Author: Aristophanes
Written: 411 BCE
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
EURIPIDES.
MNESILOCHUS, Father-in-law of Euripides.
AGATHON.
SERVANT OF AGATHON.
CHORUS attending AGATHON.
HERALD.
WOMEN.
CLISTHENES.
A PRYTANIS or Member of the Council.
A SCYTHIAN or Police Officer.
CHORUS OF THESMOPHORIAZUSAE--women keeping the Feast of Demeter.
SCENE: In front of Agathon's house; afterwards in the precincts of the
Temple of Demeter.
MNESILOCHUS. Great Zeus! will the swallow never appear to end the winter
of my discontent? Why the fellow has kept me on the run ever since early
this morning; he wants to kill me, that's certain. Before I lose my
spleen entirely, Euripides, can you at least tell me whither you are
leading me?
EURIPIDES. What need for you to hear what you are going to see?
MNESILOCHUS. How is that? Repeat it. No need for me to hear....
EURIPIDES. What you are going to see.
MNESILOCHUS. Nor consequently to see....
EURIPIDES. What you have to hear.
MNESILOCHUS. What is this wiseacre stuff you are telling me? I must
neither see nor hear.
EURIPIDES. Ah! but you have two things there that are essentially
distinct.
MNESILOCHUS. Seeing and hearing.
EURIPIDES. Undoubtedly.
MNESILOCHUS. In what way distinct?
EURIPIDES. In this way. Formerly, when Ether separated the elements and
bore the animals that were moving in her bosom, she wished to endow them
with sight, and so made the eye round like the sun's disc and bored ears
in the form of a funnel.
MNESILOCHUS. And because of this funnel I neither see nor hear. Ah! great
gods! I am delighted to know it. What a fine thing it is to talk with
wise men!
EURIPIDES. I will teach you many another thing of the sort.
MNESILOCHUS. That's well to know; but first of all I should like to find
out how to grow lame, so that I need not have to follow you all about.
EURIPIDES. Come, hear and give heed!
MNESILOCHUS. I'm here and waiting.
EURIPIDES. Do you see that little door?
MNESILOCHUS. Yes, certainly.
EURIPIDES. Silence!
MNESILOCHUS. Silence about what? About the door?
EURIPIDES. Pay attention!
MNESILOCHUS. Pay attention and be silent about the door? Very well.
EURIPIDES. 'Tis there that Agathon, the celebrated tragic poet,
dwells.
MNESILOCHUS. Who is this Agathon?
EURIPIDES. 'Tis a certain Agathon....
MNESILOCHUS. Swarthy, robust of build?
EURIPIDES. No, another. You have never seen him?
MNESILOCHUS. He has a big beard?
EURIPIDES. No, no, evidently you have never seen him.
MNESILOCHUS. Never, so far as I know.
EURIPIDES. And yet you have pedicated him. Well, it must have been
without knowing who he was. Ah! let us step aside; here is one of his
slaves bringing a brazier and some myrtle branches; no doubt he is going
to offer a sacrifice and pray for a happy poetical inspiration for
Agathon.
SERVANT OF AGATHON. Silence! oh, people! keep your mouths sedately shut!
The chorus of the Muses is moulding songs at my master's hearth. Let the
winds hold their breath in the silent Ether! Let the azure waves cease
murmuring on the shore!...
MNESILOCHUS. Brououou! brououou! (_Imitates the buzzing of a fly._)
EURIPIDES. Keep quiet! what are you saying there?
SERVANT. ... Take your rest, ye winged races, and you, ye savage
inhabitants of the woods, cease from your erratic wandering ...
MNESILOCHUS. Broum, broum, brououou.
SERVANT. ... for Agathon, our master, the sweet-voiced poet, is going ...
MNESILOCHUS. ... to be pedicated?
SERVANT. Whose voice is that?
MNESILOCHUS. 'Tis the silent Ether.
SERVANT. ... is going to construct the framework of a drama. He is
rounding fresh poetical forms, he is polishing them in the lathe and is
welding them; he is hammering out sentences and metaphors; he is working
up his subject like soft wax. First he models it and then he casts it in
bronze ...
MNESILOCHUS. ... and sways his buttocks amorously.
SERVANT. Who is the rustic who approaches this sacred enclosure?
MNESILOCHUS. Take care of yourself and of your sweet-voiced poet! I have
a strong instrument here both well rounded and well polished, which will
pierce your enclosure and penetrate your bottom.
SERVANT. Old man, you must have been a very insolent fellow in your
youth!
EURIPIDES (_to the servant_). Let him be, friend, and, quick, go and call
Agathon to me.
SERVANT. 'Tis not worth the trouble, for he will soon be here himself. He
has started to compose, and in winter it is never possible to round
off strophes without coming to the sun to excite the imagination. (_He
departs._)
MNESILOCHUS. And what am I to do?
EURIPIDES. Wait till he comes.... Oh, Zeus! what hast thou in store for
me to-day?
MNESILOCHUS. But, great gods, what is the matter then? What are you
grumbling and groaning for? Tell me; you must not conceal anything from
your father-in-law.
EURIPIDES. Some great misfortune is brewing against me.
MNESILOCHUS. What is it?
EURIPIDES. This day will decide whether it is all over with Euripides or
not.
MNESILOCHUS. But how? Neither the tribunals nor the Senate are sitting,
for it is the third of the five days consecrated to Demeter.
EURIPIDES. That is precisely what makes me tremble; the women have
plotted my ruin, and to-day they are to gather in the Temple of Demeter
to execute their decision.
MNESILOCHUS. Why are they against you?
EURIPIDES. Because I mishandle them in my tragedies.
MNESILOCHUS. By Posidon, you would seem to have thoroughly deserved your
fate. But how are you going to get out of the mess?
EURIPIDES. I am going to beg Agathon, the tragic poet, to go to the
Thesmophoria.
MNESILOCHUS. And what is he to do there?
EURIPIDES. He would mingle with the women, and stand up for me, if
needful.
MNESILOCHUS. Would he be openly present or secretly?
EURIPIDES. Secretly, dressed in woman's clothes.
MNESILOCHUS. That's a clever notion, thoroughly worthy of you. The prize
for trickery is ours.
EURIPIDES. Silence!
MNESILOCHUS. What's the matter?
EURIPIDES. Here comes Agathon.
MNESILOCHUS. Where, where?
EURIPIDES. That's the man they are bringing out yonder on the
machine.
MNESILOCHUS. I am blind then! I see no man here, I only see Cyrené.
EURIPIDES. Be still! He is getting ready to sing.
MNESILOCHUS. What subtle trill, I wonder, is he going to warble to us?
AGATHON. Damsels, with the sacred torch in hand, unite your dance to
shouts of joy in honour of the nether goddesses; celebrate the freedom of
your country.
CHORUS. To what divinity is your homage addressed? I wish to mingle mine
with it.
AGATHON. Oh! Muse! glorify Phoebus with his golden bow, who erected the
walls of the city of the Simois.
CHORUS. To thee, oh Phoebus, I dedicate my most beauteous songs; to thee,
the sacred victor in the poetical contests.
AGATHON. And praise Artemis too, the maiden huntress, who wanders on the
mountains and through the woods....
CHORUS. I, in my turn, celebrate the everlasting happiness of the chaste
Artemis, the mighty daughter of Latona!
AGATHON. ... and Latona and the tones of the Asiatic lyre, which wed so
well with the dances of the Phrygian Graces.
CHORUS. I do honour to the divine Latona and to the lyre, the mother of
songs of male and noble strains. The eyes of the goddess sparkle while
listening to our enthusiastic chants. Honour to the powerful Phoebus!
Hail! thou blessed son of Latona!
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! ye venerable Genetyllides, what tender and
voluptuous songs! They surpass the most lascivious kisses in sweetness; I
feel a thrill of delight pass up my rectum as I listen to them. Young
man, whoever you are, answer my questions, which I am borrowing from
Aeschylus' 'Lycurgeia.' Whence comes this effeminate? What is his
country? his dress? What contradictions his life shows! A lyre and a
hair-net! A wrestling school oil flask and a girdle! What could be
more contradictory? What relation has a mirror to a sword? And you
yourself, who are you? Do you pretend to be a man? Where is the sign of
your manhood, your penis, pray? Where is the cloak, the footgear that
belong to that sex? Are you a woman? Then where are your breasts? Answer
me. But you keep silent. Oh! just as you choose; your songs display your
character quite sufficiently.
AGATHON. Old man, old man, I hear the shafts of jealousy whistling by my
ears, but they do not hit me. My dress is in harmony with my thoughts. A
poet must adopt the nature of his characters. Thus, if he is placing
women on the stage, he must contract all their habits in his own person.
MNESILOCHUS. Then you ride the high horse when you are composing a
Phaedra.
AGATHON. If the heroes are men, everything in him will be manly. What we
don't possess by nature, we must acquire by imitation.
MNESILOCHUS. When you are staging Satyrs, call me; I will do my best to
help you from behind with standing tool.
AGATHON. Besides, it is bad taste for a poet to be coarse and hairy. Look
at the famous Ibycus, at Anacreon of Teos, and at Alcaeus, who
handled music so well; they wore headbands and found pleasure in the
lascivious dances of Ionia. And have you not heard what a dandy
Phrynichus was and how careful in his dress? For this reason his
pieces were also beautiful, for the works of a poet are copied from
himself.
MNESILOCHUS. Ah! so it is for this reason that Philocles, who is so
hideous, writes hideous pieces; Xenocles, who is malicious, malicious
ones, and Theognis, who is cold, such cold ones?
AGATHON. Yes, necessarily and unavoidably; and 'tis because I knew this
that I have so well cared for my person.
MNESILOCHUS. How, in the gods' name?
EURIPIDES. Come, leave off badgering him; I was just the same at his age,
when I began to write.
MNESILOCHUS. At! then, by Zeus! I don't envy you your fine manners.
EURIPIDES (_to Agathon_). But listen to the cause that brings me here.
AGATHON. Say on.
EURIPIDES. Agathon, wise is he who can compress many thoughts into few
words. Struck by a most cruel misfortune, I come to you as a
suppliant.
AGATHON. What are you asking?
EURIPIDES. The women purpose killing me to-day during the Thesmophoria,
because I have dared to speak ill of them.
AGATHON. And what can I do for you in the matter?
EURIPIDES. Everything. Mingle secretly with the women by making yourself
pass as one of themselves; then do you plead my cause with your own lips,
and I am saved. You, and you alone, are capable of speaking of me
worthily.
AGATHON. But why not go and defend yourself?
EURIPIDES. 'Tis impossible. First of all, I am known; further, I have
white hair and a long beard; whereas you, you are good-looking, charming,
and are close-shaven; you are fair, delicate, and have a woman's voice.
AGATHON. Euripides!
EURIPIDES. Well?
AGATHON. Have you not said in one of your pieces, "You love to see the
light, and don't you believe your father loves it too?"
EURIPIDES. Yes.
AGATHON. Then never you think I am going to expose myself in your stead;
'twould be madness. 'Tis for you to submit to the fate that overtakes
you; one must not try to trick misfortune, but resign oneself to it with
good grace.
MNESILOCHUS. This is why you, you wretch, offer your posterior with a
good grace to lovers, not in words, but in actual fact.
EURIPIDES. But what prevents your going there?
AGATHON. I should run more risk than you would.
EURIPIDES. Why?
AGATHON. Why? I should look as if I were wanting to trespass on secret
nightly pleasures of the women and to ravish their Aphrodité.
MNESILOCHUS. Of wanting to ravish indeed! you mean wanting to be
ravished--in the rearward mode. Ah! great gods! a fine excuse truly!
EURIPIDES. Well then, do you agree?
AGATHON. Don't count upon it.
EURIPIDES. Oh! I am unfortunate indeed! I am undone!
MNESILOCHUS. Euripides, my friend, my son-in-law, never despair.
EURIPIDES. What can be done?
MNESILOCHUS. Send him to the devil and do with me as you like.
EURIPIDES. Very well then, since you devote yourself to my safety, take
off your cloak first.
MNESILOCHUS. There, it lies on the ground. But what do you want to do
with me?
EURIPIDES. To shave off this beard of yours, and to remove your hair
below as well.
MNESILOCHUS. Do what you think fit; I yield myself entirely to you.
EURIPIDES. Agathon, you have always razors about you; lend me one.
AGATHON. Take if yourself, there, out of that case.
EURIPIDES. Thanks. Sit down and puff out the right cheek.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! oh! oh!
EURIPIDES. What are you shouting for? I'll cram a spit down your gullet,
if you're not quiet.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! (_He springs up and starts running
away._)
EURIPIDES. Where are you running to now?
MNESILOCHUS. To the temple of the Eumenides. No, by Demeter I won't
let myself be gashed like that.
EURIPIDES. But you will get laughed at, with your face half-shaven like
that.
MNESILOCHUS. Little care I.
EURIPIDES. In the gods' names, don't leave me in the lurch. Come here.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! by the gods! (_Resumes his seat._)
EURIPIDES. Keep still and hold up your head. Why do you want to fidget
about like this?
MNESILOCHUS. Mu, mu.
EURIPIDES. Well! why, mu, mu? There! 'tis done and well done too!
MNESILOCHUS Ah! great god! It makes me feel quite light.
EURIPIDES. Don't worry yourself; you look charming. Do you want to see
yourself?
MNESILOCHUS. Aye, that I do; hand the mirror here.
EURIPIDES. Do you see yourself?
MNESILOCHUS. But this is not I, it is Clisthenes!
EURIPIDES. Stand up; I am now going to remove your hair. Bend down.
MNESILOCHUS. Alas! alas! they are going to grill me like a pig.
EURIPIDES. Come now, a torch or a lamp! Bend down and take care of the
tender end of your tail!
MNESILOCHUS. Aye, aye! but I'm afire! oh! oh! Water, water, neighbour, or
my rump will be alight!
EURIPIDES. Keep up your courage!
MNESILOCHUS. Keep my courage, when I'm being burnt up?
EURIPIDES. Come, cease your whining, the worst is over.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! it's quite black, all burnt below there all about the
hole!
EURIPIDES. Don't worry! that will be washed off with a sponge.
MNESILOCHUS. Woe to him who dares to wash my rump!
EURIPIDES. Agathon, you refuse to devote yourself to helping me; but at
any rate lend me a tunic and a belt. You cannot say you have not got
them.
AGATHON. Take them and use them as you like; I consent.
MNESILOCHUS. What must be taken?
EURIPIDES. What must be taken? First put on this long saffron-coloured
robe.
MNESILOCHUS. By Aphrodité! what a sweet odour! how it smells of a man's
genitals! Hand it me quickly. And the belt?
EURIPIDES. Here it is.
MNESILOCHUS. Now some rings for my legs.
EURIPIDES. You still want a hair-net and a head-dress.
AGATHON. Here is my night-cap.
EURIPIDES. Ah! that's capital.
MNESILOCHUS. Does it suit me?
AGATHON. It could not be better.
EURIPIDES. And a short mantle?
AGATHON. There's one on the couch; take it.
EURIPIDES. He wants slippers.
AGATHON. Here are mine.
MNESILOCHUS. Will they fit me? You like a loose fit.
AGATHON. Try them on. Now that you have all you need, let me be taken
inside.
EURIPIDES. You look for all the world like a woman. But when you talk,
take good care to give your voice a woman's tone.
MNESILOCHUS. I'll try my best.
EURIPIDES. Come, get yourself to the temple.
MNESILOCHUS. No, by Apollo, not unless you swear to me ...
EURIPIDES. What?
MNESILOCHUS. ... that, if anything untoward happen to me, you will leave
nothing undone to save me.
EURIPIDES Very well! I swear it by the Ether, the dwelling-place of the
king of the gods.
MNESILOCHUS. Why not rather swear it by the disciples of
Hippocrates?
EURIPIDES. Come, I swear it by all the gods, both great and small.
MNESILOCHUS. Remember, 'tis the heart, and not the tongue, that has
sworn; for the oaths of the tongue concern me but little.
EURIPIDES. Hurry yourself! The signal for the meeting has just been
displayed on the Temple of Demeter. Farewell. [_Exit._
MNESILOCHUS. Here, Thratta, follow me. Look, Thratta, at the cloud
of smoke that arises from all these lighted torches. Ah! beautiful
Thesmophorae! grant me your favours, protect me, both within the
temple and on my way back! Come, Thratta, put down the basket and take
out the cake, which I wish to offer to the two goddesses. Mighty
divinity, oh, Demeter, and thou, Persephoné, grant that I may be able to
offer you many sacrifices; above all things, grant that I may not be
recognized. Would that my young daughter might marry a man as rich as he
is foolish and silly, so that she may have nothing to do but amuse
herself. But where can a place be found for hearing well? Be off,
Thratta, be off; slaves have no right to be present at this
gathering.
HERALD. Silence! Silence! Pray to the Thesmophorae, Demeter and Cora;
pray to Plutus, the Earth, Hermes
and the Graces, that all may happen for the best at this gathering, both
for the greatest advantage of Athens and for our own personal happiness!
May the award be given her, who, by both deeds and words, has most
deserved it from the Athenian people and from the women! Address these
prayers to heaven and demand happiness for yourselves. Io Paean! Io
Paean! Let us rejoice!
CHORUS. May the gods deign to accept our vows and our prayers! Oh!
almighty Zeus, and thou, god with the golden lyre, who reignest on
sacred Delos, and thou, oh, invincible virgin, Pallas, with the eyes of
azure and the spear of gold, who protectest our illustrious city, and
thou, the daughter of the beautiful Latona, the queen of the
forests, who art adored under many names, hasten hither at my call.
Come, thou mighty Posidon, king of the Ocean, leave thy stormy whirlpools
of Nereus; come goddesses of the seas, come, ye nymphs, who wander on the
mountains. Let us unite our voices to the sounds of the golden lyre, and
may wisdom preside at the gathering of the noble matrons of Athens.
HERALD. Address your prayers to the gods and goddesses of Olympus, of
Delphi, Delos and all other places; if there be a man who is plotting
against the womenfolk or who, to injure them, is proposing peace to
Euripides and the Medes, or who aspires to usurping the tyranny, plots
the return of a tyrant, or unmasks a supposititious child; or if there be
a slave who, a confidential party to a wife's intrigues, reveals them
secretly to her husband, or who, entrusted with a message, does not
deliver the same faithfully; if there be a lover who fulfils naught of
what he has promised a woman, whom he has abused on the strength of his
lies, if there be an old woman who seduces the lover of a maiden by dint
of her presents and treacherously receives him in her house; if there be
a host or hostess who sells false measure, pray the gods that they will
overwhelm them with their wrath, both them and their families, and that
they may reserve all their favours for you.
CHORUS. Let us ask the fulfilment of these wishes both for the city and
for the people, and may the wisest of us cause her opinion to be
accepted. But woe to those women who break their oaths, who speculate on
the public misfortune, who seek to alter the laws and the decrees, who
reveal our secrets to the foe and admit the Medes into our territory so
that they may devastate it! I declare them both impious and criminal. Oh!
almighty Zeus! see to it that the gods protect us, albeit we are but
women!
HERALD. Hearken, all of you! this is the decree passed by the Senate of
the Women under the presidency of Timoclea and at the suggestion of
Sostrata; it is signed by Lysilla, the secretary: "There will be a
gathering of the people on the morning of the third day of the
Thesmophoria, which is a day of rest for us; the principal business there
shall be the punishment that it is meet to inflict upon Euripides for the
insults with which he has loaded us." Now who asks to speak?
FIRST WOMAN. I do.
HERALD. First put on this garland, and then speak. Silence! let all be
quiet! Pay attention! for here she is spitting as orators generally do
before they begin; no doubt she has much to say.
FIRST WOMAN. If I have asked to speak, may the goddesses bear me witness,
it was not for sake of ostentation. But I have long been pained to see us
women insulted by this Euripides, this son of the green-stuff woman,
who loads us with every kind of indignity. Has he not hit us enough,
calumniated us sufficiently, wherever there are spectators, tragedians,
and a chorus? Does he not style us gay, lecherous, drunken, traitorous,
boastful? Does he not repeat that we are all vice, that we are the curse
of our husbands? So that, directly they come back from the theatre, they
look at us doubtfully and go searching every nook, fearing there may be
some hidden lover. We can do nothing as we used to, so many are the false
ideas which he has instilled into our husbands. Is a woman weaving a
garland for herself? 'Tis because she is in love. Does she let some
vase drop while going or returning to the house? her husband asks her in
whose honour she has broken it, "It can only be for that Corinthian
stranger." Is a maiden unwell? Straightway her brother says, "That
is a colour that does not please me." And if a childless woman
wishes to substitute one, the deceit can no longer be a secret, for the
neighbours will insist on being present at her delivery. Formerly the old
men married young girls, but they have been so calumniated that none
think of them now, thanks to the verse: "A woman is the tyrant of the old
man who marries her." Again, it is because of Euripides that we are
incessantly watched, that we are shut up behind bolts and bars, and that
dogs are kept to frighten off the gallants. Let that pass; but formerly
it was we who had the care of the food, who fetched the flour from the
storeroom, the oil and the wine; we can do it no more. Our husbands now
carry little Spartan keys on their persons, made with three notches and
full of malice and spite. Formerly it sufficed to purchase a ring
marked with the same sign for three obols, to open the most securely
sealed-up door; but now this pestilent Euripides has taught men to
hang seals of worm-eaten wood about their necks. My opinion,
therefore, is that we should rid ourselves of our enemy by poison or by
any other means, provided he dies. That is what I announce publicly; as
to certain points, which I wish to keep secret, I propose to record them
on the secretary's minutes.
CHORUS. Never have I listened to a cleverer or more eloquent woman.
Everything she says is true; she has examined the matter from all sides
and has weighed up every detail. Her arguments are close, varied, and
happily chosen. I believe that Xenocles himself, the son of Carcinus,
would seem to talk mere nonsense, if placed beside her.
SECOND WOMAN. I have only a very few words to add, for the last speaker
has covered the various points of the indictment; allow me only to tell
you what happened to me. My husband died at Cyprus, leaving me five
children, whom I had great trouble to bring up by weaving chaplets on the
myrtle market. Anyhow, I lived as well as I could until this wretch had
persuaded the spectators by his tragedies that there were no gods; since
then I have not sold as many chaplets by half. I charge you therefore and
exhort you all to punish him, for does he not deserve it in a thousand
respects, he who loads you with troubles, who is as coarse toward you as
the green-stuff upon which his mother reared him? But I must back to the
market to weave my chaplets; I have twenty to deliver yet.
CHORUS. This is even more animated and more trenchant than the first
speech; all she has just said is full of good sense and to the point; it
is clever, clear and well calculated to convince. Yes! we must have
striking vengeance on the insults of Euripides.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh, women! I am not astonished at these outbursts of fiery
rage; how could your bile not get inflamed against Euripides, who has
spoken so ill of you? As for myself, I hate the man, I swear it by my
children; 'twould be madness not to hate him! Yet, let us reflect a
little; we are alone and our words will not be repeated outside. Why be
so bent on his ruin? Because he has known and shown up two or three of
our faults, when we have a thousand? As for myself, not to speak of other
women, I have more than one great sin upon my conscience, but this is the
blackest of them. I had been married three days and my husband was asleep
by my side; I had a lover, who had seduced me when I was seven years old;
impelled by his passion, he came scratching at the door; I understood at
once he was there and was going down noiselessly. "Where are you going?"
asked my husband. "I am suffering terribly with colic," I told him, "and
am going to the closet." "Go," he replied, and started pounding together
juniper berries, aniseed, and sage. As for myself, I moistened the
door-hinge and went to find my lover, who embraced me,
half-reclining upon Apollo's altar and holding on to the sacred
laurel with one hand. Well now! Consider! that is a thing of which
Euripides has never spoken. And when we bestow our favours on slaves and
muleteers for want of better, does he mention this? And when we eat
garlic early in the morning after a night of wantonness, so that our
husband, who has been keeping guard upon the city wall, may be reassured
by the smell and suspect nothing, has Euripides ever breathed a word
of this? Tell me. Neither has he spoken of the woman who spreads open a
large cloak before her husband's eyes to make him admire it in full
daylight to conceal her lover by so doing and afford him the means of
making his escape. I know another, who for ten whole days pretended to be
suffering the pains of labour until she had secured a child; the husband
hurried in all directions to buy drugs to hasten her deliverance, and
meanwhile an old woman brought the infant in a stew-pot; to prevent its
crying she had stopped up its mouth with honey. With a sign she told the
wife that she was bringing a child for her, who at once began exclaiming,
"Go away, friend, go away, I think I am going to be delivered; I can feel
him kicking his heels in the belly ... of the stew-pot." The husband
goes off full of joy, and the old wretch quickly picks the honey out of
the child's mouth, which sets a-crying; then she seizes the babe, runs to
the father and tells him with a smile on her face, "'Tis a lion, a lion,
that is born to you; 'tis your very image. Everything about it is like
you, even to its little tool, which is all twisty like a fir-cone." Are
these not our everyday tricks? Why certainly, by Artemis, and we are
angry with Euripides, who assuredly treats us no worse than we deserve!
CHORUS. Great gods! where has she unearthed all that? What country gave
birth to such an audacious woman? Oh! you wretch! I should not have
thought ever a one of us could have spoken in public with such impudence.
'Tis clear, however, that we must expect everything and, as the old
proverb says, must look beneath every stone, lest it conceal some
orator ready to sting us. There is but one thing in the world worse
than a shameless woman, and that's another woman.
THIRD WOMAN. By Aglaurus! you have lost your wits, friends! You must
be bewitched to suffer this plague to belch forth insults against us all.
Is there no one has any spirit at all? If not, we and our maid-servants
will punish her. Run and fetch coals and let's depilate her cunt in
proper style, to teach her not to speak ill of her sex.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! no! have mercy, friends. Have we not the right to speak
frankly at this gathering? And because I have uttered what I thought
right in favour of Euripides, do you want to depilate me for my trouble?
THIRD WOMAN. What! we ought not to punish you, who alone have dared to
defend the man who has done us so much harm, whom it pleases to put all
the vile women that ever were upon the stage, who only shows us
Melanippés Phaedras? But of Penelopé he has never said a word, because
she was reputed chaste and good.
MNESILOCHUS. I know the reason. 'Tis because not a single Penelopé exists
among the women of to-day, but all without exception are Phaedras.
THIRD WOMAN. Women, you hear how this creature still dares to speak of us
all.
MNESILOCHUS. And, 'faith, I have not said all that I know. Do you want
any more?
THIRD WOMAN. You cannot tell us any more; you have emptied your bag.
MNESILOCHUS. Why, I have not told the thousandth part of what we women
do. Have I said how we use the hollow handles of our brooms to draw up
wine unbeknown to our husbands.
THIRD WOMAN. The cursed jade!
MNESILOCHUS. And how we give meats to our lovers at the feast of the
Apaturia and then accuse the cat....
THIRD WOMAN. She's mad!
MNESILOCHUS. ... Have I mentioned the woman who killed her husband with a
hatchet? Of another, who caused hers to lose his reason with her potions?
And of the Acharnian woman ...
THIRD WOMAN. Die, you bitch!
MNESILOCHUS. ... who buried her father beneath the bath?
THIRD WOMAN. And yet we listen to such things?
MNESILOCHUS. Have I told how you attributed to yourself the male child
your slave had just borne and gave her your little daughter?
THIRD WOMAN. This insult calls for vengeance. Look out for your hair!
MNESILOCHUS. By Zeus! don't touch me.
THIRD WOMAN. There!
MNESILOCHUS. There! tit for tat! (_They exchange blows._)
THIRD WOMAN. Hold my cloak, Philista!
MNESILOCHUS. Come on then, and by Demeter ...
THIRD WOMAN. Well! what?
MNESILOCHUS. ... I'll make you disgorge the sesame-cake you have
eaten.
CHORUS. Cease wrangling! I see a woman running here in hot haste.
Keep silent, so that we may hear the better what she has to say.
CLISTHENES. Friends, whom I copy in all things, my hairless chin
sufficiently evidences how dear you are to me; I am women-mad and make
myself their champion wherever I am. Just now on the market-place I heard
mention of a thing that is of the greatest importance to you; I come to
tell it you, to let you know it, so that you may watch carefully and be
on your guard against the danger which threatens you.
CHORUS. What is it, my child? I can well call you child, for you have so
smooth a skin.
CLISTHENES. 'Tis said that Euripides has sent an old man here to-day, one
of his relations ...
CHORUS. With what object? What is his purpose?
CLISTHENES. ... so that he may hear your speeches and inform him of your
deliberations and intentions.
CHORUS. But how would a man fail to be recognized amongst women?
CLISTHENES. Euripides singed and depilated him and disguised him as a
woman.
MNESILOCHUS. This is pure invention! What man is fool enough to let
himself be depilated? As for myself, I don't believe a word of it.
CLISTHENES. Are you mad? I should not have come here to tell you, if I
did not know it on indisputable authority.
CHORUS. Great gods! what is it you tell us! Come, women, let us not lose
a moment; let us search and rummage everywhere! Where can this man have
hidden himself escape our notice? Help us to look, Clisthenes; we shall
thus owe you double thanks, dear friend.
CLISTHENES (_to a fourth woman_). Well then! let us see. To begin with
you; who are you?
MNESILOCHUS (_aside_). Wherever am I to stow myself?
CLISTHENES. Each and every one must pass the scrutiny.
MNESILOCHUS (_aside_). Oh! great gods!
FOURTH WOMAN. You ask me who I am? I am the wife of Cleonymus.
CLISTHENES. Do you know this woman?
CHORUS. Yes, yes, pass on to the rest.
CLISTHENES. And she who carries the child?
MNESILOCHUS (_aside_). I'm a dead man. (_He runs off._)
CLISTHENES (_to Mnesilochus_). Hi! you there! where are you off to? Stop
there. What are you running away for?
MNESILOCHUS. I want to relieve myself.
CLISTHENES. The shameless thing! Come, hurry yourself; I will wait here
for you.
CHORUS. Wait for her and examine her closely; 'tis the only one we do
not know.
CLISTHENES. You are a long time about your business.
MNESILOCHUS. Aye, my god, yes; 'tis because I am unwell, for I ate cress
yesterday.
CLISTHENES. What are you chattering about cress? Come here and be quick.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! don't pull a poor sick woman about like that.
CLISTHENES. Tell me, who is your husband?
MNESILOCHUS. My husband? Do you know a certain individual at
Cothocidae...?
CLISTHENES. Whom do you mean? Give his name.
MNESILOCHUS. 'Tis an individual to whom the son of a certain individual
one day....
CLISTHENES. You are drivelling! Let's see, have you ever been here
before?
MNESILOCHUS. Why certainly, every year.
CLISTHENES. Who is your tent companion?
MNESILOCHUS. 'Tis a certain.... Oh! my god!
CLISTHENES. You don't answer.
FIFTH WOMAN. Withdraw, all of you; I am going to examine her thoroughly
about last year's mysteries. But move away, Clisthenes, for no man may
hear what is going to be said. Now answer my questions! What was done
first?
MNESILOCHUS. Let's see then. What was done first? Oh! we drank.
FIFTH WOMAN. And then?
MNESILOCHUS. We drank to our healths.
FIFTH WOMAN. You will have heard that from someone. And then?
MNESILOCHUS. Xenylla relieved herself in a cup, for there was no other
vessel.
FIFTH WOMAN. You trifle. Here, Clisthenes, here! This is the man of whom
you spoke.
CLISTHENES. What is to be done then?
FIFTH WOMAN. Take off his clothes, I can get nothing out of him.
MNESILOCHUS. What! are you going to strip a mother of nine children
naked?
CLISTHENES. Come, undo your girdle, you shameless thing.
FIFTH WOMAN. Ah! what a sturdy frame! but she has no breasts like we
have.
MNESILOCHUS. That's because I'm barren. I never had any children.
FIFTH WOMAN. Oh! indeed! just now you were the mother of nine.
CLISTHENES. Stand up straight. Hullo! what do I see there? Why, a penis
sticking out behind.
FIFTH WOMAN. There's no mistaking it; you can see it projecting, and a
fine red it is.
CLISTHENES. Where has it gone to now?
FIFTH WOMAN. To the front.
CLISTHENES. No.
FIFTH WOMAN. Ah! 'tis behind now.
CLISTHENES. Why, friend, 'tis for all the world like the Isthmus; you
keep pulling your tool backwards and forwards just as the Corinthians do
their ships.
FIFTH WOMAN. Ah! the wretch! this is why he insulted us and defended
Euripides.
MNESILOCHUS. Aye, wretch indeed, what troubles have I not got into now!
FIFTH WOMAN. What shall we do?
CLISTHENES. Watch him closely, so that he does not escape. As for me, I
go to report the matter to the magistrates, the Prytanes.
CHORUS. Let us kindle our lamps; let us go firmly to work and with
courage, let us take off our cloaks and search whether some other man has
not come here too; let us pass round the whole Pnyx, examine the
tents and the passages. Come, be quick, let us start off on a light
toe and rummage all round in silence. Let us hasten, let us finish
our round as soon as possible. Look quickly for the traces that might
show you a man hidden here, let your glance fall on every side; look well
to the right and to the left. If we seize some impious fellow, woe to
him! He will know how we punish the outrage, the crime, the sacrilege.
The criminal will then acknowledge at last that gods exist; his fate will
teach all men that the deities must be revered, that justice must be
observed and that they must submit to the sacred laws. If not, then woe
to them! Heaven itself will punish sacrilege; being aflame with fury and
mad with frenzy, all their deeds will prove to mortals, both men and
women, that the deity punishes injustice and impiety, and that she is not
slow to strike. But I think I have now searched everywhere and that no
other man is hidden among us.
SIXTH WOMAN. Where is he flying to? Stop him! stop him! Ah! miserable
woman that I am, he has torn my child from my breast and has disappeared
with it.
MNESILOCHUS. Scream as loud as you will, but he shall never suck your
bosom more. If you do not let me go this very instant, I am going to cut
open the veins of his thighs with this cutlass and his blood shall flow
over the altar.
SIXTH WOMAN. Oh! great gods! oh! friends, help me! terrify him with your
shrieks, triumph over this monster, permit him not to rob me of my only
child.
CHORUS. Oh! oh! venerable Parcae, what fresh attack is this? 'Tis the
crowning act of audacity and shamelessness! What has he done now,
friends, what has he done?
MNESILOCHUS. Ah! this insolence passes all bounds, but I shall know how
to curb it.
CHORUS. What a shameful deed! the measure of his iniquities is full!
SIXTH WOMAN. Aye, 'tis shameful that he should have robbed me of my
child.
CHORUS. 'Tis past belief to be so criminal and so impudent!
MNESILOCHUS. Ah! you're not near the end of it yet.
SIXTH WOMAN. Little I care whence you come; you shall not return to boast
of having acted so odiously with impunity, for you shall be punished.
MNESILOCHUS. You won't do it, by the gods!
CHORUS. And what immortal would protect you for your crime?
MNESILOCHUS. 'Tis in vain you talk! I shall not let go the child.
CHORUS. By the goddesses, you will not laugh presently over your crime
and your impious speech. For with impiety, as 'tis meet, shall we reply
to your impiety. Soon fortune will turn round and overwhelm you. Come!
bring wood along. Let us burn the wretch, let us roast him as quickly as
possible.
SIXTH WOMAN. Bring faggots, Mania! (_To Mnesilochus._) You will be mere
charcoal soon.
CHORUS. Grill away, roast me, but you, my child, take off this Cretan
robe and blame no one but your mother for your death. But what does this
mean? The little girl is nothing but a skin filled with wine and shod
with Persian slippers. Oh! you wanton, you tippling woman, who think
of nothing but wine; you are a fortune to the drinking-shops and are our
ruin; for the sake of drink, you neglect both your household and your
shuttle!
SIXTH WOMAN. Faggots, Mania, plenty of them.
MNESILOCHUS. Bring as many as you like. But answer me; are you the mother
of this brat?
SIXTH WOMAN. I carried it ten months.
MNESILOCHUS. You carried it?
SIXTH WOMAN. I swear it by Artemis.
MNESILOCHUS. How much does it hold? Three cotylae? Tell me.
SIXTH WOMAN. Oh! what have you done? You have stripped the poor child
quite naked, and it is so small, so small.
MNESILOCHUS. So small?
SIXTH WOMAN. Yes, quite small, to be sure.
MNESILOCHUS. How old is it? Has it seen the feast of cups thrice or four
times?
SIXTH WOMAN. It was born about the time of the last Dionysia. But
give it back to me.
MNESILOCHUS. No, may Apollo bear me witness.
SIXTH WOMAN. Well, then we are going to burn him.
MNESILOCHUS. Burn me, but then I shall rip this open instantly.
SIXTH WOMAN. No, no, I adjure you, don't; do anything you like to me
rather than that.
MNESILOCHUS. What a tender mother you are; but nevertheless I shall rip
it open. (_Tears open the wine-skin_.)
SIXTH WOMAN. Oh, my beloved daughter! Mania, hand me the sacred cup, that
I may at least catch the blood of my child.
MNESILOCHUS. Hold it below; 'tis the sole favour I grant you.
SIXTH WOMAN. Out upon you, you pitiless monster!
MNESILOCHUS. This robe belongs to the priestess.
SIXTH WOMAN. What belongs to the priestess?
MNESILOCHUS. Here, take it. (_Throws her the Cretan robe._)
SEVENTH WOMAN. Ah! unfortunate Mica! who has robbed you of your daughter,
your beloved child?
SIXTH WOMAN. That wretch. But as you are here, watch him well, while I go
with Clisthenes to the Prytanes and denounce him for his crimes.
MNESILOCHUS. Ah! how can I secure safety? what device can I hit on? what
can I think of? He whose fault it is, he who hurried me into this
trouble, will not come to my rescue. Let me see, whom could I best send
to him? Ha! I know a means taken from Palamedes; like him, I will write
my misfortune on some oars, which I will cast into the sea. But there are
no oars here. Where might I find some? Where indeed? Bah! what if I
took these statues instead of oars, wrote upon them and then threw
them towards this side and that. 'Tis the best thing to do. Besides, like
oars they are of wood. Oh! my hands, keep up your courage, for my safety
is at stake. Come, my beautiful tablets, receive the traces of my stylus
and be the messengers of my sorry fate. Oh! oh! this B looks miserable
enough! Where is it running to then? Come, off with you in all
directions, to the right and to the left; and hurry yourselves, for
there's much need indeed!
CHORUS. Let us address ourselves to the spectators to sing our praises,
despite the fact that each one says much ill of women. If the men are to
be believed, we are a plague to them; through us come all their troubles,
quarrels, disputes, sedition, griefs and wars. But if we are truly such a
pest, why marry us? Why forbid us to go out or show ourselves at the
window? You want to keep this pest, and take a thousand cares to do it.
If your wife goes out and you meet her away from the house, you fly into
a fury. Ought you not rather to rejoice and give thanks to the gods? for
if the pest has disappeared, you will no longer find it at home. If we
fall asleep at friends' houses from the fatigue of playing and sporting,
each of you comes prowling round the bed to contemplate the features of
this pest. If we seat ourselves at the window, each one wants to see the
pest, and if we withdraw through modesty, each wants all the more to see
the pest perch herself there again. It is thus clear that we are better
than you, and the proof of this is easy. Let us find out which is worse
of the two sexes. We say, "'Tis you," while you aver, 'tis we. Come, let
us compare them in detail, each individual man with a woman. Charminus is
not equal to Nausimaché, is in every
respect inferior to Salabaccho. 'Tis long now since any of you has
dared to contest the prize with Aristomaché, the heroine of Marathon, or
with Stratonicé.
Among the last year's Senators, who have just yielded their office to
other citizens, is there one who equals Eubulé? Therefore we
maintain that men are greatly our inferiors. You see no woman who has
robbed the State of fifty talents rushing about the city in a magnificent
chariot; our greatest peculations are a measure of corn, which we steal
from our husbands, and even then we return it them the very same day. But
we could name many amongst you who do quite as much, and who are, even
more than ourselves, gluttons, parasites, cheats and kidnappers of
slaves. We know how to keep our property better than you. We still have
our cylinders, our beams, our baskets and our sunshades; whereas
many among you have lost the wood of your spears as well as the iron, and
many others have cast away their bucklers on the battlefield.
There are many reproaches we have the right to bring against men. The
most serious is this, that the woman, who has given birth to a useful
citizen, whether taxiarch or strategus should receive some
distinction; a place of honour should be reserved for her at the Sthenia,
the Scirophoria, and the other festivals that we keep. On the other
hand, she of whom a coward was born or a worthless man, a bad
trierarch or an unskilful pilot, should sit with shaven head, behind
her sister who had borne a brave man. Oh! citizens! is it just, that the
mother of Hyperbolus should sit dressed in white and with loosened
tresses beside that of Lamachus and lend out money on usury? He, who
may have done a deal of this nature with her, so far from paying her
interest, should not even repay the capital, saying, "What, pay you
interest? after you have given us this delightful son?"
MNESILOCHUS. I have contracted quite a squint by looking round for him,
and yet Euripides does not come. Who is keeping him? No doubt he is
ashamed of his cold Palamedes. What will attract him? Let us see! By
which of his pieces does he set most store? Ah! I'll imitate his
Helen, his lastborn. I just happen to have a complete woman's
outfit.
SEVENTH WOMAN. What are you ruminating over now again? Why are you
rolling up your eyes? You'll have no reason to be proud of your Helen, if
you don't keep quiet until one of the Prytanes arrives.
MNESILOCHUS (_as Helen_). "These shores are those of the Nile with the
beautiful nymphs, these waters take the place of heaven's rain and
fertilize the white earth, that produces the black syrmea."
SEVENTH WOMAN. By bright Hecaté, you're a cunning varlet.
MNESILOCHUS. "Glorious Sparta is my country and Tyndareus is my
father."
SEVENTH WOMAN. He your father, you rascal! Why, 'tis Phrynondas.
MNESILOCHUS. "I was given the name of Helen."
SEVENTH WOMAN. What! you are again becoming a woman, before we have
punished you for having pretended it a first time!
MNESILOCHUS. "A thousand warriors have died on my account on the banks of
the Scamander."
SEVENTH WOMAN. Why have you not done the same?
MNESILOCHUS. "And here I am upon these shores; Menelaus, my unhappy
husband, does not yet come. Ah! how life weighs upon me! Oh! ye cruel
crows, who have not devoured my body! But what sweet hope is this that
sets my heart a-throb? Oh, Zeus! grant it may not prove a lying one!"
EURIPIDES (_as Menelaus_). "To what master does this splendid palace
belong? Will he welcome strangers who have been tried on the billows of
the sea by storm and shipwreck?"
MNESILOCHUS. "This is the palace of Proteus."
EURIPIDES. "Of what Proteus?"
SEVENTH WOMAN. Oh! the thrice cursed rascal! how he lies! By the
goddesses, 'tis ten years since Proteas died.
EURIPIDES. "What is this shore whither the wind has driven our boat?"
MNESILOCHUS. "It's Egypt."
EURIPIDES. "Alas! how far we are from our own country!"
SEVENTH WOMAN. But don't believe that cursed fool. This is Demeter's
Temple.
EURIPIDES. "Is Proteus in these parts?"
SEVENTH WOMAN. Ah, now, stranger, it must be sea-sickness that makes you
so distraught! You have been told that Proteas is dead, and yet you ask
if he is in these parts.
EURIPIDES. "He is no more! Oh! woe! where lie his ashes?"
MNESILOCHUS. 'Tis on his tomb you see me sitting.
SEVENTH WOMAN. You call an altar a tomb! Beware of the rope!
EURIPIDES. "And why remain sitting on this tomb, wrapped in this long
veil, oh, stranger lady?"
MNESILOCHUS. "They want to force me to marry a son of Proteus."
SEVENTH WOMAN. Ah! wretch, why tell such shameful lies? Stranger, this is
a rascal who has slipped in amongst us women to rob us of our trinkets.
MNESILOCHUS (_to Seventh Woman_) "Shout! load me with your insults, for
little care I."
EURIPIDES. "Who is the old woman who reviles you, stranger lady?"
MNESILOCHUS. "'Tis Theonoé, the daughter of Proteus."
SEVENTH WOMAN. I! Why, my name's Critylla, the daughter of
Antitheus, as for you, you are a
rogue.
MNESILOCHUS. "Your entreaties are vain. Never shall I wed your brother;
never shall I betray the faith I owe my husband Menelaus, who is fighting
before Troy."
EURIPIDES. "What are you saying? Turn your face towards me."
MNESILOCHUS. "I dare not; my cheeks show the marks of the insults I have
been forced to suffer."
EURIPIDES "Oh! great gods! I cannot speak, for very emotion.... Ah! what
do I see? Who are you?"
MNESILOCHUS. "And you, what is your name? for my surprise is as great as
yours."
EURIPIDES. "Are you Grecian or born in this country?"
MNESILOCHUS. "I am Grecian. But now your name, what is it?"
EURIPIDES. "Oh! how you resemble Helen!"
MNESILOCHUS. And you Menelaus, if I can judge by those pot-herbs.
EURIPIDES. "You are not mistaken, 'tis that unfortunate mortal who stands
before you."
MNESILOCHUS. "Ah! how you have delayed coming to your wife's arms! Press
me to your heart, throw your arms about me, for I wish to cover you with
kisses. Carry me away, carry me away, quick, quick, far, very far from
here."
SEVENTH WOMAN. By the goddesses, woe to him who would carry you away! I
should thrash him with my torch.
EURIPIDES. "Do you propose to prevent me from taking my wife, the
daughter of Tyndareus, to Sparta?"
SEVENTH WOMAN You seem to me to be a cunning rascal too; you are in
collusion with this man, and 'twas not for nothing that you kept babbling
about Egypt. But the hour for punishment has come; here is the magistrate
come with his archer.
EURIPIDES. This grows awkward. Let me hide myself.
MNESILOCHUS. And what is to become of me, poor unfortunate man?
EURIPIDES. Be at ease. I shall never abandon you, as long as I draw
breath and one of my numberless artifices remains untried.
MNESILOCHUS. The fish has not bitten this time.
THE PRYTANIS. Is this the rascal of whom Clisthenes told us? Why are you
trying to make yourself so small? Archer, arrest him, fasten him to the
post, then take up your position there and keep guard over him. Let none
approach him. A sound lash with your whip for him who attempts to break
the order.
SEVENTH WOMAN. Excellent, for just now a rogue almost took him from me.
MNESILOCHUS. Prytanis, in the name of that hand which you know so well
how to bend, when money is placed in it, grant me a slight favour before
I die.
PRYTANIS. What favour?
MNESILOCHUS. Order the archer to strip me before lashing me to the post;
the crows, when they make their meal on the poor old man, would laugh too
much at this robe and head-dress.
PRYTANIS. 'Tis in that gear that you must be exposed by order of the
Senate, so that your crime may be patent to the passers-by.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! cursed robe, the cause of all my misfortune! My last
hope is thus destroyed!
CHORUS. Let us now devote ourselves to the sports which the women are
accustomed to celebrate here, when time has again brought round the
mighty Mysteries of the great goddesses, the sacred days which
Pauson himself honours by fasting and would wish feast to succeed
feast, that he might keep them all holy. Spring forward with a light
step, whirling in mazy circles; let your hands interlace, let the eager
and rapid dancers sway to the music and glance on every side as they
move. Let the chorus sing likewise and praise the Olympian gods in their
pious transport.
'Tis wrong to suppose that, because I am a woman and in this Temple, I am
going to speak ill of men; but since we want something fresh, we are
going through the rhythmic steps of the round dance for the first time.
Start off while you sing to the god of the lyre and to the chaste goddess
armed with the bow. Hail! thou god who flingest thy darts so far,
grant us the victory! The homage of our song is also due to Heré, the
goddess of marriage, who interests herself in every chorus and guards the
approach to the nuptial couch. I also pray Hermes, the god of the
shepherds, and Pan and the beloved Graces to bestow a benevolent smile
upon our songs.
Let us lead off anew, let us double our zeal during our solemn days, and
especially let us observe a close fast; let us form fresh measures that
keep good time, and may our songs resound to the very heavens. Do thou,
oh divine Bacchus, who art crowned with ivy, direct our chorus; 'tis to
thee that both my hymns and my dances are dedicated; oh, Evius, oh,
Bromius, oh, thou son of Semelé, oh, Bacchus, who delightest to
mingle with the dear choruses of the nymphs upon the mountains, and who
repeatest, while dancing with them, the sacred hymn, Evius, Evius, Evoe.
Echo, the nymph of Cithaeron returns thy words, which resound beneath the
dark vaults of the thick foliage and in the midst of the rocks of the
forest; the ivy enlaces thy brow with its tendrils charged with flowers.
SCYTHIAN ARCHER. You shall stay here in the open air to wail.
MNESILOCHUS. Archer, I adjure you.
SCYTHIAN. 'Tis labour lost.
MNESILOCHUS. Loosen the wedge a little.
SCYTHIAN. Aye, certainly.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! by the gods! why, you are driving it in tighter.
SCYTHIAN. Is that enough?
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! la, la! oh! la, la! May the plague take you!
SCYTHIAN. Silence! you cursed old wretch! I am going to get a mat to lie
upon, so as to watch you close at hand at my ease.
MNESILOCHUS. Ah! what exquisite pleasures Euripides is securing for me!
But, oh, ye gods! oh, Zeus the Deliverer, all is not yet lost! I don't
believe him the man to break his word; I just caught sight of him
appearing in the form of Perseus, and he told me with a mysterious sign
to turn myself into Andromeda. And in truth am I not really bound? 'Tis
certain, then, that he is coming to my rescue; for otherwise he would not
have steered his flight this way.
EURIPIDES (_as Perseus_). Oh Nymphs, ye virgins who are dear to me, how
am I to approach him? how can I escape the sight of this Scythian? And
Echo, thou who reignest in the inmost recesses of the caves, oh! favour
my cause and permit me to approach my spouse.
MNESILOCHUS (_as Andromeda_). A pitiless ruffian has chained up the
most unfortunate of mortal maids. Alas! I had barely escaped the filthy
claws of an old fury, when another mischance overtook me! This Scythian
does not take his eye off me and he has exposed me as food for the crows.
Alas! what is to become of me, alone here and without friends! I am not
seen mingling in the dances nor in the games of my companions, but
heavily loaded with fetters I am given over to the voracity of a
Glaucetes. Sing no bridal hymn for me, oh women, but rather the hymn
of captivity, and in tears. Ah! how I suffer! great gods! how I suffer!
Alas! alas! and through my own relatives too! My misery would make
Tartarus dissolve into tears! Alas! in my terrible distress, I implore
the mortal who first shaved me and depilated me, then dressed me in this
long robe, and then sent me to this Temple into the midst of the women,
to save me. Oh, thou pitiless Fate! I am then accursed, great gods! Ah!
who would not be moved at the sight of the appalling tortures under which
I succumb? Would that the blazing shaft of the lightning would wither...
this barbarian for me! (_pointing to the Scythian archer_) for the
immortal light has no further charm for my eyes since I have been
descending the shortest path to the dead, tied up, strangled, and
maddened with pain.
EURIPIDES (as _Echo_). Hail! beloved girl. As for your father, Cepheus,
who has exposed you in this guise, may the gods annihilate him.
MNESILOCHUS (_as Andromeda_). And who are you whom my misfortunes have
moved to pity?
EURIPIDES. I am Echo, the nymph who repeats all she hears. 'Tis I, who
last year lent my help to Euripides in this very place. But, my
child, give yourself up to the sad laments that belong to your pitiful
condition.
MNESILOCHUS. And you will repeat them?
EURIPIDES. I will not fail you. Begin.
MNESILOCHUS. "Oh! thou divine Night! how slowly thy chariot threads its
way through the starry vault, across the sacred realms of the Air and
mighty Olympus."
EURIPIDES. Mighty Olympus.
MNESILOCHUS. "Why is it necessary that Andromeda should have all the woes
for her share?"
EURIPIDES. For her share.
MNESILOCHUS. "Sad death!"
EURIPIDES. Sad death!
MNESILOCHUS. You weary me, old babbler.
EURIPIDES. Old babbler.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! you are too unbearable.
EURIPIDES. Unbearable.
MNESILOCHUS. Friend, let me talk by myself. Do please let me. Come,
that's enough.
EURIPIDES. That's enough.
MNESILOCHUS. Go and hang yourself!
EURIPIDES. Go and hang yourself!
MNESILOCHUS. What a plague!
EURIPIDES. What a plague!
MNESILOCHUS. Cursed brute!
EURIPIDES. Cursed brute!
MNESILOCHUS. Beware of blows!
EURIPIDES. Beware of blows!
SCYTHIAN. Hullo! what are you jabbering about?
EURIPIDES. What are you jabbering about?
SCYTHIAN. I go to call the Prytanes.
EURIPIDES. I go to call the Prytanes.
SCYTHIAN. This is odd!
EURIPIDES. This is odd!
SCYTHIAN. Whence comes this voice?
EURIPIDES. Whence comes this voice.
SCYTHIAN. Ah! beware!
EURIPIDES. Ah! beware!
SCYTHIAN (_to Mnesilochus_). Are you mocking me?
EURIPIDES. Are you mocking me?
MNESILOCHUS. No, 'tis this woman, who stands near you.
EURIPIDES. Who stands near you.
SCYTHIAN. Where is the hussy? Ah! she is escaping! Whither, whither are
you escaping?
EURIPIDES. Whither, whither are you escaping?
SCYTHIAN. You shall not get away.
EURIPIDES. You shall not get away.
SCYTHIAN. You are chattering still?
EURIPIDES. You are chattering still?
SCYTHIAN. Stop the hussy.
EURIPIDES. Stop the hussy.
SCYTHIAN. What a babbling, cursed woman!
EURIPIDES (_as Perseus_). "Oh! ye gods! to what barbarian land has my
swift flight taken me? I am Perseus, who cleaves the plains of the air
with my winged feet, and I am carrying the Gorgon's head to Argos."
SCYTHIAN. What, are you talking about the head of Gorgos, the
scribe?
EURIPIDES. No, I am speaking of the head of the Gorgon.
SCYTHIAN. Why, yes! of Gorgus!
EURIPIDES. "But what do I behold? A young maiden, beautiful as the
immortals, chained to this rock like a vessel in port?"
MNESILOCHUS. Take pity on me, oh, stranger! I am so unhappy and
distraught! Free me from these bonds.
SCYTHIAN. Don't you talk! a curse upon your impudence! you are going to
die, and yet you will be chattering!
EURIPIDES. "Oh! virgin! I take pity on your chains."
SCYTHIAN. But this is no virgin; 'tis an old rogue, a cheat and a thief.
EURIPIDES. You have lost your wits, Scythian. This is Andromeda, the
daughter of Cepheus.
SCYTHIAN. But just look at this tool; is that like a woman?
EURIPIDES. Give me your hand, that I may descend near this young maiden.
Each man has his own particular weakness; as for me I am aflame with love
for this virgin.
SCYTHIAN. Oh! I'm not jealous; and as he has his back turned this way,
why, I make no objection to your pedicating him.
EURIPIDES. "Ah! let me release her, and hasten to join her on the bridal
couch."
SCYTHIAN. If this old man instils you with such ardent concupiscence,
why, you can bore through the plank, and so get at his behind.
EURIPIDES. No, I will break his bonds.
SCYTHIAN. Beware of my lash!
EURIPIDES. No matter.
SCYTHIAN. This blade shall cut off your head.
EURIPIDES. "Ah! what can be done? what arguments can I use? This savage
will understand nothing! The newest and most cunning fancies are a dead
letter to the ignorant. Let us invent some artifice to fit in with his
coarse nature."
SCYTHIAN. I can see the rascal is trying to outwit me.
MNESILOCHUS. Ah! Perseus! remember in what condition you are leaving me.
SCYTHIAN. Are you wanting to feel my lash again!
CHORUS.
Oh! Pallas, who art fond of dances, hasten hither at my call. Oh! thou
chaste virgin, the protectress of Athens, I call thee in accordance with
the sacred rites, thee, whose evident protection we adore and who keepest
the keys of our city in thy hands. Do thou appear, thou whose just hatred
has overturned our tyrants. The womenfolk are calling thee; hasten hither
at their bidding along with Peace, who shall restore the festivals. And
ye, august goddesses, display a smiling and propitious countenance
to our gaze; come into your sacred grove, the entry to which is forbidden
to men; 'tis there in the midst of sacred orgies that we contemplate your
divine features. Come, appear, we pray it of you, oh, venerable
Thesmophoriae! If you have ever answered our appeal, oh! come into our
midst.
EURIPIDES. Women, if you will be reconciled with me, I am willing, and I
undertake never to say anything ill of you in future. Those are my
proposals for peace.
CHORUS. And what impels you to make these overtures?
EURIPIDES. This unfortunate man, who is chained to the post, is my
father-in-law; if you will restore him to me, you will have no more cause
to complain of me; but if not, I shall reveal your pranks to your
husbands when they return from the war.
CHORUS. We accept peace, but there is this barbarian whom you must buy
over.
EURIPIDES. That's my business. (_He returns as an old woman and is
accompanied by a dancing-girl and a flute-girl._) Come, my little wench,
bear in mind what I told you on the road and do it well. Come, go past
him and gird up your robe. And you, you little dear, play us the air of a
Persian dance.
SCYTHIAN. What is this music that makes me so blithe?
EURIPIDES (_as an old woman_). Scythian, this young girl is going to
practise some dances, which she has to perform at a feast presently.
SCYTHIAN. Very well! let her dance and practise; I won't hinder her. How
nimbly she bounds! one might think her a flea on a fleece.
EURIPIDES. Come, my dear, off with your robe and seat yourself on the
Scythian's knee; stretch forth your feet to me, that I may take off your
slippers.
SCYTHIAN. Ah! yes, seat yourself, my little girl, ah! yes, to be sure.
What a firm little bosom! 'tis just like a turnip.
EURIPIDES (_to the flute-girl_). An air on the flute, quick! (_To the
dancing-girl._) Well! are you still afraid of the Scythian?
SCYTHIAN. What beautiful thighs!
EURIPIDES. Come! keep still, can't you?
SCYTHIAN. 'Tis altogether a very fine morsel to make a man's cock stand.
EURIPIDES. That's so! (_To the dancing-girl._) Resume your dress, it is
time to be going.
SCYTHIAN. Give me a kiss.
EURIPIDES (_to the dancing-girl_). Come, give him a kiss.
SCYTHIAN. Oh! oh! oh! my goodness, what soft lips! 'tis like Attic honey.
But might she not stop with me?
EURIPIDES. Impossible, archer; good evening.
SCYTHIAN. Oh! oh! old woman, do me this pleasure.
EURIPIDES. Will you give a drachma?
SCYTHIAN. Aye, that I will.
EURIPIDES. Hand over the money.
SCYTHIAN. I have not got it, but take my quiver in pledge.
EURIPIDES. You will bring her back?
SCYTHIAN. Follow me, my beautiful child. And you, old woman, just keep
guard over this man. But what is your name?
EURIPIDES. Artemisia. Can you remember that name?
SCYTHIAN. Artemuxia. Good!
EURIPIDES (_aside_). Hermes, god of cunning, receive my thanks!
everything is turning out for the best. (_To the Scythian._) As for you,
friend, take away this girl, quick. (_Exit the Scythian with the
dancing-girl._) Now let me loose his bonds. (_To Mnesilochus._) And you,
directly I have released you, take to your legs and run off full tilt to
your home to find your wife and children.
MNESILOCHUS. I shall not fail in that as soon as I am free.
EURIPIDES (_releases Mnesilochus_). There! 'Tis done. Come, fly, before
the archer lays his hand on you again.
MNESILOCHUS. That's just what I am doing. [_Exit with Euripides._
SCYTHIAN. Ah! old woman! what a charming little girl! Not at all the
prude, and so obliging! Eh! where is the old woman? Ah! I am undone! And
the old man, where is he? Hi! old woman! old woman! Ah! but this is a
dirty trick! Artemuxia! she has tricked me, that's what the little old
woman has done! Get clean out of my sight, you cursed quiver! (_Picks it
up and throws it across the stage._) Ha! you are well named quiver, for
you have made me quiver indeed. Oh! what's to be done? Where is the
old woman then? Artemuxia!
CHORUS. Are you asking for the old woman who carried the lyre?
SCYTHIAN. Yes, yes; have you seen her?
CHORUS. She has gone that way along with an old man.
SCYTHIAN. Dressed in a long robe?
CHORUS. Yes; run quick, and you will overtake them.
SCYTHIAN. Ah! rascally old woman! Which way has she fled? Artemuxia!
CHORUS. Straight on; follow your nose. But, hi! where are you running to
now? Come back, you are going exactly the wrong way.
SCYTHIAN. Ye gods! ye gods! and all this while Artemuxia is escaping.
[_Exit running._
CHORUS. Go your way! and a pleasant journey to you! But our sports have
lasted long enough; it is time for each of us to be off home; and may the
two goddesses reward us for our labours!