\nby themselves, and that they return everything with exactitude without\never cheating each other; whereas, according to him, we are ever ready to\ndeny the loans we have effected.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Aye, by Posidon, and in spite of witnesses.\n\nCHREMES. Again, he said that women were not informers, nor did they bring\nlawsuits, nor hatch conspiracies; in short, he praised the women in every\npossible manner.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And what was decided?\n\nCHREMES. To confide the direction of affairs to them; 'tis the one and\nonly innovation that has not yet been tried at Athens.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And it was voted?\n\nCHREMES. Yes.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And everything that used to be the men's concern has been given\nover to the women?\n\nCHREMES. You express it exactly.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Thus 'twill be my wife who will go to the Courts now in my\nstead.\n\nCHREMES. And it will be she who will keep your children in your place.\n\nBLEPYRUS. I shall no longer have to tire myself out with work from\ndaybreak onwards?\n\nCHREMES. No, 'twill be the women's business, and you can stop at home and\ntake your ease.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Well, what I fear for us fellows now is, that, holding the\nreins of government, they will forcibly compel us ...\n\nCHREMES. To do what?\n\nBLEPYRUS. ... to work them.\n\nCHREMES. And if we are not able?\n\nBLEPYRUS. They will give us no dinner.\n\nCHREMES. Well then, do your duty; dinner and love form a double\nenjoyment.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Ah! but I hate compulsion.\n\nCHREMES. But if it be for the public weal, let us resign ourselves. 'Tis\nan old saying, that our absurdest and maddest decrees always somehow turn\nout for our good. May it be so in this case, oh gods, oh venerable\nPallas! But I must be off; so, good-bye to you!\n\nBLEPYRUS. Good-bye, Chremes.\n\nCHORUS. March along, go forward. Is there some man following us? Turn\nround, examine everywhere and keep a good look-out; be on your guard\nagainst every trick, for they might spy on us from behind. Let us make as\nmuch noise as possible as we tramp. It would be a disgrace for all of us\nif we allowed ourselves to be caught in this deed by the men. Come, wrap\nyourselves up well, and search both right and left, so that no mischance\nmay happen to us. Let us hasten our steps; here we are close to the\nmeeting-place, whence we started for the Assembly, and here is the house\nof our leader, the author of this bold scheme, which is now decreed by\nall the citizens. Let us not lose a moment in taking off our false\nbeards, for we might be recognized and denounced. Let us stand under the\nshadow of this wall; let us glance round sharply with our eye to beware\nof surprises, while we quickly resume our ordinary dress. Ah! here is our\nleader, returning from the Assembly. Hasten to relieve your chins of\nthese flowing manes. Look at your comrades yonder; they have already made\nthemselves women again some while ago.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Friends, success has crowned our plans. But off with these\ncloaks and these boots quick, before any man sees you; unbuckle the\nLaconian straps and get rid of your staffs; and do you help them with\ntheir toilet. As for myself, I am going to slip quietly into the house\nand replace my husband's cloak and other gear where I took them from,\nbefore he can suspect anything.\n\nCHORUS. There! 'tis done according to your bidding. Now tell us how we\ncan be of service to you, so that we may show you our obedience, for we\nhave never seen a cleverer woman than you.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Wait! I only wish to use the power given me in accordance with\nyour wishes; for, in the market-place, in the midst of the shouts and\ndanger, I appreciated your indomitable courage.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Eh, Praxagora! where do you come from?\n\nPRAXAGORA. How does that concern you, friend?\n\nBLEPYRUS. Why, greatly! what a silly question!\n\nPRAXAGORA. You don't think I have come from a lover's?\n\nBLEPYRUS. No, perhaps not from only one.\n\nPRAXAGORA. You can make yourself sure of that.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And how?\n\nPRAXAGORA. You can see whether my hair smells of perfume.\n\nBLEPYRUS. What? cannot a woman possibly be loved without perfume, eh!\n\nPRAXAGORA. The gods forfend, as far as I am concerned.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Why did you go off at early dawn with my cloak?\n\nPRAXAGORA. A companion, a friend who was in labour, had sent to fetch me.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Could you not have told me?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Oh, my dear, would you have me caring nothing for a poor woman\nin that plight?\n\nBLEPYRUS. A word would have been enough. There's something behind all\nthis.\n\nPRAXAGORA. No, I call the goddesses to witness! I went running off; the\npoor woman who summoned me begged me to come, whatever might betide.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And why did you not take your mantle? Instead of that, you\ncarry off mine, you throw your dress upon the bed and you leave me as the\ndead are left, bar the chaplets and perfumes.\n\nPRAXAGORA. 'Twas cold, and I am frail and delicate; I took your cloak for\ngreater warmth, leaving you thoroughly warm yourself beneath your\ncoverlets.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And my shoes and staff, those too went off with you?\n\nPRAXAGORA. I was afraid they might rob me of the cloak, and so, to look\nlike a man, I put on your shoes and walked with a heavy tread and struck\nthe stones with your staff.\n\nBLEPYRUS. D'you know you have made us lose a _sextary_ of wheat, which I\nshould have bought with the _triobolus_ of the Assembly?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Be comforted, for she had a boy.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Who? the Assembly?\n\nPRAXAGORA. No, no, the woman I helped. But has the Assembly taken place\nthen?\n\nBLEPYRUS. Did I not tell you of it yesterday?\n\nPRAXAGORA. True; I remember now.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And don't you know the decrees that have been voted?\n\nPRAXAGORA. No indeed.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Go to! you can eat cuttle-fish[695] now, for 'tis said the\ngovernment is handed over to you.\n\nPRAXAGORA. To do what--to spin?\n\nBLEPYRUS. No, that you may rule ...\n\nPRAXAGORA. What?\n\nBLEPYRUS. ... over all public business.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Oh! by Aphrodit\u00e9! how happy Athens will be!\n\nBLEPYRUS. Why so?\n\nPRAXAGORA. For a thousand reasons. None will dare now to do shameless\ndeeds, to give false testimony or lay informations.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Stop! in the name of the gods! Do you want me to die of hunger?\n\nCHORUS. Good sir, let your wife speak.\n\nPRAXAGORA. There will be no more thieves, nor envious people, no more\nrags nor misery, no more abuse and no more prosecutions and lawsuits.\n\nBLEPYRUS. By Posidon! 'tis grand, if true.\n\nPRAXAGORA. The results will prove it; you will confess it, and even these\ngood people (_pointing to the spectators_) will not be able to say a\nword.\n\nCHORUS. You have served your friends, but now it behoves you to apply\nyour ability and your care to the welfare of the people. Devote the\nfecundity of your mind to the public weal; adorn the citizens' lives with\na thousand enjoyments and teach them to seize every favourable\nopportunity. Devise some ingenious method to secure the much-needed\nsalvation of Athens; but let neither your acts nor your words recall\nanything of the past, for 'tis only innovations that please. Don't delay\nthe realization of your plans, for speedy execution is greatly esteemed\nby the public.\n\nPRAXAGORA. I believe my ideas are good, but what I fear is, that the\npublic will cling to the old customs and refuse to accept my reforms.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Have no fear about that. Love of novelty and disdain for the\npast, these are the dominating principles among us.\n\nPRAXAGORA. Let none contradict nor interrupt me until I have explained my\nplan. I want all to have a share of everything and all property to be in\ncommon; there will no longer be either rich or poor; no longer shall we\nsee one man harvesting vast tracts of land, while another has not ground\nenough to be buried in, nor one man surround himself with a whole army of\nslaves, while another has not a single attendant; I intend that there\nshall only be one and the same condition of life for all.\n\nBLEPYRUS. But how do you mean for all?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Go and eat your excrements![696]\n\nBLEPYRUS. Come, share and share alike!\n\nPRAXAGORA. No, no, but you shall not interrupt me. This is what I was\ngoing to say: I shall begin by making land, money, everything that is\nprivate property, common to all. Then we shall live on this common\nwealth, which we shall take care to administer with wise thrift.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And how about the man who has no land, but only gold and silver\ncoins, that cannot be seen?\n\nPRAXAGORA. He must bring them to the common stock, and if he fails he\nwill be a perjured man.\n\nBLEPYRUS. That won't worry him much, for has he not gained them by\nperjury?\n\nPRAXAGORA. But his riches will no longer be of any use to him.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Why?\n\nPRAXAGORA. The poor will no longer be obliged to work; each will have all\nthat he needs, bread, salt fish, cakes, tunics, wine, chaplets and\nchick-pease; of what advantage will it be to him not to contribute his\nshare to the common wealth? What do you think of it?\n\nBLEPYRUS. But is it not the folk who rob most that have all these things?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Yes, formerly, under the old order of things; but now that all\ngoods are in common, what will he gain by not bringing his wealth into\nthe general stock?\n\nBLEPYRUS. If someone saw a pretty wench and wished to satisfy his fancy\nfor her, he would take some of his reserve store to make her a present\nand stay the night with her; this would not prevent him claiming his\nshare of the common property.\n\nPRAXAGORA. But he can sleep with her for nothing; I intend that women\nshall belong to all men in common, and each shall beget children by any\nman that wishes to have her.\n\nBLEPYRUS. But all will go to the prettiest woman and beseech her to go\nwith him.\n\nPRAXAGORA. The ugliest and the most flat-nosed will be side by side with\nthe most charming, and to win the latter's favours, a man will first have\nto get into the former.\n\nBLEPYRUS. But we old men, shall we have penis enough if we have to\nsatisfy the ugly first?\n\nPRAXAGORA. They will make no resistance.\n\nBLEPYRUS. To what?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Never fear; they will make no resistance.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Resistance to what?\n\nPRAXAGORA. To the pleasure of the thing. 'Tis thus that matters will be\nordered for you.\n\nBLEPYRUS. 'Tis right well conceived for you women, for every wench's hole\nwill be occupied; but as regards us poor men, you will leave those who\nare ugly to run after the handsome fellows.\n\nPRAXAGORA. The ugly will follow the handsomest into the public places\nafter supper and see to it that the law, which forbids the women to sleep\nwith the big, handsome men before having satisfied the ugly shrimps, is\ncomplied with.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Thus ugly Lysicrates' nose will be as proud as the handsomest\nface?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Yes, by Apollo! this is a truly popular decree, and what a\nset-back 'twill be for one of those elegants with their fingers loaded\nwith rings, when a man with heavy shoes says to him, \"Give way to me and\nwait till I have done; you will pass in after me.\"\n\nBLEPYRUS. But if we live in this fashion, how will each one know his\nchildren?\n\nPRAXAGORA. The youngest will look upon the oldest as their fathers.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Ah! how heartily they will strangle all the old men, since even\nnow, when each one knows his father, they make no bones about strangling\nhim! then, my word! won't they just scorn and shit upon the old folks!\n\nPRAXAGORA. But those around will prevent it. Hitherto, when anyone saw an\nold man beaten, he would not meddle, because it did not concern him; but\nnow each will fear the sufferer may be his own father and such violence\nwill be stopped.\n\nBLEPYRUS. What you say is not so silly after all; but 'twould be highly\nunpleasant were Epicurus and Leucolophas to come up and call me father.\n\nPRAXAGORA. But 'twould be far worse, were ...\n\nBLEPYRUS. Were what?\n\nPRAXAGORA. ... Aristyllus to embrace you and style you his father.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Ah! let him look to himself if he dares!\n\nPRAXAGORA. For you would smell vilely of mint if he kissed you. But he\nwas born before the decree was carried, so that you have not to fear his\nkiss.\n\nBLEPYRUS. 'Twould be awful. But who will do the work?\n\nPRAXAGORA. The slaves. Your only cares will be to scent yourself, and to\ngo and dine, when the shadow of the gnomon is ten feet long on the dial.\n\nBLEPYRUS. But how shall we obtain clothing? Tell me that!\n\nPRAXAGORA. You will first wear out those you have, and then we women will\nweave you others.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Now another point: if the magistrates condemn a citizen to the\npayment of a fine, how is he going to do it? Out of the public funds?\nThat would not be right surely.\n\nPRAXAGORA. But there will be no more lawsuits.\n\nBLEPYRUS. What a disaster for many people!\n\nPRAXAGORA. I have decreed it. Besides, friend, why should there be\nlawsuits?\n\nBLEPYRUS. Oh! for a thousand reasons, on my faith! Firstly, because a\ndebtor denies his obligation.\n\nPRAXAGORA. But where will the lender get the money to lend, if all is in\ncommon? unless he steals it out of the treasury?\n\nBLEPYRUS. That's true, by Demeter! But then again, tell me this; here are\nsome men who are returning from a feast and are drunk and they strike\nsome passer-by; how are they going to pay the fine? Ah! you are puzzled\nnow!\n\nPRAXAGORA. They will have to take it out of their pittance; and being\nthus punished through their belly, they will not care to begin again.\n\nBLEPYRUS. There will be no more thieves then, eh?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Why steal, if you have a share of everything?\n\nBLEPYRUS. People will not be robbed any more at night?\n\nPRAXAGORA. No, whether you sleep at home or in the street, there will be\nno more danger, for all will have the means of living. Besides, if anyone\nwanted to steal your cloak, you would give it him yourself. Why not? You\nwill only have to go to the common store and be given a better one.\n\nBLEPYRUS. There will be no more playing at dice?\n\nPRAXAGORA. What object will there be in playing?\n\nBLEPYRUS. But what kind of life is it you propose to set up?\n\nPRAXAGORA. The life in common. Athens will become nothing more than a\nsingle house, in which everything will belong to everyone; so that\neverybody will be able to go from one house to the other at pleasure.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And where will the meals be served?\n\nPRAXAGORA. The law-courts and the porticoes will be turned into\ndining-halls.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And what will the speaker's platform be used for?\n\nPRAXAGORA. I shall place the bowls and the ewers there; and young\nchildren will sing the glory of the brave from there, also the infamy of\ncowards, who out of very shame will no longer dare to come to the public\nmeals.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Well thought of, by Apollo! And what will you do with the urns?\n\nPRAXAGORA. I shall have them taken to the market-place, and standing\nclose to the statue of Harmodius,[697] I shall draw a lot for each\ncitizen, which by its letter will show the place where he must go to\ndine.[698] Thus, those for whom I have drawn a Beta, will go to the royal\nportico;[699] if 'tis a Theta, they will go to the portico of\nTheseus;[700] if 'tis a Kappa, to that of the flour-market.[701]\n\nBLEPYRUS. To cram[702] himself there like a capon?\n\nPRAXAGORA. No, to dine there.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And the citizen whom the lot has not given a letter showing\nwhere he is to dine will be driven off by everyone?\n\nPRAXAGORA. But that will not occur. Each man will have plenty; he will\nnot leave the feast until he is well drunk, and then with a chaplet on\nhis head and a torch in his hand; and then the women running to meet you\nin the cross-roads will say, \"This way, come to our house, you will find\na beautiful young girl there.\"--\"And I,\" another will call from her\nbalcony, \"have one so pretty and as white as milk; but before touching\nher, you must sleep with me.\" And the ugly men, watching closely after\nthe handsome fellows, will say, \"Hi! friend, where are you running to? Go\nin, but you must do nothing, for 'tis the ugly and the flat-nosed to whom\nthe law gives the first right of admission; amuse yourself in the porch\nwhile you wait, in handling your fig-leaves and playing with your tool.\"\nWell, tell me, does that picture suit you?\n\nBLEPYRUS. Marvellously well.\n\nPRAXAGORA. I must now go to the market-place to receive the property that\nis going to be placed in common and to choose a woman with a loud voice\nas my herald. I have all the cares of State on my shoulders, since the\npower has been entrusted to me. I must likewise go to busy myself about\nestablishing the common meals, and you will attend your first banquet\nto-day.\n\nBLEPYRUS. Are we going to banquet?\n\nPRAXAGORA. Why, undoubtedly! Furthermore, I propose abolishing the\ncourtesans.\n\nBLEPYRUS. And what for?\n\nPRAXAGORA. 'Tis clear enough why; so that, instead of them, _we_ may have\nthe first-fruits of the young men. It is not meet that tricked-out slaves\nshould rob free-born women of their pleasures. Let the courtesans be free\nto sleep with the slaves and to depilate their privates for them.\n\nBLEPYRUS. I will march at your side, so that I may be seen and that\neveryone may say, \"Admire our leader's husband!\" [_Exeunt Blepyrus and\nPraxagora._\n\n    [_The Chorus which followed this scene is lost._]\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Come, let us collect and examine all my belongings before\ntaking them to the market-place. Come hither, my beautiful sieve, I have\nnothing more precious than you, come, all clotted with the flour of which\nI have poured so many sacks through you; you shall act the part of\nCanephoros[703] in the procession of my chattels. Where is the sunshade\ncarrier?[704] Ah! this stew-pot shall take his place. Great gods, how\nblack it is! it could not be more so if Lysicrates[705] had boiled the\ndrugs in it with which he dyes his hair. Hither, my beautiful mirror. And\nyou, my tripod, bear this urn for me; you shall be the waterbearer;[706]\nand you, cock, whose morning song has so often roused me in the middle of\nthe night to send me hurrying to the Assembly, you shall be my\nflute-girl. Scaphephoros,[707] do you take the large basin, place in it\nthe honeycombs and twine the olive-branches over them, bring the tripods\nand the phial of perfume; as for the humble crowd of little pots, I will\njust leave them behind.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. What folly to carry one's goods to the common store; I\nhave a little more sense than that. No, no, by Posidon, I want first to\nponder and calculate over the thing at leisure. I shall not be fool\nenough to strip myself of the fruits of my toil and thrift, if it is not\nfor a very good reason; let us see first, which way things turn. Hi!\nfriend, what means this display of goods? Are you moving or are you going\nto pawn your stuff?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Neither.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Why then are you setting all these things out in line? Is\nit a procession that you are starting off to the public crier, Hiero?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. No, but in accordance with the new law, that has been\ndecreed, I am going to carry all these things to the marketplace to make\na gift of them to the State.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Oh! bah! you don't mean that.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Certainly.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Oh! Zeus the Deliverer! you unfortunate man!\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Why?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Why? 'Tis as clear as noonday.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Must the laws not be obeyed then?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. What laws, you poor fellow?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Those that have been decreed.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Decreed! Are you mad, I ask you?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Am I mad?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Oh! this is the height of folly!\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Because I obey the law? Is that not the first duty of an\nhonest man?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Say rather of a ninny.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Don't you propose taking what belongs to you to the common\nstock?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. I'll take good care I don't until I see what the majority\nare doing.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. There's but one opinion, namely, to contribute every\nsingle thing one has.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. I am waiting to see it, before I believe that.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. At least, so they say in every street.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. And they will go on saying so.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Everyone talks of contributing all he has.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. And will go on talking of it.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. You weary me with your doubts and dubitations.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Everybody else will doubt it.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. The pest seize you!\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. It _will_ take you. What? give up your goods! Is there a\nman of sense who will do such a thing? Giving is not one of our customs.\nReceiving is another matter; 'tis the way of the gods themselves. Look at\nthe position of their hands on their statues; when we ask a favour, they\npresent their hands turned palm up so as not to give, but to receive.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Wretch, let me do what is right. Come, I'll make a bundle\nof all these things. Where is my strap?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Are you really going to carry them in?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Undoubtedly, and there are my three tripods strung\ntogether already.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. What folly! Not to wait to see what the others do, and\nthen ...\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Well, and then what?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. ... wait and put it off again.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. What for?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. That an earthquake may come or an ill-omened flash of\nlightning, that a weasel may run across the street and that none carry in\nanything more, you fool!\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. 'Twould be a fine matter, were I to find no room left for\nplacing all this.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. You are much more likely to lose your stuff. As for\nplacing it, you can be at ease, for there will be room enough as long as\na month hence.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Why?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. I know these folk; a decree is soon passed, but it is not\nso easily attended to.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. All will contribute their property, my friend.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. But what if they don't?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. But there is no doubt that they will.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. But _anyhow_, what if they don't?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. We shall compel them to do so.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. And what if they prove the stronger?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. I shall leave my goods and go off.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. And what if they sell them for you?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. The plague take you!\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. And if it does?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. 'Twill be a good riddance.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. You are bent on contributing then?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. 'Pon my soul, yes! Look, there are all my neighbours\ncarrying in all they have.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Ha, ha! 'Tis no doubt Antisthenes.[708] He's a fellow who\nwould rather sit on his pot for thirty days than not!\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. The pest seize you!\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. And perhaps Callimachus[709] is going to take in more\nmoney than Callias owns? That man want to ruin himself!\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. How you weary me!\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Ah! I weary you! But, wretch, see what comes of decrees\nof this kind. Don't you remember the one reducing the price of salt, eh?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Why, certainly I do.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. And do you remember that about the copper coinage?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Ah! that cursed money did me enough harm. I had sold my\ngrapes and had my mouth stuffed with pieces of copper;[710] indeed I was\ngoing to the market to buy flour, and was in the act of holding out my\nbag wide open, when the herald started shouting, \"Let none in future\naccept pieces of copper; those of silver are alone current.\"\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. And quite lately, were we not all swearing that the\nimpost of one-fortieth, which Euripides[711] had conceived, would bring\nfive talents to the State, and everyone was vaunting Euripides to the\nskies? But when the thing was looked at closely, it was seen that this\nfine decree was mere moonshine and would produce nothing, and you would\nhave willingly burnt this very same Euripides alive.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. The cases are quite different, my good fellow. We were the\nrulers then, but now 'tis the women.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Whom, by Posidon, I will never allow to piss on my nose.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. I don't know what the devil you're chattering about.\nSlave, pick up that bundle.\n\nHERALD. Let all citizens come, let them hasten at our leader's bidding!\n'Tis the new law. The lot will teach each citizen where he is to dine;\nthe tables are already laid and loaded with the most exquisite dishes;\nthe couches are covered with the softest of cushions; the wine and water\nis already being mixed in the ewers; the slaves are standing in a row and\nwaiting to pour scent over the guests; the fish is being grilled, the\nhares are on the spit and the cakes are being kneaded, chaplets are being\nplaited and the fritters are frying; the youngest women are watching the\npea-soup in the saucepans, and in the midst of them all stands\nSmaeus,[712] dressed as a knight, washing the crockery. And Geres[713]\nhas come, dressed in a grand tunic and finely shod; he is joking with\nanother young fellow and has already divested himself of his heavy shoes\nand his cloak.[714] The pantryman is waiting, so come and use your jaws.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Aye, I'll go. Why should I delay, since the Republic\ncommands me?\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. And where are you going to, since you have not deposited\nyour belongings?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. To the feast.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. If the women have any wits, they will first insist on your\ndepositing your goods.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. But I am going to deposit them.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. When?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. I am not the man to make delays.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. How do you mean?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. There will be many less eager than I.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. In the meantime you are going to dine.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. What else should I do? Every sensible man must give his\nhelp to the State.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. But if admission is forbidden you?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. I shall duck my head and slip in.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. And if the women have you beaten?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. I shall summon them.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. And if they laugh you in the face?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. I shall stand near the door ...\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. And then?\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. ... and seize upon the dishes as they pass.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. Then go there, but after me. Sicon and Parmeno,[715] pick\nup all the baggage.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Come, I will help you carry it.\n\nFIRST CITIZEN. No, no, I should be afraid of your pretending to the\nleader that what I am depositing belonged to you.\n\nSECOND CITIZEN. Let me see! let me think of some good trick by which I\ncan keep my goods and yet take my share of the common feast. Ha! that's a\ngood notion! Quick! I'll go and dine, ha, ha! [_Exit laughing_.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. How is this? no men are coming? And yet it must be fully\ntime! 'Tis then for naught that I have painted myself with white lead,\ndressed myself in my beautiful yellow robe, and that I am here,\nfrolicking and humming between my teeth to attract some passer-by! Oh,\nMuses, alight upon my lips, inspire me with some soft Ionian love-song!\n\nA YOUNG GIRL. You rotten old thing, you have placed yourself at the\nwindow before me. You were expecting to strip my vines during my absence\nand to trap some man in your snares with your songs. If you sing, I shall\nfollow suit; all this singing will weary the spectators, but is\nnevertheless very pleasant and very diverting.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Ha! here is an old man; take him and lead him away. As\nfor you, you young flute-player, let us hear some airs that are worthy of\nyou and me. Let him who wishes to taste pleasure come to my side. These\nyoung things know nothing about it; 'tis only the women of ripe age who\nunderstand the art of love, and no one could know how to fondle the lover\nwho possessed me so well as myself; the young girls are all flightiness.\n\nYOUNG GIRL. Don't be jealous of the young girls; voluptuousness resides\nin the pure outline of their beautiful limbs and blossoms on their\nrounded bosoms; but you, old woman, you who are tricked out and perfumed\nas if for your own funeral, are an object of love only for grim Death\nhimself.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. May your hole be stopped; may you be unable to find your\ncouch when you want to be fucked. And on your couch, when your lips seek\na lover, may you embrace only a viper!\n\nYOUNG GIRL. Alas! alas! what is to become of me? There is no lover! I am\nleft here alone; my mother has gone out and the rest care little for me.\nOh! my dear nurse, I adjure you to call Orthagoras, and may heaven bless\nyou.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Ah! poor child, desire is consuming you like an Ionian\nwoman; I think you are no stranger to the wanton arts of the Lesbian\nwomen, but you shall not rob me of my pleasures; you will not be able to\nreduce or filch the time that first belongs to me, for your own gain.\nSing as much as you please, peep out like a cat lying in wait, but none\nshall pass through your door without first having been to see me.\n\nYOUNG GIRL. If anyone enter your house, 'twill be to carry out your\ncorpse.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. That's new to me.\n\nYOUNG GIRL. What! you rotten wretch, can anything be new to an old hag\nlike you?\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. My old age will not harm you.\n\nYOUNG GIRL. Ah! shame on your painted cheeks!\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Why do you speak to me at all?\n\nYOUNG GIRL. And why do you place yourself at the window?\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. I am singing to myself about my lover, Epigenes.\n\nYOUNG GIRL. Can you have any other lover than that old fop Geres?\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Epigenes will show you that himself, for he is coming to\nme. See, here he is.\n\nYOUNG GIRL. He's not thinking of you in the least, you old witch.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Aye, but he is, you little pest.\n\nYOUNG GIRL. Let's see what he will do. I will leave my window.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. And I likewise. You will see I am not far wrong.\n\nA YOUNG MAN. Ah! could I but sleep with the young girl without first\nsatisfying the old flat-nose! 'Tis intolerable for a free-born man.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Willy nilly, you must first gratify my desire. There\nshall be no nonsense about that, for my authority is the law and the law\nmust be obeyed in a democracy. But come, let me hide, to see what he's\ngoing to do.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Ah! ye gods, if I were to find the sweet child alone! for the\nwine has fired my lust.\n\nYOUNG GIRL. I have tricked that cursed old wretch; she has left her\nwindow, thinking I would stay at home.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Ah! here is the lover we were talking of. This way, my\nlove, this way, come here and haste to rest the whole night in my arms. I\nworship your lovely curly hair; I am consumed with ardent desire. Oh!\nEros, in thy mercy, compel him to my bed.\n\nYOUNG MAN (_standing beneath the young girl's window and singing_).[716]\nCome down and haste to open the door unless you want to see me fall dead\nwith desire. Dearest treasure, I am burning to yield myself to most\nvoluptuous sport, lying on your bosom, to let my hands play with your\nbuttocks. Aphrodit\u00e9, why dost thou fire me with such delight in her? Oh!\nEros, I beseech thee, have mercy and make her share my couch. Words\ncannot express the tortures I am suffering. Oh! my adored one, I adjure\nyou, open your door for me and press me to your heart; 'tis for you that\nI am suffering. Oh! my jewel, my idol, you child of Aphrodit\u00e9, the\nconfidante of the Muses, the sister of the Graces, you living picture of\nVoluptuousness, oh! open for me, press me to your heart, 'tis for you\nthat I am suffering.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Are you knocking? Is it I you seek?\n\nYOUNG MAN. What an idea!\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. But you were tapping at the door.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Death would be sweeter.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Why do you come with that torch in your hand?\n\nYOUNG MAN. I am looking for a man from Anaphlystia.[717]\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. What's his name?\n\nYOUNG MAN. Oh! 'tis not Sebinus,[718] whom no doubt you are expecting.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. By Aphrodit\u00e9, you _must_, whether you like it or not.\n\nYOUNG MAN. We are not now concerned with cases dated sixty years back;\nthey are remanded for a later day; we are dealing only with those of less\nthan twenty.[719]\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. That was under the old order of things, sweetheart, but\nnow you must first busy yourself with us.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Aye, _if I want to_, according to the rules of draughts, where\nwe may either take or leave.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. But 'tis not according to the rules of draughts that you\ntake your seat at the banquet.[720]\n\nYOUNG MAN. I don't know what you mean; 'tis at this door I want to knock.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Not before knocking at mine first.\n\nYOUNG MAN. For the moment I really have no need for old leather.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. I know that you love me; perhaps you are surprised to\nfind me at the door. But come, let me kiss you.\n\nYOUNG MAN. No, no, my dear, I am afraid of your lover.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Of whom?\n\nYOUNG MAN. The most gifted of painters.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Why, whom do you mean to speak of?\n\nYOUNG MAN. The artist who paints the little bottles on coffins.[721] But\nget you indoors, lest he should find you at the door.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. I know what you want.\n\nYOUNG MAN. I can say as much of you.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. By Aphrodit\u00e9, who has granted me this good chance, I\nwon't let you go.\n\nYOUNG MAN. You are drivelling, you little old hag.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Rubbish! I am going to lead you to my couch.\n\nYOUNG MAN. What need for buying hooks? I will let her down to the bottom\nof the well and pull up the buckets with her old carcase, for she's\ncrooked enough for that.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. A truce to your jeering, poor boy, and follow me.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Nothing compels me to do so, unless you have paid the levy of\nfive hundredths for me.[722]\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Look, by Aphrodit\u00e9, there is nothing that delights me as\nmuch as sleeping with a lad of your years.\n\nYOUNG MAN. And I abhor such as you, and I will never, never consent.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. But, by Zeus, here is something will force you to it.\n\nYOUNG MAN. What's that?\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. A decree, which orders you to enter my house.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Read it out then, and let's hear.\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Listen. \"The women have decreed, that if a young man\ndesires a young girl, he can only possess her after having satisfied an\nold woman; and if he refuses and goes to seek the maiden, the old women\nare authorized to seize him by his privates and so drag him in.\"\n\nYOUNG MAN. Alas! I shall become a Procrustes.[723]\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Obey the law.\n\nYOUNG MAN. But if a fellow-citizen, a friend, came to pay my ransom?\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. No man may dispose of anything above a medimnus.[724]\n\nYOUNG MAN. But may I not enter an excuse?\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. There's no evasion.\n\nYOUNG MAN. I shall declare myself a merchant and so escape service.[725]\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Beware what you do!\n\nYOUNG MAN. Well! what is to be done?\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Follow me.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Is it absolutely necessary?\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Yes, as surely as if Diomedes had commanded it.[726]\n\nYOUNG MAN. Well then, first spread out a layer of origanum[727] upon four\npieces of wood; bind fillets round your head, bring phials of scent and\nplace a bowl filled with lustral water before your door.[728]\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Will you buy a chaplet for me too?\n\nYOUNG MAN. Aye, if you outlast the tapers; for I expect to see you fall\ndown dead as you go in.\n\nYOUNG GIRL. Where are you dragging this unfortunate man to?\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. 'Tis my very own property that I am leading in.\n\nYOUNG GIRL. You do ill. A young fellow like him is not of the age to suit\nyou. You ought to be his mother rather than his wife. With these laws in\nforce, the earth will be filled with Oedipuses.[729]\n\nFIRST OLD WOMAN. Oh! you cursed pest! 'tis envy that makes you say this;\nbut I will be revenged.\n\nYOUNG MAN. By Zeus the Deliverer, what a service you have done me, by\nfreeing me of this old wretch! with what ardour I will show you my\ngratitude in a form both long and thick!\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. Hi! you there! where are you taking that young man to,\nin spite of the law? The decree ordains that he must first sleep with me.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Oh! what a misfortune! Where does _this_ hag come from? 'Tis a\nmore frightful monster than the other even.\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. Come here.\n\nYOUNG MAN (_to the young girl_). Oh! I adjure you, don't let me be led\noff by her!\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. 'Tis not I; 'tis the law that leads you off.\n\nYOUNG MAN. No, 'tis not the law, but an Empusa[730] with a body covered\nwith blemishes and blotches.\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. Follow me, my handsome little friend, come along quick\nwithout any more ado.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Oh! let me first do the needful, so that I may gather my wits\nsomewhat. Else I should be so terrified that you would see me letting out\nsomething yellow.\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. Never mind! you can stool, if you want, in my house.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Oh! I fear doing more than I want to; but I offer you two good\nsecurities.\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. I don't require them.\n\nTHIRD OLD WOMAN. Hi! friend, where are you off to with that woman?\n\nYOUNG MAN. I am not going with her, but am being dragged by force. Oh!\nwhoever you are, may heaven bless you for having had pity on me in my\ndire misfortune. (_Turns round and sees the Third Old Woman._) Oh\nHeracles! oh Heracles! oh Pan! Oh ye Corybantes! oh ye Dioscuri! Why, she\nis still more awful! Oh! what a monster! great gods! Are you an ape\nplastered with white lead, or the ghost of some old hag returned from the\ndark borderlands of death?\n\nTHIRD OLD WOMAN. No jesting! Follow me.\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. No, come this way.\n\nTHIRD OLD WOMAN. I will never let you go.\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. Nor will I.\n\nYOUNG MAN. But you will rend me asunder, you cursed wretches.\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. 'Tis I he must go with according to the law.\n\nTHIRD OLD WOMAN. Not if an uglier old woman than yourself appears.\n\nYOUNG MAN. But if you kill me at the outset, how shall I afterwards go to\nfind this beautiful girl of mine?\n\nTHIRD OLD WOMAN. That's your business. But begin by obeying.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Of which one must I rid myself first?\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. Don't you know? Come here.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Then let the other one release me.\n\nTHIRD OLD WOMAN. Come to my house.\n\nYOUNG MAN. If this dame will let me go.\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. No, by all the gods, I'll not let you go.\n\nTHIRD OLD WOMAN. Nor will I.\n\nYOUNG MAN. You would make very bad boatwomen.\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. Why?\n\nYOUNG MAN. Because you would tear your passengers to pieces in dragging\nthem on board.\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. Then come along, do, and hold your tongue.\n\nTHIRD OLD WOMAN. No, by Zeus, come with me.\n\nYOUNG MAN. 'Tis clearly a case of the decree of Cannonus;[731] I must cut\nmyself in two in order to fuck you both. But how am I to work two oars at\nonce?\n\nSECOND OLD WOMAN. Easily enough; you have only to eat a full pot of\nonions.[732]\n\nYOUNG MAN. Oh! great gods! here I am close to the door and being dragged\nin!\n\nTHIRD OLD WOMAN (_to Second Old Woman_). You will gain nothing by this,\nfor I shall rush into your house with you.\n\nYOUNG MAN. Oh, no! no! 'twould be better to suffer a single misfortune\nthan two.\n\nTHIRD OLD WOMAN. Ah! by Hecat\u00e9, 'twill be all the same whether you wish\nit or not.\n\nYOUNG MAN. What a fate is mine, that I must gratify such a stinking\nharridan the whole night through and all day; then, when I am rid of her,\nI have still to tackle a hag of brick-colour hue! Am I not truly\nunfortunate? Ah! by Zeus the Deliverer! under what fatal star must I have\nbeen born, that I must sail in company with such monsters! But if my bark\nsinks in the sewer of these strumpets, may I be buried at the very\nthreshold of the door; let this hag be stood upright on my grave, let her\nbe coated alive with pitch and her legs covered with molten lead up to\nthe ankles, and let her be set alight as a funeral lamp.\n\nA SERVANT-MAID TO PRAXAGORA (_she comes from the banquet_). What\nhappiness is the people's! what joy is mine, and above all that of my\nmistress! Happy are ye, who form choruses before our house! Happy all ye,\nboth neighbours and fellow-citizens! Happy am I myself! I am but a\nservant, and yet I have poured on my hair the most exquisite essences.\nLet thanks be rendered to thee, oh, Zeus! But a still more delicious\naroma is that of the wine of Thasos; its sweet bouquet delights the\ndrinker for a long enough, whereas the others lose their bloom and vanish\nquickly. Therefore, long life to the wine-jars of Thasos! Pour yourselves\nout unmixed wine, it will cheer you the whole night through, if you\nchoose the liquor that possesses most fragrance. But tell me, friends,\nwhere is my mistress's husband?\n\nCHORUS. Wait for him here; he will no doubt pass this way.\n\nMAID-SERVANT. Ah! there he is just going to dinner. Oh! master! what joy!\nwhat blessedness is yours!\n\nBLEPYRUS. Ah! d'you think so?\n\nMAID-SERVANT. None can compare his happiness to yours; you have reached\nits utmost height, you who, alone out of thirty thousand citizens, have\nnot yet dined.\n\nCHORUS Aye, here is undoubtedly a truly happy man.\n\nMAID-SERVANT. Where are you off to?\n\nBLEPYRUS. I am going to dine.\n\nMAID-SERVANT. By Aphrodit\u00e9, you will be the last of all, far and away the\nlast. Yet my mistress has bidden me take you and take with you these\nyoung girls. Some Chian wine is left and lots of other good things.\nTherefore hurry, and invite likewise all the spectators whom we have\npleased, and such of the judges as are not against us, to follow us; we\nwill offer them everything they can desire. Let our hospitality be large\nand generous; forget no one, neither old nor young men, nor children.\nDinner is ready for them all; they have but to go ... home.[733]\n\nCHORUS. I am betaking myself to the banquet with this torch in my hand\naccording to custom. But why do you tarry, Blepyrus? Take these young\ngirls with you and, while you are away a while, I will whet my appetite\nwith some dining-song. I have but a few words to say: let the wise judge\nme because of whatever is wise in this piece, and those who like a laugh\nby whatever has made them laugh. In this way I address pretty well\neveryone. If the lot has assigned my comedy to be played first of all,\ndon't let that be a disadvantage to me; engrave in your memory all that\nshall have pleased you in it and judge the competitors equitably as you\nhave bound yourselves by oath to do. Don't act like vile courtesans, who\nnever remember any but their last lover. It is time, friends, high time\nto go to the banquet, if we want to have our share of it. Open your ranks\nand let the Cretan rhythms regulate your dances.[734]\n\nSEMI-CHORUS. Ready; we are ready!\n\nCHORUS. And you others, let your light steps too keep time. Very soon\nwill be served a very fine menu[*]--oysters-saltfish-skate-sharks'-heads\nleft-over-vinegar-dressing-laserpitium-leek-with-honey-sauce-thrush\nblackbird-pigeon-dove-roast-cock's-brains-wagtail-cushat-hare-stewed\nin-new-wine-gristle-of-veal-pullet's-wings.[735] Come, quick, seize\nhold of a plate, snatch up a cup, and let's run to secure a place at\ntable. The rest will have their jaws at work by this time.\n\n[* Transcriber's note: In the original, all following words until 'wings'\nare connected with hyphens, i.e. they form _one_ word.]\n\nSEMI-CHORUS. Let up leap and dance, Io! evo\u00eb! Let us to dinner, Io! evo\u00eb.\nFor victory is ours, victory is ours! Ho! Victory! Io! evo\u00eb!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFINIS OF \"THE ECCLESIAZUSAE\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFootnotes:\n\n[648] A parody of the pompous addresses to inanimate objects so frequent\nin the prologues and monodies of Euripides.\n\n[649] A festival which was kept in Athens in the month of scirophorion\n(June), whence its name; the statues of Athen\u00e9, Demeter, Persephon\u00e9,\nApollo and Posidon were borne through the city with great pomp with\nbanners or canopies ([Greek: skira]) over them.\n\n[650] Unknown.\n\n[651] So as to get sunburnt and thus have a more manly appearance.\n\n[652] A demagogue, well known on account of his long flowing beard; he\nwas nicknamed by his fellow-citizens [Greek: Sakesphoros] that is,\nshield-bearer, because his beard came down to his waist and covered his\nbody like a shield.\n\n[653] Unknown.\n\n[654] Whereas the arms must be extended to do carding, and folk could not\nfail to recognize her as a woman by their shape.\n\n[655] Agyrrhius was an Athenian general, who commanded at Lesbos; he was\neffeminate and of depraved habits. No doubt he had let his beard grow to\nimpose on the masses and to lend himself that dignity which he was\nnaturally wanting in.--Pronomus was a flute-player, who had a fine beard.\n\n[656] Young pigs were sacrificed at the beginning of the sittings; here\nthe comic writer substitutes a cat for the pig, perhaps because of its\nlasciviousness.\n\n[657] A pathic; Aristophanes classes him with the women, because of his\neffeminacy.\n\n[658] The orators wore green chaplets, generally of olive leaves; guests\nalso wore them at feasts, but then flowers were mingled with the leaves.\n\n[659] An allusion to the rapacity of the orators, who only meddled in\npolitical discussions with the object of getting some personal gain\nthrough their influence; also to the fondness for strong drink we find\nattributed in so many passages to the Athenian women.\n\n[660] A sort of cistern dug in the ground, in which the ancients kept\ntheir wine.\n\n[661] This was a form of oath that women made use of; hence it is barred\nby Praxagora.\n\n[662] Another pathic, like Ariphrades, mentioned above.\n\n[663] Before the time of Pericles, when manners had not yet become\ncorrupt, the fame of each citizen was based on fact; worthy men were\nhonoured, and those who resembled Agyrrhius, already mentioned, were\ndetested. For this general, see note a little above.\n\n[664] The alliance with Corinth, Boeotia and Argolis against Sparta in\n393 B.C.\n\n[665] Conon, who went to Asia Minor and was thrown into prison at Sardis\nby the Persian Satrap.\n\n[666] An Argive to whom Conon entrusted the command of his fleet when he\nwent to the court of the King of Persia.--In this passage the poet is\nwarning his fellow-citizens not to alienate the goodwill of the allies by\ntheir disdain, but to know how to honour those among them who had\ndistinguished themselves by their talents.\n\n[667] The Lacedaemonians, after having recalled their king, Agesilas, who\ngained the victory of Coronea, were themselves beaten at sea off Cnidus\nby Conon and Pharnabazus. 'Twas no doubt this victory which gave a _spark\nof hope_ to the Athenians, who had suffered so cruelly during so many\nyears; but Aristophanes declares that, in order to profit by this return\nof fortune, they must recall Thrasybulus, the deliverer of Athens in 401\nB.C. He was then ostensibly employed in getting the islands of the Aegean\nsea and the towns of the Asiatic coast to return under the Athenian\npower, but this was really only an honourable excuse for thrusting him\naside for reasons of jealousy.\n\n[668] Unknown.\n\n[669] During the earlier years of the Peloponnesian war, when the annual\ninvasion of Attica by the Lacedaemonians drove the country population\ninto the city.\n\n[670] A demagogue, otherwise unknown.\n\n[671] Cephalus' father was said to have been a tinker.\n\n[672] The comic poets accused him of being an alien by birth and also an\ninformer and a rogue. See the 'Plutus.'\n\n[673] There was a Greek saying, \"_Look into the backside of a dog and of\nthree foxes_\" which, says the Scholiast, used to be addressed to those\nwho had bad eyes. But the precise point of the joke here is difficult to\nsee.\n\n[674] An obscene allusion; [Greek: hupokrouein] means both _pulsare_ and\n_subagitare_,--to strike, and also to move to the man in sexual\nintercourse.\n\n[675] In order to vote.\n\n[676] The Chorus addresses the leaders amongst the women by the names of\nmen. Charitimides was commander of the Athenian navy.\n\n[677] The countryfolk affected to despise the townspeople, whom they\ndubbed idle and lazy.\n\n[678] The fee of the citizens who attended the Assembly had varied like\nthat of the dicasts, or jurymen.\n\n[679] An Athenian general, who gained brilliant victories over the\nThebans during the period prior to the Peloponnesian war.\n\n[680] A dithyrambic poet, and notorious for his dissoluteness; he was\naccused of having daubed the statues of Hecate at the Athenian\ncross-roads with ordure.\n\n[681] The women wore yellow tunics, called [Greek: krok_otoi], because of\ntheir colour.\n\n[682] This Thrasybulus, not to be confounded with the more famous\nThrasybulus, restorer of the Athenian democracy, in 403 B.C., had\nundertaken to speak against the Spartans, who had come with proposals of\npeace, but afterwards excused himself, pretending to be labouring under a\nsore throat, brought on by eating wild pears (B.C. 393). The Athenians\nsuspected him of having been bribed by the Spartans.\n\n[683] A coined word, derived from [Greek: _achras_], a wild pear.\n\n[684] Amynon was not a physician, according to the Scholiast, but one of\nthose orators called [Greek: europr_oktoi] (_laticuli_) 'wide-arsed,'\nbecause addicted to habits of pathic vice, and was invoked by Blepyrus\nfor that reason.\n\n[685] A doctor notorious for his dissolute life.\n\n[686] The Grecian goddess who presided over child-birth.\n\n[687] He is afraid lest some comic poet should surprise him in his\nridiculous position and might cause a laugh at his expense upon the\nstage.\n\n[688] In accordance with a quaint Athenian custom a rope daubed with\nvermilion was drawn across from end to end of the Agora (market-place) by\nofficials of the city at the last moment before the Ecclesia, or Public\nAssembly, was to meet. Any citizen trying to evade his duty to be present\nwas liable to have his white robe streaked red, and so be exposed to\ngeneral ridicule on finally putting in an appearance on the Pnyx.\n\n[689] A parody on a verse in 'The Myrmidons' of Aeschylus.--Antilochus\nwas the son of Nestor; he was killed by Memnon, when defending his\nfather.\n\n[690] See above.\n\n[691] He was very poor, and his cloak was such a mass of holes that one\nmight doubt his having one at all. This surname, Evaeon ([Greek: eu\nai_on], delicious life) had doubtless been given him on the 'lucus a non'\nprinciple because of his wretchedness.\n\n[692] Apparently a wealthy corn-factor.\n\n[693] Presumably this refers to the grandson of Nicias, the leader of the\nexpedition to Sicily; he must have been sixteen or seventeen years old\nabout that time, since, according to Lysias, Niceratus, the son of the\ngreat Nicias, was killed in 405 B.C. and had left a son of tender age\nbehind him, who bore the name of his grandfather.\n\n[694] That is, the pale-faced folk in the Assembly already referred\nto--really the women there present surreptitiously.\n\n[695] To eat cuttle-fish was synonymous with enjoying the highest\nfelicity.\n\n[696] A common vulgar saying, used among the Athenians, as much as to\nsay, _To the devil with interruptions!_\n\n[697] This stood in the centre of the market-place.\n\n[698] It was the custom at Athens to draw lots to decide in which Court\neach dicast should serve; Praxagora proposes to apply the same system to\ndecide the dining station for each citizen.\n\n[699] In Greek [Greek: h_e basileius]([Greek: stoa], understood), the\nfirst letter a [Greek: b_eta.]\n\n[700] Commencing with a [Greek: Th_eta].\n\n[701] [Greek: Ha alphitop_olis stoa]; why [Greek: kappa], it is hard to\nsay; from some popular nickname probably, which is unknown to us.\n\n[702] The pun cannot be kept in English; it is between [Greek: kaptein],\nto gobble, to cram oneself, and [Greek: kappa], the designating letter.\n\n[703] That is, one of the beautiful maidens selected to bear the baskets\ncontaining the sacred implements in procession at the Festival of\nDemeter, Bacchus and Athen\u00e9.\n\n[704] The slave-girl who attended each Canephoros, and sheltered her from\nthe sun's rays.\n\n[705] Mentioned a little above for his ugliness; the Scholiast says he\nwas a general.\n\n[706] Hydriaphoros; the wives of resident aliens ([Greek: metoikoi]) were\nallowed to take part in these processions, but in a subordinate position;\nthey carried vessels full of water for the service of the sacrifice.\n\n[707] Scaphephoros, bearer of the vases containing the honey required for\nthe sacrifices. The office was assigned to the [Greek: metoikoi] as a\nrecognition of their semi-citizenship.\n\n[708] A miser, who, moreover, was obstinately constipated.\n\n[709] Presumably a man in extreme poverty.\n\n[710] The ancients carried small coins in their mouth; this custom still\nobtains to-day in the East.\n\n[711] This Euripides was the son of the tragic poet.\n\n[712] This Smaeus was a notorious debauchee; the phrase contains obscene\nallusions, implying that he was ready both to ride a woman or to lick her\nprivates--[Greek: kel_etizein] or [Greek: lesbiazein].\n\n[713] Geres, an old fop, who wanted to pass as a young man.\n\n[714] According to Greek custom, these were left at the entrance of the\nbanqueting-hall.\n\n[715] The names of his slaves.\n\n[716] A specimen of the _serenades_ ([Greek: paraklausithura]) of the\nGreeks.\n\n[717] An Attic deme. There is an obscene jest here; the word [Greek:\nanaphlan] means to masturbate.\n\n[718] [Greek: Ton Sebinon], a coined name, representing [Greek: ton se\nbinounta], 'the man who is to tread you.'\n\n[719] The passage is written in the language of the Bar. It is an\nallusion to the slowness of justice at Athens.\n\n[720] i.e. the new law must be conformed to all round.\n\n[721] It was customary to paint phials or little bottles on the coffins\nof the poor; these emblems took the place of the perfumes that were\nsprinkled on the bodies of the rich.\n\n[722] i.e. unless I am your slave; no doubt this tax of five hundredths\nwas paid by the master on the assumed value of his slave.--We have,\nhowever, no historical data to confirm this.\n\n[723] Nickname of the notorious brigand. The word means 'one who\nstretches and tortures,' from [Greek: prokrouein], and refers to his\nhabit of fitting all his captives to the same bedstead--the 'bed of\nProcrustes'--stretching them if too short to the required length, lopping\ntheir limbs as required if they were too long. Here a further pun is\ninvolved, [Greek: prokrouein] meaning also 'to go with a woman first.'\n\n[724] Athenian law declared it illegal for a woman to contract any debt\nexceeding the price of a _medimnus_ of corn; this law is now supposed to\naffect the men.\n\n[725] Merchants were exempt from military service; in this case, it is\nanother kind of service that the old woman wants to exact from the young\nman.\n\n[726] A Thracian brigand, who forced strangers to share his daughters'\nbed, or be devoured by his horses.\n\n[727] Dead bodies were laid out on a layer of origanum, which is an\naromatic plant.\n\n[728] The young man is here describing the formalities connected with the\nlaying out of the dead.\n\n[729] Who had married his mother Jocasta without knowing it.\n\n[730] A hideous spectre that Hecat\u00e9 was supposed to send to frighten men.\n\n[731] Which provided that where a number of criminals were charged with\nthe same offence, each must be tried separately.\n\n[732] As an aphrodisiac.\n\n[733] We have already seen similar waggish endings to phrases in the\n'Lysistrata'; the figure is called [Greek: para prosdokian]--'contrary to\nexpectation.'\n\n[734] Nothing is known as to these Cretan rhythms. According to the\nScholiast, this is a jest, because the Cretans, who were great eaters,\nsat down to table early in the morning. This is what the Chorus supposes\nit is going to do, since 'The Ecclesiazusae' was played first, i.e.\nduring the forenoon.\n\n[735] This wonderful word consists, in the original Greek, of\nseventy-seven syllables. For similar burlesque compounds see the\n'Lysistrata,' 457, 458; 'Wasps,' 505 and 520. Compare Shakespeare,\n'Love's Labour's Lost,' Act V. sc. 1: \"I marvel thy master hath not eaten\nthee for a word; for thou art not so long by the head as\n_honorificabilitudinitatibus_.\" This is outdone by Rabelais'\n_Antipericatametaanaparbeugedamphicribrationibus_.\n\n\n\n\nPLUTUS[*]\n\n\n\n\n[* Transcriber's note: This caption is missing in the original.]\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nThe 'Plutus' differs widely from all other works of its Author, and, it\nmust be confessed, is the least interesting and diverting of them all.\n\"In its absence of personal interests and personal satire,\" and its lack\nof strong comic incidents, \"it approximates rather to a whimsical\nallegory than a comedy properly so called.\"\n\nThe plot is of the simplest. Chremylus, a poor but just man, accompanied\nby his body-servant Cario--the redeeming feature, by the by, of an\notherwise dull play, the original type of the comic valet of the stage of\nall subsequent periods--consults the Delphic Oracle concerning his son,\nwhether he ought not to be instructed in injustice and knavery and the\nother arts whereby worldly men acquire riches. By way of answer the god\nonly tells him that he is to follow whomsoever he first meets upon\nleaving the temple, who proves to be a blind and ragged old man. But this\nturns out to be no other than Plutus himself, the god of riches, whom\nZeus has robbed of his eyesight, so that he may be unable henceforth to\ndistinguish between the just and the unjust. However, succoured by\nChremylus and conducted by him to the Temple of Aesculapius, Plutus\nregains the use of his eyes. Whereupon all just men, including the god's\nbenefactor, are made rich and prosperous, and the unjust reduced to\nindigence.\n\nThe play was, it seems, twice put upon the stage--first in 408 B.C., and\nagain in a revised and reinforced edition, with allusions and innuendoes\nbrought up to date, in 388 B.C., a few years before the Author's death.\nThe text we possess--marred, however, by several considerable lacunae--is\nnow generally allowed to be that of the piece as played at the later\ndate, when it won the prize.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPLUTUS\n\n\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\n\nCHREMYLUS.\nCARIO, Servant of Chremylus.\nPLUTUS, God of Riches.\nBLEPSIDEMUS, friend of Chremylus.\nWIFE OF CHREMYLUS.\nPOVERTY.\nA JUST MAN.\nAN INFORMER, or Sycophant.\nAN OLD WOMAN.\nA YOUTH.\nHERMES.\nA PRIEST OF ZEUS.\nCHORUS OF RUSTICS.\n\nSCENE: In front of a farmhouse--a road leading up to it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPLUTUS\n\n\nCARIO. What an unhappy fate, great gods, to be the slave of a fool! A\nservant may give the best of advice, but if his master does not follow\nit, the poor slave must inevitably have his share in the disaster; for\nfortune does not allow him to dispose of his own body, it belongs to his\nmaster who has bought it. Alas! 'tis the way of the world. But the god,\nApollo, whose oracles the Pythian priestess on her golden tripod makes\nknown to us, deserves my censure, for 'tis assured he is a physician and\na cunning diviner; and yet my master is leaving his temple infected with\nmere madness and insists on following a blind man. Is this not opposed to\nall good sense? 'Tis for us, who see clearly, to guide those who don't;\nwhereas he clings to the trail of a blind fellow and compels me to do the\nsame without answering my questions with ever a word. (_To Chremylus._)\nAye, master, unless you tell me why we are following this unknown fellow,\nI will not be silent, but I will worry and torment you, for you cannot\nbeat me because of my sacred chaplet of laurel.\n\nCHREMYLUS. No, but if you worry me I will take off your chaplet, and then\nyou will only get a sounder thrashing.\n\nCARIO. That's an old song! I am going to leave you no peace till you have\ntold me who this man is; and if I ask it, 'tis entirely because of my\ninterest in you.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Well, be it so. I will reveal it to you as being the most\nfaithful and the most rascally of all my servants.[736] I honoured the\ngods and did what was right, and yet I was none the less poor and\nunfortunate.\n\nCARIO. I know it but too well.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Other amassed wealth--the sacrilegious, the demagogues, the\ninformers,[737] indeed every sort of rascal.\n\nCARIO. I believe you.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Therefore I came to consult the oracle of the god, not on my\nown account, for my unfortunate life is nearing its end, but for my only\nson; I wanted to ask Apollo, if it was necessary for him to become a\nthorough knave and renounce his virtuous principles, since that seemed to\nme to be the only way to succeed in life.\n\nCARIO. And with what responding tones did the sacred tripod resound?[738]\n\nCHREMYLUS. You shall know. The god ordered me in plain terms to follow\nthe first man I should meet upon leaving the temple and to persuade him\nto accompany me home.\n\nCARIO. And who was the first one you met?\n\nCHREMYLUS. This blind man.\n\nCARIO. And you are stupid enough not to understand the meaning of such an\nanswer? Why, the god was advising you thereby, and that in the clearest\npossible way, to bring up your son according to the fashion of your\ncountry.\n\nCHREMYLUS. What makes you think that?\n\nCARIO. Is it not evident to the blind, that nowadays to do nothing that\nis right is the best way to get on?\n\nCHREMYLUS. No, that is not the meaning of the oracle; there must be\nanother, that is nobler. If this blind man would tell us who he is and\nwhy and with what object he has led us here, we should no doubt\nunderstand what our oracle really does mean.\n\nCARIO (_to Plutus_). Come, tell us at once who you are, or I give effect\nto my threat. (_He menaces him_.) And quick too, be quick, I say.\n\nPLUTUS. I'll thrash you.\n\nCARIO (_to Chremylus_). Ha! is it thus he tells us his name?\n\nCHREMYLUS. 'Tis to you and not to me that he replies thus; your mode of\nquestioning him was ill-advised. (_To Plutus._) Come, friend, if you care\nto oblige an honest man, answer me.\n\nPLUTUS. I'll knock you down.\n\nCARIO. Ah! what a pleasant fellow and what a delightful prophecy the god\nhas given you!\n\nCHREMYLUS. By Demeter, you'll have no reason to laugh presently.\n\nCARIO. If you don't speak, you wretch, I will surely do you an ill turn.\n\nPLUTUS. Friends, take yourselves off and leave me.\n\nCHREMYLUS. That we very certainly shan't.\n\nCARIO. This, master, is the best thing to do. I'll undertake to secure\nhim the most frightful death; I will lead him to the verge of a precipice\nand then leave him there, so that he'll break his neck when he pitches\nover.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Well then, I leave him to you, and do the thing quickly.\n\nPLUTUS. Oh, no! Have mercy!\n\nCHREMYLUS. Will you speak then?\n\nPLUTUS. But if you learn who I am, I know well that you will ill-use me\nand will not let me go again.\n\nCHREMYLUS. I call the gods to witness that you have naught to fear if you\nwill only speak.\n\nPLUTUS. Well then, first unhand me.\n\nCHREMYLUS. There! we set you free.\n\nPLUTUS. Listen then, since I must reveal what I had intended to keep a\nsecret. I am Plutus.[739]\n\nCHREMYLUS. Oh! you wretched rascal! You Plutus all the while, and you\nnever said so!\n\nCARIO. You, Plutus, and in this piteous guise!\n\nCHREMYLUS. Oh, Phoebus Apollo! oh, ye gods of heaven and hell! Oh, Zeus!\nis it really and truly as you say?\n\nPLUTUS. Aye.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Plutus' very own self?\n\nPLUTUS. His own very self and none other.\n\nCHREMYLUS. But tell me, whence come you to be so squalid?\n\nPLUTUS. I have just left Patrocles' house, who has not had a bath since\nhis birth.[740]\n\nCHREMYLUS. But your infirmity; how did that happen? Tell me.\n\nPLUTUS. Zeus inflicted it on me, because of his jealousy of mankind. When\nI was young, I threatened him that I would only go to the just, the wise,\nthe men of ordered life; to prevent my distinguishing these, he struck me\nwith blindness! so much does he envy the good!\n\nCHREMYLUS. And yet, 'tis only the upright and just who honour him.\n\nPLUTUS. Quite true.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Therefore, if ever you recovered your sight, you would shun\nthe wicked?\n\nPLUTUS. Undoubtedly.\n\nCHREMYLUS. You would visit the good?\n\nPLUTUS. Assuredly. It is a very long time since I saw them.\n\nCHREMYLUS. That's not astonishing. I, who see clearly, don't see a single\none.\n\nPLUTUS. Now let me leave you, for I have told you everything.\n\nCHREMYLUS. No, certainly not! we shall fasten ourselves on to you faster\nthan ever.\n\nPLUTUS. Did I not tell you, you were going to plague me?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Oh! I adjure you, believe what I say and don't leave me; for\nyou will seek in vain for a more honest man than myself.\n\nCARIO. There is only one man more worthy; and that is I.\n\nPLUTUS. All talk like this, but as soon as they secure my favours and\ngrow rich, their wickedness knows no bounds.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And yet all men are not wicked.\n\nPLUTUS. All. There's no exception.\n\nCARIO. You shall pay for that opinion.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Listen to what happiness there is in store for you, if you but\nstay with us. I have hope; aye, I have good hope with the god's help to\ndeliver you from that blindness, in fact to restore your sight.\n\nPLUTUS. Oh! do nothing of the kind, for I don't wish to recover it.\n\nCHREMYLUS. What's that you say?\n\nCARIO. This fellow hugs his own misery.\n\nPLUTUS. If you were mad enough to cure me, and Zeus heard of it, he would\noverwhelm me with his anger.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And is he not doing this now by leaving you to grope your\nwandering way?\n\nPLUTUS. I don't know; but I'm horribly afraid of him.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Indeed? Ah! you are the biggest poltroon of all the gods! Why,\nZeus with his throne and his lightnings would not be worth an obolus if\nyou recovered your sight, were it but for a few instants.\n\nPLUTUS. Impious man, don't talk like that.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Fear nothing! I will prove to you that you are far more\npowerful and mightier than he.\n\nPLUTUS. I mightier than he?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Aye, by heaven! For instance, what is the origin of the power\nthat Zeus wields over the other gods?[741]\n\nCARIO. 'Tis money; he has so much of it.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And who gives it to him?\n\nCARIO (_pointing to Plutus_). This fellow.\n\nCHREMYLUS. If sacrifices are offered to him, is not Plutus their cause?\n\nCARIO. Undoubtedly, for 'tis wealth that all demand and clamour most\nloudly for.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Thus 'tis Plutus who is the fount of all the honours rendered\nto Zeus, whose worship he can wither up at the root, if it so please him.\n\nPLUTUS. And how so?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Not an ox, nor a cake, nor indeed anything at all could be\noffered, if you did not wish it.\n\nPLUTUS. Why?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Why? but what means are there to buy anything if you are not\nthere to give the money? Hence if Zeus should cause you any trouble, you\nwill destroy his power without other help.\n\nPLUTUS. So 'tis because of me that sacrifices are offered to him?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Most assuredly. Whatever is dazzling, beautiful or charming in\nthe eyes of mankind, comes from you. Does not everything depend on\nwealth?\n\nCARIO. I myself was bought for a few coins; if I'm a slave, 'tis only\nbecause I was not rich.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And what of the Corinthian courtesans?[742] If a poor man\noffers them proposals, they do not listen; but if it be a rich one,\ninstantly they offer their buttocks for his pleasure.\n\nCARIO. 'Tis the same with the lads; they care not for love, to them money\nmeans everything.\n\nCHREMYLUS. You speak of those who accept all comers; yet some of them are\nhonest, and 'tis not money they ask of their patrons.\n\nCARIO. What then?\n\nCHREMYLUS. A fine horse, a pack of hounds.\n\nCARIO. Aye, they would blush to ask for money and cleverly disguise their\nshame.\n\nCHREMYLUS. 'Tis in you that every art, all human inventions, have had\ntheir origin; 'tis through you that one man sits cutting leather in his\nshop.\n\nCARIO. That another fashions iron or wood.\n\nCHREMYLUS. That yet another chases the gold he has received from you.\n\nCARIO. That one is a fuller.\n\nCHREMYLUS. That t'other washes wool.\n\nCARIO. That this one is a tanner.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And that other sells onions.\n\nCARIO. And if the adulterer, caught red-handed, is depilated,[743] 'tis\non account of you.[744]\n\nPLUTUS. Oh! great gods! I knew naught of all this!\n\nCARIO. Is it not he who lends the Great King all his pride?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Is it not he who draws the citizens to the Assembly?[745]\n\nCARIO. And tell me, is it not you who equip the triremes?[746]\n\nCHREMYLUS. And who feed our mercenaries at Corinth?[747]\n\nCARIO. Are not you the cause of Pamphilus' sufferings?[748]\n\nCHREMYLUS. And of the needle-seller's[749] with Pamphilus?\n\nCARIO. Is it not because of you that Agyrrhius[750] lets wind so loudly?\n\nCHREMYLUS. And that Philepsius[751] rolls off his fables?\n\nCARIO. That troops are sent to succour the Egyptians?[752]\n\nCHREMYLUS. And that La\u00efs is kept by Philonides?[753]\n\nCARIO. That the tower of Timotheus[754] ...\n\nCHREMYLUS. ... (_To Cario._) May it fall upon your head! (_To Plutus._)\nIn short, Plutus, 'tis through you that everything is done; be it known\nto you that you are the sole cause both of good and evil.\n\nCARIO. In war, 'tis the flag under which you serve that victory favours.\n\nPLUTUS. What! I can do so many things by myself and unaided?\n\nCHREMYLUS. And many others besides; wherefore men are never tired of your\ngifts. They get weary of all else,--of love ...\n\nCARIO. Of bread.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Of music.\n\nCARIO. Of sweetmeats.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Of honours.\n\nCARIO. Of cakes.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Of battles.\n\nCARIO. Of figs.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Of ambition.\n\nCARIO. Of gruel.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Of military advancement.\n\nCARIO. Of lentils.[755]\n\nCHREMYLUS. But of you they never tire. Has a man got thirteen talents, he\nhas all the greater ardour to possess sixteen; is that wish achieved, he\nwill want forty or will complain that he knows not how to make the two\nends meet.\n\nPLUTUS. All this, methinks, is very true; there is but one point that\nmakes me feel a bit uneasy.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And that is?\n\nPLUTUS. How could I use this power, which you say I have?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Ah! they were quite right who said, there's nothing more\ntimorous than Plutus.\n\nPLUTUS. No, no; it was a thief who calumniated me. Having broken into a\nhouse, he found everything locked up and could take nothing, so he dubbed\nmy prudence fear.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Don't be disturbed; if you support me zealously, I'll make you\nmore sharp-sighted than Lynceus.[756]\n\nPLUTUS. And how should you be able to do that, you, who are but a mortal?\n\nCHREMYLUS. I have great hope, after the answer Apollo gave me, shaking\nhis sacred laurels the while.\n\nPLUTUS. Is _he_ in the plot then?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Aye, truly.\n\nPLUTUS. Take care what you say.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Never fear, friend; for, be well assured, that if it has to\ncost me my life, I will carry out what I have in my head.\n\nCARIO. And I will help you, if you permit it.\n\nCHREMYLUS. We shall have many other helpers as well--all the worthy folk\nwho are wanting for bread.\n\nPLUTUS. Ah! ha! they'll prove sorry helpers.\n\nCHREMYLUS. No, not so, once they've grown rich. But you, Cario, run quick\n...\n\nCARIO. Where?\n\nCHREMYLUS. ... to call my comrades, the other husbandmen, that each of\nthem may come here to take his share of the gifts of Plutus.\n\nCARIO. I'm off. But let someone come from the house to take this morsel\nof meat.[757]\n\nCHREMYLUS. I'll see to that; you run your hardest. As for you, Plutus,\nthe most excellent of all the gods, come in here with me; this is the\nhouse you must fill with riches today, by fair means or foul.[758]\n\nPLUTUS. I don't like at all going into other folks' houses in this\nmanner; I have never got any good from it. If I got inside a miser's\nhouse, straightway he would bury me deep underground; if some honest\nfellow among his friends came to ask him for the smallest coin, he would\ndeny ever having seen me. Then if I went to a fool's house, he would\nsacrifice me as a prey to gaming and to girls, and very soon I should be\ncompletely stripped and pitched out of doors.\n\nCHREMYLUS. That's because you have never met a man who knew how to avoid\nthe two extremes; moderation is the strong point in my character. I love\nsaving as much as anybody, and I know how to spend, when 'tis needed. But\nlet us go in; I want to make you known to my wife and to my only son,\nwhom I love most of all after yourself.\n\nPLUTUS. Aye, after myself, I'm very sure of that.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Why should I hide the truth from you?\n\nCARIO. Come, you active workers, who, like my master, eat nothing but\ngarlic and the poorest food, you who are his friends and his neighbours,\nhasten your steps, hurry yourselves; there's not a moment to lose; this\nis the critical hour, when your presence and your support is needed by\nhim.\n\nCHORUS. Why, don't you see we are speeding as fast as men can, who are\nalready enfeebled by age? But do you deem it fitting to make us run like\nthis before ever telling us why your master has called us?\n\nCARIO. I've grown hoarse with the telling, but you won't listen. My\nmaster is going to drag you all out of the stupid, sapless life you are\nleading and ensure you one full of all delights.\n\nCHORUS. And how is he going to manage that?\n\nCARIO. My poor friends, he has brought with him a disgusting old fellow,\nall bent and wrinkled, with a most pitiful appearance, bald and\ntoothless; upon my word, I even believe he is circumcised like some vile\nbarbarian.\n\nCHORUS. These are news worth their weight in gold! What are you saying?\nRepeat it to me; no doubt it means he is bringing back a heap of wealth.\n\nCARIO. No, but a heap of all the infirmities attendant on old age.\n\nCHORUS. If you are tricking us, you shall pay us for it. Beware of our\nsticks!\n\nCARIO. Do you deem me so brazen as all that, and my words mere lies?\n\nCHORUS. What serious airs the rascal puts on! Look! his legs are already\nshrieking, \"oh! oh!\" they are asking for the shackles and wedges.\n\nCARIO. 'Tis in the tomb that 'tis your lot to judge. Why don't you go\nthere? Charon has given you your ticket.[759]\n\nCHORUS. Plague take you! you cursed rascal, who rail at us and have not\neven the heart to tell us why your master has made us come. We were\npressed for time and tired out, yet we came with all haste, and in our\nhurry we have passed by lots of wild onions without even gathering them.\n\nCARIO. I will no longer conceal the truth from you. Friends, 'tis Plutus\nwhom my master brings, Plutus, who will give you riches.\n\nCHORUS. What! we shall really all become rich!\n\nCARIO. Aye, certainly; you will then be Midases, provided you grow ass's\nears.\n\nCHORUS. What joy, what happiness! If what you tell me is true, I long to\ndance with delight.\n\nCARIO. And I too, threttanello![760] I want to imitate Cyclops and lead\nyour troop by stamping like this.[761] Do you, my dear little ones, cry,\naye, cry again and bleat forth the plaintive song of the sheep and of the\nstinking goats; follow me with erected organs like lascivious goats ready\nfor action.\n\nCHORUS. As for us, threttanello! we will seek you, dear Cyclops,\nbleating, and if we find you with your wallet full of fresh herbs, all\ndisgusting in your filth, sodden with wine and sleeping in the midst of\nyour sheep, we will seize a great flaming stake and burn out your\neye.[762]\n\nCARIO. I will copy that Circ\u00e9 of Corinth,[763] whose potent philtres\ncompelled the companions of Philonides to swallow balls of dung, which\nshe herself had kneaded with her hands, as if they were swine; and do you\ntoo grunt with joy and follow your mother, my little pigs.\n\nCHORUS. Oh! Circ\u00e9[764] with the potent philtres, who besmear your\ncompanions so filthily, what pleasure I shall have in imitating the son\nof Laertes! I will hang you up by your testicles,[765] I will rub your\nnose with dung like a goat, and like Aristyllus[766] you shall say\nthrough your half-opened lips, \"Follow your mother, my little pigs.\"\n\nCARIO. Enough of tomfoolery, assume a grave demeanour; unknown to my\nmaster I am going to take bread and meat; and when I have fed well, I\nshall resume my work.\n\nCHREMYLUS. To say, \"Hail! my dear neighbours!\" is an old form of greeting\nand well worn with use; so therefore I embrace you, because you have not\ncrept like tortoises, but have come rushing here in all haste. Now help\nme to watch carefully and closely over the god.\n\nCHORUS. Be at ease. You shall see with what martial zeal I will guard\nhim. What! we jostle each other at the Assembly for three obols, and am I\ngoing to let Plutus in person be stolen from me?\n\nCHREMYLUS. But I see Blepsidemus; by his bearing and his haste I can\nreadily see he knows or suspects something.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. What has happened then? Whence, how has Chremylus suddenly\ngrown rich? I don't believe a word of it. Nevertheless, nothing but his\nsudden fortune was being talked about in the barbers' booths. But I am\nabove all surprised that his good fortune has not made him forget his\nfriends; that is not the usual way!\n\nCHREMYLUS. By the gods, Blepsidemus, I will hide nothing from you. To-day\nthings are better than yesterday; let us share, for are you not my\nfriend?\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Have you really grown rich as they say?\n\nCHREMYLUS I shall be soon, if the god agrees to it. But there is still\nsome risk to run.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. What risk?\n\nCHREMYLUS. What risk?\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. What do you mean? Explain.\n\nCHREMYLUS. If we succeed, we are happy for ever, but if we fail, it is\nall over with us.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis a bad business, and one that doesn't please me! To grow\nrich all at once and yet to be fearful! ah! I suspect something that's\nlittle good.\n\nCHREMYLUS. What do you mean, that's little good?\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. No doubt you have just stolen some gold and silver from some\ntemple and are repenting.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Nay! heaven preserve me from that!\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. A truce to idle phrases!  the thing is only too apparent, my\nfriend.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Don't suspect such a thing of me.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Alas! then there is no honest man! not one, that can resist\nthe attraction of gold!\n\nCHREMYLUS. By Demeter, you have no common sense.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. To have to persist like this in denial one's whole life\nlong!\n\nCHREMYLUS. But, good gods, you are mad, my dear fellow!\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. His very look is distraught; he has done some crime!\n\nCHREMYLUS. Ah! I know the tune you are playing now; you think I have\nstolen, and want your share.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. My share of what, pray?\n\nCHREMYLUS. You are beside the mark; the thing is quite otherwise.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis perhaps not a theft, but some piece of knavery!\n\nCHREMYLUS. You are insane!\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. What? You have done no man an injury?\n\nCHREMYLUS. No! assuredly not!\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. But, great gods, what am I to think? You won't tell me the\ntruth.\n\nCHREMYLUS. You accuse me without really knowing anything.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Listen, friend, no doubt the matter can yet be hushed up,\nbefore it gets noised abroad, at trifling expense; I will buy the\norators' silence.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Aye, you will lay out three minae and, as my friend, you will\nreckon twelve against me.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. I know someone who will come and seat himself at the foot of\nthe tribunal, holding a supplicant's bough in his hand and surrounded by\nhis wife and children, for all the world like the Heraclidae of\nPamphilus.[767]\n\nCHREMYLUS. Not at all, poor fool! But, thanks to me, worthy folk,\nintelligent and moderate men alone shall be rich henceforth.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. What are you saying? Have you then stolen so much as all\nthat?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Oh! your insults will be the death of me.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis rather you yourself who are courting death.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Not so, you wretch, since I have Plutus.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. You have Plutus? Which one?\n\nCHREMYLUS. The god himself.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. And where is he?\n\nCHREMYLUS. There.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Where?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Indoors.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Indoors?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Aye, certainly.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Get you gone! Plutus in your house?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Yes, by the gods!\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Are you telling me the truth?\n\nCHREMYLUS. I am.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Swear it by Hestia.\n\nCHREMYLUS. I swear it by Posidon.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. The god of the sea?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Aye, and by all the other Posidons, if such there be.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. And you don't send him to us, to your friends?\n\nCHREMYLUS. We've not got to that point yet.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. What do you say? Is there no chance of sharing?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Why, no. We must first ...\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Do what?\n\nCHREMYLUS. ... restore him his sight.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Restore whom his sight? Speak!\n\nCHREMYLUS. Plutus. It must be done, no matter how.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Is he then really blind?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Yes, undoubtedly.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. I am no longer surprised he never came to me.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And it please the gods, he'll come there now.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Must we not go and seek a physician?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Seek physicians at Athens? Nay! there's no art where there's\nno fee.[768]\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Let's bethink ourselves well.\n\nCHREMYLUS. There is not one.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis a positive fact, I don't know of one.\n\nCHREMYLUS. But I have thought the matter well over, and the best thing is\nto make Plutus lie in the Temple of Aesculapius.[769]\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Aye, unquestionably 'tis the very best thing. Be quick and\nlead him away to the Temple.\n\nCHREMYLUS. I am going there.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Then hurry yourself.\n\nCHREMYLUS. 'Tis just what I am doing.\n\nPOVERTY. Unwise, perverse, unholy men! What are you daring to do, you\npitiful, wretched mortals? Whither are you flying? Stop! I command it!\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! great gods!\n\nPOVERTY. My arm shall destroy you, you infamous beings! Such an attempt\nis not to be borne; neither man nor god has ever dared the like. You\nshall die!\n\nCHREMYLUS. And who are you?  Oh! what a ghastly pallor!\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis perchance some Erinnys, some Fury, from the\ntheatre;[770] there's a kind of wild tragedy look in her eyes.\n\nCHREMYLUS. But she has no torch.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Let's knock her down!\n\nPOVERTY. Who do you think I am?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Some wine-shop keeper or egg-woman. Otherwise you would not\nhave shrieked so loud at us, who have done nothing to you.\n\nPOVERTY. Indeed? And have you not done me the most deadly injury by\nseeking to banish me from every country?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Why, have you not got the Barathrum[771] left? But who are\nyou? Answer me quickly!\n\nPOVERTY. I am one that will punish you this very day for having wanted to\nmake me disappear from here.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Might it be the tavern-keeper in my neighbourhood, who is\nalways cheating me in measure?\n\nPOVERTY. I am Poverty, who have lived with you for so many years.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! great Apollo! oh, ye gods! whither shall I fly?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Now then! what are you doing? You poltroon! Will you kindly\nstop here?\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Not I.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Will you have the goodness to stop. Are two men to fly from a\nwoman?\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. But, you wretch, 'tis Poverty, the most fearful monster that\never drew breath.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Stay where you are, I beg of you.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. No! no! a thousand times, no!\n\nCHREMYLUS. Could we do anything worse than leave the god in the lurch and\nfly before this woman without so much as ever offering to fight?\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. But what weapons have we? Are we in a condition to show\nfight? Where is the breastplate, the buckler, that this wretch has not\npledged?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Be at ease. Plutus will readily triumph over her threats\nunaided.\n\nPOVERTY. Dare you reply, you scoundrels, you who are caught red-handed at\nthe most horrible crime?\n\nCHREMYLUS. As for you, you cursed jade, you pursue me with your abuse,\nthough I have never done you the slightest harm.\n\nPOVERTY. Do you think it is doing me no harm to restore Plutus to the use\nof his eyes?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Is this doing you harm, that we shower blessings on all men?\n\nPOVERTY. And what do you think will ensure their happiness?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Ah! first of all we shall drive you out of Greece.\n\nPOVERTY. Drive me out? Could you do mankind a greater harm?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Yes--if I gave up my intention to deliver them from you.\n\nPOVERTY. Well, let us discuss this point first. I propose to show that I\nam the sole cause of all your blessings, and that your safety depends on\nme alone. If I don't succeed, then do what you like to me.\n\nCHREMYLUS. How dare you talk like this, you impudent hussy?\n\nPOVERTY. Agree to hear me and I think it will be very easy for me to\nprove that you are entirely on the wrong road, when you want to make the\njust men wealthy.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! cudgel and rope's end, come to my help!\n\nPOVERTY. Why such wrath and these shouts, before you hear my arguments?\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. But who could listen to such words without exclaiming?\n\nPOVERTY. Any man of sense.\n\nCHREMYLUS. But if you lose your case, what punishment will you submit to?\n\nPOVERTY. Choose what you will.\n\nCHREMYLUS. That's all right.\n\nPOVERTY. You shall suffer the same if you are beaten!\n\nCHREMYLUS. Do you think twenty deaths a sufficiently large stake?\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Good enough for her, but for us two would suffice.\n\nPOVERTY. You won't escape, for is there indeed a single valid argument to\noppose me with?\n\nCHORUS. To beat her in this debate, you must call upon all your wits.\nMake no allowances and show no weakness!\n\nCHREMYLUS. It is right that the good should be happy, that the wicked and\nthe impious, on the other hand, should be miserable; that is a truth, I\nbelieve, which no one will gainsay. To realize this condition of things\nis as great a proposal as it is noble and useful in every respect, and we\nhave found a means of attaining the object of our wishes. If Plutus\nrecovers his sight and ceases from wandering about unseeing and at\nrandom, he will go to seek the just men and never leave them again; he\nwill shun the perverse and ungodly; so, thanks to him, all men will\nbecome honest, rich and pious. Can anything better be conceived for the\npublic weal?\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Of a certainty, no! I bear witness to that. It is not even\nnecessary she should reply.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Does it not seem that everything is extravagance in the world,\nor rather madness, when you watch the way things go? A crowd of rogues\nenjoy blessings they have won by sheer injustice, while more honest folks\nare miserable, die of hunger, and spend their whole lives with you.\n\nCHORUS. Yes, if Plutus became clear-sighted again and drove out Poverty,\n'twould be the greatest blessing possible for the human race.\n\nPOVERTY. Here are two old men, whose brains are easy to confuse, who\nassist each other to talk rubbish and drivel to their hearts' content.\nBut if your wishes were realized, your profit would be great! Let Plutus\nrecover his sight and divide his favours out equally to all, and none\nwill ply either trade or art any longer; all toil would be done away\nwith. Who would wish to hammer iron, build ships, sew, turn, cut up\nleather, bake bricks, bleach linen, tan hides, or break up the soil of\nthe earth with the plough and garner the gifts of Demeter, if he could\nlive in idleness and free from all this work?\n\nCHREMYLUS. What nonsense all this is! All these trades which you just\nmention will be plied by our slaves.\n\nPOVERTY. Your slaves! And by what means will these slaves be got?\n\nCHREMYLUS. We will buy them.\n\nPOVERTY. But first say, who will sell them, if everyone is rich?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Some greedy dealer from Thessaly--the land which supplies so\nmany.\n\nPOVERTY. But if your system is applied, there won't be a single\nslave-dealer left. What rich man would risk his life to devote himself to\nthis traffic? You will have to toil, to dig and submit yourself to all\nkinds of hard labour; so that your life would be more wretched even than\nit is now.\n\nCHREMYLUS. May this prediction fall upon yourself!\n\nPOVERTY. You will not be able to sleep in a bed, for no more will ever be\nmanufactured; nor on carpets, for who would weave them if he had gold?\nWhen you bring a young bride to your dwelling, you will have no essences\nwherewith to perfume her, nor rich embroidered cloaks dyed with dazzling\ncolours in which to clothe her. And yet what is the use of being rich, if\nyou are to be deprived of all these enjoyments? On the other hand, you\nhave all that you need in abundance, thanks to me; to the artisan I am\nlike a severe mistress, who forces him by need and poverty to seek the\nmeans of earning his livelihood.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And what good thing can you give us, unless it be burns in the\nbath,[772] and swarms of brats and old women who cry with hunger, and\nclouds uncountable of lice, gnats and flies, which hover about the\nwretch's head, trouble him, awake him and say, \"You will be hungry, but\nget up!\" Besides, to possess a rag in place of a mantle, a pallet of\nrushes swarming with bugs, that do not let you close your eyes for a bed;\na rotten piece of matting for a coverlet; a big stone for a pillow, on\nwhich to lay your head; to eat mallow roots instead of bread, and leaves\nof withered radish instead of cake; to have nothing but the cover of a\nbroken jug for a stool, the stave of a cask, and broken at that, for a\nkneading-trough, that is the life you make for us! Are these the mighty\nbenefits with which you pretend to load mankind?\n\nPOVERTY. 'Tis not my life that you describe; you are attacking the\nexistence beggars lead.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Is beggary not Poverty's sister?\n\nPOVERTY. Thrasybulus and Dionysius[773] are one and the same according to\nyou. No, my life is not like that and never will be. The beggar, whom you\nhave depicted to us, never possesses anything. The poor man lives\nthriftily and attentive to his work; he has not got too much, but he does\nnot lack what he really needs.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Oh! what a happy life, by Demeter! to live sparingly, to toil\nincessantly and not to leave enough to pay for a tomb!\n\nPOVERTY. That's it! Jest, jeer, and never talk seriously! But what you\ndon't know is this, that men with me are worth more, both in mind and\nbody, than with Plutus. With him they are gouty, big-bellied, heavy of\nlimb and scandalously stout; with me they are thin, wasp-waisted, and\nterrible to the foe.\n\nCHREMYLUS. 'Tis no doubt by starving them that you give them that waspish\nwaist.\n\nPOVERTY. As for behaviour, I will prove to you that modesty dwells with\nme and insolence with Plutus.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Oh! the sweet modesty of stealing and breaking through\nwalls.[774]\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Aye, the thief is truly modest, for he hides himself.\n\nPOVERTY. Look at the orators in our republics; as long as they are poor,\nboth State and people can only praise their uprightness; but once they\nare fattened on the public funds, they conceive a hatred for justice,\nplan intrigues against the people and attack the democracy.\n\nCHREMYLUS. That is absolutely true, although your tongue is very vile.\nBut it matters not, so don't put on those triumphant airs; you shall not\nbe punished any the less for having tried to persuade me that poverty is\nworth more than wealth.\n\nPOVERTY. Not being able to refute my arguments, you chatter at random and\nexert yourself to no purpose.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Then tell me this, why does all mankind flee from you?\n\nPOVERTY. Because I make them better. Children do the very same; they flee\nfrom the wise counsels of their fathers. So difficult is it to see one's\ntrue interest.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Will you say that Zeus cannot discern what is best? Well, he\ntakes Plutus to himself ...\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. ... and banishes Poverty to earth.\n\nPOVERTY. Ah me! how purblind you are, you old fellows of the days of\nSaturn! Why, Zeus is poor, and I will clearly prove it to you. In the\nOlympic games, which he founded, and to which he convokes the whole of\nGreece every four years, why does he only crown the victorious athletes\nwith wild olive? If he were rich he would give them gold.\n\nCHREMYLUS. 'Tis in that way he shows that he clings to his wealth; he is\nsparing with it, won't part with any portion of it, only bestows baubles\non the victors and keeps his money for himself.\n\nPOVERTY. But wealth coupled to such sordid greed is yet more shameful\nthan poverty.\n\nCHREMYLUS. May Zeus destroy you, both you and your chaplet of wild olive!\n\nPOVERTY. Thus you dare to maintain that poverty is not the fount of all\nblessings!\n\nCHREMYLUS. Ask Hecat\u00e9[775] whether it is better to be rich or starving;\nshe will tell you that the rich send her a meal every month and that the\npoor make it disappear before it is even served. But go and hang yourself\nand don't breathe another syllable. I will not be convinced against my\nwill.\n\nPOVERTY. \"Oh! citizens of Argos! do you hear what he says?\"[776]\n\nCHREMYLUS. Invoke Pauson, your boon companion, rather.[777]\n\nPOVERTY. Alas! what is to become of me?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Get you gone, be off quick and a pleasant journey to you.\n\nPOVERTY. But where shall I go?\n\nCHREMYLUS. To gaol; but hurry up, let us put an end to this.\n\nPOVERTY. One day you will recall me.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Then you can return; but disappear for the present. I prefer\nto be rich; you are free to knock your head against the walls in your\nrage.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. And I too welcome wealth. I want, when I leave the bath all\nperfumed with essences, to feast bravely with my wife and children and to\nbreak wind in the faces of toilers and Poverty.\n\nCHREMYLUS. So that hussy has gone at last! But let us make haste to put\nPlutus to bed in the Temple of Aesculapius.\n\nBLEPSIDEMUS. Let us make haste; else some bothering fellow may again come\nto interrupt us.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Cario, bring the coverlets and all that I have got ready from\nthe house; let us conduct the god to the Temple, taking care to observe\nall the proper rites.\n\nCHORUS. [_Missing._][778]\n\nCARIO. Oh! you old fellows, who used to dip out the broth served to the\npoor at the festival of Theseus with little pieces of bread[779] hollowed\nlike a spoon, how worthy of envy is your fate! How happy you are, both\nyou and all just men!\n\nCHORUS. My good fellow, what has happened to your friends? You seem the\nbearer of good tidings.\n\nCARIO. What joy for my master and even more for Plutus! The god has\nregained his sight; his eyes sparkle with the greatest brilliancy, thanks\nto the benevolent care of Aesculapius.\n\nCHORUS. Oh! what transports of joy! oh! What shouts of gladness!\n\nCARIO. Aye! one is compelled to rejoice, whether one will or not.\n\nCHORUS. I will sing to the honour of Aesculapius, the son of illustrious\nZeus, with a resounding voice; he is the beneficent star which men adore.\n\nCHREMYLUS' WIFE. What mean these shouts? Is there good news. With what\nimpatience have I been waiting in the house, and for so long too!\n\nCARIO. Quick! quick! some wine, mistress. And drink yourself, for 'tis\nmuch to your taste; I bring you all blessings in a lump.\n\nWIFE. Where are they?\n\nCARIO. In my words, as you are going to see.\n\nWIFE. Have done with trifling! come, speak.\n\nCARIO. Listen, I am going to tell you everything from the feet to the\nhead.\n\nWIFE. Ah! don't throw anything at my head.\n\nCARIO. Not even the happiness that has come to you?\n\nWIFE. No, no, nothing ... to annoy me.\n\nCARIO. Having arrived near to the Temple with our patient, then so\nunfortunate, but now at the apex of happiness, of blessedness, we first\nled him down to the sea to purify him.\n\nWIFE. Ah! what a singular pleasure for an old man to bathe in the cold\nsea-water!\n\nCARIO. Then we repaired to the Temple of the god. Once the wafers and the\nvarious offerings had been consecrated upon the altar, and the cake of\nwheaten-meal had been handed over to the devouring Hephaestus, we made\nPlutus lie on a couch according to the rite, and each of us prepared\nhimself a bed of leaves.\n\nWIFE. Had any other folk come to beseech the deity?\n\nCARIO. Yes. Firstly, Neoclides,[780] who is blind, but steals much better\nthan those who see clearly; then many others attacked by complaints of\nall kinds. The lights were put out and the priest enjoined us to sleep,\nespecially recommending us to keep silent should we hear any noise. There\nwe were all lying down quite quietly. I could not sleep; I was thinking\nof a certain stew-pan full of pap placed close to an old woman and just\nbehind her head. I had a furious longing to slip towards that side. But\njust as I was lifting my head, I noticed the priest, who was sweeping off\nboth the cakes and the figs on the sacred table; then he made the round\nof the altars and sanctified the cakes that remained, by stowing them\naway in a bag. I therefore resolved to follow such a pious example and\nmade straight for the pap.\n\nWIFE. You wretch! and had you no fear of the god?\n\nCARIO. Aye, indeed! I feared that the god with his crown on his head\nmight have been near the stew-pan before me. I said to myself, \"Like\npriest, like god.\" On hearing the noise I made, the old woman put out her\nhand, but I hissed and bit it, just as a sacred serpent might have\ndone.[781] Quick she drew back her hand, slipped down into the bed with\nher head beneath the coverlets and never moved again; only she let go\nsome wind in her fear which stunk worse than a weasel. As for myself, I\nswallowed a goodly portion of the pap and, having made a good feed, went\nback to bed.\n\nWIFE. And did not the god come?\n\nCAIRO. He did not tarry; and when he was near us, oh! dear! such a good\njoke happened. My belly was quite blown out, and I let wind with the\nloudest of noises.\n\nWIFE. Doubtless the god pulled a wry face?\n\nCARIO. No, but Iaso blushed a little and Panacea[782] turned her head\naway, holding her nose; for my perfume is not that of roses.\n\nWIFE. And what did the god do?\n\nCARIO. He paid not the slightest heed.\n\nWIFE. He must then be a pretty coarse kind of god?\n\nCARIO. I don't say that, but he's used to tasting shit.[783]\n\nWIFE. Impudent knave, go on with you!\n\nCARIO. Then I hid myself in my bed all a-tremble. Aesculapius did the\nround of the patients and examined them all with great attention; then a\nslave placed beside him a stone mortar, a pestle and a little box.[784]\n\nWIFE. Of stone?\n\nCARIO. No, not of stone.\n\nWIFE. But how could you see all this, you arch-rascal, when you say you\nwere hiding all the time?\n\nCARIO. Why, great gods, through my cloak, for 'tis not without holes! He\nfirst prepared an ointment for Neoclides; he threw three heads of\nTenian[785] garlic into the mortar, pounded them with an admixture of\nfig-tree sap and lentisk, moistened the whole with Sphettian[786]\nvinegar, and, turning back the patient's eyelids, applied his salve to\nthe interior of the eyes, so that the pain might be more excruciating.\nNeoclides shrieked, howled, sprang towards the foot of his bed and wanted\nto bolt, but the god laughed and said to him, \"Keep where you are with\nyour salve; by doing this you will not go and perjure yourself before the\nAssembly.\"\n\nWIFE. What a wise god and what a friend to our city!\n\nCARIO. Thereupon he came and seated himself at the head of Plutus' bed,\ntook a perfectly clean rag and wiped his eye-lids; Panacea covered his\nhead and face with a purple cloth, while the god whistled, and two\nenormous snakes came rushing from the sanctuary.\n\nWIFE. Great gods!\n\nCARIO. They slipped gently beneath the purple cloth and, as far as I\ncould judge, licked the patient's eyelids; for, in less time than even\nyou need, mistress, to drain down ten beakers of wine, Plutus rose up; he\ncould see. I clapped my hands with joy and awoke my master, and the god\nimmediately disappeared with the serpents into the sanctuary. As for\nthose who were lying near Plutus, you can imagine that they embraced him\ntenderly. Dawn broke and not one of them had closed an eye. As for\nmyself, I did not cease thanking the god who had so quickly restored to\nPlutus his sight and had made Neoclides blinder than ever.\n\nWIFE. Oh! thou great Aesculapius! How mighty is thy power! (_To Cario._)\nBut tell me, where is Plutus now?\n\nCARIO. He is approaching, escorted by an immense crowd. The rich, whose\nwealth is ill-gotten, are knitting their brows and shooting at him looks\nof fierce hate, while the just folk, who led a wretched existence,\nembrace him and grasp his hand in the transport of their joy; they follow\nin his wake, their heads wreathed with garlands, laughing and blessing\ntheir deliverer; the old men make the earth resound as they walk together\nkeeping time. Come, all of you, all, down to the very least, dance, leap\nand form yourselves into a chorus; no longer do you risk being told, when\nyou go home, \"There is no meal in the bag.\"\n\nWIFE. And I, by Hecate! I will string you a garland of cakes for the good\ntidings you have brought me.\n\nCARIO. Hurry, make haste then; our friends are close at hand.\n\nWIFE. I will go indoors to fetch some gifts of welcome, to celebrate\nthese eyes that have just been opened.\n\nCARIO. Meantime I am going forth to meet them.\n\nCHORUS. [_Missing._]\n\nPLUTUS. I adore thee, oh! thou divine sun, and thee I greet thou city,\nthe beloved of Pallas; be welcome, thou land of Cecrops, which hast\nreceived me. Alas! what manner of men I associated with! I blush to think\nof it. While, on the other hand, I shunned those who deserved my\nfriendship; I knew neither the vices of the ones nor the virtues of the\nothers. A twofold mistake, and in both cases equally fatal! Ah! what a\nmisfortune was mine! But I want to change everything; and in future I\nmean to prove to mankind that, if I gave to the wicked, 'twas against my\nwill.\n\nCHREMYLUS (_to the crowd who impede him_). Get you gone! Oh! what a lot\nof friends spring into being when you are fortunate! They dig me with\ntheir elbows and bruise my shins to prove their affection. Each one wants\nto greet me. What a crowd of old fellows thronged round me on the\nmarket-place!\n\nWIFE. Oh! thou, who art dearest of all to me, and thou too, be welcome!\nAllow me, Plutus, to shower these gifts of welcome over you in due accord\nwith custom.\n\nPLUTUS. No. This is the first house I enter after having regained my\nsight; I shall take nothing from it, for 'tis my place rather to give.\n\nWIFE. Do you refuse these gifts?\n\nPLUTUS. I will accept them at your fireside, as custom requires. Besides,\nwe shall thus avoid a ridiculous scene; it is not meet that the poet\nshould throw dried figs and dainties to the spectators; 'tis a vulgar\ntrick to make 'em laugh.\n\nWIFE. You are right. Look! yonder's Dexinicus, who was already getting to\nhis feet to catch the figs as they flew past him.[787]\n\nCHORUS. [_Missing_.]\n\nCARIO. How pleasant it is, friends, to live well, especially when it\ncosts nothing! What a deluge of blessings flood our household, and that\ntoo without our having wronged ever a soul! Ah! what a delightful thing\nis wealth! The bin is full of white flour and the wine-jars run over with\nfragrant liquor; all the chests are crammed with gold and silver, 'tis a\nsight to see; the tank is full of oil,[788] the phials with perfumes, and\nthe garret with dried figs. Vinegar flasks, plates, stew-pots and all the\nplatters are of brass; our rotten old wooden trenchers for the fish have\nto-day become dishes of silver; the very night-commode is of ivory. We\nothers, the slaves, we play at odd and even with gold pieces, and carry\nluxury so far that we no longer wipe ourselves with stones, but use\ngarlic stalks instead. My master, at this moment, is crowned with flowers\nand sacrificing a pig, a goat and a ram;[789] 'tis the smoke that has\ndriven me out, for I could no longer endure it, it hurt my eyes so.\n\nA JUST MAN. Come, my child, come with me. Let us go and find the god.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Who comes here?\n\nJUST MAN. A man who was once wretched, but now is happy.\n\nCHREMYLUS. A just man then?\n\nJUST MAN. You have it.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Well! what do you want?\n\nJUST MAN. I come to thank the god for all the blessings he has showered\non me. My father had left me a fairly decent fortune, and I helped those\nof my friends who were in want; 'twas, to my thinking, the most useful\nthing I could do with my fortune.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And you were quickly ruined?\n\nJUST MAN. Entirely.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Since then you have been living in misery?\n\nJUST MAN. In truth I have; I thought I could count, in case of need, upon\nthe friends whose property I had helped, but they turned their backs upon\nme and pretended not to see me.\n\nCHREMYLUS. They laughed at you, 'tis evident.\n\nJUST MAN. Just so. With my empty coffers, I had no more friends.\n\nCHREMYLUS. But your lot has changed.\n\nJUST MAN. Yes, and so I come to the god to make him the acts of gratitude\nthat are his due.\n\nCHREMYLUS. But with what object now do you bring this old cloak, which\nyour slave is carrying? Tell me.\n\nJUST MAN. I wish to dedicate it to the god.[790]\n\nCHREMYLUS. Were you initiated into the Great Mysteries in that\ncloak?[791]\n\nJUST MAN. No, but I shivered in it for thirteen years.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And this footwear?\n\nJUST MAN. These also are my winter companions.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And you wish to dedicate them too?\n\nJUST MAN. Unquestionably.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Fine presents to offer to the god!\n\nAN INFORMER. Alas! alas! I am a lost man. Ah! thrice, four, five, twelve\ntimes, or rather ten thousand times unhappy fate! Why, why must fortune\ndeal me such rough blows?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Oh, Apollo, my tutelary! oh! ye favourable gods! what has\novertaken this man?\n\nINFORMER. Ah! am I not deserving of pity? I have lost everything; this\ncursed god has stripped me bare. Ah! if there be justice in heaven, he\nshall be struck blind again.\n\nJUST MAN. Methinks I know what's the matter. If this man is unfortunate,\n'tis because he's of little account and small honesty; and i' faith he\nlooks it too.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Then, by Zeus! his plight is but just.\n\nINFORMER. He promised that if he recovered his sight, he would enrich us\nall unaided; whereas he has ruined more than one.\n\nCHREMYLUS. But whom has he thus ill-used?\n\nINFORMER. Me.\n\nCHREMYLUS. You were doubtless a villainous thief then.\n\nINFORMER (_to Chremylus and Cario_). 'Tis rather you yourselves who were\nsuch wretches; I am certain you have got my money.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Ha! by Demeter! 'tis an informer. What impudence!\n\nCARIO. He's ravenously hungry, that's certain.\n\nINFORMER. You shall follow me this very instant to the marketplace, where\nthe torture of the wheel shall force the confession of your misdeeds from\nyou.\n\nCARIO. Ha! look out for yourself!\n\nJUST MAN. By Zeus the Deliverer, what gratitude all Greeks owe to Plutus,\nif he destroys these vile informers!\n\nINFORMER. You are laughing at me. Ho! ho! I denounce you as their\naccomplice. Where did you steal that new cloak from? Yesterday I saw you\nwith one utterly worn out.\n\nJUST MAN. I fear you not, thanks to this ring, for which I paid\nEudemus[792] a drachma.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Ah! there's no ring to preserve you from the informer's bite.\n\nINFORMER. The insolent wretches! But, my fine jokers, you have not told\nme what you are up to here. Nothing good, I'll be bound.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Nothing of any good for you, be sure of that.\n\nINFORMER. By Zeus!  you're going to dine at my expense!\n\nCHREMYLUS. You vile impostor, may you burst with an empty belly, both you\nand your witness.\n\nINFORMER. You deny it? I reckon, you villians, that there is much salt\nfish and roast meat in this house. Hu! hu! hu! hu! hu! hu! (_He sniffs._)\n\nCHREMYLUS. Can you smell anything, rascal?\n\nINFORMER. Can such outrages be borne, oh, Zeus! Ye gods! how cruel it is\nto see me treated thus, when I am such an honest fellow and such a good\ncitizen!\n\nCHREMYLUS. You an honest man! you a good citizen!\n\nINFORMER. A better one than any.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Ah! well then, answer my questions.\n\nINFORMER. Concerning what?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Are you a husbandman?\n\nINFORMER. D'ye take me for a fool?\n\nCHREMYLUS. A merchant?\n\nINFORMER. I assume the title, when it serves me.[793]\n\nCHREMYLUS. Do you ply any trade?\n\nINFORMER. No, most assuredly not!\n\nCHREMYLUS. Then how do you live, if you do nothing?\n\nINFORMER. I superintend public and private business.\n\nCHREMYLUS. You! And by what right, pray?\n\nINFORMER. Because it pleases me to do so.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Like a thief you sneak yourself in where you have no business.\nYou are hated by all and you claim to be an honest man?\n\nINFORMER. What, you fool? I have not the right to dedicate myself\nentirely to my country's service?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Is the country served by vile intrigue?\n\nINFORMER. It is served by watching that the established law is\nobserved--by allowing no one to violate it.\n\nCHREMYLUS. That's the duty of the tribunals; they are established to that\nend.\n\nINFORMER. And who is the prosecutor before the dicasts?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Whoever wishes to be.[794]\n\nINFORMER. Well then, 'tis I who choose to be prosecutor; and thus all\npublic affairs fall within my province.\n\nCHREMYLUS. I pity Athens for being in such vile clutches. But would you\nnot prefer to live quietly and free from all care and anxiety?\n\nINFORMER. To do nothing is to live an animal's life.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Thus you will not change your mode of life?\n\nINFORMER. No, though they gave me Plutus himself and the _silphium_ of\nBattus.[795]\n\nCHREMYLUS (_to the Informer_). Come, quick, off with your cloak.\n\nCARIO. Hi! friend! 'tis you they are speaking to.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Off with your shoes.\n\nCARIO. All this is addressed to you.\n\nINFORMER. Very well! let one of you come near me, if he dares.\n\nCARIO. I dare.\n\nINFORMER. Alas!  I am robbed of my clothes in full daylight.\n\nCARIO. That's what comes of meddling with other folk's business and\nliving at their expense.\n\nINFORMER (_to his witness_). You see what is happening; I call you to\nwitness.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Look how the witness whom you brought is taking to his heels.\n\nINFORMER. Great gods! I am all alone and they assault me.\n\nCARIO. Shout away!\n\nINFORMER. Oh! woe, woe is me!\n\nCARIO. Give me that old ragged cloak, that I may dress out the informer.\n\nJUST MAN. No, no; I have dedicated it to Plutus.\n\nCARIO. And where would your offering be better bestowed than on the\nshoulders of a rascal and a thief? To Plutus fine, rich cloaks should be\ngiven.\n\nJUST MAN. And what then shall be done with these shoes? Tell me.\n\nCARIO. I will nail them to his brow as gifts are nailed to the trunks of\nthe wild olive.\n\nINFORMER. I'm off, for you are the strongest, I own. But if I find\nsomeone to join me, let him be as weak as he will, I will summon this\ngod, who thinks himself so strong, before the Court this very day, and\ndenounce him as manifestly guilty of overturning the democracy by his\nwill alone and without the consent of the Senate or the popular Assembly.\n\nJUST MAN. Now that you are rigged out from head to foot with my old\nclothes, hasten to the bath and stand there in the front row to warm\nyourself better; 'tis the place I formerly had.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Ah! the bath-man would grip you by the testicles and fling you\nthrough the door; he would only need to see you to appraise you at your\ntrue value.... But let us go in, friend, that you may address your\nthanksgivings to the god.\n\nCHORUS. [_Missing._]\n\nAN OLD WOMAN. Dear old men, am I near the house where the new god lives,\nor have I missed the road?\n\nCHORUS. You are at his door, my pretty little maid, who question us so\nsweetly.[796]\n\nOLD WOMAN. Then I will summon someone in the house.\n\nCHREMYLUS. 'Tis needless! I am here myself. But what matter brings you\nhere?\n\nOLD WOMAN. Ah! a cruel, unjust fate! My dear friend, this god has made\nlife unbearable to me through ceasing to be blind.\n\nCHREMYLUS. What does this mean? Can you be a female informer?\n\nOLD WOMAN. Most certainly not.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Have you not drunk up your money then?\n\nOLD WOMAN. You are mocking me! Nay! I am being devoured with a consuming\nfire.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Then tell me what is consuming you so fiercely.\n\nOLD WOMAN. Listen! I loved a young man, who was poor, but so handsome, so\nwell-built, so honest! He readily gave way to all I desired and acquitted\nhimself so well! I, for my part, refused him nothing.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And what did he generally ask of you.\n\nOLD WOMAN. Very little; he bore himself towards me with astonishing\ndiscretion! perchance twenty drachmae for a cloak or eight for footwear;\nsometimes he begged me to buy tunics for his sisters or a little mantle\nfor his mother; at times he needed four bushels of corn.\n\nCHREMYLUS. 'Twas very little, in truth; I admire his modesty.\n\nOLD WOMAN. And 'twas not as a reward for his complacency that he ever\nasked me for anything, but as a matter of pure friendship; a cloak I had\ngiven would remind him from whom he had got it.\n\nCHREMYLUS. 'Twas a fellow who loved you madly.\n\nOLD WOMAN. But 'tis no longer so, for the faithless wretch has sadly\naltered! I had sent him this cake with the sweetmeats you see here on\nthis dish and let him know that I would visit him in the evening....\n\nCHREMYLUS. Well?\n\nOLD WOMAN. He sent me back my presents and added this tart to them, on\ncondition that I never set foot in his house again. Besides, he sent me\nthis message, \"Once upon a time the Milesians were brave.\"[797]\n\nCHREMYLUS. An honest lad, indeed! But what would you? When poor, he would\ndevour anything; now he is rich, he no longer cares for lentils.\n\nOLD WOMAN. Formerly he came to me every day.\n\nCHREMYLUS. To see if you were being buried?\n\nOLD WOMAN. No! he longed to hear the sound of my voice.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And to carry off some present.\n\nOLD WOMAN. If I was downcast, he would call me his little duck or his\nlittle dove in a most tender manner....\n\nCHREMYLUS. And then would ask for the wherewithal to buy a pair of shoes.\n\nOLD WOMAN. When I was at the Mysteries of Eleusis in a carriage,[798]\nsomeone looked at me; he was so jealous that he beat me the whole of that\nday.\n\nCHREMYLUS. 'Twas because he liked to feed alone.\n\nOLD WOMAN. He told me I had very beautiful hands.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Aye, no doubt, when they handed him twenty drachmae.\n\nOLD WOMAN. That my whole body breathed a sweet perfume.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Yes, like enough, if you poured him out Thasian wine.\n\nOLD WOMAN. That my glance was gentle and charming.\n\nCHREMYLUS. 'Twas no fool. He knew how to drag drachmae from a hot-blooded\nold woman.\n\nOLD WOMAN. Ah! the god has done very, very wrong, saying he would support\nthe victims of injustice.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Well, what must he do? Speak, and it shall be done.\n\nOLD WOMAN. 'Tis right to compel him, whom I have loaded with benefits, to\nrepay them in his turn; if not, he does not merit the least of the god's\nfavours.\n\nCHREMYLUS. And did he not do this every night?\n\nOLD WOMAN. He swore he would never leave me, as long as I lived.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Aye, rightly; but he thinks you are no longer alive.[799]\n\nOLD WOMAN. Ah! friend, I am pining away with grief.\n\nCHREMYLUS. You are rotting away, it seems to me.\n\nOLD WOMAN. I have grown so thin, I could slip through a ring.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Yes, if 'twere as large as the hoop of a sieve.\n\nOLD WOMAN. But here is the youth, the cause of my complaint; he looks as\nthough he were going to a festival.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Yes, if his chaplet and his torch are any guides.\n\nYOUTH. Greeting to you.\n\nOLD WOMAN. What does he say?\n\nYOUTH. My ancient old dear, you have grown white very quickly, by heaven!\n\nOLD WOMAN. Oh! what an insult!\n\nCHREMYLUS. It is a long time, then, since he saw you?\n\nOLD WOMAN. A long time? My god! he was with me yesterday.\n\nCHREMYLUS. It must be, then, that, unlike other people, he sees more\nclearly when he's drunk.\n\nOLD WOMAN. No, but I have always known him for an insolent fellow.\n\nYOUTH. Oh! divine Posidon! Oh, ye gods of old age! what wrinkles she has\non her face!\n\nOLD WOMAN. Oh! oh! keep your distance with that torch.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Yes, 'twould be as well; if a single spark were to reach her,\nshe would catch alight like an old olive branch.\n\nYOUTH. I propose to have a game with you.\n\nOLD WOMAN. Where, naughty boy?\n\nYOUTH. Here. Take some nuts in your hand.\n\nOLD WOMAN. What game is this?\n\nYOUTH. Let's play at guessing how many teeth you have.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Ah! I'll tell you; she's got three, or perhaps four.\n\nYOUTH. Pay up; you've lost! she has only one single grinder.\n\nOLD WOMAN. You wretch! you're not in your right senses. Do you insult me\nthus before this crowd?\n\nYOUTH. I am washing you thoroughly; 'tis doing you a service.\n\nCHREMYLUS. No, no! as she is there, she can still deceive; but if this\nwhite-lead is washed off, her wrinkles would come out plainly.\n\nOLD WOMAN. You are only an old fool!\n\nYOUTH. Ah! he is playing the gallant, he is fondling your breasts, and\nthinks I do not see it.\n\nOLD WOMAN. Oh! no, by Aphrodit\u00e9, no, you naughty jealous fellow.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Oh! most certainly not, by Hecat\u00e9![800] Verily and indeed I\nwould need to be mad! But, young man, I cannot forgive you, if you cast\noff this beautiful child.\n\nYOUTH. Why, I adore her.\n\nCHREMYLUS. But nevertheless she accuses you ...\n\nYOUTH. Accuses me of what?\n\nCHREMYLUS. ... of having told her insolently, \"Once upon a time the\nMilesians were brave.\"\n\nYOUTH. Oh! I shall not dispute with you about her.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Why not?\n\nYOUTH. Out of respect for your age; with anyone but you, I should not be\nso easy; come, take the girl and be happy.\n\nCHREMYLUS. I see, I see; you don't want her any more.\n\nOLD WOMAN. Nay! this is a thing that cannot be allowed.\n\nYOUTH. I cannot argue with a woman, who has been making love these\nthirteen thousand years.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Yet, since you liked the wine, you should now consume the\nlees.\n\nYOUTH. But these lees are quite rancid and fusty.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Pass them through a straining-cloth; they'll clarify.\n\nYOUTH. But I want to go in with you to offer these chaplets to the god.\n\nOLD WOMAN. And I too have something to tell him.\n\nYOUTH. Then I don't enter.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Come, have no fear; she won't harm you.\n\nYOUTH. 'Tis true; I've been managing the old bark long enough.\n\nOLD WOMAN. Go in; I'll follow after you.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Good gods! that old hag has fastened herself to her youth like\na limpet to its rock.\n\nCHORUS. [_Missing._]\n\nCARIO (_opening the door_). Who knocks at the door? Halloa! I see no one;\n'twas then by chance it gave forth that plaintive tone.\n\nHERMES (_to Carlo, who is about to close the door_). Cario! stop!\n\nCARIO. Eh! friend, was it you who knocked so loudly? Tell me.\n\nHERMES. No, I was going to knock and you forestalled me by opening. Come,\ncall your master quick, then his wife and his children, then his slave\nand his dog, then thyself and his pig.\n\nCARIO. And what's it all about?\n\nHERMES. It's about this, rascal! Zeus wants to serve you all with the\nsame sauce and hurl the lot of you into the Barathrum.\n\nCARIO. Have a care for your tongue, you bearer of ill tidings! But why\ndoes he want to treat us in that scurvy fashion?\n\nHERMES. Because you have committed the most dreadful crime. Since Plutus\nhas recovered his sight, there is nothing for us other gods, neither\nincense, nor laurels, nor cakes, nor victims, nor anything in the world.\n\nCARIO. And you will never be offered anything more; you governed us too\nill.\n\nHERMES. I care nothing at all about the other gods, but 'tis myself. I\ntell you I am dying of hunger.\n\nCARIO. That's reasoning like a wise fellow.\n\nHERMES. Formerly, from earliest dawn, I was offered all sorts of good\nthings in the wine-shops,--wine-cakes, honey, dried figs, in short,\ndishes worthy of Hermes. Now, I lie the livelong day on my back, with my\nlegs in the air, famishing.\n\nCARIO. And quite right too, for you often had them punished who treated\nyou so well.[801]\n\nHERMES. Ah! the lovely cake they used to knead for me on the fourth of\nthe month![802]\n\nCARIO. You recall it vainly; your regrets are useless! there'll be no\nmore cake.\n\nHERMES. Ah! the ham I was wont to devour!\n\nCARIO. Well then! make use of your legs and hop on one leg upon the\nwine-skin,[803] to while away the time.\n\nHERMES. Oh! the grilled entrails I used to swallow down!\n\nCARIO. Your own have got the colic, methinks.\n\nHERMES. Oh! the delicious tipple, half wine, half water!\n\nCARIO. Here, swallow that and be off. (_He discharges a fart._)\n\nHERMES. Would you do a friend a service?\n\nCARIO. Willingly, if I can.\n\nHERMES. Give me some well-baked bread and a big hunk of the victims they\nare sacrificing in your house.\n\nCARIO. That would be stealing.\n\nHERMES. Do you forget, then, how I used to take care he knew nothing\nabout it when you were stealing something from your master?\n\nCARIO. Because I used to share it with you, you rogue; some cake or other\nalways came your way.\n\nHERMES. Which afterwards you ate up all by yourself.[804]\n\nCARIO. But then you did not share the blows when I was caught.\n\nHERMES. Forget past injuries, now you have taken Phyl\u00e9.[805] Ah! how I\nshould like to live with you! Take pity and receive me.\n\nCARIO. You would leave the gods to stop here?\n\nHERMES. One is much better off among you.\n\nCARIO. What! you would desert! Do you think that is honest?\n\nHERMES. \"Where I live well, there is my country.\"[806]\n\nCARIO. But how could we employ you here?\n\nHERMES. Place me near the door; I am the watchman god and would shift off\nthe robbers.\n\nCARIO. Shift off! Ah! but we have no love for shifts.\n\nHERMES. Entrust me with business dealings.\n\nCARIO. But we are rich; why should we keep a haggling Hermes?\n\nHERMES. Let me intrigue for you.[807]\n\nCARIO. No, no, intrigues are forbidden; we believe in good faith.\n\nHERMES. I will work for you as a guide.\n\nCARIO. But the god sees clearly now, so we no longer want a guide.\n\nHERMES. Well then, I will preside over the games. Ah! what can you object\nto in that? Nothing is fitter for Plutus than to give scenic and\ngymnastic games.[808]\n\nCARIO. How useful 'tis to have so many names! Here you have found the\nmeans of earning your bread. I don't wonder the jurymen so eagerly try to\nget entered for many tribunals.[809]\n\nHERMES. So then, you admit me on these terms.\n\nCARIO. Go and wash the entrails of the victims at the well, so that you\nmay show yourself serviceable at once.\n\nA PRIEST OF ZEUS. Can anyone direct me where Chremylus is?\n\nCHREMYLUS. What would you with him, friend?\n\nPRIEST. Much ill. Since Plutus has recovered his sight, I am perishing of\nstarvation; I, the priest of Zeus the Deliverer, have nothing to eat!\n\nCHREMYLUS. And what is the cause of that, pray?\n\nPRIEST. No one dreams of offering sacrifices.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Why not?\n\nPRIEST. Because all men are rich. Ah! when they had nothing, the merchant\nwho escaped from shipwreck, the accused who was acquitted, all immolated\nvictims; another would sacrifice for the success of some wish and the\npriest joined in at the feast; but now there is not the smallest victim,\nnot one of the faithful in the temple, but thousands who come there to\nease themselves.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Don't you take your share of those offerings?\n\nPRIEST. Hence I think I too am going to say good-bye to Zeus the\nDeliverer, and stop here myself.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Be at ease, all will go well, if it so please the god. Zeus\nthe Deliverer[810] is here; he came of his own accord.\n\nPRIEST. Ha! that's good news.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Wait a little; we are going to install Plutus presently in the\nplace he formerly occupied behind the Temple of Athen\u00e9;[811] there he\nwill watch over our treasures for ever. But let lighted torches be\nbrought; take these and walk in solemn procession in front of the god.\n\nPRIEST. That's magnificent!\n\nCHREMYLUS. Let Plutus be summoned.\n\nOLD WOMAN. And I, what am I to do?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Take the pots of vegetables which we are going to offer to the\ngod in honour of his installation and carry them on your head; you just\nhappen luckily to be wearing a beautiful embroidered robe.\n\nOLD WOMAN. And what about the object of my coming?\n\nCHREMYLUS. Everything shall be according to your wish. The young man will\nbe with you this evening.\n\nOLD WOMAN. Oh! if you promise me his visit, I will right willingly carry\nthe pots.\n\nCHREMYLUS. Those are strange pots indeed! Generally the scum rises to the\ntop of the pots, but here the pots are raised to the top of the old\nwoman.[812]\n\nCHORUS. Let us withdraw without more tarrying, and follow the others,\nsinging as we go.[813]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFINIS OF \"PLUTUS\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFootnotes:\n\n[736] The poet jestingly makes Chremylus attribute two utterly opposed\ncharacteristics to his servant.\n\n[737] Literally _sycophants_ i.e. denouncers of figs. The Senate, says\nPlutarch, in very early times had made a law forbidding the export of\nfigs from Attica; those who were found breaking the edict were fined to\nthe advantage of the sycophant ([Greek: phainein], to denounce, and\n[Greek: sukon], fig). Since the law was abused in order to accuse the\ninnocent, the name sycophant was given to calumniators and to the too\nnumerous class of informers at Athens who subsisted on the money their\ndenunciations brought them.\n\n[738] A parody of the tragic style.\n\n[739] Plutus, the god of riches, was included amongst the infernal\ndeities, because riches are extracted from the earth's bosom, which is\ntheir dwelling-place. According to Hesiod, he was the son of Demeter;\nagriculture is in truth the most solid foundation of wealth. He was\ngenerally represented as an old blind man, halting in gait and winged,\ncoming with slow steps but going away on a rapid flight and carrying a\npurse in his hand. At Athens the statue of Peace bore Plutus represented\nas still a child on her bosom as a symbol of the wealth that peace\nbrings.\n\n[740] A rich man, who affected the sordid habits of Lacedaemon, because\nof his greed. \"More sordid than Patrocles\" had become a byword at Athens.\nEven the public baths were too dear for Patrocles, because, in addition\nto the modest fee that was given to the bath-man, it was necessary to use\na little oil for the customary friction after the bath.\n\n[741] This catechizing is completely in the manner of the sophistical\nteaching of the times, and has its parallel in other comedies. It reminds\nus in many ways of the Socratic 'Elenchus' as displayed in the Platonic\ndialogues.\n\n[742] Corinth was the most corrupt as well as the most commercial of\nGreek cities, and held a number of great courtesans, indeed some of the\nmost celebrated, e.g. La\u00efs, Cyren\u00e9, Sinop\u00e9, practised their profession\nthere; they, however, set a very high value on their favours, and hence\nthe saying, \"_Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum_\"--\"it is not\nfor every man to go to Corinth.\"\n\n[743] This was the mild punishment inflicted upon the adulterer by\nAthenian custom. The laws of Solon were very indulgent to this kind of\ncrime; they only provided that the guilty woman might be repudiated by\nher husband, but were completely silent concerning her accomplice.\n\n[744] Cario means to convey that women often paid their lovers, or at all\nevents made it their business to open up the road to fortune for them.\n\n[745] In order to receive the _triobolus,_ the fee for attendance.\n\n[746] The richest citizens were saddled with this expense and were called\ntrierarchs.\n\n[747] Athens had formed an alliance with Corinth and Thebes against\nSparta in 393 B.C., a little before the production of the 'Plutus.'\nCorinth, not feeling itself strong enough to resist the attacks of the\nSpartans unaided, had demanded the help of an Athenian garrison, and\nhence Athens maintained some few thousand mercenaries there.\n\n[748] A civil servant, who had been exiled for embezzling State funds.\n\n[749] No doubt an accomplice of Pamphilus in his misdeeds; the Scholiast\nsays he was one of his parasites.\n\n[750] An upstart and, through the favour of the people, an admiral in the\nyear 389 B.C., after Thrasybulus; he had enriched himself through some\nrather equivocal state employments and was insolent, because of his\nwealth, 'as a well-fed ass.'\n\n[751] A buffoon, so the Scholiasts inform us, who was in the habit of\nvisiting the public places of the city in order to make a little money by\namusing the crowd with ridiculous stories. Others say he was a statesman\nof the period, who was condemned for embezzlement of public money; in his\ndefence he may well have invented some fabulous tales to account for the\ndisappearance of the money out of the Treasury.\n\n[752] The precise historical reference here is obscure.\n\n[753] La\u00efs, a celebrated courtesan.--Of Philonides little is known,\nexcept that he was a native of Melita and a rich and profligate\ncharacter.\n\n[754] The reference is no doubt to a pretentious construction that had\nbeen built for the rich and over-proud Timotheus, the son of Conon. He\nwas a clever general of great integrity; when the 'Plutus' was produced,\nhe was still very young.\n\n[755] Chremylus rises in a regular climax from love to military glory;\nthe slave in as direct an anti-climax comes from bread, sweetmeats, etc.,\ndown to lentils.\n\n[756] The son of Aphareus, the King of Messenia; according to the\nlegends, he had such piercing sight that he could see through walls, and\ncould even discover what was going on in heaven and in the nether world.\nHe took part in the expedition of the Argonauts.\n\n[757] A part of the victim which Cario was bringing back from the Temple;\nit was customary to present the remains of a sacrifice to friends and\nrelations.\n\n[758] As soon as Chremylus sees himself assured of wealth he adopts less\nhonest principles.\n\n[759] The citizens appointed to act as dicasts, or jurymen, drew lots\neach year to decide in which Court they should sit. There were ten\nCourts, each of which was indicated by one of the first ten letters of\nthe alphabet, and the urn contained as many tickets marked with these\nletters as there were dicasts. Cario means to say here that the old men\nof the Chorus should remember that they have soon to die themselves\ninstead of bothering about punishing him.\n\n[760] A word invented to imitate the sound of a lyre.\n\n[761] The Cyclops let his flocks graze while he played the lyre; it was\nthus that Philoxenus had represented him in a piece to which Aristophanes\nis here alluding.--Cario assumes the part of the Cyclops and leaves that\nof the flock to the Chorus.\n\n[762] In allusion to Ulysses' adventures in the cave of Polyphemus.\n\n[763] La\u00efs.\n\n[764] i.e. Cario, who is assuming the r\u00f4le of Circ\u00e9 of Corinth.\n\n[765] This was the torture which Odysseus inflicted on Melanthius, one of\nthe goatherds.\n\n[766] A poet of debauched and degraded life, one of those who, like\nAriphrades mentioned in 'The Knights,' \"defiled his tongue with\nabominable sensualities,\" that is to say, was a _fellator_ and a\n_cunnilingue._\n\n[767] It is uncertain whether Pamphilus, a tragedian, is meant here, who,\nlike Euripides and Aeschylus, made the Heraclidae the subject of a\ntragedy, or the painter of that name, so celebrated in later times, who\npainted that subject in the Poecil\u00e9 Stoa.\n\n[768] Physicians at Athens were paid very indifferently, and hence the\nmost skilled sought their practice in other cities.\n\n[769] The Temple of Aesculapius stood on the way from the theatre to the\ncitadel and near the tomb of Talos. A large number of invalids were taken\nthere to pass a night; it was believed that the god visited them without\nbeing seen himself, because of the darkness, and arranged for their\nrestoration to health.\n\n[770] Like the Furies who composed the Chorus in Aeschylus' 'Eumenides.'\n\n[771] A ravine into which criminals were hurled at Athens.\n\n[772] During the winter the poor went into the public baths for shelter\nagainst the cold; they could even stop there all night; sometimes they\nburnt themselves by getting too near the furnace which heated the water.\n\n[773] i.e. the most opposite things; the tyranny of Dionysius of Syracuse\nand the liberty which Thrasybulus restored to Athens.\n\n[774] Crimes to which men are driven through poverty.\n\n[775] The ancients placed statues of Hecat\u00e9 at the cross-roads ([Greek:\ntriodoi], places where three roads meet), because of the three names,\nArtemis, Phoeb\u00e9 and Hecat\u00e9, under which the same goddess was worshipped.\nOn the first day of the month the rich had meals served before these\nstatues and invited the poor to them.\n\n[776] A verse from Euripides' lost play of 'Telephus.' The same line\noccurs in 'The Knights.'\n\n[777] And not the citizens of Argos, whom agriculture and trade rendered\nwealthy.--Pauson was an Athenian painter, whose poverty had become a\nproverb. \"Poorer than Pauson\" was a common saying.\n\n[778] There is here a long interval of time, during which Plutus is taken\nto the Temple of Aesculapius and cured of his blindness. In the first\nedition probably the Parabasis came in here; at all events a long choral\node must have intervened.\n\n[779] The Athenians had erected a temple to Theseus and instituted feasts\nin his honour, which were still kept up in the days of Plutarch and\nPausanias. Barley broth and other coarse foods were distributed among the\npoor.\n\n[780] He was an orator, who was accused of theft and extortion, and who,\nmoreover, was said not to be a genuine Athenian citizen.\n\n[781] The serpent was sacred to Aesculapius; several of these reptiles\nlived in the temple of the god.\n\n[782] Iaso (from [Greek: iasthai], to heal) and Panacea (from [Greek:\npan], everything, and [Greek: akeisthai], to cure) were daughters of\nAesculapius.\n\n[783] He has to see, examine, and taste pill, potion, urine ... and\nworse.\n\n[784] An apothecary's outfit.\n\n[785] Tenos is one of the Cyclades, near Andros.\n\n[786] A deme of Attica, where the strongest vinegar came from.\n\n[787] The Scholiast says that this was an individual as poor as he was\ngreedy, and on the watch for every opportunity to satisfy his\nvoracity.--The comic poets often had nuts, figs and other petty dainties\nthrown to the audience. It was a fairly good way to secure the favour of\na certain section of the public.\n\n[788] The ancients used oil in large quantities, whether for rubbing\nthemselves down after bathing or before their exercises in the palaestra,\nor for the different uses of domestic life. It was kept in a kind of\ntank, hollowed in the ground and covered with tiles or stones. The\nwine-sellers had similar tanks, but of larger size, for keeping their\nwine.\n\n[789] This was what was styled the triple or complete sacrifice.\n\n[790] As evidence of the sorry condition from which he had been raised.\n\n[791] The clothes a man wore on the day that he was initiated into the\nMysteries of Eleusis had, according to custom, to be dedicated to the\ngods, but only after they had been worn. Most people only decided to do\nthis when they were full of holes and torn; it is because his visitor's\ncloak is in such a sorry condition that Chremylus takes it to be the\ncloak of an Initiate.\n\n[792] This Eudemus was a kind of sorcerer, who sold magic rings, to\nwhich, among other virtues, he ascribed that of curing, or rather of\nsecuring him who wore them, from snake-bites.\n\n[793] The merchants engaged in maritime commerce were absolved from\nmilitary service; the Scholiast even declares, though it seems highly\nunlikely, that all merchants were exempt from imposts on their\npossessions. When it was a question of escaping taxes and military\nservice the informer passed as a merchant.\n\n[794] At Athens 'twas only the injured person who could prosecute in\nprivate disputes; everyone, however, had this right where wrongs against\nthe State were involved; but if the prosecutor only obtained one-fifth of\nthe votes, he was condemned to a fine of 1000 drachmae or banished the\ncountry.\n\n[795] A proverbial saying, meaning, _the most precious thing_.--Battus, a\nLacedaemonian, led out a colony from Thera, an island in the Aegean sea,\nand, about 630 B.C., founded the city of Cyren\u00e9 in Africa. He was its\nfirst king, and after death was honoured as a god. The inhabitants of\nthat country gathered great quantities of _silphium_ or 'laserpitium,'\nthe sap of which plant was the basis of medicaments and sauces that\ncommanded a high price. The coins of Cyren\u00e9 bore the representation of a\nstalk of _silphium_.\n\n[796] The old woman had entered dressed as a young girl. Or is it merely\nsaid ironically?\n\n[797] A proverb, meaning, \"_All things change with time._\" Addressed to\nthe old woman, it meant that she had perhaps been beautiful once, but\nthat the days for love were over for her.--Miletus, the most powerful of\nthe Ionic cities, had a very numerous fleet and founded more than eighty\ncolonies; falling beneath the Persian yoke, the city never succeeded in\nregaining its independence.\n\n[798] Eleusis was some distance from Athens, about seven and a half\nmiles, and the wealthy women drove there. It was an occasion when they\nvied with each other in the display of luxury.\n\n[799] You are so old.\n\n[800] The goddess of death and old age.\n\n[801] Wineshop-keepers were often punished for serving false measure.\nHermes, who allowed them to be punished although he was the god of\ncheating and was worshipped as such by the wineshop-keepers, deserved to\nbe neglected by them.\n\n[802] The greater gods had a day in each month specially dedicated to\nthem; thus Hermes had the fourth, Artemis the sixth, Apollo the seventh,\netc.\n\n[803] This game, which was customary during the feasts of Bacchus'\nconsisted in hopping on one leg upon a wine-skin that was blown out and\nwell greased with oil; the competitor who kept his footing longest on one\nleg, gained the prize.\n\n[804] The cake was placed on the altar, but eaten afterwards by the\npriest or by him who offered the sacrifice.\n\n[805] An allusion to the occupation of Phyl\u00e9, in Attica on the Boeotian\nborder, by Thrasybulus; this place was the meeting-place of the\ndiscontented and the exiled, and it was there that the expulsion of the\nthirty tyrants was planned. Once victorious, the conspirators proclaimed\na general amnesty and swore to forget everything, [Greek: m_e\nmn_esikakein], 'to bear no grudge,' hence the proverb which Aristophanes\nrecalls here.\n\n[806] A verse taken from a lost tragedy by Euripides.\n\n[807] Hermes runs through the gamut of his different attributes.\n\n[808] As the rich citizens were accustomed to do at Athens.\n\n[809] This trick was very often practised, its object being to secure the\ndouble fee.\n\n[810] He is giving Plutus this title.\n\n[811] Within the precincts of the Acropolis, and behind the Temple of\nZeus Polias, there stood a building enclosed with double walls and double\ngates, where the public Treasury was kept. Plutus had ceased to dwell\nthere, i.e. the Peloponnesian war and its disastrous consequences had\nemptied the Treasury; however, at the time of the production of the\n'Plutus,' Athens had recovered her freedom and a part of her former\nmight, and money was again flowing into her coffers.\n\n[812] In the Greek there is a pun on the different significations of\n[Greek: graus],_ _an old woman,_ and the _scum_, or 'mother,' which forms\non the top of boiling milk.\n\n[813] In the 'Lysistrata' the Chorus similarly makes its exit singing.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX[*]\n\n[* Transcriber's note: The original index of this volume differs slightly\nin formatting from that of volume one. In order to increase consistency,\nI've reformatted this index according to the format in the first volume.]\n\n\nA\n\nAchilles, when mute\nAchradusian, coined word\nAdimantus, an admiral\n--his father\nAdmetus, the King\nAdulterers, depilated\nAeagrus, an actor\nAESCHYLUS, verse from\n--lost tragedy\n--periods imitated\n--ridiculed\n--supposed disciples\n--'The Persae,'\n--parodied\n--unfair criticism\n--\"Philoctetes\"\n--'Niobe' quoted\n--'Glaucus Potniensis' quoted\nAesculapius, temple of\n--daughters of\nAesimus, unknown\nAgathon, tragic poet\n--pederastic habits\nAglaurus, two women\nAgoranomi (the)\nAgyrrhius, an effeminate general\n--an upstart\nAlcaeus, a parody of\nAlcibiades, lisp in speech\n--obtains a subsidy\nAlcmena, seduced by Zeus\nAlimos, the town of\nAlliance against Sparta\n--garrison at Corinth\nAllusion, obscene\n--and Smaeus\n--to Ulysses\nAlop\u00e9, seduced by Posidon\nAmmon, temple to Zeus\nAmynon, infamy of\nAnacreon\nAndromeda, the play\n--release of\nAnti-dicasts and lawsuits\nAntilochus, Nestor's son\nAntiphon, a gluttonous parasite\nAntisthenes, a constipated miser\nAntithenes, a dissolute doctor\nAntitheus\nAphareus, son of, his piercing vision\nAphrodisiac\n_Apodrasippides_, explained\nApollo as god of healing\n--priestesses of\n--physician\n--altar, how misused\nApothecary, outfit of\nArchers, mounted corps of\n--at Athens\nArchidemus\nAres, a fighting-cock\nArginusae, sea-battle of\n--slaves who fought at\nArgos, citizens of\nAriphrades, his infamous habits\nAristocrates, a general\nAristophanes, why uncrowned\n--modifies opinion\nAristyllus, debaucheries of\nArtemis, goddess of chase\n--the surname of\nArtemisium, battle of\nAsia Minor, coast towns\nAsses' (the) shadow\n--asses used for the Mysteries\nAthenian law\nAttica, invasion of\nAudience, favour, how gained\nAug\u00e9, the seduced\n\nB\n\nBacchus, \"Feast of Cups\"\n--surnames of\nBaptism, the pagan\nBar, the, language of\nBarathrum, a ravine\nBarriers, let down\nBastard, when of strange women\nBaths, how heated\n--use in winter\nBattus, silphium of\nBed of Procrustes\nBeginning, fable of the\nBell, to awaken sentinels\nBirds as love-gifts\nBoasters, the, of Corinth\nBottles painted on coffins\nBoxing, story of\nBrasidas, an Athenian general\nBrigand, the option of\nBuffoonery at Megara\nBullocks' intestines, as comparison\nBuzzard, double meaning\nByzantium\n\nC\n\nCake, eaten by priest\nCallias, identity of\nCallias, the general, his debaucheries\nCalligenia, adoration of\nCallimachus, poverty of\nCanephori, rank in feasts\nCanephoros, the part of\nCannonus, the decree of\nCarians, mountaineers\nCarcinus, tragic poet\n--pun on name\n--his three sons\nCarding, woman's shape at\nCaskets, how perfumed\nCats, lascivious\nCentaur, the\nCephalae, pun on word\nCephalus, a demagogue\n--his father\nCephisophon, a \"ghost\"\n--seduces a wife\nCeramicus, the\nChaerephon\n--compared to the bat\nChaplets of flowers\nCharitimides, an admiral\nChians, the, named in prayers\nChildren, when registered\nChoenix (the)\nChorus, the lost\n--exit singing\nChoruses, when given\nCinesias, the poet\n--his build\n--befouls a statue\n--the dissolute\nCircumcision, where practised\nCitizens, the fame of\nCleocritus, the strut of\nCleonymus, cowardly\n--gluttony of\n--wife of\nCleophon, a general\n--an alien\nClepsydra (the)\nCloak. _See_ Clothes\nClothes, dedication of\nClidemides\nCligenes, a demagogue\nClimax and anti-\nClisthenes, an effeminate\n--accused of prostitution\nCock-fighting\nCoffins, emblems on\nCoins, in the mouth\nColaconymus, the flatterer\nColic, the, a remedy\nColonus, and Croydon\nConnus, a flute-player\nConon, flight of\nCoot's head, likeness to cunnus muliebris\nCorcyra, whips of\nCorinth, boasting at\n--corruption at\n--garrison at\nCorinthian ships, obscene comparison\n--courtesans\nCorybantes (the), mysteries of\n--sacred instrument\nCotyle, a measure\nCourtesans, high prices\nCourt-opening, formula\nCramming oneself\nCrane, herald of winter\n--carry ballast\nCratinus, a comic poet\nCress, its properties\n\"Cretan monologues\"\n--rhythms\nCrime and poverty\nCriticism, too low\nCritylla\n_Crows, going to_\nCuckoo, the\nCurotrophos, meaning\nCuttle-fish\nCyclops, the, and lyre\nCycni, the two\nCynna, the courtesan\nCyren\u00e9, the courtesan\n\nD\n\nDardanus, flute-girls from\nDaughters, lent to strangers\nDead bodies on plants\nDebts, in relation to women\nDemagogues as drones\nDemeter, Mysteries of\n--how represented\n--goddess of abundance\nDemocracy in Olympus\nDemolochocleon, explained\nDemos, a young Athenian\nDepilation, for adultery\n\"Descend,\" term explained\n_Devil, to the_, how expressed\nDexinicus, the greedy\nDiagoras, a convert to atheism\nDicasts, insignia\nDiitrephes, rich basket-maker\nDining stations\nDiomedes, a brigand\nDiomeia, temple at\nDionysus, not brave\nDionysus, temple\n--the god\nDiopithes, a diviner\nDiopithes, the orator\nDiscontented, the rendezvous of\nDivision (the), of lands\nDog, backside of\nDoor-hinge, moistened\nDrachma (the)\nDraughts, rules of\nDreams, fee to interpret\nDuck's domain, the\n\nE\n\nEagle, symbol of royalty\nEgypt, soil of\nEkkiklyma, the\nElegants, effeminate\nEleusis, mysteries of\n--women at\nEleven (the), who they were\nEmbezzling State funds\nEmpusa, a spectre\nEngastromythes, explained\nEnglottogastors, meaning of\nEpicrates, a demagogue\nEpigonus, a pathic\nErasinidas, a general\nErinnys, a fury\nEryxis, noted for ugliness\nEther (the), physical theory of\nEuathlus, a diffamer\nEudemus, the sorcerer\nEuphemius, a flatterer\nEuripides, a verse from\n--date of his death\n--distich from\n--expressions from\n--verse from Orestes\n--origin\n--lost tragedies\n--verse from\n--heterodoxy\n--insipid style\n--\"ghost\" of\n--birth\n--stage-characters of\n--influence of his poetry\n--labour criticised\n--_versus_ Aeschylus\n--rhythm\n--monologue\n--'Antigon\u00e9' quoted\n--'Telephus' and 'Meleager' quoted\n--'Hippolytus,' line from\n--'Aeolus' and 'Phryxus' quoted\n--parodied\n--'Aeolus,'\n--'Alcestis' quoted\n--'Menalipp\u00e9,'\n--mother insulted\n--'Sthenoboea,'\n--'Phoenix,'\n--'Palamedes,'\n--'Helen' quoted\n--how staged\n--son of\n--verse from\nEurycles, the diviner\nEvaeon, poverty of\nExcrement, voiding\n--eating of, proverb\nExecestides, stranger at Athens\n--his tutelary deity\nEyes, bad, proverb on\n\nF\n\nFear, effect of\nFeast of Pots, the\nFees to citizens\nFelicity, and cuttle-fish\n\"Fig leaves in fire\"\nFigs with tongues\n--\"denouncers of figs\"\nFigure of rhetoric\nFish, high price of\nFlamingo, the\nFleet (the), supremacy of\nFlowers, worn at feasts\nFlute-girls, genitalia, ref. to\nFop, an old\nForest, pun on word\nFour Hundred, the\n_Friend of Strangers_, the\n\nG\n\nGables, pun on word\nGalleys, land of\nGames given at Athens\nGargettus\nGarlic, and gallants\nGenetyllides, the\nGeres, old fop\nGestation, ten months\nGibberish uttered by a god\nGirls, unmarried, ornaments\nGlaucetes, a glutton\nGods, the days of the\nGorgos, head of\nGrasshopper, the, as comparison\nGreek words, puns on\nGrudge, bearing no\nGull, the voracious\n\nH\n\nHades, leaders in\nHarmodius, statue of\nHecat\u00e9, altars of\n--the poor fed\n--goddess of death\nHegelochus, an actor\nHeliasts, tribunal of\n--manner of voting\n--daily salary\n--acrid temper\n--separated from public\n--choice of\n_Hell\u00e9's sacred waves_\nHellebore, for madness\nHemlock, effect of\nHeracles, gluttony of\n--descends to Hades\nHeracles, Temple of\nHermes, attributes of\nHesiod on Plutus\n\"Hestia, addressing first\"\nHiero, of Syracuse\nHieronymus, the argive\nHippias, tyranny of\nHippocrates, theories of\nHipponicus, the orator\nHomer's text corrupted\n\"Horse, the,\" an erotic posture\nHorses, devoured by\nHydriaphoros, the alien\n\nI\n\nIbycus, the poet\nIlithyia, goddess of child-birth\nIllyrians, the\nIncest, in the 'Aeolus,'\nInformer, business of\nIno, metamorphosis of\nIntercourse, sexual\nInterrupters, how dismissed\n_Invoke the god_\nIophon, son of Sophocles\n\nJ\n\nJar of wine comp. to ass\nJest, obscene\nJocasta, married by son\nJokes, coarse\nJurymen, fees of\n--tricks of\nJustice, slowness of\n\nK\n\n_Kimos_, top of voting urn\nKite, the, and springtime\n\nL\n\nLaches, an Athenian general\n--comic trial of dog and\n--ref. to his peculations\nLaespodias, a general\nLa\u00efs, the courtesan\nLamachus, better opinion of\nLamia, transformed\nLamiae (the)\nLamias, unknown\nLampadephoria, the\nLampon, a diviner\n--prediction of\nLasus, the poet\nLaurium, the mines of\nLeather, allusion to old\nLeogaras, an epicure\nLeotrophides, his leanness\nLesbian women, tricks of\nLiterature, heavy\nLocksmiths, Spartan\nLots, drawing\nLove exercises, ref. to\n_Love's Labour's Lost_\nLovers, gifts of\n--paid\nLycabettus\n'Lycimnius,' a tragedy\nLycus, a titulary god\n--statue of\nLyre, sound imitated\nLysicrates, a treacherous general\n--famed for ugliness\n\nM\n\nMagic rings\nMarathon, ref. to\nMasks, use of\nMasturbation, jest on\nMeasure, false, punished\nMedusa, head of\nMelanthius, a poet and leper\nMegabyzus, a general\nMegara, birthplace of comedy\nMemnon\nMemi\u00e8re (Dr. P.), ref. to\nMerchants, exemption of\nMeton, a geometrician\n\"Milesian bravery\"\nMilitary service (_see_ Merchants)\nMolon, a gigantic actor\nMorsimus, a minor poet\nMorychus, poet\n--mantle of\n\"Mother of the Gods,\" the\nMother, son marries\nMouth-strap, (the)\nMunychion, April\nMyronides, a general\nMyrtia, a baker's wife\nMyrtle boughs, use of\nMysteries, insulting the\n--of Eleusis\n\nN\n\nNausicydes\nNaxos, island of\nNeoclides, an orator\nNephelococcygia, meaning\nNicias, grandson of\nNicias, the general\n--his slackness\nNightingale, song of\n\"Niobe,\" tragedies of\nNysa, a town of Dionysus\n\nO\n\nOdeon (the), by whom built\nOdysseus, manner of escape\n--as spy\n--how he tortured\nOdyssey, the, quoted\nOffal, human, tasting\nOil, extensive use of\nOlive leaves\nOlophyxians, the\nOmen, word for\n--satire on\n--starting on journey\nOnions, as aphrodisiac\nOracles, trees as\nOrators, infamous\n--venom of\n--wear chaplets\n--rapacity of\n\"Orestes,\" prologue of the\nOrestes, the robber\n--cave alluded to\nOriganum, used for corpses\nOrnaments, worn by girls\nOrneae, a town\n--alluded to by prophet\nOwls, as omen\n--at Athens\nOx-fat, syn. for people\n\nP\n\nPalamedes, the inventor\nPamphilus, two of the name\nPan, the god\n\"Pankration\" (the)\nPantacles, unknown\n\"Parsley and the rue\"\nPathos and bathos\nPatrocles, a rich miser\nPauson, ruined\n--poverty of\nPeace, mother of Plutus\nPeacock and hoopoe\nPebble, the, how held\nPelargicon, the\nPellen\u00e9, a town\nPeplus, the\nPerfumes, on dead bodies\nPerseus, legend of\nPersian (the), cloak\nPhanae, land of informers\nPharnaces and bribery\nPharsalus, a town\nPhilepsius, a buffoon\nPhilippus, traitor and alien\nPhilocles, the poet\nPhlegra, plain of\nPhratria, registers of the\nPhrygian Graces, the\nPhrygians, origin of\nPhrynichus, tragic writer\n--precocious talent of\nPhrynondas, the infamous\n'Phryxus' (the), lines from\nPhylarchs, the\nPhyl\u00e9, occupation of\nPhysicians, poorly paid\nPig-trough, for bar\nPigs, young, sacrificed\nPisander, a coward\nPittalus, a physician\nPlants, aromatic, use of\nPlutus\n--god of riches\n--cured of blindness\nPnyx (the)\nPoetry, and dissoluteness\nPoets, seduction of\nPole, play on word\nPolemarch (the)\nPolicemen, at Athens\nPoltroons, names for\nPoor, the\n--coffins of\n--the, fed monthly\nPorphyrion, name of a Titan\nPoverty, cause of crime\nPresents, by lovers\nPriestesses, title of\nPrivate disputes, law anent\nProcrustes, notorious brigand\nProdicus, the sophist\nPronomus, beard of\nProteas, play on name\nProteus, palace of\nProxeni, their duties\nPurses, substitute for\nPyrrhic, the, dance\n\nQ\n\nQuiver, pun on word\n\nR\n\nRabelais, long word from\nRacine, in the _Plaideurs_\nRaven, a muzzled\nRewards, promised\nRich, the, dead\nRidicule feared\nRites for dead\nRobe, Cretan\nRope, the vermilion\nRope's end, for _membrum virile_\nRowing, command to stop\n\nS\n\nSacrifice, the complete\nSacrificial remains\nSailors, in danger\nSaffron robe, meaning of\nSalabaccha, a courtesan\nSalaminian, the, a State galley\nSamians, plot with Persians\nSardanapalus, used as title\nScaphephoros, symbol of\nSceptre, the, how made\nSciapodes, big feet of the\nScion\u00e9, a town\nScirophoria, feast of\nScorpions and orators\nScythian, the\n--use as police\n--his accent\nSeal, how protected\nSeals, broken\nSebinus, the treader\nSemel\u00e9, mother of Bacchus\nSerenades, Greek\nSerpent, the sacred\nSesame cakes\nShakespeare, long word from\nShoemakers, women as\nShoes, etc., where left\nSight, extraordinary\nSimois, city of the\nSinging, exit whilst\nSlaves\n--branding of\n--names\nSmaeus, the debauchee\nSocratic, the, \"Elenchus\"\nSocrates, etc.\n--comp. to vampires\n--the accuser of\nSoldier, as ambassador\nSolon, laws of\nSon, marries mother\nSophocles\n--mentioned\n--parodied\n--the Laocoon of\nSore throat and bribery\n\"Sows, little,\" obscene pun\nSparta\n--play on word\n--alliance against\nSperchius, the\nSphettian vinegar\nSpintharus\nSporgilus, a barber\nState funds, embezzled\nState, prosecuting the\nStatutes, how protected\nSthenelus, an actor\nSthenoboea, an amorous queen\nStool, position at\nStrangers, enjoy host's daughters\nStreak, the red\nStrouthian, the poulterer\nSun, the, parodied\nSunburnt, how to get\nSunshade carrier\nSurnames of characters\nSwearing, by the birds\nSybaris, the town of\nSycophants, origin of word\nSyllables, seventy-seven\nSyrmea, a plant\n\nT\n\nTablets and scrolls\nTaleas, a citizen\nTalent, value of\nTartessus, a town\nTaxes on slaves\nTenian garlic\nTereus, legend of\nTerminus, the god\nTesticles\n--play on word\n--tortured\nTeucers\nThales, his fame\nThallophores (the)\nTharelides, the jay\nTheagenes, his farting\nTheogenes, a boaster\nTheognis\nTheorus, comp. to crow\nTheramenes\nTheseus, descent to Hades\n--feasts of\nTHESMOPHORIA, when celebrated\n--duration\n--beautiful women\n--women slaves forbidden\n--lodging of women\n--images of the gods\nThesmothetes (the)\n--described\n--again\nThespis, the dances of\nThorycion, frauds of\nThrace, towns of\nThrasybulus, deliverer of Athens\n--compared\n--takes Phyl\u00e9\nThrasybulus the orator, sore throat of\n_Threttanello_ (_see_ Lyre)\nThucydides, tongue-tied\nThymaetia, coats of\nTiara, how worn\nTimon, the misanthrope\nTimotheus, a general\nTithrasios\nTorch-race (the)\nTortures allowed\n--ingenious\nTownspeople despised\nTragic style, parodied\nTreasure, proverb on\nTreasury, the public\nTriballi, the, a term of reproach\nTrierarchs\nTyranny, jest on death of\n\nU\n\nUlysses' adventures\nUrns, the two\n--threatened\nVersatile people, proverb\nVerse, a borrowed\nVerses, sung by maidens\nVine-prop (the), a comparison\nVote, of juryman, how given\n\nW\n\nWealth, and principle\nWild pears and sore throats\nWine-skin, hopping on\nWine-pits, the\nWineshop-keepers punished\nWoman and carding\n--\"to go with,\" pun on word\n--debt in relation to\n--old woman, pun on\nWomen, at funerals\n--secret loves of\n--in child-bed\n--period of gestation\n--love of strong drink\n--their form of oath\n--addressed as men\n--yellow tunics of\n--pale-faced\n--pay their lovers\n--display of luxury\nWord, a wonderful\nWren, play on word\n--in French and German\n\nX\n\nXenocles, an inferior poet\n\nY\n\nYellow tunics\nYoung men, how seduced\n\nZ\n\nZeus, the Deliverer","title":"The Eleven Comedies, Volume 2","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":104631}