Author: Aristophanes
Written: 425 BCE
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
DICAEOPOLIS.
HERALD.
AMPHITHEUS.
AMBASSADORS.
PSEUDARTABAS.
THEORUS.
WIFE OF DICAEOPOLIS.
DAUGHTER OF DICAEOPOLIS.
EURIPIDES.
CEPHISOPHON, servant of Euripides.
LAMACHUS.
ATTENDANT OF LAMACHUS.
A MEGARIAN.
MAIDENS, daughters of the Megarian.
A BOEOTIAN.
NICARCHUS.
A HUSBANDMAN.
A BRIDESMAID.
AN INFORMER.
MESSENGERS.
CHORUS OF ACHARNIAN ELDERS.
SCENE: The Athenian Ecclesia on the Pnyx; afterwards Dicaeopolis' house
in the country.
DICAEOPOLIS (_alone_). What cares have not gnawed at my heart and
how few have been the pleasures in my life! Four, to be exact, while my
troubles have been as countless as the grains of sand on the shore! Let
me see of what value to me have been these few pleasures? Ah! I remember
that I was delighted in soul when Cleon had to disgorge those five
talents; I was in ecstasy and I love the Knights for this deed; 'it
is an honour to Greece.' But the day when I was impatiently awaiting
a piece by Aeschylus, what tragic despair it caused me when the
herald called, "Theognis, introduce your Chorus!" Just imagine how
this blow struck straight at my heart! On the other hand, what joy
Dexitheus caused me at the musical competition, when he played a Boeotian
melody on the lyre! But this year by contrast! Oh! what deadly torture to
hear Chaeris--Never,
however, since I began to bathe, has the dust hurt my eyes as it does
to-day. Still it is the day of assembly; all should be here at daybreak,
and yet the Pnyx is still deserted. They are gossiping in the
market-place, slipping hither and thither to avoid the vermilioned
rope. even do not come; they will be late, but
when they come they will push and fight each other for a seat in the
front row. They will never trouble themselves with the question of peace.
Oh! Athens! Athens! As for myself, I do not fail to come here before all
the rest, and now, finding myself alone, I groan, yawn, stretch, break
wind, and know not what to do; I make sketches in the dust, pull out my
loose hairs, muse, think of my fields, long for peace, curse town life
and regret my dear country home, which never told me to 'buy fuel,
vinegar or oil'; there the word 'buy,' which cuts me in two, was unknown;
I harvested everything at will. Therefore I have come to the assembly
fully prepared to bawl, interrupt and abuse the speakers, if they talk of
aught but peace. But here come the Prytanes, and high time too, for it is
midday! As I foretold, hah! is it not so? They are pushing and fighting
for the front seats.
HERALD. Move on up, move on, move on, to get within the consecrated
area.
AMPHITHEUS. Has anyone spoken yet?
HERALD. Who asks to speak?
AMPHITHEUS. I do.
HERALD. Your name?
AMPHITHEUS. Amphitheus.
HERALD. You are no man.
AMPHITHEUS. No! I am an immortal! Amphitheus was the son of Ceres and
Triptolemus; of him was born Celeus. Celeus wedded Phaencreté, my
grandmother, whose son was Lucinus, and, being born of him, I am an
immortal; it is to me alone that the gods have entrusted the duty of
treating with the Lacedaemonians. But, citizens, though I am immortal, I
am dying of hunger; the Prytanes give me naught.
A PRYTANIS. Guards!
AMPHITHEUS. Oh, Triptolemus and Ceres, do ye thus forsake your own blood?
DICAEOPOLIS. Prytanes, in expelling this citizen, you are offering an
outrage to the Assembly. He only desired to secure peace for us and to
sheathe the sword.
PRYTANIS. Sit down and keep silence!
DICAEOPOLIS. No, by Apollo, will I not, unless you are going to discuss
the question of peace.
HERALD. The ambassadors, who are returned from the Court of the King!
DICAEOPOLIS. Of what King? I am sick of all those fine birds, the peacock
ambassadors and their swagger.
HERALD. Silence!
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! oh! by Ecbatana, what assumption!
AN AMBASSADOR. During the archonship of Euthymenes, you sent us to the
Great King on a salary of two drachmae per diem.
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! those poor drachmae!
AMBASSADOR. We suffered horribly on the plains of the Caÿster, sleeping
under a tent, stretched deliciously on fine chariots, half dead with
weariness.
DICAEOPOLIS. And I was very much at ease, lying on the straw along the
battlements!
AMBASSADOR. Everywhere we were well received and forced to drink
delicious wine out of golden or crystal flagons....
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh, city of Cranaus, thy ambassadors are laughing at
thee!
AMBASSADOR. For great feeders and heavy drinkers are alone esteemed as
men by the barbarians.
DICAEOPOLIS. Just as here in Athens, we only esteem the most drunken
debauchees.
AMBASSADOR. At the end of the fourth year we reached the King's Court,
but he had left with his whole army to ease himself, and for the space of
eight months he was thus easing himself in midst of the golden
mountains.
DICAEOPOLIS. And how long was he replacing his dress?
AMBASSADOR. The whole period of a full moon; after which he returned to
his palace; then he entertained us and had us served with oxen roasted
whole in an oven.
DICAEOPOLIS. Who ever saw an oxen baked in an oven? What a lie!
AMBASSADOR. On my honour, he also had us served with a bird three times
as large as Cleonymus, and called the Boaster.
DICAEOPOLIS. And do we give you two drachmae, that you should treat us to
all this humbug?
AMBASSADOR. We are bringing to you, Pseudartabas, the King's Eye.
DICAEOPOLIS. I would a crow might pluck out thine with his beak, thou
cursed ambassador!
HERALD. The King's Eye!
DICAEOPOLIS. Eh! Great gods! Friend, with thy great eye, round like the
hole through which the oarsman passes his sweep, you have the air of a
galley doubling a cape to gain the port.
AMBASSADOR. Come, Pseudartabas, give forth the message for the Athenians
with which you were charged by the Great King.
PSEUDARTABAS. Jartaman exarx 'anapissonnai satra.
AMBASSADOR. Do you understand what he says?
DICAEOPOLIS. By Apollo, not I!
AMBASSADOR. He says, that the Great King will send you gold. Come, utter
the word 'gold' louder and more distinctly.
DICAEOPOLIS. Thou shalt not have gold, thou gaping-arsed Ionian.
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! may the gods forgive me, but that is clear enough.
AMBASSADOR. What does he say?
DICAEOPOLIS. That the Ionians are debauchees and idiots, if they expect
to receive gold from the barbarians.
AMBASSADOR. Not so, he speaks of medimni of gold.
DICAEOPOLIS. What medimni? Thou art but a great braggart; but get your
way, I will find out the truth by myself. Come now, answer me clearly, if
you do not wish me to dye your skin red. Will the Great King send us
gold? (_Pseudartabas makes a negative sign._) Then our ambassadors are
seeking to deceive us? (_Pseudartabas signs affirmatively._) These
fellows make signs like any Greek; I am sure that they are nothing but
Athenians. Oh, ho! I recognize one of these eunuchs; it is Clisthenes,
the son of Sibyrtius. Behold the effrontery of this shaven rump!
How! great baboon, with such a beard do you seek to play the eunuch to
us? And this other one? Is it not Straton?
HERALD. Silence! Let all be seated. The Senate invites the King's Eye to
the Prytaneum.
DICAEOPOLIS. Is this not sufficient to drive one to hang oneself? Here I
stand chilled to the bone, whilst the doors of the Prytaneum fly wide
open to lodge such rascals. But I will do something great and bold. Where
is Amphitheus? Come and speak with me.
AMPHITHEUS. Here I am.
DICAEOPOLIS. Take these eight drachmae and go and conclude a truce with
the Lacedaemonians for me, my wife and my children; I leave you free, my
dear citizens, to send out embassies and to stand gaping in the air.
HERALD. Bring in Theorus, who has returned from the Court of
Sitalces.
THEORUS. I am here.
DICAEOPOLIS. Another humbug!
THEORUS. We should not have remained long in Thrace....
DICAEOPOLIS. Forsooth, no, if you had not been well paid.
THEORUS. ... If the country had not been covered with snow; the rivers
were ice-bound at the time that Theognis brought out his tragedy
here; during the whole of that time I was holding my own with Sitalces,
cup in hand; and, in truth, he adored you to such a degree, that he wrote
on the walls, "How beautiful are the Athenians!" His son, to whom we gave
the freedom of the city, burned with desire to come here and eat
chitterlings at the feast of the Apaturia; he prayed his father to
come to the aid of his new country and Sitalces swore on his goblet that
he would succour us with such a host that the Athenians would exclaim,
"What a cloud of grasshoppers!"
DICAEOPOLIS. May I die if I believe a word of what you tell us! Excepting
the grasshoppers, there is not a grain of truth in it all!
THEORUS. And he has sent you the most warlike soldiers of all Thrace.
DICAEOPOLIS. Now we shall begin to see clearly.
HERALD. Come hither, Thracians, whom Theorus brought.
DICAEOPOLIS. What plague have we here?
THEORUS. 'Tis the host of the Odomanti.
DICAEOPOLIS. Of the Odomanti? Tell me what it means. Who has mutilated
their tools like this?
THEORUS. If they are given a wage of two drachmae, they will put all
Boeotia to fire and sword.
DICAEOPOLIS. Two drachmae to those circumcised hounds! Groan aloud, ye
people of rowers, bulwark of Athens! Ah! great gods! I am undone; these
Odomanti are robbing me of my garlic! Will you give me back my
garlic?
THEORUS. Oh! wretched man! do not go near them; they have eaten
garlic.
DICAEOPOLIS. Prytanes, will you let me be treated in this manner, in my
own country and by barbarians? But I oppose the discussion of paying a
wage to the Thracians; I announce an omen; I have just felt a drop of
rain.
HERALD. Let the Thracians withdraw and return the day after to-morrow;
the Prytanes declare the sitting at an end.
DICAEOPOLIS. Ye gods, what garlic I have lost! But here comes Amphitheus
returned from Lacedaemon. Welcome, Amphitheus.
AMPHITHEUS. No, there is no welcome for me and I fly as fast as I can,
for I am pursued by the Acharnians.
DICAEOPOLIS. Why, what has happened?
AMPHITHEUS. I was hurrying to bring your treaty of truce, but some old
dotards from Acharnae got scent of the thing; they are veterans of
Marathon, tough as oak or maple, of which they are made for sure--rough
and ruthless. They all set to a-crying, "Wretch! you are the bearer of a
treaty, and the enemy has only just cut our vines!" Meanwhile they were
gathering stones in their cloaks, so I fled and they ran after me
shouting.
DICAEOPOLIS. Let 'em shout as much as they please! But have you brought
me a treaty?
AMPHITHEUS. Most certainly, here are three samples to select from,
this one is five years old; take it and taste.
DICAEOPOLIS. Faugh!
AMPHITHEUS. Well?
DICAEOPOLIS. It does not please me; it smells of pitch and of the ships
they are fitting out.
AMPHITHEUS. Here is another, ten years old; taste it.
DICAEOPOLIS. It smells strongly of the delegates, who go round the towns
to chide the allies for their slowness.
AMPHITHEUS. This last is a truce of thirty years, both on sea and land.
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! by Bacchus! what a bouquet! It has the aroma of nectar
and ambrosia; this does not say to us, "Provision yourselves for three
days." But it lisps the gentle numbers, "Go whither you will." I
accept it, ratify it, drink it at one draught and consign the Acharnians
to limbo. Freed from the war and its ills, I shall keep the Dionysia
in the country.
AMPHITHEUS. And I shall run away, for I'm mortally afraid of the
Acharnians.
CHORUS. This way all! Let us follow our man; we will demand him of
everyone we meet; the public weal makes his seizure imperative. Ho,
there! tell me which way the bearer of the truce has gone; he has escaped
us, he has disappeared. Curse old age! When I was young, in the days when
I followed Phayllus, running with a sack of coals on my back, this
wretch would not have eluded my pursuit, let him be as swift as he will;
but now my limbs are stiff; old Lacratides feels his legs are
weighty and the traitor escapes me. No, no, let us follow him; old
Acharnians like ourselves shall not be set at naught by a scoundrel, who
has dared, great gods! to conclude a truce, when I wanted the war
continued with double fury in order to avenge my ruined lands. No mercy
for our foes until I have pierced their hearts like a sharp reed, so that
they dare never again ravage my vineyards. Come, let us seek the rascal;
let us look everywhere, carrying our stones in our hands; let us hunt him
from place to place until we trap him; I could never, never tire of the
delight of stoning him.
DICAEOPOLIS. Peace! profane men!
CHORUS. Silence all! Friends, do you hear the sacred formula? Here is he,
whom we seek! This way, all! Get out of his way, surely he comes to offer
an oblation.
DICAEOPOLIS. Peace, profane men! Let the basket-bearer come forward,
and thou, Xanthias, hold the phallus well upright.
WIFE OF DICAEOPOLIS. Daughter, set down the basket and let us begin the
sacrifice.
DAUGHTER OF DICAEOPOLIS. Mother, hand me the ladle, that I may spread the
sauce on the cake.
DICAEOPOLIS. It is well! Oh, mighty Bacchus, it is with joy that, freed
from military duty, I and all mine perform this solemn rite and offer
thee this sacrifice; grant, that I may keep the rural Dionysia without
hindrance and that this truce of thirty years may be propitious for me.
WIFE OF DICAEOPOLIS. Come, my child, carry the basket gracefully and with
a grave, demure face. Happy he, who shall be your possessor and embrace
you so firmly at dawn, that you belch wind like a weasel. Go
forward, and have a care they don't snatch your jewels in the crowd.
DICAEOPOLIS. Xanthias, walk behind the basket-bearer and hold the phallus
well erect; I will follow, singing the Phallic hymn; thou, wife, look on
from the top of the terrace. companion of
the orgies of Bacchus, night reveller, god of adultery, friend of young
men, these past six years I have not been able to invoke thee. With
what joy I return to my farmstead, thanks to the truce I have concluded,
freed from cares, from fighting and from Lamachuses! How much
sweeter, Phales, oh, Phales, is it to surprise Thratta, the pretty
wood-maid, Strymodorus' slave, stealing wood from Mount Phelleus, to
catch her under the arms, to throw her on the ground and possess her! Oh,
Phales, Phales! If thou wilt drink and bemuse thyself with me, we will
to-morrow consume some good dish in honour of the peace, and I will hang
up my buckler over the smoking hearth.
CHORUS. It is he, he himself. Stone him, stone him, stone him, strike the
wretch. All, all of you, pelt him, pelt him!
DICAEOPOLIS. What is this? By Heracles, you will smash my pot.
CHORUS. It is you that we are stoning, you miserable scoundrel.
DICAEOPOLIS. And for what sin, Acharnian Elders, tell me that!
CHORUS. You ask that, you impudent rascal, traitor to your country; you
alone amongst us all have concluded a truce, and you dare to look us in
the face!
DICAEOPOLIS. But you do not know _why_ I have treated for peace. Listen!
CHORUS. Listen to you? No, no, you are about to die, we will annihilate
you with our stones.
DICAEOPOLIS. But first of all, listen. Stop, my friends.
CHORUS. I will hear nothing; do not address me; I hate you more than I do
Cleon, whom one day I shall flay to make sandals for the Knights.
Listen to your long speeches, after you have treated with the Laconians!
No, I will punish you.
DICAEOPOLIS. Friends, leave the Laconians out of debate and consider only
whether I have not done well to conclude my truce.
CHORUS. Done well! when you have treated with a people who know neither
gods, nor truth, nor faith.
DICAEOPOLIS. We attribute too much to the Laconians; as for myself, I
know that they are not the cause of all our troubles.
CHORUS. Oh, indeed, rascal! You dare to use such language to me and then
expect me to spare you!
DICAEOPOLIS. No, no, they are not the cause of all our troubles, and I
who address you claim to be able to prove that they have much to complain
of in us.
CHORUS. This passes endurance; my heart bounds with fury. Thus you dare
to defend our enemies.
DICAEOPOLIS. Were my head on the block I would uphold what I say and rely
on the approval of the people.
CHORUS. Comrades, let us hurl our stones and dye this fellow purple.
DICAEOPOLIS. What black fire-brand has inflamed your heart! You will not
hear me? You really will not, Acharnians?
CHORUS. No, a thousand times, no.
DICAEOPOLIS. This is a hateful injustice.
CHORUS. May I die, if I listen.
DICAEOPOLIS. Nay, nay! have mercy, have mercy, Acharnians.
CHORUS. You shall die.
DICAEOPOLIS. Well, blood for blood! I will kill your dearest friend. I
have here the hostages of Acharnae; I shall disembowel them.
CHORUS. Acharnians, what means this threat? Has he got one of our
children in his house? What gives him such audacity?
DICAEOPOLIS. Stone me, if it please you; I shall avenge myself on this.
(_Shows a basket_.) Let us see whether you have any love for your coals.
CHORUS. Great gods! this basket is our fellow-citizen. Stop, stop, in
heaven's name!
DICAEOPOLIS. I shall dismember it despite your cries; I will listen to
nothing.
CHORUS. How! will you kill this coal-basket, my beloved comrade?
DICAEOPOLIS. Just now, you did not listen to me.
CHORUS. Well, speak now, if you will; tell us, tell us you have a
weakness for the Lacedaemonians. I consent to anything; never will I
forsake this dear little basket.
DICAEOPOLIS. First, throw down your stones.
CHORUS. There! 'tis done. And you, do you put away your sword.
DICAEOPOLIS. Let me see that no stones remain concealed in your cloaks.
CHORUS. They are all on the ground; see how we shake our garments. Come,
no haggling, lay down your sword; we threw away everything while crossing
from one side of the stage to the other.
DICAEOPOLIS. What cries of anguish you would have uttered had these coals
of Parnes been dismembered, and yet it came very near it; had they
perished, their death would have been due to the folly of their
fellow-citizens. The poor basket was so frightened, look, it has shed a
thick black dust over me, the same as a cuttle-fish does. What an
irritable temper! You shout and throw stones, you will not hear my
arguments--not even when I propose to speak in favour of the
Lacedaemonians with my head on the block; and yet I cling to my life.
CHORUS. Well then, bring out a block before your door, scoundrel, and let
us hear the good grounds you can give us; I am curious to know them. Now
mind, as you proposed yourself, place your head on the block and speak.
DICAEOPOLIS. Here is the block; and, though I am but a very sorry
speaker, I wish nevertheless to talk freely of the Lacedaemonians and
without the protection of my buckler. Yet I have many reasons for fear. I
know our rustics; they are delighted if some braggart comes, and rightly
or wrongly loads both them and their city with praise and flattery; they
do not see that such toad-eaters are traitors, who sell them for
gain. As for the old men, I know their weakness; they only seek to
overwhelm the accused with their votes. Nor have I forgotten how
Cleon treated me because of my comedy last year; he dragged me
before the Senate and there he uttered endless slanders against me; 'twas
a tempest of abuse, a deluge of lies. Through what a slough of mud he
dragged me! I nigh perished. Permit me, therefore, before I speak, to
dress in the manner most likely to draw pity.
CHORUS. What evasions, subterfuges and delays! Hold! here is the sombre
helmet of Pluto with its thick bristling plume; Hieronymus lends it
to you; then open Sisyphus' bag of wiles; but hurry, hurry, pray,
for our discussion does not admit of delay.
DICAEOPOLIS. The time has come for me to manifest my courage, so I will
go and seek Euripides. Ho! slave, slave!
SLAVE. Who's there?
DICAEOPOLIS. Is Euripides at home?
SLAVE. He is and he isn't; understand that, if you have wit for't.
DICAEOPOLIS. How? He is and he isn't!
SLAVE. Certainly, old man; busy gathering subtle fancies here and there,
his mind is not in the house, but he himself is; perched aloft, he is
composing a tragedy.
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh, Euripides, you are indeed happy to have a slave so quick
at repartee! Now, fellow, call your master.
SLAVE. Impossible!
DICAEOPOLIS. So much the worse. But I will not go. Come, let us knock at
the door. Euripides, my little Euripides, my darling Euripides, listen;
never had man greater right to your pity. It is Dicaeopolis of the
Chollidan Deme who calls you. Do you hear?
EURIPIDES. I have no time to waste.
DICAEOPOLIS. Very well, have yourself wheeled out here.
EURIPIDES. Impossible.
DICAEOPOLIS. Nevertheless....
EURIPIDES. Well, let them roll me out; as to coming down, I have not the
time.
DICAEOPOLIS. Euripides....
EURIPIDES. What words strike my ear?
DICAEOPOLIS. You perch aloft to compose tragedies, when you might just as
well do them on the ground. I am not astonished at your introducing
cripples on the stage. And why dress in these miserable tragic rags?
I do not wonder that your heroes are beggars. But, Euripides, on my knees
I beseech you, give me the tatters of some old piece: for I have to treat
the Chorus to a long speech, and if I do it ill it is all over with me.
EURIPIDES. What rags do you prefer? Those in which I rigged out
Aeneus on the stage, that unhappy, miserable old man?
DICAEOPOLIS. No, I want those of some hero still more unfortunate.
EURIPIDES. Of Phoenix, the blind man?
DICAEOPOLIS. No, not of Phoenix, you have another hero more unfortunate
than him.
EURIPIDES. Now, what tatters _does_ he want? Do you mean those of the
beggar Philoctetes?
DICAEOPOLIS. No, of another far more the mendicant.
EURIPIDES. Is it the filthy dress of the lame fellow, Bellerophon?
DICAEOPOLIS. No, 'tis not Bellerophon; he, whom I mean, was not only lame
and a beggar, but boastful and a fine speaker.
EURIPIDES. Ah! I know, it is Telephus, the Mysian.
DICAEOPOLIS. Yes, Telephus. Give me his rags, I beg of you.
EURIPIDES. Slave! give him Telephus' tatters; they are on top of the rags
of Thyestes and mixed with those of Ino.
SLAVE. Catch hold! here they are.
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! Zeus, whose eye pierces everywhere and embraces all,
permit me to assume the most wretched dress on earth. Euripides, cap your
kindness by giving me the little Mysian hat, that goes so well with these
tatters. I must to-day have the look of a beggar; "be what I am, but not
appear to be"; the audience will know well who I am, but the Chorus
will be fools enough not to, and I shall dupe 'em with my subtle phrases.
EURIPIDES. I will give you the hat; I love the clever tricks of an
ingenious brain like yours.
DICAEOPOLIS. Rest happy, and may it befall Telephus as I wish. Ah! I
already feel myself filled with quibbles. But I must have a beggar's
staff.
EURIPIDES. Here you are, and now get you gone from this porch.
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh, my soul! You see how you are driven from this house,
when I still need so many accessories. But let us be pressing, obstinate,
importunate. Euripides, give me a little basket with a lamp alight
inside.
EURIPIDES. Whatever do you want such a thing as that for?
DICAEOPOLIS. I do not need it, but I want it all the same.
EURIPIDES. You importune me; get you gone!
DICAEOPOLIS. Alas! may the gods grant you a destiny as brilliant as your
mother's.
EURIPIDES. Leave me in peace.
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! just a little broken cup.
EURIPIDES. Take it and go and hang yourself. What a tiresome fellow!
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! you do not know all the pain you cause me. Dear, good
Euripides, nothing beyond a small pipkin stoppered with a sponge.
EURIPIDES. Miserable man! You are robbing me of an entire tragedy.
Here, take it and be off.
DICAEOPOLIS. I am going, but, great gods! I need one thing more; unless I
have it, I am a dead man. Hearken, my little Euripides, only give me this
and I go, never to return. For pity's sake, do give me a few small herbs
for my basket.
EURIPIDES. You wish to ruin me then. Here, take what you want; but it is
all over with my pieces!
DICAEOPOLIS. I won't ask another thing; I'm going. I am too importunate
and forget that I rouse against me the hate of kings.--Ah! wretch that I
am! I am lost! I have forgotten one thing, without which all the rest is
as nothing. Euripides, my excellent Euripides, my dear little Euripides,
may I die if I ask you again for the smallest present; only one, the
last, absolutely the last; give me some of the chervil your mother left
you in her will.
EURIPIDES. Insolent hound! Slave, lock the door.
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh, my soul! I must go away without the chervil. Art thou
sensible of the dangerous battle we are about to engage upon in defending
the Lacedaemonians? Courage, my soul, we must plunge into the midst of
it. Dost thou hesitate and art thou fully steeped in Euripides? That's
right! do not falter, my poor heart, and let us risk our head to say what
we hold for truth. Courage and boldly to the front. I wonder I am so
brave!
CHORUS. What do you purport doing? what are you going to say? What an
impudent fellow! what a brazen heart! To dare to stake his head and
uphold an opinion contrary to that of us all! And he does not tremble to
face this peril! Come, it is you who desired it, speak!
DICAEOPOLIS. Spectators, be not angered if, although I am a beggar, I
dare in a Comedy to speak before the people of Athens of the public weal;
Comedy too can sometimes discern what is right. I shall not please, but I
shall say what is true. Besides, Cleon shall not be able to accuse me of
attacking Athens before strangers; we are by ourselves at the
festival of the Lenaea; the period when our allies send us their tribute
and their soldiers is not yet. Here is only the pure wheat without chaff;
as to the resident strangers settled among us, they and the citizens are
one, like the straw and the ear.
I detest the Lacedaemonians with all my heart, and may Posidon, the god
of Taenarus, cause an earthquake and overturn their dwellings! My
vines also have been cut. But come (there are only friends who hear me),
why accuse the Laconians of all our woes? Some men (I do not say the
city, note particularly, that I do not say the city), some wretches, lost
in vices, bereft of honour, who were not even citizens of good stamp, but
strangers, have accused the Megarians of introducing their produce
fraudulently, and not a cucumber, a leveret, a sucking-pig, a clove of
garlic, a lump of salt was seen without its being said, "Halloa! these
come from Megara," and their being instantly confiscated. Thus far the
evil was not serious, and we were the only sufferers. But now some young
drunkards go to Megara and carry off the courtesan Simaetha; the
Megarians, hurt to the quick, run off in turn with two harlots of the
house of Aspasia; and so for three gay women Greece is set ablaze. Then
Pericles, aflame with ire on his Olympian height, let loose the
lightning, caused the thunder to roll, upset Greece and passed an edict,
which ran like the song, "That the Megarians be banished both from our
land and from our markets and from the sea and from the continent."
Meanwhile the Megarians, who were beginning to die of hunger, begged the
Lacedaemonians to bring about the abolition of the decree, of which those
harlots were the cause; several times we refused their demand; and from
that time there was a horrible clatter of arms everywhere. You will say
that Sparta was wrong, but what should she have done? Answer that.
Suppose that a Lacedaemonian had seized a little Seriphian dog on
any pretext and had sold it, would you have endured it quietly? Far from
it, you would at once have sent three hundred vessels to sea, and what an
uproar there would have been through all the city! there 'tis a band of
noisy soldiery, here a brawl about the election of a Trierarch; elsewhere
pay is being distributed, the Pallas figure-heads are being regilded,
crowds are surging under the market porticos, encumbered with wheat that
is being measured, wine-skins, oar-leathers, garlic, olives, onions in
nets; everywhere are chaplets, sprats, flute-girls, black eyes; in the
arsenal bolts are being noisily driven home, sweeps are being made and
fitted with leathers; we hear nothing but the sound of whistles, of
flutes and fifes to encourage the work-folk. That is what you assuredly
would have done, and would not Telephus have done the same? So I come to
my general conclusion; we have no common sense.
FIRST SEMI-CHORUS. Oh! wretch! oh! infamous man! You are naught but a
beggar and yet you dare to talk to us like this! you insult their
worships the informers!
SECOND SEMI-CHORUS. By Posidon! he speaks the truth; he has not lied in a
single detail.
FIRST SEMI-CHORUS. But though it be true, need he say it? But you'll have
no great cause to be proud of your insolence!
SECOND SEMI-CHORUS. Where are you running to? Don't you move; if you
strike this man I shall be at you.
FIRST SEMI-CHORUS. Lamachus, whose glance flashes lightning, whose plume
petrifies thy foes, help! Oh! Lamachus, my friend, the hero of my tribe
and all of you, both officers and soldiers, defenders of our walls, come
to my aid; else is it all over with me!
LAMACHUS. Whence comes this cry of battle? where must I bring my aid?
where must I sow dread? who wants me to uncase my dreadful Gorgon's
head?
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh, Lamachus, great hero! Your plumes and your cohorts
terrify me.
CHORUS. This man, Lamachus, incessantly abuses Athens.
LAMACHUS. You are but a mendicant and you dare to use language of this
sort?
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh, brave Lamachus, forgive a beggar who speaks at hazard.
LAMACHUS. But what have you said? Let us hear.
DICAEOPOLIS. I know nothing about it; the sight of weapons makes me
dizzy. Oh! I adjure you, take that fearful Gorgon somewhat farther away.
LAMACHUS. There.
DICAEOPOLIS. Now place it face downwards on the ground.
LAMACHUS. It is done.
DICAEOPOLIS. Give me a plume out of your helmet.
LAMACHUS. Here is a feather.
DICAEOPOLIS. And hold my head while I vomit; the plumes have turned my
stomach.
LAMACHUS. Hah! what are you proposing to do? do you want to make yourself
vomit with this feather?
DICAEOPOLIS. Is it a feather? what bird's? a braggart's?
LAMACHUS. Ah! ah! I will rip you open.
DICAEOPOLIS. No, no, Lamachus! Violence is out of place here! But as you
are so strong, why did you not circumcise me? You have all you want for
the operation there.
LAMACHUS. A beggar dares thus address a general!
DICAEOPOLIS. How? Am I a beggar?
LAMACHUS. What are you then?
DICAEOPOLIS. Who am I? A good citizen, not ambitious; a soldier, who has
fought well since the outbreak of the war, whereas you are but a vile
mercenary.
LAMACHUS. They elected me....
DICAEOPOLIS. Yes, three cuckoos did! If I have concluded peace,
'twas disgust that drove me; for I see men with hoary heads in the ranks
and young fellows of your age shirking service. Some are in Thrace
getting an allowance of three drachmae, such fellows as Tisameophoenippus
and Panurgipparchides. The others are with Chares or in Chaonia, men like
Geretotheodorus and Diomialazon; there are some of the same kidney, too,
at Camarina and at Gela, the laughing-stock of all and sundry.
LAMACHUS. They were elected.
DICAEOPOLIS. And why do you always receive your pay, when none of these
others ever get any? Speak, Marilades, you have grey hair; well then,
have you ever been entrusted with a mission? See! he shakes his head. Yet
he is an active as well as a prudent man. And you, Dracyllus, Euphorides
or Prinides, have you knowledge of Ecbatana or Chaonia? You say no, do
you not? Such offices are good for the son of Caesyra and Lamachus,
who, but yesterday ruined with debt, never pay their shot, and whom all
their friends avoid as foot passengers dodge the folks who empty their
slops out of window.
LAMACHUS. Oh! in freedom's name! are such exaggerations to be borne?
DICAEOPOLIS. Lamachus is well content; no doubt he is well paid, you
know.
LAMACHUS. But I propose always to war with the Peloponnesians, both at
sea, on land and everywhere to make them tremble, and trounce them
soundly.
DICAEOPOLIS. For my own part, I make proclamation to all Peloponnesians,
Megarians and Boeotians, that to them my markets are open; but I debar
Lamachus from entering them.
CHORUS. Convinced by this man's speech, the folk have changed their view
and approve him for having concluded peace. But let us prepare for the
recital of the parabasis.
Never since our poet presented Comedies, has he praised himself upon the
stage; but, having been slandered by his enemies amongst the volatile
Athenians, accused of scoffing at his country and of insulting the
people, to-day he wishes to reply and regain for himself the inconstant
Athenians. He maintains that he has done much that is good for you; if
you no longer allow yourselves to be too much hoodwinked by strangers or
seduced by flattery, if in politics you are no longer the ninnies you
once were, it is thanks to him. Formerly, when delegates from other
cities wanted to deceive you, they had but to style you, "the people
crowned with violets," and, at the word "violets" you at once sat erect
on the tips of your bums. Or, if to tickle your vanity, someone spoke of
"rich and sleek Athens," in return for that 'sleekness' he would get all,
because he spoke of you as he would have of anchovies in oil. In
cautioning you against such wiles, the poet has done you great service as
well as in forcing you to understand what is really the democratic
principle. Thus, the strangers, who came to pay their tributes, wanted to
see this great poet, who had dared to speak the truth to Athens. And so
far has the fame of his boldness reached that one day the Great King,
when questioning the Lacedaemonian delegates, first asked them which of
the two rival cities was the superior at sea, and then immediately
demanded at which it was that the comic poet directed his biting satire.
"Happy that city," he added, "if it listens to his counsel; it will grow
in power, and its victory is assured." This is why the Lacedaemonians
offer you peace, if you will cede them Aegina; not that they care for the
isle, but they wish to rob you of your poet. As for you, never lose
him, who will always fight for the cause of justice in his Comedies; he
promises you that his precepts will lead you to happiness, though he uses
neither flattery, nor bribery, nor intrigue, nor deceit; instead of
loading you with praise, he will point you to the better way. I scoff at
Cleon's tricks and plotting; honesty and justice shall fight my cause;
never will you find me a political poltroon, a prostitute to the highest
bidder.
I invoke thee, Acharnian Muse, fierce and fell as the devouring fire;
sudden as the spark that bursts from the crackling oaken coal when roused
by the quickening fan to fry little fishes, while others knead the dough
or whip the sharp Thasian pickle with rapid hand, so break forth, my
Muse, and inspire thy tribesmen with rough, vigorous, stirring strains.
We others, now old men and heavy with years, we reproach the city; so
many are the victories we have gained for the Athenian fleets that we
well deserve to be cared for in our declining life; yet far from this, we
are ill-used, harassed with law-suits, delivered over to the scorn of
stripling orators. Our minds and bodies being ravaged with age, Posidon
should protect us, yet we have no other support than a staff. When
standing before the judge, we can scarcely stammer forth the fewest
words, and of justice we see but its barest shadow, whereas the accuser,
desirous of conciliating the younger men, overwhelms us with his ready
rhetoric; he drags us before the judge, presses us with questions, lays
traps for us; the onslaught troubles, upsets and rends poor old Tithonus,
who, crushed with age, stands tongue-tied; sentenced to a fine, he
weeps, he sobs and says to his friend, "This fine robs me of the last
trifle that was to have bought my coffin."
Is this not a scandal? What! the clepsydra is to kill the
white-haired veteran, who, in fierce fighting, has so oft covered himself
with glorious sweat, whose valour at Marathon saved the country! 'Twas we
who pursued on the field of Marathon, whereas now 'tis wretches who
pursue us to the death and crush us! What would Marpsias reply to
this? What an injustice, that a man, bent with age like Thucydides,
should be brow-beaten by this braggart advocate, Cephisodemus, who
is as savage as the Scythian desert he was born in! Is it not to convict
him from the outset? I wept tears of pity when I saw an Archer
maltreat this old man, who, by Ceres, when he was young and the true
Thucydides, would not have permitted an insult from Ceres herself! At
that date he would have floored ten miserable orators, he would have
terrified three thousand Archers with his shouts; he would have pierced
the whole line of the enemy with his shafts. Ah! but if you will not
leave the aged in peace, decree that the advocates be matched; thus the
old man will only be confronted with a toothless greybeard, the young
will fight with the braggart, the ignoble with the son of Clinias;
make a law that in future, the old man can only be summoned and convicted
at the courts by the aged and the young man by the youth.
DICAEOPOLIS. These are the confines of my market-place. All
Peloponnesians, Megarians, Boeotians, have the right to come and trade
here, provided they sell their wares to me and not to Lamachus. As
market-inspectors I appoint these three whips of Leprean leather,
chosen by lot. Warned away are all informers and all men of Phasis.
They are bringing me the pillar on which the treaty is inscribed and
I shall erect it in the centre of the market, well in sight of all.
A MEGARIAN. Hail! market of Athens, beloved of Megarians. Let Zeus, the
patron of friendship, witness, I regretted you as a mother mourns her
son. Come, poor little daughters of an unfortunate father, try to find
something to eat; listen to me with the full heed of an empty belly.
Which would you prefer? To be sold or to cry with hunger.
DAUGHTERS. To be sold, to be sold!
MEGARIAN. That is my opinion too. But who would make so sorry a deal as
to buy you? Ah! I recall me a Megarian trick; I am going to disguise you
as little porkers, that I am offering for sale. Fit your hands with these
hoofs and take care to appear the issue of a sow of good breed, for, if I
am forced to take you back to the house, by Hermes! you will suffer
cruelly of hunger! Then fix on these snouts and cram yourselves into this
sack. Forget not to grunt and to say wee-wee like the little pigs that
are sacrificed in the Mysteries. I must summon Dicaeopolis. Where is he?
Dicaeopolis, will you buy some nice little porkers?
DICAEOPOLIS. Who are you? a Megarian?
MEGARIAN. I have come to your market.
DICAEOPOLIS. Well, how are things at Megara?
MEGARIAN. We are crying with hunger at our firesides.
DICAEOPOLIS. The fireside is jolly enough with a piper. But what else is
doing at Megara, eh?
MEGARIAN. What else? When I left for the market, the authorities were
taking steps to let us die in the quickest manner.
DICAEOPOLIS. That is the best way to get you out of all your troubles.
MEGARIAN. True.
DICAEOPOLIS. What other news of Megara? What is wheat selling at?
MEGARIAN. With us it is valued as highly as the very gods in heaven!
DICAEOPOLIS. Is it salt that you are bringing?
MEGARIAN. Are you not holding back the salt?
DICAEOPOLIS. 'Tis garlic then?
MEGARIAN. What! garlic! do you not at every raid grub up the ground with
your pikes to pull out every single head?
DICAEOPOLIS. What _do_ you bring then?
MEGARIAN. Little sows, like those they immolate at the Mysteries.
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! very well, show me them.
MEGARIAN. They are very fine; feel their weight. See! how fat and fine.
DICAEOPOLIS. But what is this?
MEGARIAN. A _sow_, for a certainty.
DICAEOPOLIS. You say a sow! of what country, then?
MEGARIAN. From Megara. What! is that not a sow then?
DICAEOPOLIS. No, I don't believe it is.
MEGARIAN. This is too much! what an incredulous man! He says 'tis not a
sow; but we will stake, an you will, a measure of salt ground up with
thyme, that in good Greek this is called a sow and nothing else.
DICAEOPOLIS. But a sow of the human kind.
MEGARIAN. Without question, by Diocles! of my own breed! Well! What think
you? will you hear them squeal?
DICAEOPOLIS. Well, yes, i' faith, I will.
MEGARIAN. Cry quickly, wee sowlet; squeak up, hussy, or by Hermes! I take
you back to the house.
GIRL. Wee-wee, wee-wee!
MEGARIAN. Is that a little sow, or not?
DICAEOPOLIS. Yes, it seems so; but let it grow up, and it will be a fine
fat cunt.
MEGARIAN. In five years it will be just like its mother.
DICAEOPOLIS. But it cannot be sacrificed.
MEGARIAN. And why not?
DICAEOPOLIS. It has no tail.
MEGARIAN. Because it is quite young, but in good time it will have a big
one, thick and red.
DICAEOPOLIS. The two are as like as two peas.
MEGARIAN. They are born of the same father and mother; let them be
fattened, let them grow their bristles, and they will be the finest sows
you can offer to Aphrodité.
DICAEOPOLIS. But sows are not immolated to Aphrodité.
MEGARIAN. Not sows to Aphrodité! Why, 'tis the only goddess to whom they
are offered! the flesh of my sows will be excellent on the spit.
DICAEOPOLIS. Can they eat alone? They no longer need their mother!
MEGARIAN. Certainly not, nor their father.
DICAEOPOLIS. What do they like most?
MEGARIAN. Whatever is given them; but ask for yourself.
DICAEOPOLIS. Speak! little sow.
DAUGHTER. Wee-wee, wee-wee!
DICAEOPOLIS. Can you eat chick-pease?
DAUGHTER. Wee-wee, wee-wee, wee-wee!
DICAEOPOLIS. And Attic figs?
DAUGHTER. Wee-wee, wee-wee!
DICAEOPOLIS. What sharp squeaks at the name of figs. Come, let some figs
be brought for these little pigs. Will they eat them? Goodness! how they
munch them, what a grinding of teeth, mighty Heracles! I believe those
pigs hail from the land of the Voracians. But surely, 'tis impossible
they have bolted all the figs!
MEGARIAN. Yes, certainly, bar this one that I took from them.
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! what funny creatures! For what sum will you sell them?
MEGARIAN. I will give you one for a bunch of garlic, and the other, if
you like, for a quart measure of salt.
DICAEOPOLIS. I buy them of you. Wait for me here.
MEGARIAN. The deal is done. Hermes, god of good traders, grant I may sell
both my wife and my mother in the same way!
AN INFORMER. Hi! fellow, what countryman are you?
MEGARIAN. I am a pig-merchant from Megara.
INFORMER. I shall denounce both your pigs and yourself as public enemies.
MEGARIAN. Ah! here our troubles begin afresh!
INFORMER. Let go that sack. I will punish your Megarian lingo.
MEGARIAN. Dicaeopolis, Dicaeopolis, they want to denounce me.
DICAEOPOLIS. Who dares do this thing? Inspectors, drive out the
Informers. Ah! you offer to enlighten us without a lamp!
INFORMER. What! I may not denounce our enemies?
DICAEOPOLIS. Have a care for yourself, if you don't go off pretty quick
to denounce elsewhere.
MEGARIAN. What a plague to Athens!
DICAEOPOLIS. Be reassured, Megarian. Here is the value of your two swine,
the garlic and the salt. Farewell and much happiness!
MEGARIAN. Ah! we never have that amongst us.
DICAEOPOLIS. Well! may the inopportune wish apply to myself.
MEGARIAN. Farewell, dear little sows, and seek, far from your father, to
munch your bread with salt, if they give you any.
CHORUS. Here is a man truly happy. See how everything succeeds to his
wish. Peacefully seated in his market, he will earn his living; woe to
Ctesias, and all other informers, who dare to enter there! You will
not be cheated as to the value of wares, you will not again see
Prepis jostle you; you
will take your walks, clothed in a fine tunic, without meeting
Hyperbolus and his unceasing quibblings, without being accosted on
the public place by any importunate fellow, neither by Cratinus,
shaven in the fashion of the debauchees, nor by this musician, who
plagues us with his silly improvisations, Artemo, with his arm-pits
stinking as foul as a goat, like his father before him. You will not be
the butt of the villainous Pauson's
the disgrace of the Cholargian deme, who is the incarnation of all the
vices, and endures cold and hunger more than thirty days in the month.
A BOEOTIAN. By Heracles! my shoulder is quite black and blue. Ismenias,
put the penny-royal down there very gently, and all of you, musicians
from Thebes, pipe with your bone flutes into a dog's rump.
DICAEOPOLIS. Enough, enough, get you gone. Rascally hornets, away with
you! Whence has sprung this accursed swarm of Cheris fellows which
comes assailing my door?
BOEOTIAN. Ah! by Iolas! Drive them off, my dear host, you will
please me immensely; all the way from Thebes, they were there piping
behind me and have completely stripped my penny-royal of its blossom. But
will you buy anything of me, some chickens or some locusts?
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! good day, Boeotian, eater of good round loaves.
What do you bring?
BOEOTIAN. All that is good in Boeotia, marjoram, penny-royal, rush-mats,
lamp-wicks, ducks, jays, woodcocks, waterfowl, wrens, divers.
DICAEOPOLIS. 'Tis a very hail of birds that beats down on my market.
BOEOTIAN. I also bring geese, hares, foxes, moles, hedgehogs, cats,
lyres, martins, otters and eels from the Copaic lake.
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! my friend, you, who bring me the most delicious of fish,
let me salute your eels.
BOEOTIAN. Come, thou, the eldest of my fifty Copaic virgins, come and
complete the joy of our host.
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! my well-beloved, thou object of my long regrets, thou
art here at last then, thou, after whom the comic poets sigh, thou, who
art dear to Morychus. Slaves, hither with the stove and the bellows.
Look at this charming eel, that returns to us after six long years of
absence. Salute it, my children; as for myself, I will supply coal
to do honour to the stranger. Take it into my house; death itself could
not separate me from her, if cooked with beet leaves.
BOEOTIAN. And what will you give me in return?
DICAEOPOLIS. It will pay for your market dues. And as to the rest, what
do you wish to sell me?
BOEOTIAN. Why, everything.
DICAEOPOLIS. On what terms? For ready-money or in wares from these parts?
BOEOTIAN. I would take some Athenian produce, that we have not got in
Boeotia.
DICAEOPOLIS. Phaleric anchovies, pottery?
BOEOTIAN. Anchovies, pottery? But these we have. I want produce that is
wanting with us and that is plentiful here.
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! I have the very thing; take away an Informer, packed up
carefully as crockery-ware.
BOEOTIAN. By the twin gods! I should earn big money, if I took one; I
would exhibit him as an ape full of spite.
DICAEOPOLIS. Hah! here we have Nicarchus, who comes to denounce you.
BOEOTIAN. How small he is!
DICAEOPOLIS. But in his case the whole is one mass of ill-nature.
NICARCHUS. Whose are these goods?
DICAEOPOLIS. Mine; they come from Boeotia, I call Zeus to witness.
NICARCHUS. I denounce them as coming from an enemy's country.
BOEOTIAN. What! you declare war against birds?
NICARCHUS. And I am going to denounce you too.
BOEOTIAN. What harm have I done you?
NICARCHUS. I will say it for the benefit of those that listen; you
introduce lamp-wicks from an enemy's country.
DICAEOPOLIS. Then you go as far as denouncing a wick.
NICARCHUS. It needs but one to set an arsenal afire.
DICAEOPOLIS. A wick set an arsenal ablaze! But how, great gods?
NICARCHUS. Should a Boeotian attach it to an insect's wing, and, taking
advantage of a violent north wind, throw it by means of a tube into the
arsenal and the fire once get hold of the vessels, everything would soon
be devoured by the flames.
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! wretch! an insect and a wick would devour everything.
(_He strikes him_.)
NICARCHUS (_to the Chorus_). You will bear witness, that he mishandles
me.
DICAEOPOLIS. Shut his mouth. Give him some hay; I am going to pack him up
as a vase, that he may not get broken on the road.
CHORUS. Pack up your goods carefully, friend; that the stranger may not
break it when taking it away.
DICAEOPOLIS. I shall take great care with it, for one would say he is
cracked already; he rings with a false note, which the gods abhor.
CHORUS. But what will be done with him?
DICAEOPOLIS. This is a vase good for all purposes; it will be used as a
vessel for holding all foul things, a mortar for pounding together
law-suits, a lamp for spying upon accounts, and as a cup for the mixing
up and poisoning of everything.
CHORUS. None could ever trust a vessel for domestic use that has such a
ring about it.
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! it is strong, my friend, and will never get broken, if
care is taken to hang it head downwards.
CHORUS. There! it is well packed now!
BOEOTIAN. Marry, I will proceed to carry off my bundle.
CHORUS. Farewell, worthiest of strangers, take this Informer, good for
anything, and fling him where you like.
DICAEOPOLIS. Bah! this rogue has given me enough trouble to pack! Here!
Boeotian, pick up your pottery.
BOEOTIAN. Stoop, Ismenias, that I may put it on your shoulder, and be
very careful with it.
DICAEOPOLIS. You carry nothing worth having; however, take it, for you
will profit by your bargain; the Informers will bring you luck.
A SERVANT OF LAMACHUS. Dicaeopolis!
DICAEOPOLIS. What do want crying this gait?
SERVANT. Lamachus wants to keep the Feast of Cups, and I come by his
order to bid you one drachma for some thrushes and three more for a
Copaic eel.
DICAEOPOLIS. And who is this Lamachus, who demands an eel?
SERVANT. 'Tis the terrible, indefatigable Lamachus, he, who is always
brandishing his fearful Gorgon's head and the three plumes which
o'ershadow his helmet.
DICAEOPOLIS. No, no, he will get nothing, even though he gave me his
buckler. Let him eat salt fish, while he shakes his plumes, and, if he
comes here making any din, I shall call the inspectors. As for myself, I
shall take away all these goods; I go home on thrushes' wings and
blackbirds' pinions.
CHORUS. You see, citizens, you see the good fortune which this man owes
to his prudence, to his profound wisdom. You see how, since he has
concluded peace, he buys what is useful in the household and good to eat
hot. All good things flow towards him unsought. Never will I welcome the
god of war in my house; never shall he chant the 'Harmodius' at my
table; he is a sot, who comes feasting with those who are
overflowing with good things and brings all sorts of mischief at his
heels. He overthrows, ruins, rips open; 'tis vain to make him a thousand
offers, "be seated, pray, drink this cup, proffered in all friendship,"
he burns our vine-stocks and brutally pours out the wine from our
vineyards on the ground. This man, on the other hand, covers his table
with a thousand dishes; proud of his good fortunes, he has had these
feathers cast before his door to show us how he lives.
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! Peace! companion of fair Aphrodité and of the sweet
Graces, how charming are your features and yet I never knew it! Would
that Eros might join me to thee, Eros, crowned with roses as Zeuxis
shows him to us! Perhaps I seem somewhat old to you, but I am yet able to
make you a threefold offering; despite my age, I could plant a long row
of vines for you; then beside these some tender cuttings from the fig;
finally a young vine-stock, loaded with fruit and all round the field
olive trees, which would furnish us with oil, wherewith to anoint us both
at the New Moons.
HERALD. List, ye people! As was the custom of your forebears, empty a
full pitcher of wine at the call of the trumpet; he, who first sees the
bottom, shall get a wine-skin as round and plump as Ctesiphon's belly.
DICAEOPOLIS. Women, children, have you not heard? Faith! do you not heed
the herald? Quick! let the hares boil and roast merrily; keep them
a-turning; withdraw them from the flame; prepare the chaplets; reach me
the skewers that I may spit the thrushes.
CHORUS. I envy you your wisdom and even more your good cheer.
DICAEOPOLIS. What then will you say when you see the thrushes roasting?
CHORUS. Ah! true indeed!
DICAEOPOLIS. Slave! stir up the fire.
CHORUS. See, how he knows his business, what a perfect cook! How well he
understands the way to prepare a good dinner!
A HUSBANDMAN. Ah! woe is me!
DICAEOPOLIS. Heracles! What have we here?
HUSBANDMAN. A most miserable man.
DICAEOPOLIS. Keep your misery for yourself.
HUSBANDMAN. Ah! friend! since you alone are enjoying peace, grant me a
part of your truce, were it but five years.
DICAEOPOLIS. What has happened to you?
HUSBANDMAN. I am ruined; I have lost a pair of steers.
DICAEOPOLIS. How?
HUSBANDMAN. The Boeotians seized them at Phylé.
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! poor wretch! and yet you have not left off white?
HUSBANDMAN. Their dung made my wealth.
DICAEOPOLIS. What can I do in the matter?
HUSBANDMAN. Crying for my beasts has lost me my eyesight. Ah! if you care
for poor Dercetes of Phylé, anoint mine eyes quickly with your balm of
peace.
DICAEOPOLIS. But, my poor fellow, I do not practise medicine.
HUSBANDMAN. Come, I adjure you; perchance I shall recover my steers.
DICAEOPOLIS. 'Tis impossible; away, go and whine to the disciples of
Pittalus.
HUSBANDMAN. Grant me but one drop of peace; pour it into this reedlet.
DICAEOPOLIS. No, not a particle; go a-weeping elsewhere.
HUSBANDMAN. Oh! oh! oh! my poor beasts!
CHORUS. This man has discovered the sweetest enjoyment in peace; he will
share it with none.
DICAEOPOLIS. Pour honey over this tripe; set it before the fire to dry.
CHORUS. What lofty tones he uses! Did you hear him?
DICAEOPOLIS. Get the eels on the gridiron!
CHORUS. You are killing me with hunger; your smoke is choking your
neighbours, and you split our ears with your bawling.
DICAEOPOLIS. Have this fried and let it be nicely browned.
A BRIDESMAID. Dicaeopolis! Dicaeopolis!
DICAEOPOLIS. Who are you?
BRIDESMAID. A young bridegroom sends you these viands from the marriage
feast.
DICAEOPOLIS. Whoever he be, I thank him.
BRIDESMAID. And in return, he prays you to pour a glass of peace into
this vase, that he may not have to go to the front and may stay at home
to do his duty to his young wife.
DICAEOPOLIS. Take back, take back your viands; for a thousand drachmae I
would not give a drop of peace; but who are you, pray?
BRIDESMAID. I am the bridesmaid; she wants to say something to you from
the bride privately.
DICAEOPOLIS. Come, what do you wish to say? (_The bridesmaid whispers in
his ear._) _Ah!_ what a ridiculous demand! The bride burns with longing
to keep by her her husband's weapon. Come! bring hither my truce; to her
alone will I give some of it, for she is a woman, and, as such, should
not suffer under the war. Here, friend, reach hither your vial. And as to
the manner of applying this balm, tell the bride, when a levy of soldiers
is made to rub some in bed on her husband, where most needed. There,
slave, take away my truce! Now, quick hither with the wine-flagon, that I
may fill up the drinking bowls!
CHORUS. I see a man, striding along apace, with knitted brows; he seems
to us the bearer of terrible tidings.
HERALD. Oh! toils and battles! 'tis Lamachus!
LAMACHUS. What noise resounds around my dwelling, where shines the glint
of arms.
HERALD. The Generals order you forthwith to take your battalions and your
plumes, and, despite the snow, to go and guard our borders. They have
learnt that a band of Boeotians intend taking advantage of the feast of
Cups to invade our country.
LAMACHUS. Ah! the Generals! they are numerous, but not good for much!
It's cruel, not to be able to enjoy the feast!
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! warlike host of Lamachus!
LAMACHUS. Wretch! do you dare to jeer me?
DICAEOPOLIS. Do you want to fight this four-winged Geryon?
LAMACHUS. Oh! oh! what fearful tidings!
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! ah! I see another herald running up; what news does he
bring me?
HERALD. Dicaeopolis!
DICAEOPOLIS. What is the matter?
HERALD. Come quickly to the feast and bring your basket and your cup;
'tis the priest of Bacchus who invites you. But hasten, the guests have
been waiting for you a long while. All is ready--couches, tables,
cushions, chaplets, perfumes, dainties and courtesans to boot; biscuits,
cakes, sesamé-bread, tarts, and--lovely dancing women, the sweetest charm
of the festivity. But come with all haste.
LAMACHUS. Oh! hostile gods!
DICAEOPOLIS. This is not astounding; you have chosen this huge, great
ugly Gorgon's head for your patron. You, shut the door, and let someone
get ready the meal.
LAMACHUS. Slave! slave! my knapsack!
DICAEOPOLIS. Slave! slave! a basket!
LAMACHUS. Take salt and thyme, slave, and don't forget the onions.
DICAEOPOLIS. Get some fish for me; I cannot bear onions.
LAMACHUS. Slave, wrap me up a little stale salt meat in a fig-leaf.
DICAEOPOLIS. And for me some good greasy tripe in a fig-leaf; I will have
it cooked here.
LAMACHUS. Bring me the plumes for my helmet.
DICAEOPOLIS. Bring me wild pigeons and thrushes.
LAMACHUS. How white and beautiful are these ostrich feathers!
DICAEOPOLIS. How fat and well browned is the flesh of this wood-pigeon!
LAMACHUS. Bring me the case for my triple plume.
DICAEOPOLIS. Pass me over that dish of hare.
LAMACHUS. _Oh!_ the moths have eaten the hair of my crest!
DICAEOPOLIS. I shall always eat hare before dinner.
LAMACHUS. Hi! friend! try not to scoff at my armour.
DICAEOPOLIS. Hi! friend! will you kindly not stare at my thrushes.
LAMACHUS. Hi! friend! will you kindly not address me.
DICAEOPOLIS. I do not address you; I am scolding my slave. Shall we wager
and submit the matter to Lamachus, which of the two is the best to eat, a
locust or a thrush?
LAMACHUS. Insolent hound!
DICAEOPOLIS. He much prefers the locusts.
LAMACHUS. Slave, unhook my spear and bring it to me.
DICAEOPOLIS. Slave, slave, take the sausage from the fire and bring it to
me.
LAMACHUS. Come, let me draw my spear from its sheath. Hold it, slave,
hold it tight.
DICAEOPOLIS. And you, slave, grip, grip well hold of the skewer.
LAMACHUS. Slave, the bracings for my shield.
DICAEOPOLIS. Pull the loaves out of the oven and bring me these bracings
of my stomach.
LAMACHUS. My round buckler with the Gorgon's head.
DICAEOPOLIS. My round cheese-cake.
LAMACHUS. What clumsy wit!
DICAEOPOLIS. What delicious cheese-cake!
LAMACHUS. Pour oil on the buckler. Hah! hah! I can see an old man who
will be accused of cowardice.
DICAEOPOLIS. Pour honey on the cake. Hah! hah! I can see an old man who
makes Lamachus of the Gorgon's head weep with rage.
LAMACHUS. Slave, full war armour.
DICAEOPOLIS. Slave, my beaker; that is _my_ armour.
LAMACHUS. With this I hold my ground with any foe.
DICAEOPOLIS. And I with this with any tosspot.
LAMACHUS. Fasten the strappings to the buckler; personally I shall carry
the knapsack.
DICAEOPOLIS. Pack the dinner well into the basket; personally I shall
carry the cloak.
LAMACHUS. Slave, take up the buckler and let's be off. It is snowing! Ah!
'tis a question of facing the winter.
DICAEOPOLIS. Take up the basket, 'tis a question of getting to the feast.
CHORUS. We wish you both joy on your journeys, which differ so much. One
goes to mount guard and freeze, while the other will drink, crowned with
flowers, and then sleep with a young beauty, who will rub his tool for
him.
I say it freely; may Zeus confound Antimachus, the poet-historian, the
son of Psacas! When Choregus at the Lenaea, alas! alas! he dismissed me
dinnerless. May I see him devouring with his eyes a cuttle-fish, just
served, well cooked, hot and properly salted; and the moment that he
stretches his hand to help himself, may a dog seize it and run off with
it. Such is my first wish. I also hope for him a misfortune at night.
That returning all-fevered from horse practice, he may meet an
Orestes, mad with drink, who breaks open his head; that wishing to
seize a stone, he, in the dark, may pick up a fresh stool, hurl his
missile, miss aim and hit Cratinus.
SLAVE OF LAMACHUS. Slaves of Lamachus! Water, water in a little pot! Make
it warm, get ready cloths, cerate, greasy wool and bandages for his
ankle. In leaping a ditch, the master has hurt himself against a stake;
he has dislocated and twisted his ankle, broken his head by falling on a
stone, while his Gorgon shot far away from his buckler. His mighty
braggadocio plume rolled on the ground; at this sight he uttered these
doleful words, "Radiant star, I gaze on thee for the last time; my eyes
close to all light, I die." Having said this, he falls into the water,
gets out again, meets some runaways and pursues the robbers with his
spear at their backsides. But here he comes, himself. Get the door
open.
LAMACHUS. Oh! heavens! oh! heavens! What cruel pain! I faint, I tremble!
Alas! I die! the foe's lance has struck me! But what would hurt me most
would be for Dicaeopolis to see me wounded thus and laugh at my
ill-fortune.
DICAEOPOLIS (_enters with two courtesans_). Oh! my gods! what bosoms!
Hard as a quince! Come, my treasures, give me voluptuous kisses! Glue
your lips to mine. Haha! I was the first to empty my cup.
LAMACHUS. Oh! cruel fate! how I suffer! accursed wounds!
DICAEOPOLIS. Hah! hah! hail! Knight Lamachus! (_Embraces Lamachus._)
LAMACHUS. By the hostile gods! _(Bites Dicaeopolis.)_
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! great gods!
LAMACHUS. Why do you embrace me?
DICAEOPOLIS. And why do you bite me?
LAMACHUS. 'Twas a cruel score I was paying back!
DICAEOPOLIS. Scores are not evened at the feast of Cups!
LAMACHUS. Oh! Paean, Paean!
DICAEOPOLIS. But to-day is not the feast of Paean.
LAMACHUS. Oh! support my leg, do; ah! hold it tenderly, my friends!
DICAEOPOLIS. And you, my darlings, take hold of my tool both of you!
LAMACHUS. This blow with the stone makes me dizzy; my sight grows dim.
DICAEOPOLIS. For myself, I want to get to bed; I am bursting with
lustfulness, I want to be fucking in the dark.
LAMACHUS. Carry me to the surgeon Pittalus.
DICAEOPOLIS. Take me to the judges. Where is the king of the feast? The
wine-skin is mine!
LAMACHUS. That spear has pierced my bones; what torture I endure!
DICAEOPOLIS. You see this empty cup! I triumph! I triumph!
CHORUS. Old man, I come at your bidding! You triumph! you triumph!
DICAEOPOLIS. Again I have brimmed my cup with unmixed wine and drained it
at a draught!
CHORUS. You triumph then, brave champion; thine is the wine-skin!
DICAEOPOLIS. Follow me, singing "Triumph! Triumph!"
CHORUS. Aye! we will sing of thee, thee and thy sacred wine-skin, and we
all, as we follow thee, will repeat in thine honour, "Triumph, Triumph!"