Works by Aristophanes

The Acharnians (425 BCE)
The Birds (414 BCE)
The Clouds (416 BCE)
Ecclesiazusae (392 BCE)
The Frogs (405 BCE)
The Knights (424 BCE)
Lysistrata (411 BCE)
Peace (421 BCE)
Thesmophoriazusae (411 BCE)
The Wasps (422 BCE)
Wealth (388 BCE)

Wealth

Author: Aristophanes
Written: 388 BCE


DRAMATIS PERSONAE

CHREMYLUS.
CARIO, Servant of Chremylus.
PLUTUS, God of Riches.
BLEPSIDEMUS, friend of Chremylus.
WIFE OF CHREMYLUS.
POVERTY.
A JUST MAN.
AN INFORMER, or Sycophant.
AN OLD WOMAN.
A YOUTH.
HERMES.
A PRIEST OF ZEUS.
CHORUS OF RUSTICS.

SCENE: In front of a farmhouse--a road leading up to it.

CARIO. What an unhappy fate, great gods, to be the slave of a fool! A
servant may give the best of advice, but if his master does not follow
it, the poor slave must inevitably have his share in the disaster; for
fortune does not allow him to dispose of his own body, it belongs to his
master who has bought it. Alas! 'tis the way of the world. But the god,
Apollo, whose oracles the Pythian priestess on her golden tripod makes
known to us, deserves my censure, for 'tis assured he is a physician and
a cunning diviner; and yet my master is leaving his temple infected with
mere madness and insists on following a blind man. Is this not opposed to
all good sense? 'Tis for us, who see clearly, to guide those who don't;
whereas he clings to the trail of a blind fellow and compels me to do the
same without answering my questions with ever a word. (_To Chremylus._)
Aye, master, unless you tell me why we are following this unknown fellow,
I will not be silent, but I will worry and torment you, for you cannot
beat me because of my sacred chaplet of laurel.

CHREMYLUS. No, but if you worry me I will take off your chaplet, and then
you will only get a sounder thrashing.

CARIO. That's an old song! I am going to leave you no peace till you have
told me who this man is; and if I ask it, 'tis entirely because of my
interest in you.

CHREMYLUS. Well, be it so. I will reveal it to you as being the most
faithful and the most rascally of all my servants. I honoured the
gods and did what was right, and yet I was none the less poor and
unfortunate.

CARIO. I know it but too well.

CHREMYLUS. Other amassed wealth--the sacrilegious, the demagogues, the
informers, indeed every sort of rascal.

CARIO. I believe you.

CHREMYLUS. Therefore I came to consult the oracle of the god, not on my
own account, for my unfortunate life is nearing its end, but for my only
son; I wanted to ask Apollo, if it was necessary for him to become a
thorough knave and renounce his virtuous principles, since that seemed to
me to be the only way to succeed in life.

CARIO. And with what responding tones did the sacred tripod resound?

CHREMYLUS. You shall know. The god ordered me in plain terms to follow
the first man I should meet upon leaving the temple and to persuade him
to accompany me home.

CARIO. And who was the first one you met?

CHREMYLUS. This blind man.

CARIO. And you are stupid enough not to understand the meaning of such an
answer? Why, the god was advising you thereby, and that in the clearest
possible way, to bring up your son according to the fashion of your
country.

CHREMYLUS. What makes you think that?

CARIO. Is it not evident to the blind, that nowadays to do nothing that
is right is the best way to get on?

CHREMYLUS. No, that is not the meaning of the oracle; there must be
another, that is nobler. If this blind man would tell us who he is and
why and with what object he has led us here, we should no doubt
understand what our oracle really does mean.

CARIO (_to Plutus_). Come, tell us at once who you are, or I give effect
to my threat. (_He menaces him_.) And quick too, be quick, I say.

PLUTUS. I'll thrash you.

CARIO (_to Chremylus_). Ha! is it thus he tells us his name?

CHREMYLUS. 'Tis to you and not to me that he replies thus; your mode of
questioning him was ill-advised. (_To Plutus._) Come, friend, if you care
to oblige an honest man, answer me.

PLUTUS. I'll knock you down.

CARIO. Ah! what a pleasant fellow and what a delightful prophecy the god
has given you!

CHREMYLUS. By Demeter, you'll have no reason to laugh presently.

CARIO. If you don't speak, you wretch, I will surely do you an ill turn.

PLUTUS. Friends, take yourselves off and leave me.

CHREMYLUS. That we very certainly shan't.

CARIO. This, master, is the best thing to do. I'll undertake to secure
him the most frightful death; I will lead him to the verge of a precipice
and then leave him there, so that he'll break his neck when he pitches
over.

CHREMYLUS. Well then, I leave him to you, and do the thing quickly.

PLUTUS. Oh, no! Have mercy!

CHREMYLUS. Will you speak then?

PLUTUS. But if you learn who I am, I know well that you will ill-use me
and will not let me go again.

CHREMYLUS. I call the gods to witness that you have naught to fear if you
will only speak.

PLUTUS. Well then, first unhand me.

CHREMYLUS. There! we set you free.

PLUTUS. Listen then, since I must reveal what I had intended to keep a
secret. I am Plutus.

CHREMYLUS. Oh! you wretched rascal! You Plutus all the while, and you
never said so!

CARIO. You, Plutus, and in this piteous guise!

CHREMYLUS. Oh, Phoebus Apollo! oh, ye gods of heaven and hell! Oh, Zeus!
is it really and truly as you say?

PLUTUS. Aye.

CHREMYLUS. Plutus' very own self?

PLUTUS. His own very self and none other.

CHREMYLUS. But tell me, whence come you to be so squalid?

PLUTUS. I have just left Patrocles' house, who has not had a bath since
his birth.

CHREMYLUS. But your infirmity; how did that happen? Tell me.

PLUTUS. Zeus inflicted it on me, because of his jealousy of mankind. When
I was young, I threatened him that I would only go to the just, the wise,
the men of ordered life; to prevent my distinguishing these, he struck me
with blindness! so much does he envy the good!

CHREMYLUS. And yet, 'tis only the upright and just who honour him.

PLUTUS. Quite true.

CHREMYLUS. Therefore, if ever you recovered your sight, you would shun
the wicked?

PLUTUS. Undoubtedly.

CHREMYLUS. You would visit the good?

PLUTUS. Assuredly. It is a very long time since I saw them.

CHREMYLUS. That's not astonishing. I, who see clearly, don't see a single
one.

PLUTUS. Now let me leave you, for I have told you everything.

CHREMYLUS. No, certainly not! we shall fasten ourselves on to you faster
than ever.

PLUTUS. Did I not tell you, you were going to plague me?

CHREMYLUS. Oh! I adjure you, believe what I say and don't leave me; for
you will seek in vain for a more honest man than myself.

CARIO. There is only one man more worthy; and that is I.

PLUTUS. All talk like this, but as soon as they secure my favours and
grow rich, their wickedness knows no bounds.

CHREMYLUS. And yet all men are not wicked.

PLUTUS. All. There's no exception.

CARIO. You shall pay for that opinion.

CHREMYLUS. Listen to what happiness there is in store for you, if you but
stay with us. I have hope; aye, I have good hope with the god's help to
deliver you from that blindness, in fact to restore your sight.

PLUTUS. Oh! do nothing of the kind, for I don't wish to recover it.

CHREMYLUS. What's that you say?

CARIO. This fellow hugs his own misery.

PLUTUS. If you were mad enough to cure me, and Zeus heard of it, he would
overwhelm me with his anger.

CHREMYLUS. And is he not doing this now by leaving you to grope your
wandering way?

PLUTUS. I don't know; but I'm horribly afraid of him.

CHREMYLUS. Indeed? Ah! you are the biggest poltroon of all the gods! Why,
Zeus with his throne and his lightnings would not be worth an obolus if
you recovered your sight, were it but for a few instants.

PLUTUS. Impious man, don't talk like that.

CHREMYLUS. Fear nothing! I will prove to you that you are far more
powerful and mightier than he.

PLUTUS. I mightier than he?

CHREMYLUS. Aye, by heaven! For instance, what is the origin of the power
that Zeus wields over the other gods?

CARIO. 'Tis money; he has so much of it.

CHREMYLUS. And who gives it to him?

CARIO (_pointing to Plutus_). This fellow.

CHREMYLUS. If sacrifices are offered to him, is not Plutus their cause?

CARIO. Undoubtedly, for 'tis wealth that all demand and clamour most
loudly for.

CHREMYLUS. Thus 'tis Plutus who is the fount of all the honours rendered
to Zeus, whose worship he can wither up at the root, if it so please him.

PLUTUS. And how so?

CHREMYLUS. Not an ox, nor a cake, nor indeed anything at all could be
offered, if you did not wish it.

PLUTUS. Why?

CHREMYLUS. Why? but what means are there to buy anything if you are not
there to give the money? Hence if Zeus should cause you any trouble, you
will destroy his power without other help.

PLUTUS. So 'tis because of me that sacrifices are offered to him?

CHREMYLUS. Most assuredly. Whatever is dazzling, beautiful or charming in
the eyes of mankind, comes from you. Does not everything depend on
wealth?

CARIO. I myself was bought for a few coins; if I'm a slave, 'tis only
because I was not rich.

CHREMYLUS. And what of the Corinthian courtesans? If a poor man
offers them proposals, they do not listen; but if it be a rich one,
instantly they offer their buttocks for his pleasure.

CARIO. 'Tis the same with the lads; they care not for love, to them money
means everything.

CHREMYLUS. You speak of those who accept all comers; yet some of them are
honest, and 'tis not money they ask of their patrons.

CARIO. What then?

CHREMYLUS. A fine horse, a pack of hounds.

CARIO. Aye, they would blush to ask for money and cleverly disguise their
shame.

CHREMYLUS. 'Tis in you that every art, all human inventions, have had
their origin; 'tis through you that one man sits cutting leather in his
shop.

CARIO. That another fashions iron or wood.

CHREMYLUS. That yet another chases the gold he has received from you.

CARIO. That one is a fuller.

CHREMYLUS. That t'other washes wool.

CARIO. That this one is a tanner.

CHREMYLUS. And that other sells onions.

CARIO. And if the adulterer, caught red-handed, is depilated, 'tis
on account of you.

PLUTUS. Oh! great gods! I knew naught of all this!

CARIO. Is it not he who lends the Great King all his pride?

CHREMYLUS. Is it not he who draws the citizens to the Assembly?

CARIO. And tell me, is it not you who equip the triremes?

CHREMYLUS. And who feed our mercenaries at Corinth?

CARIO. Are not you the cause of Pamphilus' sufferings?

CHREMYLUS. And of the needle-seller's with Pamphilus?

CARIO. Is it not because of you that Agyrrhius lets wind so loudly?

CHREMYLUS. And that Philepsius rolls off his fables?

CARIO. That troops are sent to succour the Egyptians?

CHREMYLUS. And that Laïs is kept by Philonides?

CARIO. That the tower of Timotheus ...

CHREMYLUS. ... (_To Cario._) May it fall upon your head! (_To Plutus._)
In short, Plutus, 'tis through you that everything is done; be it known
to you that you are the sole cause both of good and evil.

CARIO. In war, 'tis the flag under which you serve that victory favours.

PLUTUS. What! I can do so many things by myself and unaided?

CHREMYLUS. And many others besides; wherefore men are never tired of your
gifts. They get weary of all else,--of love ...

CARIO. Of bread.

CHREMYLUS. Of music.

CARIO. Of sweetmeats.

CHREMYLUS. Of honours.

CARIO. Of cakes.

CHREMYLUS. Of battles.

CARIO. Of figs.

CHREMYLUS. Of ambition.

CARIO. Of gruel.

CHREMYLUS. Of military advancement.

CARIO. Of lentils.

CHREMYLUS. But of you they never tire. Has a man got thirteen talents, he
has all the greater ardour to possess sixteen; is that wish achieved, he
will want forty or will complain that he knows not how to make the two
ends meet.

PLUTUS. All this, methinks, is very true; there is but one point that
makes me feel a bit uneasy.

CHREMYLUS. And that is?

PLUTUS. How could I use this power, which you say I have?

CHREMYLUS. Ah! they were quite right who said, there's nothing more
timorous than Plutus.

PLUTUS. No, no; it was a thief who calumniated me. Having broken into a
house, he found everything locked up and could take nothing, so he dubbed
my prudence fear.

CHREMYLUS. Don't be disturbed; if you support me zealously, I'll make you
more sharp-sighted than Lynceus.

PLUTUS. And how should you be able to do that, you, who are but a mortal?

CHREMYLUS. I have great hope, after the answer Apollo gave me, shaking
his sacred laurels the while.

PLUTUS. Is _he_ in the plot then?

CHREMYLUS. Aye, truly.

PLUTUS. Take care what you say.

CHREMYLUS. Never fear, friend; for, be well assured, that if it has to
cost me my life, I will carry out what I have in my head.

CARIO. And I will help you, if you permit it.

CHREMYLUS. We shall have many other helpers as well--all the worthy folk
who are wanting for bread.

PLUTUS. Ah! ha! they'll prove sorry helpers.

CHREMYLUS. No, not so, once they've grown rich. But you, Cario, run quick
...

CARIO. Where?

CHREMYLUS. ... to call my comrades, the other husbandmen, that each of
them may come here to take his share of the gifts of Plutus.

CARIO. I'm off. But let someone come from the house to take this morsel
of meat.

CHREMYLUS. I'll see to that; you run your hardest. As for you, Plutus,
the most excellent of all the gods, come in here with me; this is the
house you must fill with riches today, by fair means or foul.

PLUTUS. I don't like at all going into other folks' houses in this
manner; I have never got any good from it. If I got inside a miser's
house, straightway he would bury me deep underground; if some honest
fellow among his friends came to ask him for the smallest coin, he would
deny ever having seen me. Then if I went to a fool's house, he would
sacrifice me as a prey to gaming and to girls, and very soon I should be
completely stripped and pitched out of doors.

CHREMYLUS. That's because you have never met a man who knew how to avoid
the two extremes; moderation is the strong point in my character. I love
saving as much as anybody, and I know how to spend, when 'tis needed. But
let us go in; I want to make you known to my wife and to my only son,
whom I love most of all after yourself.

PLUTUS. Aye, after myself, I'm very sure of that.

CHREMYLUS. Why should I hide the truth from you?

CARIO. Come, you active workers, who, like my master, eat nothing but
garlic and the poorest food, you who are his friends and his neighbours,
hasten your steps, hurry yourselves; there's not a moment to lose; this
is the critical hour, when your presence and your support is needed by
him.

CHORUS. Why, don't you see we are speeding as fast as men can, who are
already enfeebled by age? But do you deem it fitting to make us run like
this before ever telling us why your master has called us?

CARIO. I've grown hoarse with the telling, but you won't listen. My
master is going to drag you all out of the stupid, sapless life you are
leading and ensure you one full of all delights.

CHORUS. And how is he going to manage that?

CARIO. My poor friends, he has brought with him a disgusting old fellow,
all bent and wrinkled, with a most pitiful appearance, bald and
toothless; upon my word, I even believe he is circumcised like some vile
barbarian.

CHORUS. These are news worth their weight in gold! What are you saying?
Repeat it to me; no doubt it means he is bringing back a heap of wealth.

CARIO. No, but a heap of all the infirmities attendant on old age.

CHORUS. If you are tricking us, you shall pay us for it. Beware of our
sticks!

CARIO. Do you deem me so brazen as all that, and my words mere lies?

CHORUS. What serious airs the rascal puts on! Look! his legs are already
shrieking, "oh! oh!" they are asking for the shackles and wedges.

CARIO. 'Tis in the tomb that 'tis your lot to judge. Why don't you go
there? Charon has given you your ticket.

CHORUS. Plague take you! you cursed rascal, who rail at us and have not
even the heart to tell us why your master has made us come. We were
pressed for time and tired out, yet we came with all haste, and in our
hurry we have passed by lots of wild onions without even gathering them.

CARIO. I will no longer conceal the truth from you. Friends, 'tis Plutus
whom my master brings, Plutus, who will give you riches.

CHORUS. What! we shall really all become rich!

CARIO. Aye, certainly; you will then be Midases, provided you grow ass's
ears.

CHORUS. What joy, what happiness! If what you tell me is true, I long to
dance with delight.

CARIO. And I too, threttanello! I want to imitate Cyclops and lead
your troop by stamping like this. Do you, my dear little ones, cry,
aye, cry again and bleat forth the plaintive song of the sheep and of the
stinking goats; follow me with erected organs like lascivious goats ready
for action.

CHORUS. As for us, threttanello! we will seek you, dear Cyclops,
bleating, and if we find you with your wallet full of fresh herbs, all
disgusting in your filth, sodden with wine and sleeping in the midst of
your sheep, we will seize a great flaming stake and burn out your
eye.

CARIO. I will copy that Circé of Corinth, whose potent philtres
compelled the companions of Philonides to swallow balls of dung, which
she herself had kneaded with her hands, as if they were swine; and do you
too grunt with joy and follow your mother, my little pigs.

CHORUS. Oh! Circé with the potent philtres, who besmear your
companions so filthily, what pleasure I shall have in imitating the son
of Laertes! I will hang you up by your testicles, I will rub your
nose with dung like a goat, and like Aristyllus you shall say
through your half-opened lips, "Follow your mother, my little pigs."

CARIO. Enough of tomfoolery, assume a grave demeanour; unknown to my
master I am going to take bread and meat; and when I have fed well, I
shall resume my work.

CHREMYLUS. To say, "Hail! my dear neighbours!" is an old form of greeting
and well worn with use; so therefore I embrace you, because you have not
crept like tortoises, but have come rushing here in all haste. Now help
me to watch carefully and closely over the god.

CHORUS. Be at ease. You shall see with what martial zeal I will guard
him. What! we jostle each other at the Assembly for three obols, and am I
going to let Plutus in person be stolen from me?

CHREMYLUS. But I see Blepsidemus; by his bearing and his haste I can
readily see he knows or suspects something.

BLEPSIDEMUS. What has happened then? Whence, how has Chremylus suddenly
grown rich? I don't believe a word of it. Nevertheless, nothing but his
sudden fortune was being talked about in the barbers' booths. But I am
above all surprised that his good fortune has not made him forget his
friends; that is not the usual way!

CHREMYLUS. By the gods, Blepsidemus, I will hide nothing from you. To-day
things are better than yesterday; let us share, for are you not my
friend?

BLEPSIDEMUS. Have you really grown rich as they say?

CHREMYLUS I shall be soon, if the god agrees to it. But there is still
some risk to run.

BLEPSIDEMUS. What risk?

CHREMYLUS. What risk?

BLEPSIDEMUS. What do you mean? Explain.

CHREMYLUS. If we succeed, we are happy for ever, but if we fail, it is
all over with us.

BLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis a bad business, and one that doesn't please me! To grow
rich all at once and yet to be fearful! ah! I suspect something that's
little good.

CHREMYLUS. What do you mean, that's little good?

BLEPSIDEMUS. No doubt you have just stolen some gold and silver from some
temple and are repenting.

CHREMYLUS. Nay! heaven preserve me from that!

BLEPSIDEMUS. A truce to idle phrases!  the thing is only too apparent, my
friend.

CHREMYLUS. Don't suspect such a thing of me.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Alas! then there is no honest man! not one, that can resist
the attraction of gold!

CHREMYLUS. By Demeter, you have no common sense.

BLEPSIDEMUS. To have to persist like this in denial one's whole life
long!

CHREMYLUS. But, good gods, you are mad, my dear fellow!

BLEPSIDEMUS. His very look is distraught; he has done some crime!

CHREMYLUS. Ah! I know the tune you are playing now; you think I have
stolen, and want your share.

BLEPSIDEMUS. My share of what, pray?

CHREMYLUS. You are beside the mark; the thing is quite otherwise.

BLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis perhaps not a theft, but some piece of knavery!

CHREMYLUS. You are insane!

BLEPSIDEMUS. What? You have done no man an injury?

CHREMYLUS. No! assuredly not!

BLEPSIDEMUS. But, great gods, what am I to think? You won't tell me the
truth.

CHREMYLUS. You accuse me without really knowing anything.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Listen, friend, no doubt the matter can yet be hushed up,
before it gets noised abroad, at trifling expense; I will buy the
orators' silence.

CHREMYLUS. Aye, you will lay out three minae and, as my friend, you will
reckon twelve against me.

BLEPSIDEMUS. I know someone who will come and seat himself at the foot of
the tribunal, holding a supplicant's bough in his hand and surrounded by
his wife and children, for all the world like the Heraclidae of
Pamphilus.

CHREMYLUS. Not at all, poor fool! But, thanks to me, worthy folk,
intelligent and moderate men alone shall be rich henceforth.

BLEPSIDEMUS. What are you saying? Have you then stolen so much as all
that?

CHREMYLUS. Oh! your insults will be the death of me.

BLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis rather you yourself who are courting death.

CHREMYLUS. Not so, you wretch, since I have Plutus.

BLEPSIDEMUS. You have Plutus? Which one?

CHREMYLUS. The god himself.

BLEPSIDEMUS. And where is he?

CHREMYLUS. There.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Where?

CHREMYLUS. Indoors.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Indoors?

CHREMYLUS. Aye, certainly.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Get you gone! Plutus in your house?

CHREMYLUS. Yes, by the gods!

BLEPSIDEMUS. Are you telling me the truth?

CHREMYLUS. I am.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Swear it by Hestia.

CHREMYLUS. I swear it by Posidon.

BLEPSIDEMUS. The god of the sea?

CHREMYLUS. Aye, and by all the other Posidons, if such there be.

BLEPSIDEMUS. And you don't send him to us, to your friends?

CHREMYLUS. We've not got to that point yet.

BLEPSIDEMUS. What do you say? Is there no chance of sharing?

CHREMYLUS. Why, no. We must first ...

BLEPSIDEMUS. Do what?

CHREMYLUS. ... restore him his sight.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Restore whom his sight? Speak!

CHREMYLUS. Plutus. It must be done, no matter how.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Is he then really blind?

CHREMYLUS. Yes, undoubtedly.

BLEPSIDEMUS. I am no longer surprised he never came to me.

CHREMYLUS. And it please the gods, he'll come there now.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Must we not go and seek a physician?

CHREMYLUS. Seek physicians at Athens? Nay! there's no art where there's
no fee.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Let's bethink ourselves well.

CHREMYLUS. There is not one.

BLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis a positive fact, I don't know of one.

CHREMYLUS. But I have thought the matter well over, and the best thing is
to make Plutus lie in the Temple of Aesculapius.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Aye, unquestionably 'tis the very best thing. Be quick and
lead him away to the Temple.

CHREMYLUS. I am going there.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Then hurry yourself.

CHREMYLUS. 'Tis just what I am doing.

POVERTY. Unwise, perverse, unholy men! What are you daring to do, you
pitiful, wretched mortals? Whither are you flying? Stop! I command it!

BLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! great gods!

POVERTY. My arm shall destroy you, you infamous beings! Such an attempt
is not to be borne; neither man nor god has ever dared the like. You
shall die!

CHREMYLUS. And who are you?  Oh! what a ghastly pallor!

BLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis perchance some Erinnys, some Fury, from the
theatre; there's a kind of wild tragedy look in her eyes.

CHREMYLUS. But she has no torch.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Let's knock her down!

POVERTY. Who do you think I am?

CHREMYLUS. Some wine-shop keeper or egg-woman. Otherwise you would not
have shrieked so loud at us, who have done nothing to you.

POVERTY. Indeed? And have you not done me the most deadly injury by
seeking to banish me from every country?

CHREMYLUS. Why, have you not got the Barathrum left? But who are
you? Answer me quickly!

POVERTY. I am one that will punish you this very day for having wanted to
make me disappear from here.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Might it be the tavern-keeper in my neighbourhood, who is
always cheating me in measure?

POVERTY. I am Poverty, who have lived with you for so many years.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! great Apollo! oh, ye gods! whither shall I fly?

CHREMYLUS. Now then! what are you doing? You poltroon! Will you kindly
stop here?

BLEPSIDEMUS. Not I.

CHREMYLUS. Will you have the goodness to stop. Are two men to fly from a
woman?

BLEPSIDEMUS. But, you wretch, 'tis Poverty, the most fearful monster that
ever drew breath.

CHREMYLUS. Stay where you are, I beg of you.

BLEPSIDEMUS. No! no! a thousand times, no!

CHREMYLUS. Could we do anything worse than leave the god in the lurch and
fly before this woman without so much as ever offering to fight?

BLEPSIDEMUS. But what weapons have we? Are we in a condition to show
fight? Where is the breastplate, the buckler, that this wretch has not
pledged?

CHREMYLUS. Be at ease. Plutus will readily triumph over her threats
unaided.

POVERTY. Dare you reply, you scoundrels, you who are caught red-handed at
the most horrible crime?

CHREMYLUS. As for you, you cursed jade, you pursue me with your abuse,
though I have never done you the slightest harm.

POVERTY. Do you think it is doing me no harm to restore Plutus to the use
of his eyes?

CHREMYLUS. Is this doing you harm, that we shower blessings on all men?

POVERTY. And what do you think will ensure their happiness?

CHREMYLUS. Ah! first of all we shall drive you out of Greece.

POVERTY. Drive me out? Could you do mankind a greater harm?

CHREMYLUS. Yes--if I gave up my intention to deliver them from you.

POVERTY. Well, let us discuss this point first. I propose to show that I
am the sole cause of all your blessings, and that your safety depends on
me alone. If I don't succeed, then do what you like to me.

CHREMYLUS. How dare you talk like this, you impudent hussy?

POVERTY. Agree to hear me and I think it will be very easy for me to
prove that you are entirely on the wrong road, when you want to make the
just men wealthy.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! cudgel and rope's end, come to my help!

POVERTY. Why such wrath and these shouts, before you hear my arguments?

BLEPSIDEMUS. But who could listen to such words without exclaiming?

POVERTY. Any man of sense.

CHREMYLUS. But if you lose your case, what punishment will you submit to?

POVERTY. Choose what you will.

CHREMYLUS. That's all right.

POVERTY. You shall suffer the same if you are beaten!

CHREMYLUS. Do you think twenty deaths a sufficiently large stake?

BLEPSIDEMUS. Good enough for her, but for us two would suffice.

POVERTY. You won't escape, for is there indeed a single valid argument to
oppose me with?

CHORUS. To beat her in this debate, you must call upon all your wits.
Make no allowances and show no weakness!

CHREMYLUS. It is right that the good should be happy, that the wicked and
the impious, on the other hand, should be miserable; that is a truth, I
believe, which no one will gainsay. To realize this condition of things
is as great a proposal as it is noble and useful in every respect, and we
have found a means of attaining the object of our wishes. If Plutus
recovers his sight and ceases from wandering about unseeing and at
random, he will go to seek the just men and never leave them again; he
will shun the perverse and ungodly; so, thanks to him, all men will
become honest, rich and pious. Can anything better be conceived for the
public weal?

BLEPSIDEMUS. Of a certainty, no! I bear witness to that. It is not even
necessary she should reply.

CHREMYLUS. Does it not seem that everything is extravagance in the world,
or rather madness, when you watch the way things go? A crowd of rogues
enjoy blessings they have won by sheer injustice, while more honest folks
are miserable, die of hunger, and spend their whole lives with you.

CHORUS. Yes, if Plutus became clear-sighted again and drove out Poverty,
'twould be the greatest blessing possible for the human race.

POVERTY. Here are two old men, whose brains are easy to confuse, who
assist each other to talk rubbish and drivel to their hearts' content.
But if your wishes were realized, your profit would be great! Let Plutus
recover his sight and divide his favours out equally to all, and none
will ply either trade or art any longer; all toil would be done away
with. Who would wish to hammer iron, build ships, sew, turn, cut up
leather, bake bricks, bleach linen, tan hides, or break up the soil of
the earth with the plough and garner the gifts of Demeter, if he could
live in idleness and free from all this work?

CHREMYLUS. What nonsense all this is! All these trades which you just
mention will be plied by our slaves.

POVERTY. Your slaves! And by what means will these slaves be got?

CHREMYLUS. We will buy them.

POVERTY. But first say, who will sell them, if everyone is rich?

CHREMYLUS. Some greedy dealer from Thessaly--the land which supplies so
many.

POVERTY. But if your system is applied, there won't be a single
slave-dealer left. What rich man would risk his life to devote himself to
this traffic? You will have to toil, to dig and submit yourself to all
kinds of hard labour; so that your life would be more wretched even than
it is now.

CHREMYLUS. May this prediction fall upon yourself!

POVERTY. You will not be able to sleep in a bed, for no more will ever be
manufactured; nor on carpets, for who would weave them if he had gold?
When you bring a young bride to your dwelling, you will have no essences
wherewith to perfume her, nor rich embroidered cloaks dyed with dazzling
colours in which to clothe her. And yet what is the use of being rich, if
you are to be deprived of all these enjoyments? On the other hand, you
have all that you need in abundance, thanks to me; to the artisan I am
like a severe mistress, who forces him by need and poverty to seek the
means of earning his livelihood.

CHREMYLUS. And what good thing can you give us, unless it be burns in the
bath, and swarms of brats and old women who cry with hunger, and
clouds uncountable of lice, gnats and flies, which hover about the
wretch's head, trouble him, awake him and say, "You will be hungry, but
get up!" Besides, to possess a rag in place of a mantle, a pallet of
rushes swarming with bugs, that do not let you close your eyes for a bed;
a rotten piece of matting for a coverlet; a big stone for a pillow, on
which to lay your head; to eat mallow roots instead of bread, and leaves
of withered radish instead of cake; to have nothing but the cover of a
broken jug for a stool, the stave of a cask, and broken at that, for a
kneading-trough, that is the life you make for us! Are these the mighty
benefits with which you pretend to load mankind?

POVERTY. 'Tis not my life that you describe; you are attacking the
existence beggars lead.

CHREMYLUS. Is beggary not Poverty's sister?

POVERTY. Thrasybulus and Dionysius are one and the same according to
you. No, my life is not like that and never will be. The beggar, whom you
have depicted to us, never possesses anything. The poor man lives
thriftily and attentive to his work; he has not got too much, but he does
not lack what he really needs.

CHREMYLUS. Oh! what a happy life, by Demeter! to live sparingly, to toil
incessantly and not to leave enough to pay for a tomb!

POVERTY. That's it! Jest, jeer, and never talk seriously! But what you
don't know is this, that men with me are worth more, both in mind and
body, than with Plutus. With him they are gouty, big-bellied, heavy of
limb and scandalously stout; with me they are thin, wasp-waisted, and
terrible to the foe.

CHREMYLUS. 'Tis no doubt by starving them that you give them that waspish
waist.

POVERTY. As for behaviour, I will prove to you that modesty dwells with
me and insolence with Plutus.

CHREMYLUS. Oh! the sweet modesty of stealing and breaking through
walls.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Aye, the thief is truly modest, for he hides himself.

POVERTY. Look at the orators in our republics; as long as they are poor,
both State and people can only praise their uprightness; but once they
are fattened on the public funds, they conceive a hatred for justice,
plan intrigues against the people and attack the democracy.

CHREMYLUS. That is absolutely true, although your tongue is very vile.
But it matters not, so don't put on those triumphant airs; you shall not
be punished any the less for having tried to persuade me that poverty is
worth more than wealth.

POVERTY. Not being able to refute my arguments, you chatter at random and
exert yourself to no purpose.

CHREMYLUS. Then tell me this, why does all mankind flee from you?

POVERTY. Because I make them better. Children do the very same; they flee
from the wise counsels of their fathers. So difficult is it to see one's
true interest.

CHREMYLUS. Will you say that Zeus cannot discern what is best? Well, he
takes Plutus to himself ...

BLEPSIDEMUS. ... and banishes Poverty to earth.

POVERTY. Ah me! how purblind you are, you old fellows of the days of
Saturn! Why, Zeus is poor, and I will clearly prove it to you. In the
Olympic games, which he founded, and to which he convokes the whole of
Greece every four years, why does he only crown the victorious athletes
with wild olive? If he were rich he would give them gold.

CHREMYLUS. 'Tis in that way he shows that he clings to his wealth; he is
sparing with it, won't part with any portion of it, only bestows baubles
on the victors and keeps his money for himself.

POVERTY. But wealth coupled to such sordid greed is yet more shameful
than poverty.

CHREMYLUS. May Zeus destroy you, both you and your chaplet of wild olive!

POVERTY. Thus you dare to maintain that poverty is not the fount of all
blessings!

CHREMYLUS. Ask Hecaté whether it is better to be rich or starving;
she will tell you that the rich send her a meal every month and that the
poor make it disappear before it is even served. But go and hang yourself
and don't breathe another syllable. I will not be convinced against my
will.

POVERTY. "Oh! citizens of Argos! do you hear what he says?"

CHREMYLUS. Invoke Pauson, your boon companion, rather.

POVERTY. Alas! what is to become of me?

CHREMYLUS. Get you gone, be off quick and a pleasant journey to you.

POVERTY. But where shall I go?

CHREMYLUS. To gaol; but hurry up, let us put an end to this.

POVERTY. One day you will recall me.

CHREMYLUS. Then you can return; but disappear for the present. I prefer
to be rich; you are free to knock your head against the walls in your
rage.

BLEPSIDEMUS. And I too welcome wealth. I want, when I leave the bath all
perfumed with essences, to feast bravely with my wife and children and to
break wind in the faces of toilers and Poverty.

CHREMYLUS. So that hussy has gone at last! But let us make haste to put
Plutus to bed in the Temple of Aesculapius.

BLEPSIDEMUS. Let us make haste; else some bothering fellow may again come
to interrupt us.

CHREMYLUS. Cario, bring the coverlets and all that I have got ready from
the house; let us conduct the god to the Temple, taking care to observe
all the proper rites.

CHORUS.

CARIO. Oh! you old fellows, who used to dip out the broth served to the
poor at the festival of Theseus with little pieces of bread hollowed
like a spoon, how worthy of envy is your fate! How happy you are, both
you and all just men!

CHORUS. My good fellow, what has happened to your friends? You seem the
bearer of good tidings.

CARIO. What joy for my master and even more for Plutus! The god has
regained his sight; his eyes sparkle with the greatest brilliancy, thanks
to the benevolent care of Aesculapius.

CHORUS. Oh! what transports of joy! oh! What shouts of gladness!

CARIO. Aye! one is compelled to rejoice, whether one will or not.

CHORUS. I will sing to the honour of Aesculapius, the son of illustrious
Zeus, with a resounding voice; he is the beneficent star which men adore.

CHREMYLUS' WIFE. What mean these shouts? Is there good news. With what
impatience have I been waiting in the house, and for so long too!

CARIO. Quick! quick! some wine, mistress. And drink yourself, for 'tis
much to your taste; I bring you all blessings in a lump.

WIFE. Where are they?

CARIO. In my words, as you are going to see.

WIFE. Have done with trifling! come, speak.

CARIO. Listen, I am going to tell you everything from the feet to the
head.

WIFE. Ah! don't throw anything at my head.

CARIO. Not even the happiness that has come to you?

WIFE. No, no, nothing ... to annoy me.

CARIO. Having arrived near to the Temple with our patient, then so
unfortunate, but now at the apex of happiness, of blessedness, we first
led him down to the sea to purify him.

WIFE. Ah! what a singular pleasure for an old man to bathe in the cold
sea-water!

CARIO. Then we repaired to the Temple of the god. Once the wafers and the
various offerings had been consecrated upon the altar, and the cake of
wheaten-meal had been handed over to the devouring Hephaestus, we made
Plutus lie on a couch according to the rite, and each of us prepared
himself a bed of leaves.

WIFE. Had any other folk come to beseech the deity?

CARIO. Yes. Firstly, Neoclides, who is blind, but steals much better
than those who see clearly; then many others attacked by complaints of
all kinds. The lights were put out and the priest enjoined us to sleep,
especially recommending us to keep silent should we hear any noise. There
we were all lying down quite quietly. I could not sleep; I was thinking
of a certain stew-pan full of pap placed close to an old woman and just
behind her head. I had a furious longing to slip towards that side. But
just as I was lifting my head, I noticed the priest, who was sweeping off
both the cakes and the figs on the sacred table; then he made the round
of the altars and sanctified the cakes that remained, by stowing them
away in a bag. I therefore resolved to follow such a pious example and
made straight for the pap.

WIFE. You wretch! and had you no fear of the god?

CARIO. Aye, indeed! I feared that the god with his crown on his head
might have been near the stew-pan before me. I said to myself, "Like
priest, like god." On hearing the noise I made, the old woman put out her
hand, but I hissed and bit it, just as a sacred serpent might have
done. Quick she drew back her hand, slipped down into the bed with
her head beneath the coverlets and never moved again; only she let go
some wind in her fear which stunk worse than a weasel. As for myself, I
swallowed a goodly portion of the pap and, having made a good feed, went
back to bed.

WIFE. And did not the god come?

CAIRO. He did not tarry; and when he was near us, oh! dear! such a good
joke happened. My belly was quite blown out, and I let wind with the
loudest of noises.

WIFE. Doubtless the god pulled a wry face?

CARIO. No, but Iaso blushed a little and Panacea turned her head
away, holding her nose; for my perfume is not that of roses.

WIFE. And what did the god do?

CARIO. He paid not the slightest heed.

WIFE. He must then be a pretty coarse kind of god?

CARIO. I don't say that, but he's used to tasting shit.

WIFE. Impudent knave, go on with you!

CARIO. Then I hid myself in my bed all a-tremble. Aesculapius did the
round of the patients and examined them all with great attention; then a
slave placed beside him a stone mortar, a pestle and a little box.

WIFE. Of stone?

CARIO. No, not of stone.

WIFE. But how could you see all this, you arch-rascal, when you say you
were hiding all the time?

CARIO. Why, great gods, through my cloak, for 'tis not without holes! He
first prepared an ointment for Neoclides; he threw three heads of
Tenian garlic into the mortar, pounded them with an admixture of
fig-tree sap and lentisk, moistened the whole with Sphettian
vinegar, and, turning back the patient's eyelids, applied his salve to
the interior of the eyes, so that the pain might be more excruciating.
Neoclides shrieked, howled, sprang towards the foot of his bed and wanted
to bolt, but the god laughed and said to him, "Keep where you are with
your salve; by doing this you will not go and perjure yourself before the
Assembly."

WIFE What a wise god and what a friend to our city!

CARIO. Thereupon he came and seated himself at the head of Plutus' bed,
took a perfectly clean rag and wiped his eye-lids; Panacea covered his
head and face with a purple cloth, while the god whistled, and two
enormous snakes came rushing from the sanctuary.

WIFE. Great gods!

CARIO. They slipped gently beneath the purple cloth and, as far as I
could judge, licked the patient's eyelids; for, in less time than even
you need, mistress, to drain down ten beakers of wine, Plutus rose up; he
could see. I clapped my hands with joy and awoke my master, and the god
immediately disappeared with the serpents into the sanctuary. As for
those who were lying near Plutus, you can imagine that they embraced him
tenderly. Dawn broke and not one of them had closed an eye. As for
myself, I did not cease thanking the god who had so quickly restored to
Plutus his sight and had made Neoclides blinder than ever.

WIFE. Oh! thou great Aesculapius! How mighty is thy power! (_To Cario._)
But tell me, where is Plutus now?

CARIO. He is approaching, escorted by an immense crowd. The rich, whose
wealth is ill-gotten, are knitting their brows and shooting at him looks
of fierce hate, while the just folk, who led a wretched existence,
embrace him and grasp his hand in the transport of their joy; they follow
in his wake, their heads wreathed with garlands, laughing and blessing
their deliverer; the old men make the earth resound as they walk together
keeping time. Come, all of you, all, down to the very least, dance, leap
and form yourselves into a chorus; no longer do you risk being told, when
you go home, "There is no meal in the bag."

WIFE. And I, by Hecate! I will string you a garland of cakes for the good
tidings you have brought me.

CARIO. Hurry, make haste then; our friends are close at hand.

WIFE. I will go indoors to fetch some gifts of welcome, to celebrate
these eyes that have just been opened.

CARIO. Meantime I am going forth to meet them.

CHORUS.

PLUTUS. I adore thee, oh! thou divine sun, and thee I greet thou city,
the beloved of Pallas; be welcome, thou land of Cecrops, which hast
received me. Alas! what manner of men I associated with! I blush to think
of it. While, on the other hand, I shunned those who deserved my
friendship; I knew neither the vices of the ones nor the virtues of the
others. A twofold mistake, and in both cases equally fatal! Ah! what a
misfortune was mine! But I want to change everything; and in future I
mean to prove to mankind that, if I gave to the wicked, 'twas against my
will.

CHREMYLUS (_to the crowd who impede him_). Get you gone! Oh! what a lot
of friends spring into being when you are fortunate! They dig me with
their elbows and bruise my shins to prove their affection. Each one wants
to greet me. What a crowd of old fellows thronged round me on the
market-place!

WIFE. Oh! thou, who art dearest of all to me, and thou too, be welcome!
Allow me, Plutus, to shower these gifts of welcome over you in due accord
with custom.

PLUTUS. No. This is the first house I enter after having regained my
sight; I shall take nothing from it, for 'tis my place rather to give.

WIFE. Do you refuse these gifts?

PLUTUS. I will accept them at your fireside, as custom requires. Besides,
we shall thus avoid a ridiculous scene; it is not meet that the poet
should throw dried figs and dainties to the spectators; 'tis a vulgar
trick to make 'em laugh.

WIFE. You are right. Look! yonder's Dexinicus, who was already getting to
his feet to catch the figs as they flew past him.

CHORUS.

CARIO. How pleasant it is, friends, to live well, especially when it
costs nothing! What a deluge of blessings flood our household, and that
too without our having wronged ever a soul! Ah! what a delightful thing
is wealth! The bin is full of white flour and the wine-jars run over with
fragrant liquor; all the chests are crammed with gold and silver, 'tis a
sight to see; the tank is full of oil, the phials with perfumes, and
the garret with dried figs. Vinegar flasks, plates, stew-pots and all the
platters are of brass; our rotten old wooden trenchers for the fish have
to-day become dishes of silver; the very night-commode is of ivory. We
others, the slaves, we play at odd and even with gold pieces, and carry
luxury so far that we no longer wipe ourselves with stones, but use
garlic stalks instead. My master, at this moment, is crowned with flowers
and sacrificing a pig, a goat and a ram; 'tis the smoke that has
driven me out, for I could no longer endure it, it hurt my eyes so.

A JUST MAN. Come, my child, come with me. Let us go and find the god.

CHREMYLUS. Who comes here?

JUST MAN. A man who was once wretched, but now is happy.

CHREMYLUS. A just man then?

JUST MAN. You have it.

CHREMYLUS. Well! what do you want?

JUST MAN. I come to thank the god for all the blessings he has showered
on me. My father had left me a fairly decent fortune, and I helped those
of my friends who were in want; 'twas, to my thinking, the most useful
thing I could do with my fortune.

CHREMYLUS. And you were quickly ruined?

JUST MAN. Entirely.

CHREMYLUS. Since then you have been living in misery?

JUST MAN. In truth I have; I thought I could count, in case of need, upon
the friends whose property I had helped, but they turned their backs upon
me and pretended not to see me.

CHREMYLUS. They laughed at you, 'tis evident.

JUST MAN. Just so. With my empty coffers, I had no more friends.

CHREMYLUS. But your lot has changed.

JUST MAN. Yes, and so I come to the god to make him the acts of gratitude
that are his due.

CHREMYLUS. But with what object now do you bring this old cloak, which
your slave is carrying? Tell me.

JUST MAN. I wish to dedicate it to the god.

CHREMYLUS. Were you initiated into the Great Mysteries in that
cloak?

JUST MAN. No, but I shivered in it for thirteen years.

CHREMYLUS. And this footwear?

JUST MAN. These also are my winter companions.

CHREMYLUS. And you wish to dedicate them too?

JUST MAN. Unquestionably.

CHREMYLUS. Fine presents to offer to the god!

AN INFORMER. Alas! alas! I am a lost man. Ah! thrice, four, five, twelve
times, or rather ten thousand times unhappy fate! Why, why must fortune
deal me such rough blows?

CHREMYLUS. Oh, Apollo, my tutelary! oh! ye favourable gods! what has
overtaken this man?

INFORMER. Ah! am I not deserving of pity? I have lost everything; this
cursed god has stripped me bare. Ah! if there be justice in heaven, he
shall be struck blind again.

JUST MAN. Methinks I know what's the matter. If this man is unfortunate,
'tis because he's of little account and small honesty; and i' faith he
looks it too.

CHREMYLUS. Then, by Zeus! his plight is but just.

INFORMER. He promised that if he recovered his sight, he would enrich us
all unaided; whereas he has ruined more than one.

CHREMYLUS. But whom has he thus ill-used?

INFORMER. Me.

CHREMYLUS. You were doubtless a villainous thief then.

INFORMER (_to Chremylus and Cario_). 'Tis rather you yourselves who were
such wretches; I am certain you have got my money.

CHREMYLUS. Ha! by Demeter! 'tis an informer. What impudence!

CARIO. He's ravenously hungry, that's certain.

INFORMER. You shall follow me this very instant to the marketplace, where
the torture of the wheel shall force the confession of your misdeeds from
you.

CARIO. Ha! look out for yourself!

JUST MAN. By Zeus the Deliverer, what gratitude all Greeks owe to Plutus,
if he destroys these vile informers!

INFORMER. You are laughing at me. Ho! ho! I denounce you as their
accomplice. Where did you steal that new cloak from? Yesterday I saw you
with one utterly worn out.

JUST MAN. I fear you not, thanks to this ring, for which I paid
Eudemus a drachma.

CHREMYLUS. Ah! there's no ring to preserve you from the informer's bite.

INFORMER. The insolent wretches! But, my fine jokers, you have not told
me what you are up to here. Nothing good, I'll be bound.

CHREMYLUS. Nothing of any good for you, be sure of that.

INFORMER. By Zeus!  you're going to dine at my expense!

CHREMYLUS. You vile impostor, may you burst with an empty belly, both you
and your witness.

INFORMER. You deny it? I reckon, you villians, that there is much salt
fish and roast meat in this house. Hu! hu! hu! hu! hu! hu! (_He sniffs._)

CHREMYLUS. Can you smell anything, rascal?

INFORMER. Can such outrages be borne, oh, Zeus! Ye gods! how cruel it is
to see me treated thus, when I am such an honest fellow and such a good
citizen!

CHREMYLUS. You an honest man! you a good citizen!

INFORMER. A better one than any.

CHREMYLUS. Ah! well then, answer my questions.

INFORMER. Concerning what?

CHREMYLUS. Are you a husbandman?

INFORMER. D'ye take me for a fool?

CHREMYLUS. A merchant?

INFORMER. I assume the title, when it serves me.

CHREMYLUS. Do you ply any trade?

INFORMER. No, most assuredly not!

CHREMYLUS. Then how do you live, if you do nothing?

INFORMER. I superintend public and private business.

CHREMYLUS. You! And by what right, pray?

INFORMER. Because it pleases me to do so.

CHREMYLUS. Like a thief you sneak yourself in where you have no business.
You are hated by all and you claim to be an honest man?

INFORMER. What, you fool? I have not the right to dedicate myself
entirely to my country's service?

CHREMYLUS. Is the country served by vile intrigue?

INFORMER. It is served by watching that the established law is
observed--by allowing no one to violate it.

CHREMYLUS. That's the duty of the tribunals; they are established to that
end.

INFORMER. And who is the prosecutor before the dicasts?

CHREMYLUS. Whoever wishes to be.

INFORMER. Well then, 'tis I who choose to be prosecutor; and thus all
public affairs fall within my province.

CHREMYLUS. I pity Athens for being in such vile clutches. But would you
not prefer to live quietly and free from all care and anxiety?

INFORMER. To do nothing is to live an animal's life.

CHREMYLUS. Thus you will not change your mode of life?

INFORMER. No, though they gave me Plutus himself and the _silphium_ of
Battus.

CHREMYLUS (_to the Informer_). Come, quick, off with your cloak.

CARIO. Hi! friend! 'tis you they are speaking to.

CHREMYLUS. Off with your shoes.

CARIO. All this is addressed to you.

INFORMER. Very well! let one of you come near me, if he dares.

CARIO. I dare.

INFORMER. Alas!  I am robbed of my clothes in full daylight.

CARIO. That's what comes of meddling with other folk's business and
living at their expense.

INFORMER (_to his witness_). You see what is happening; I call you to
witness.

CHREMYLUS. Look how the witness whom you brought is taking to his heels.

INFORMER. Great gods! I am all alone and they assault me.

CARIO. Shout away!

INFORMER. Oh! woe, woe is me!

CARIO. Give me that old ragged cloak, that I may dress out the informer.

JUST MAN. No, no; I have dedicated it to Plutus.

CARIO. And where would your offering be better bestowed than on the
shoulders of a rascal and a thief? To Plutus fine, rich cloaks should be
given.

JUST MAN. And what then shall be done with these shoes? Tell me.

CARIO. I will nail them to his brow as gifts are nailed to the trunks of
the wild olive.

INFORMER. I'm off, for you are the strongest, I own. But if I find
someone to join me, let him be as weak as he will, I will summon this
god, who thinks himself so strong, before the Court this very day, and
denounce him as manifestly guilty of overturning the democracy by his
will alone and without the consent of the Senate or the popular Assembly.

JUST MAN. Now that you are rigged out from head to foot with my old
clothes, hasten to the bath and stand there in the front row to warm
yourself better; 'tis the place I formerly had.

CHREMYLUS. Ah! the bath-man would grip you by the testicles and fling you
through the door; he would only need to see you to appraise you at your
true value.... But let us go in, friend, that you may address your
thanksgivings to the god.

CHORUS.

AN OLD WOMAN. Dear old men, am I near the house where the new god lives,
or have I missed the road?

CHORUS. You are at his door, my pretty little maid, who question us so
sweetly.

OLD WOMAN. Then I will summon someone in the house.

CHREMYLUS. 'Tis needless! I am here myself. But what matter brings you
here?

OLD WOMAN. Ah! a cruel, unjust fate! My dear friend, this god has made
life unbearable to me through ceasing to be blind.

CHREMYLUS. What does this mean? Can you be a female informer?

OLD WOMAN. Most certainly not.

CHREMYLUS. Have you not drunk up your money then?

OLD WOMAN. You are mocking me! Nay! I am being devoured with a consuming
fire.

CHREMYLUS. Then tell me what is consuming you so fiercely.

OLD WOMAN. Listen! I loved a young man, who was poor, but so handsome, so
well-built, so honest! He readily gave way to all I desired and acquitted
himself so well! I, for my part, refused him nothing.

CHREMYLUS. And what did he generally ask of you.

OLD WOMAN. Very little; he bore himself towards me with astonishing
discretion! perchance twenty drachmae for a cloak or eight for footwear;
sometimes he begged me to buy tunics for his sisters or a little mantle
for his mother; at times he needed four bushels of corn.

CHREMYLUS. 'Twas very little, in truth; I admire his modesty.

OLD WOMAN. And 'twas not as a reward for his complacency that he ever
asked me for anything, but as a matter of pure friendship; a cloak I had
given would remind him from whom he had got it.

CHREMYLUS. 'Twas a fellow who loved you madly.

OLD WOMAN. But 'tis no longer so, for the faithless wretch has sadly
altered! I had sent him this cake with the sweetmeats you see here on
this dish and let him know that I would visit him in the evening....

CHREMYLUS. Well?

OLD WOMAN. He sent me back my presents and added this tart to them, on
condition that I never set foot in his house again. Besides, he sent me
this message, "Once upon a time the Milesians were brave."

CHREMYLUS. An honest lad, indeed! But what would you? When poor, he would
devour anything; now he is rich, he no longer cares for lentils.

OLD WOMAN. Formerly he came to me every day.

CHREMYLUS. To see if you were being buried?

OLD WOMAN. No! he longed to hear the sound of my voice.

CHREMYLUS. And to carry off some present.

OLD WOMAN. If I was downcast, he would call me his little duck or his
little dove in a most tender manner....

CHREMYLUS. And then would ask for the wherewithal to buy a pair of shoes.

OLD WOMAN. When I was at the Mysteries of Eleusis in a carriage,
someone looked at me; he was so jealous that he beat me the whole of that
day.

CHREMYLUS. 'Twas because he liked to feed alone.

OLD WOMAN. He told me I had very beautiful hands.

CHREMYLUS. Aye, no doubt, when they handed him twenty drachmae.

OLD WOMAN. That my whole body breathed a sweet perfume.

CHREMYLUS. Yes, like enough, if you poured him out Thasian wine.

OLD WOMAN. That my glance was gentle and charming.

CHREMYLUS. 'Twas no fool. He knew how to drag drachmae from a hot-blooded
old woman.

OLD WOMAN. Ah! the god has done very, very wrong, saying he would support
the victims of injustice.

CHREMYLUS. Well, what must he do? Speak, and it shall be done.

OLD WOMAN. 'Tis right to compel him, whom I have loaded with benefits, to
repay them in his turn; if not, he does not merit the least of the god's
favours.

CHREMYLUS. And did he not do this every night?

OLD WOMAN. He swore he would never leave me, as long as I lived.

CHREMYLUS. Aye, rightly; but he thinks you are no longer alive.

OLD WOMAN. Ah! friend, I am pining away with grief.

CHREMYLUS. You are rotting away, it seems to me.

OLD WOMAN. I have grown so thin, I could slip through a ring.

CHREMYLUS. Yes, if 'twere as large as the hoop of a sieve.

OLD WOMAN. But here is the youth, the cause of my complaint; he looks as
though he were going to a festival.

CHREMYLUS. Yes, if his chaplet and his torch are any guides.

YOUTH. Greeting to you.

OLD WOMAN. What does he say?

YOUTH. My ancient old dear, you have grown white very quickly, by heaven!

OLD WOMAN. Oh! what an insult!

CHREMYLUS. It is a long time, then, since he saw you?

OLD WOMAN. A long time? My god! he was with me yesterday.

CHREMYLUS. It must be, then, that, unlike other people, he sees more
clearly when he's drunk.

OLD WOMAN. No, but I have always known him for an insolent fellow.

YOUTH. Oh! divine Posidon! Oh, ye gods of old age! what wrinkles she has
on her face!

OLD WOMAN. Oh! oh! keep your distance with that torch.

CHREMYLUS. Yes, 'twould be as well; if a single spark were to reach her,
she would catch alight like an old olive branch.

YOUTH. I propose to have a game with you.

OLD WOMAN. Where, naughty boy?

YOUTH. Here. Take some nuts in your hand.

OLD WOMAN. What game is this?

YOUTH. Let's play at guessing how many teeth you have.

CHREMYLUS. Ah! I'll tell you; she's got three, or perhaps four.

YOUTH. Pay up; you've lost! she has only one single grinder.

OLD WOMAN. You wretch! you're not in your right senses. Do you insult me
thus before this crowd?

YOUTH. I am washing you thoroughly; 'tis doing you a service.

CHREMYLUS. No, no! as she is there, she can still deceive; but if this
white-lead is washed off, her wrinkles would come out plainly.

OLD WOMAN. You are only an old fool!

YOUTH. Ah! he is playing the gallant, he is fondling your breasts, and
thinks I do not see it.

OLD WOMAN. Oh! no, by Aphrodité, no, you naughty jealous fellow.

CHREMYLUS. Oh! most certainly not, by Hecaté! Verily and indeed I
would need to be mad! But, young man, I cannot forgive you, if you cast
off this beautiful child.

YOUTH. Why, I adore her.

CHREMYLUS. But nevertheless she accuses you ...

YOUTH. Accuses me of what?

CHREMYLUS. ... of having told her insolently, "Once upon a time the
Milesians were brave."

YOUTH. Oh! I shall not dispute with you about her.

CHREMYLUS. Why not?

YOUTH. Out of respect for your age; with anyone but you, I should not be
so easy; come, take the girl and be happy.

CHREMYLUS. I see, I see; you don't want her any more.

OLD WOMAN. Nay! this is a thing that cannot be allowed.

YOUTH. I cannot argue with a woman, who has been making love these
thirteen thousand years.

CHREMYLUS. Yet, since you liked the wine, you should now consume the
lees.

YOUTH. But these lees are quite rancid and fusty.

CHREMYLUS. Pass them through a straining-cloth; they'll clarify.

YOUTH. But I want to go in with you to offer these chaplets to the god.

OLD WOMAN. And I too have something to tell him.

YOUTH. Then I don't enter.

CHREMYLUS. Come, have no fear; she won't harm you.

YOUTH. 'Tis true; I've been managing the old bark long enough.

OLD WOMAN. Go in; I'll follow after you.

CHREMYLUS. Good gods! that old hag has fastened herself to her youth like
a limpet to its rock.

CHORUS.

CARIO (_opening the door_). Who knocks at the door? Halloa! I see no one;
'twas then by chance it gave forth that plaintive tone.

HERMES (_to Carlo, who is about to close the door_). Cario! stop!

CARIO. Eh! friend, was it you who knocked so loudly? Tell me.

HERMES. No, I was going to knock and you forestalled me by opening. Come,
call your master quick, then his wife and his children, then his slave
and his dog, then thyself and his pig.

CARIO. And what's it all about?

HERMES. It's about this, rascal! Zeus wants to serve you all with the
same sauce and hurl the lot of you into the Barathrum.

CARIO. Have a care for your tongue, you bearer of ill tidings! But why
does he want to treat us in that scurvy fashion?

HERMES. Because you have committed the most dreadful crime. Since Plutus
has recovered his sight, there is nothing for us other gods, neither
incense, nor laurels, nor cakes, nor victims, nor anything in the world.

CARIO. And you will never be offered anything more; you governed us too
ill.

HERMES. I care nothing at all about the other gods, but 'tis myself. I
tell you I am dying of hunger.

CARIO. That's reasoning like a wise fellow.

HERMES. Formerly, from earliest dawn, I was offered all sorts of good
things in the wine-shops,--wine-cakes, honey, dried figs, in short,
dishes worthy of Hermes. Now, I lie the livelong day on my back, with my
legs in the air, famishing.

CARIO. And quite right too, for you often had them punished who treated
you so well.

HERMES. Ah! the lovely cake they used to knead for me on the fourth of
the month!

CARIO. You recall it vainly; your regrets are useless! there'll be no
more cake.

HERMES. Ah! the ham I was wont to devour!

CARIO. Well then! make use of your legs and hop on one leg upon the
wine-skin, to while away the time.

HERMES. Oh! the grilled entrails I used to swallow down!

CARIO. Your own have got the colic, methinks.

HERMES. Oh! the delicious tipple, half wine, half water!

CARIO. Here, swallow that and be off. (_He discharges a fart._)

HERMES. Would you do a friend a service?

CARIO. Willingly, if I can.

HERMES. Give me some well-baked bread and a big hunk of the victims they
are sacrificing in your house.

CARIO. That would be stealing.

HERMES. Do you forget, then, how I used to take care he knew nothing
about it when you were stealing something from your master?

CARIO. Because I used to share it with you, you rogue; some cake or other
always came your way.

HERMES. Which afterwards you ate up all by yourself.

CARIO. But then you did not share the blows when I was caught.

HERMES. Forget past injuries, now you have taken Phylé. Ah! how I
should like to live with you! Take pity and receive me.

CARIO. You would leave the gods to stop here?

HERMES. One is much better off among you.

CARIO. What! you would desert! Do you think that is honest?

HERMES. "Where I live well, there is my country."

CARIO. But how could we employ you here?

HERMES. Place me near the door; I am the watchman god and would shift off
the robbers.

CARIO. Shift off! Ah! but we have no love for shifts.

HERMES. Entrust me with business dealings.

CARIO. But we are rich; why should we keep a haggling Hermes?

HERMES. Let me intrigue for you.

CARIO. No, no, intrigues are forbidden; we believe in good faith.

HERMES. I will work for you as a guide.

CARIO. But the god sees clearly now, so we no longer want a guide.

HERMES. Well then, I will preside over the games. Ah! what can you object
to in that? Nothing is fitter for Plutus than to give scenic and
gymnastic games.

CARIO. How useful 'tis to have so many names! Here you have found the
means of earning your bread. I don't wonder the jurymen so eagerly try to
get entered for many tribunals.

HERMES. So then, you admit me on these terms.

CARIO. Go and wash the entrails of the victims at the well, so that you
may show yourself serviceable at once.

A PRIEST OF ZEUS. Can anyone direct me where Chremylus is?

CHREMYLUS. What would you with him, friend?

PRIEST. Much ill. Since Plutus has recovered his sight, I am perishing of
starvation; I, the priest of Zeus the Deliverer, have nothing to eat!

CHREMYLUS. And what is the cause of that, pray?

PRIEST. No one dreams of offering sacrifices.

CHREMYLUS. Why not?

PRIEST. Because all men are rich. Ah! when they had nothing, the merchant
who escaped from shipwreck, the accused who was acquitted, all immolated
victims; another would sacrifice for the success of some wish and the
priest joined in at the feast; but now there is not the smallest victim,
not one of the faithful in the temple, but thousands who come there to
ease themselves.

CHREMYLUS. Don't you take your share of those offerings?

PRIEST. Hence I think I too am going to say good-bye to Zeus the
Deliverer, and stop here myself.

CHREMYLUS. Be at ease, all will go well, if it so please the god. Zeus
the Deliverer is here; he came of his own accord.

PRIEST. Ha! that's good news.

CHREMYLUS. Wait a little; we are going to install Plutus presently in the
place he formerly occupied behind the Temple of Athené; there he
will watch over our treasures for ever. But let lighted torches be
brought; take these and walk in solemn procession in front of the god.

PRIEST. That's magnificent!

CHREMYLUS. Let Plutus be summoned.

OLD WOMAN. And I, what am I to do?

CHREMYLUS. Take the pots of vegetables which we are going to offer to the
god in honour of his installation and carry them on your head; you just
happen luckily to be wearing a beautiful embroidered robe.

OLD WOMAN. And what about the object of my coming?

CHREMYLUS. Everything shall be according to your wish. The young man will
be with you this evening.

OLD WOMAN. Oh! if you promise me his visit, I will right willingly carry
the pots.

CHREMYLUS. Those are strange pots indeed! Generally the scum rises to the
top of the pots, but here the pots are raised to the top of the old
woman.

CHORUS. Let us withdraw without more tarrying, and follow the others,
singing as we go.

The Wasps

Author: Aristophanes
Written: 422 BCE


DRAMATIS PERSONAE

PHILOCLEON, a Dicast.
BDELYCLEON, his Son.
SOSIAS, House-servant of Philocleon.
XANTHIAS, House-servant of Philocleon.
BOYS.
A DOG.
A BAKER'S WIFE.
ACCUSER.
CHORUS OF ELDERS, costumed as Wasps.

SCENE: Philocleon's house at Athens.

SOSIAS. Why, Xanthias! what are you doing, wretched man?

XANTHIAS. I am teaching myself how to rest; I have been awake and on
watch the whole night.

SOSIAS. So you want to earn trouble for your ribs, eh? Don't you know
what sort of an animal we are guarding here?

XANTHIAS. Aye indeed! but I want to put my cares to sleep for a while.

SOSIAS. Beware what you do. I too feel soft sleep spreading over my eyes.
Resist it, for you must be as mad as a Corybant if you fall asleep.

XANTHIAS. No! 'Tis Bacchus who lulls me off.

SOSIAS. Then you serve the same god as myself. Just now a heavy slumber
settled on my eyelids like a hostile Mede; A nodded and, faith! I had a
wondrous dream.

XANTHIAS. Indeed! and so had I. A dream such as I never had before. But
first tell me yours.

SOSIAS. Methinks I saw an eagle, a gigantic bird, descend upon the
market-place; it seized a brazen buckler with its talons and bore it away
into the highest heavens; then I saw 'twas Cleonymus had thrown it away.

XANTHIAS. This Cleonymus is a riddle worth propounding among guests. How
can one and the same animal have cast away his buckler both on land, in
the sky and at sea?

SOSIAS. Alas!  what ill does such a dream portend for me?

XANTHIAS. Rest undisturbed! An it please the gods, no evil will befall
you.

SOSIAS. Nevertheless, 'tis a fatal omen when a man throws away his
weapons. But what was your dream? Let me hear.

XANTHIAS. Oh! it is a dream of high import. It has reference to the hull
of the State; to nothing less.

SOSIAS. Tell it me quickly; show me its very keel.

XANTHIAS. In my first slumber I thought I saw sheep, wearing cloaks and
carrying staves, met in assembly on the Pnyx; a rapacious whale was
haranguing them and screaming like a pig that is being grilled.

SOSIAS. Faugh! faugh!

XANTHIAS. What's the matter?

SOSIAS. Enough, enough, spare me. Your dream stinks vilely of old
leather.

XANTHIAS. Then this scoundrelly whale seized a balance and set to
weighing ox-fat.

SOSIAS. Alas! 'tis our poor Athenian people, whom this accursed beast
wished to cut up and despoil of their fat.

XANTHIAS. Seated on the ground close to it, I saw Theorus, who had the
head of a crow. The Alcibiades said to me in his lisping way, "Do you
thee? Theoruth hath a crow'th head."

SOSIAS. Ah! 'twas very well lisped indeed!

XANTHIAS. This is might strange; Theorus turning into a crow!

SOSIAS. No, it is glorious.

XANTHIAS. Why?

SOSIAS. Why? He was a man and now he has suddenly become a crow; does it
not foretoken that he will take his flight from here and go to the
crows?

XANTHIAS. Interpreting dreams so aptly certainly deserves two obols.

SOSIAS. Come, I must explain the matter to the spectators. But first a
few words of preamble: expect nothing very high-flown from us, nor any
jests stolen from Megara; we have no slaves, who throw baskets of
nuts to the spectators, nor any Heracles to be robbed of his
dinner, nor is Euripides loaded with contumely; and despite the happy
chance that gave Cleon his fame we shall not go out of our way to
belabour him again. Our little subject is not wanting in sense; it is
well within your capacity and at the same time cleverer than many vulgar
Comedies.--We have a master of great renown, who is now sleeping up there
on the other story. He has bidden us keep guard over his father, whom he
has locked in, so that he may not go out. This father has a curious
complaint; not one of you could hit upon or guess it, if I did not tell
you.--Well then, try! I hear Amynias, the son of Pronapus, over there,
saying, "He is addicted to gambling."

XANTHIAS. He's wrong! He is imputing his own malady to others.

SOSIAS. No, yet love is indeed the principal part of his disease. Ah!
here is Sosias telling Dercylus, "He loves drinking."

XANTHIAS. Not at all! The love of wine is the complaint of good men.

SOSIAS. "Well then," says Nicostratus of the Scambonian deme, "he either
loves sacrifices or else strangers."

XANTHIAS. Ah! great gods! no, he is not fond of strangers, Nicostratus,
for he who says "Philoxenus" means a dirty fellow.

SOSIAS. 'Tis mere waste of time, you will not find it out. If you want to
know it, keep silence! I will tell you our master's complaint: of all
men, it is he who is fondest of the Heliaea. Thus, to be judging is
his hobby, and he groans if he is not sitting on the first seat. He does
not close an eye at night, and if he dozes off for an instant his mind
flies instantly to the clepsydra. He is so accustomed to hold the
balloting pebble, that he awakes with his three fingers pinched
together as if he were offering incense to the new moon. If he sees
scribbled on some doorway, "How charming is Demos, the son of
Pyrilampes!" he will write beneath it, "How charming is Cemos!" His
cock crowed one evening; said he, "He has had money from the accused to
awaken me too late." As soon as he rises from supper he bawls for his
shoes and away he rushes down there before dawn to sleep beforehand,
glued fast to the column like an oyster. He is a merciless judge,
never failing to draw the convicting line and return home with his
nails full of wax like a bumble-bee. Fearing he might run short of
pebbles he keeps enough at home to cover a sea-beach, so that he may
have the means of recording his sentence. Such is his madness, and all
advice is useless; he only judges the more each day. So we keep him under
lock and key, to prevent his going out; for his son is broken-hearted
over this mania. At first he tried him with gentleness, wanted to
persuade him to wear the cloak no longer, to go out no more; unable
to convince him, he had him bathed and purified according to the
ritual without any greater success, and then handed him over the the
Corybantes; but the old man escaped them, and carrying off the
kettle-drum, rushed right into the midst of the Heliasts. As Cybelé
could do nothing with her rites, his son took him again to Aegina and
forcibly made him lie one night in the temple of Asclepius, the God of
Healing, but before daylight there he was to be seen at the gate of the
tribunal. Since then we let him go out no more, but he escaped us by the
drains or by the skylights, so we stuffed up every opening with old rags
and made all secure; then he drove short sticks into the wall and sprang
from rung to rung like a magpie. Now we have stretched nets all round the
court and we keep watch and ward. The old man's name is Philocleon,
'tis the best name he could have, and the son is called Bdelycleon,
for he is a man very fit to cure an insolent fellow of his boasting.

BDELYCLEON. Xanthias! Sosias! Are you asleep?

XANTHIAS. Oh! oh!

SOSIAS. What is the matter?

XANTHIAS. Why, Bdelycleon is rising.

BDELYCLEON. Will neither of you come here?  My father has got into the
stove-chamber and is ferreting about like a rat in his hole. Take care he
does not escape through the bath drain. You there, put all your weight
against the door.

SOSIAS. Aye, aye, master.

BDELYCLEON. By Zeus!  what is that noise in the chimney?  Hullo! who are
you?

PHILOCLEON. I am the smoke going up.

BDELYCLEON. Smoke?  smoke of what wood?

PHILOCLEON. Of fig-wood.

BDELYCLEON. Ah!  'this the most acrid of all. But you shall not get out.
Where is the chimney cover? Come down again. Now, up with another
cross-bar. Now look out some fresh dodge. But am I not the most
unfortunate of men? Henceforward, I shall only be called the son of the
smoky old man. Slave, hold the door stoutly, throw your weight upon it,
come, put heart into the work. I will come and help you. Watch both lock
and bolt. Take care he does not gnaw through the peg.

PHILOCLEON. What are you dong, you wretches?  Let me go out; it is
imperative that I go and judge, or Dracontides will be acquitted.

BDELYCLEON. What a dreadful calamity for you!

PHILOCLEON. Once at Delphi, the god, whom I was consulting, foretold,
that if an accused man escaped me, I should die of consumption.

BDELYCLEON. Apollo, the Saviour, what a prophecy!

PHILOCLEON. Ah!  I beseech you, if you do not want my death, let me go.

BDELYCLEON. No, Philocleon, no never, by Posidon!

PHILOCLEON. Well then, I shall gnaw through the net with my teeth.

BDELYCLEON. But you have no teeth.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! you rascal, how can I kill you?  How?  Give me a sword,
quick, or a conviction tablet.

BDELYCLEON. Our friend is planning some great crime.

PHILOCLEON. No, by Zeus!  but I want to go and sell my ass and its
panniers, for 'this the first of the month.

BDELYCLEON. Could I not sell it just as well?

PHILOCLEON. Not as well as I could.

BDELYCLEON. No, but better. Come, bring it here, bring it here by all
means--if you can.

XANTHIAS. What a clever excuse he has found now!  What cunning to get you
to let him go out!

BDELYCLEON. Yes, but I have not swallowed the hook; I scented the trick.
I will no in and fetch the ass, so that the old man may not point his
weapons that way again.... Stupid old ass, are you weeping because
you are going to be sold? Come, go a bit quicker. Why, what are you
moaning and groaning for?  You might be carrying another Odysseus.

XANTHIAS. Why, certainly, so he is!  someone has crept beneath his belly.

BDELYCLEON. Who, who?  Let us see.

XANTHIAS. 'Tis he.

BDELYCLEON. What does this mean?  Who are you?  Come, speak!

PHILOCLEON. I am Nobody.

BDELYCLEON. Nobody?  Of what country?

PHILOCLEON. Of Ithaca, son of Apodrasippides.

BDELYCLEON. Ha!  Mister Nobody, you will not laugh presently. Pull him
out quick!  Ah!  the wretch, where has be crept to? Does he not resemble
a she-ass to the life?

PHILOCLEON. If you do not leave me in peace, I shall commence
proceedings.

BDELYCLEON. And what will the suit be about?

PHILOCLEON. The shade of an ass.

BDELYCLEON. You are a poor man of very little wit, but thoroughly brazen.

PHILOCLEON. A poor man!  Ah!  by Zeus!  you know not now what I am worth;
but you will know when you disembowel the old Heliast's money bag.

BDELYCLEON. Come, get back indoors, both you and your ass.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! my brethren of the tribunal! oh! Cleon! to the rescue!

BDELYCLEON. Go and bawl in there under lock and key. And you there, pile
plenty of stones against the door, thrust the bolt home into the staple,
and to keep this beam in its place roll that great mortar against it.
Quick's the word.

SOSIAS. Oh! my god! whence did this brick fall on me?

XANTHIAS. Perhaps a rat loosened it.

SOSIAS. A rat? 'tis surely our gutter-judge, who has crept beneath
the tiles of the roof.

XANTHIAS. Ah! woe to us! there he is, he has turned into a sparrow; he
will be flying off. Where is the net? where? pschit! pschit! get back!

BDELYCLEON. Ah! by Zeus! I would rather have to guard Scioné than
such a father.

SOSIAS. And how that we have driven him in thoroughly and he can no
longer escape without our knowledge, can we not have a few winks of
sleep, no matter how few?

BDELYCLEON. Why, wretch! the other jurymen will be here almost directly
to summon my father!

SOSIAS. Why, 'tis scarcely dawn yet!

BDELYCLEON. Ah, they must have risen late to-day. Generally it is the
middle of the night when they come to fetch him. They arrive here,
carrying lanterns in their hands and singing the charming old verses of
Phrynichus' "Sidonian Women"; 'tis their way of calling him.

SOSIAS. Well, if need be, we will chase them off with stones.

BDELYCLEON. What!  you dare to speak so?  Why, this class of old men, if
irritated, becomes as terrible as a swarm of wasps. They carry below
their loins the sharpest of stings, with which to sting their foe; they
shout and leap and their stings burn like so many sparks.

SOSIAS. Have no fear!  If I can find stones to throw into this nest of
jurymen-wasps, I shall soon have them cleared off.

CHORUS. March on, advance boldly and bravely!  Comias, your feet are
dragging; once you were as tough as a dog-skin strap and now even
Charinades walks better than you. Ha!  Strymodorus of Conthylé, you best
of mates, where is Euergides and where is Chales of Phyla?  Ha, ha,
bravo! there you are, the last of the lads with whom we mounted guard
together at Byzantium. Do you remember how, one night, prowling
round, we noiselessly stole the kneading-trough of a baker's-wife; we
split it in two and cooked our green-stuff with it.--But let us hasten,
for the case of the Laches comes on to-day, and they all say he has
embezzled a pot of money. Hence Cleon, our protector, advised us
yesterday to come early and with a three days' stock of fiery rage so as
to chastise him for his crimes. Let us hurry, comrades, before it is
light; come, let us search every nook with our lanterns to see whether
those who wish us ill have not set us some trap.

BOY. Ah!  here is mud!  Father, take care!

CHORUS. Pick up a blade of straw and trim the lamp of your lantern.

BOY. No, I can trim it quite well with my finger.

CHORUS. Why do you pull out the wick, you little dolt?  Oil is scarce,
and 'tis not you who suffer when it has to be paid for. (_Strikes him._)

BOY. If you teach us again with your fists, we shall put out the lamps
and go home; then you will have no light and will squatter about in the
mud like ducks in the dark.

CHORUS. I know how to punish other offenders bigger than you. But I think
I am treading in some mud. Oh! 'tis certain it will rain in torrents for
four days at least; look, what thieves are in our lamps; that is always
a sign of heavy rain; but the rain and the north wind will be good for
the crops that are still standing.... Why, what can have happened to our
mate, who lives here?  Why does he not come to join our party?  There
used to be no need to haul him in our wake, for he would march at our
head singing the verses of Phrynichus; he was a lover of singing. Should
we not, friends, make a halt here and sign to call him out?  The charm of
my voice will fetch him out, if he hears it.

Why does the old man not show himself before the door?  why does he not
answer?  Has he lost his shoes? has he stubbed his toe in the dark and
thus got a swollen ankle?  Perhaps he has a tumour in his groin. He was
the hardest of us all; he alone _never_ allowed himself to be moved. If
anyone tried to move him, he would lower his head, saying, "You might
just as well try to boil a stone." But I bethink me, an accused ma
escaped us yesterday through his false pretence that he loved Athens and
had been the first to unfold the Samian plot. Perhaps his acquittal
has so distressed Philocleon that he is abed with fever--he is quite
capable of such a thing.--Friend, arise, do not thus vex your hear, but
forget your wrath. Today we have to judge a man made wealthy by treason,
one of those who set Thrace free; we have to prepare him a funeral
urn ... so march on, my boy, get a-going.

BOY. Father, would you give me something if I asked for it?

CHORUS. Assuredly, my child, but tell me what nice thing do you want me
to buy you?  A set of knuckle-bones, I suppose.

BOY. No, dad, I prefer figs; they are better.

CHORUS. No, by Zeus! even if you were to hang yourself with vexation.

BOY. Well then, I will lead you no father.

CHORUS. With my small pay, I am obliged to buy bread, wood, stew; and now
you ask me for figs!

BOY. But, father, if the Archon should not form a court to-day, how
are we to buy our dinner? Have you some good hope to offer us or merely
"Hellé's sacred waves"?

CHORUS. Alas! alas! I have not a notion how we shall dine.

BOY. Oh! my poor mother! why did you let me see this day?

CHORUS. Oh! my little wallet! you seem like to be a mere useless
ornament!

BOY. 'Tis our destiny to groan.

PHILOCLEON. My friends, I have long been pining away while listening
to you from my window, but I absolutely know not what do do. I am
detained here, because I have long wanted to go with you to the law court
and do all the harm I can. Oh! Zeus! cause the peals of they thunder to
roll, change me quickly into smoke or make me into a Proxenides, a
perfect braggart, like the son of Sellus. Oh, King of Heaven! hesitate
not to grant me this favour, pity my misfortune or else may thy dazzling
lightning instantly reduce me to ashes; then carry me hence, and may thy
breath hurl me into some burning pickle or turn me into one of the
stones on which the votes are counted.

CHORUS. Who is it detains you and shuts you in? Speak, for you are
talking to friends.

PHILOCLEON. 'Tis my son. But no bawling, he is there in front asleep;
lower your voice.

CHORUS. But, poor fellow, what is his aim? what is his object?

PHILOCLEON. My friends, he will not have me judge nor do anyone any ill,
but he wants me to stay at home and enjoy myself, and I will not.

CHORUS. This wretch, this Demolochocleon dares to say such odious
things, just because you tell the truth about our navy!

PHILOCLEON. He would not have dared, had he not been a conspirator.

CHORUS. Meanwhile, you must devise some new dodge, so that you can come
down here without his knowledge.

PHILOCLEON. But what? Try to find some way. For myself, I am ready for
anything, so much do I burn to run along the tiers of the tribunal with
my voting-pebble in my hand.

CHORUS. There is surely some hole through which you could manage to
squeeze from within, and escape dressed in rags, like the crafty
Odysseus.

PHILOCLEON. Everything is sealed fast; not so much as a gnat could get
through. Think of some other plan; there is no possible hold of escape.

CHORUS. Do you recall how, when you were with the army at the taking of
Naxos, you descended so readily from the top of the wall by means of
the spits you have stolen?

PHILOCLEON. I remember that well enough, but what connection is there
with present circumstances? I was young, clever at thieving, I had all my
strength, none watched over me, and I could run off without fear. But
to-day men-at-arms are placed at every outlet to watch me, and two of
them are lying in wait for me at this very door armed with spits, just as
folk lie in wait for a cat that has stolen a piece of meat.

CHORUS. Come, discover some way as quick as possible. Here is the dawn
come, my dear little friend.

PHILOCLEON. The best way is to gnaw through the net. Oh! goddess, who
watches over the nets, forgive me for making a hole in this one.

CHORUS. 'Tis acting like a man eager for his safety. Get your jaws to
work!

PHILOCLEON. There! 'tis gnawed through! But no shouting! let Bdelycleon
notice nothing!

CHORUS. Have no fear, have no fear! if he breathes a syllable, 'twill be
to bruise his own knuckles; he will have to fight to defend his own head.
We shall teach him not to insult the mysteries of the goddesses. But
fasten a rope to the window, tie it around your body and let yourself
down to the ground, with your heart bursting with the fury of
Diopithes.

PHILOCLEON. But if these notice it and want to fish me up and drag me
back into the house, what will you do? Tell me that.

CHORUS. We shall call up the full strength of out courage to your aid.
That is what we will do.

PHILOCLEON. I trust myself to you and risk the danger. If misfortune
overtakes me, take away my body, bathe it with your tears and bury it
beneath the bar of the tribunal.

CHORUS. Nothing will happen to you, rest assured. Come friend, have
courage and let yourself slide down while you invoke your country's gods.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! mighty Lycus! noble hero and my neighbour, thou, like
myself, takest pleasure in the tears and the groans of the accused. If
thou art come to live near the tribunal, 'tis with the express design of
hearing them incessantly; thou alone of all the heroes hast wished to
remain among those who weep. Have pity on me and save him, who lives
close to thee; I swear I will never make water, never, nor relieve my
belly with a fart against the railing of thy statue.

BDELYCLEON. Ho there! ho! get up!

SOSIAS. What's the matter?

BDELYCLEON. Methought I heard talking close to me.

SOSIAS. Is the old man at it again, escaping through some loophole?

BDELYCLEON. No, by Zeus! no, but he is letting himself down by a rope.

SOSIAS. Ha, rascal! what are you doing there? You shall not descend.

BDELYCLEON. Mount quick to the other window, strike him with the boughs
that hang over the entrance; perchance he will turn back when he feels
himself being thrashed.

PHILOCLEON. To the rescue! all you, who are going to have lawsuits this
year--Smicythion, Tisiades, Chremon and Pheredipnus. 'Tis now or never,
before they force me to return, that you must help.

CHORUS. Why do we delay to let loose that fury, that is so terrible, when
our nests are attacked? I feel my angry sting is stiffening, that sharp
sting, with which we punish our enemies. Come, children, cast your cloaks
to the winds, run, shout, tell Cleon what is happening, that he may march
against this foe to our city, who deserves death, since he proposes to
prevent the trial of lawsuits.

BDELYCLEON. Friends, listen to the truth, instead of bawling.

CHORUS. By Zeus! we will shout to heaven and never forsake our friend.
Why, this is intolerable, 'tis manifest tyranny. Oh! citizens, oh!
Theorus, the enemy of the gods! and all you flatterers, who rule us!
come to our aid.

XANTHIAS. By Heracles! they have stings. Do you see them, master?

BDELYCLEON. 'Twas with these weapons that they killed Philippus the son
of Gorgias when he was put on trial.

CHORUS. And you too shall die. Turn yourselves this way, all, with your
stings out for attack and throw yourselves upon him in good and serried
order, and swelled up with wrath and rage. Let him learn to know the sort
of foes he has dared to irritate.

XANTHIAS. The fight will be fast and furious, by great Zeus! I tremble at
the sight of their stings.

CHORUS. Let this man go, unless you want to envy the tortoise his hard
shell.

PHILOCLEON. Come, my dear companions, wasps with relentless hearts, fly
against him, animated with your fury. Sting him in the back, in his eyes
and on his fingers.

BDELYCLEON. Midas, Phryx, Masyntias, here! Come and help. Seize this man
and hand him over to no one, otherwise you shall starve to death in
chains. Fear nothing, I have often heard the crackling of fig-leaves in
the fire.

CHORUS. If you won't let him go, I shall bury this sting in your body.

PHILOCLEON. Oh, Cecrops, mighty hero with the tail of a dragon! Seest
thou how these barbarians ill-use me--me, who have many a time made them
weep a full bushel of tears?

CHORUS. Is not old age filled with cruel ills? What violence these two
slaves offer to their old master! they have forgotten all bygones, the
fur-coats and the jackets and the caps he bought for them; in winter he
watched that their feet should not get frozen. And only see them now;
there is no gentleness in their look nor any recollection of the slippers
of other days.

PHILOCLEON. Will you let me go, you accursed animal? Don't you remember
the day when I surprised you stealing the grapes; I tied you to an
olive-tree and I cut open your bottom with such vigorous lashes that
folks thought you had been pedicated. Get away, you are ungrateful. But
let go of me, and you too, before my son comes up.

CHORUS. You shall repay us for all this and 'twill not be long first.
Tremble at our ferocious glance; you shall taste our just anger.

BDELYCLEON. Strike! strike, Xanthias! Drive these wasps away from the
house.

XANTHIAS. That's just what I am doing; but do you smoke them out
thoroughly too.

SOSIAS. You will not go? The plague seize you! Will you not clear off?
Xanthias, strike them with your stick!

XANTHIAS. And you, to smoke them out better, throw Aeschinus, the son of
Selartius, on the fire. Ah! we were bound to drive you off in the end.

BDELYCLEON. Eh! by Zeus! you would not have put them to flight so easily
if they had fed on the verses of Philocles.

CHORUS. It is clear to all the poor that tyranny has attacked us sorely.
Proud emulator of Amynias, you, who only take pleasure in doing ill, see
how you are preventing us from obeying the laws of the city; you do not
even seek a pretext or any plausible excuse, but claim to rule alone.

BDELYCLEON. Hold! A truce to all blows and brawling! Had we not better
confer together and come to some understanding?

CHORUS. Confer with you, the people's foe! with you, a royalist, the
accomplice of Brasidas! with you, who wear woollen fringes on your
cloak and let your beard grow!

BDELYCLEON. Ah! it were better to separate altogether from my father than
to steer my boat daily through such stormy seas!

CHORUS. Oh! you have but reached the parsley and the rue, to use the
common saying. What you are suffering is nothing! but welcome the
hour when the advocate shall adduce all these same arguments against you
and shall summon your accomplices to give witness.

BDELYCLEON. In the name of the gods! withdraw or we shall fight you the
whole day long.

CHORUS. No, not as long as I retain an atom of breath. Ha! your desire is
to tyrannize over us!

BDELYCLEON. Everything is now tyranny with us, no matter what is
concerned, whether it be large or small. Tyranny! I have not heard the
word mentioned once in fifty years, and now it is more common than
salt-fish, the word is even current on the market. If you are buying
gurnards and don't want anchovies, the huckster next door, who is selling
the latter, at once exclaims, "That is a man, whose kitchen savours of
tyranny!" If you ask for onions to season your fish, the green-stuff
woman winks one eye and asks, "Ha! you ask for onions! are you seeking to
tyrannize, or do you think that Athens must pay you your seasonings as a
tribute?"

XANTHIAS. Yesterday I went to see a gay girl about noon and suggested she
should mount and ride me; she flew into a rage, pretending I wanted to
restore the tyranny of Hippias.

BDELYCLEON. That's the talk that pleases the people! As for myself, I
want my father to lead a joyous life like Morychus instead of going
away before dawn to basely calumniate and condemn; and for this I am
accused of conspiracy and tyrannical practice!

PHILOCLEON. And quite right too, by Zeus! The most exquisite dishes do
not make up to me for the life of which you deprive me. I scorn your red
mullet and your eels, and would far rather eat a nice little law suitlet
cooked in the pot.

BDELYCLEON. 'Tis because you have got used to seeking your pleasure in
it; but if you will agree to keep silence and hear me, I think I could
persuade you that you deceive yourself altogether.

PHILOCLEON. _I_ deceive myself, when I am judging?

BDELYCLEON. You do not see that you are the laughing-stock of these men,
whom you are ready to worship. You are their slave and do not know it.

PHILOCLEON. _I_ a slave, I, who lord it over all!

BDELYCLEON. Not at all, you think you are ruling when you are only
obeying. Tell me, father, what do you get out of the tribute paid by so
many Greek towns?

PHILOCLEON. Much, and I appoint my colleagues jurymen.

BDELYCLEON. And I also. Release him, all of you, and bring me a sword. If
my arguments do not prevail I will fall upon this blade. As for you, tell
me whether you accept the verdict of the Court.

PHILOCLEON. May I never drink my Heliast's pay in honour of the good
Genius, if I do not.

CHORUS. Tis now we have to draw upon our arsenal for some fresh weapon;
above all do not side with this youth in his opinions. You see how
serious the question has become; 'twill be all over with us, which the
gods forfend, if he should prevail.

BDELYCLEON. Let someone bring me my tablets with all speed!

CHORUS. Your tablets? Ha, ha! what an importance you would fain assume!

BDELYCLEON. I merely wish to note down my father's points.

PHILOCLEON. But what will you say of it, if he should triumph in the
debate?

CHORUS. That old men are no longer good for anything; we shall be
perpetually laughed at in the streets, shall be called thallophores,
mere brief-bags. You are to be the champion of all our rights and
sovereignty. Come, take courage! Bring into action all the resources of
your wit.

PHILOCLEON. At the outset I will prove to you that there exists no king
whose might is greater than ours. Is there a pleasure, a blessing
comparable with that of a juryman? Is there a being who lives more in the
midst of delights, who is more feared, aged though he be? From the moment
I leave my bed, men of power, the most illustrious in the city, await me
at the bar of the tribunal; the moment I am seen from the greatest
distance, they come forward to offer me a gentle hand,--that has pilfered
the public funds; they entreat me, bowing right low and with a piteous
voice, "Oh! father," they say, "pity me, I adjure you by the profit _you_
were able to make in the public service or in the army, when dealing with
the victuals." Why, the man who thus speaks would not know of my
existence, had I not let him off on some former occasion.

BDELYCLEON. Let us note this first point, the supplicants.

PHILOCLEON. These entreaties have appeased my wrath, and I enter--firmly
resolved to do nothing that I have promised. Nevertheless I listen to the
accused. Oh! what tricks to secure acquittal! Ah! there is no form of
flattery that is not addressed to the heliast! Some groan over their
poverty and they exaggerate the truth in order to make their troubles
equal to my own. Others tell us anecdotes or some comic story from Aesop.
Others, again, cut jokes; they fancy I shall be appeased if I laugh. If
we are not even then won over, why, then they drag forward their young
children by the hand, both boys and girls, who prostrate themselves and
whine with one accord, and then the father, trembling as if before a god,
beseeches me not to condemn him out of pity for them, "If you love the
voice of the lamb, have pity on my son's"; and because I am fond of
little sows, I must yield to his daughter's prayers. Then we relax
the heat of our wrath a little for him. Is not this great power indeed,
which allows even wealth to be disdained?

BDELYCLEON. A second point to note, the disdain of wealth. And now recall
to me what are the advantages you enjoy, you, who pretend to rule over
Greece?

PHILOCLEON. Being entrusted with the inspection of the young men, we have
a right to examine their organs. Is Aeagrus accused, he is not
acquitted before he has recited a passage from 'Niobe' and he chooses
the finest. If a flute-player gains his case, he adjusts his
mouth-strap in return and plays us the final air while we are
leaving. A father on his death-bed names some husband for his daughter,
who is his sole heir; but we care little for his will or for the shell so
solemnly placed over the seal; we give the young maiden to him who
has best known how to secure our favour. Name me another duty that is so
important and so irresponsible.

BDELYCLEON. Aye, 'tis a fine privilege, and the only one on which I can
congratulate you; but surely to violate the will is to act badly towards
the heiress.

PHILOCLEON. And if the Senate and the people have trouble in deciding
some important case, it is decreed to send the culprits before the
heliasts; then Euathlus who cast
away his shield, swear not to betray us and to fight for the people. Did
ever an orator carry the day with his opinion if he had not first
declared that the jury should be dismissed for the day as soon as they
had given their first verdict? We are the only ones whom Cleon, the great
bawler, does not badger. On the contrary, he protects and caresses us; he
keeps off the flies, which is what you have never done for your father.
Theorus, who is a man not less illustrious than Euphemius, takes the
sponge out of the pot and blacks our shoes. See then what good things you
deprive and despoil me of. Pray, is this obeying or being a slave, as you
pretended to be able to prove?

BDELYCLEON. Talk away to your heart's content; you must come to a stop at
last and then you shall see that this grand power only resembles one of
those things that, wash 'em as you will, remain as foul as ever.

PHILOCLEON. But I am forgetting the most pleasing thing of all. When I
return home with my pay, everyone runs to greet me because of my money.
First my daughter bathes me, anoints my feet, stoops to kiss me and,
while she is calling me "her dearest father," fishes out my triobolus
with her tongue; then my little wife comes to wheedle me and brings a
nice light cake; she sits beside me and entreats me in a thousand ways,
"Do take this now; do have some more." All this delights me hugely, and I
have no need to turn towards you or the steward to know when it shall
please him to serve my dinner, all the while cursing and grumbling. But
if he does not quickly knead my cake, I have this, which is my
defence, my shield against all ills. If you do not pour me out drink, I
have brought this long-eared jar full of wine. How it brays, when I
bend back and bury its neck in my mouth! What terrible and noisy
gurglings, and how I laugh at your wine-skins. As to power, am I not
equal to the king of the gods? If our assembly is noisy, all say as they
pass, "Great gods! the tribunal is rolling out its thunder!" If I let
loose the lightning, the richest, aye, the noblest are half dead with
fright and shit themselves with terror. You yourself are afraid of me,
yea, by Demeter! you are afraid.

BDELYCLEON. May I die if you frighten me.

CHORUS. Never have I heard speech so elegant or so sensible.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! he thought he had only to turn me round his finger; he
should, however, have known the vigour of my eloquence.

CHORUS. He has said everything without omission. I felt myself grow
taller while I listened to him. Methought myself meting out justice in
the Islands of the Blest, so much was I taken with the charm of his
words.

BDELYCLEON. How overjoyed they are! What extravagant delight! Ah! ah! you
are going to get a thrashing to-day.

CHORUS. Come, plot everything you can to beat him; 'tis not easy to
soften me if you do not talk on my side, and if you have nothing but
nonsense to spout, 'tis time to buy a good millstone, freshly cut withal,
to crush my anger.

BDELYCLEON. The cure of a disease, so inveterate and so widespread in
Athens, is a difficult task and of too great importance for the scope of
Comedy. Nevertheless, my old father....

PHILOCLEON. Cease to call me by that name, for, if you do not prove me a
slave and that quickly too, you must die by my hand, even if I must be
deprived of my share in the sacred feasts.

BDELYCLEON. Listen to me, dear little father, unruffle that frowning brow
and reckon, you can do so without trouble, not with pebbles, but on your
fingers, what is the sum-total of the tribute paid by the allied towns;
besides this we have the direct imposts, a mass of percentage dues, the
fees of the courts of justice, the produce from the mines, the markets,
the harbours, the public lands and the confiscations. All these together
amount to close on two thousand talents. Take from this sum the annual
pay of the dicasts; they number six thousand, and there have never been
more in this town; so therefore it is one hundred and fifty talents that
come to you.

PHILOCLEON. What! our pay is not even a tithe of the State revenue?

BDELYCLEON. Why no, certainly not.

PHILOCLEON. And where does the rest go then?

BDELYCLEON. To those who say: "I shall never betray the interests of the
masses; I shall always fight for the people." And 'tis you, father, who
let yourself be caught with their fine talk, who give them all power over
yourself. They are the men who extort fifty talents at a time by threat
and intimidation from the allies. "Pay tribute to me," they say, "or I
shall loose the lightning on your town and destroy it." And you, you are
content to gnaw the crumbs of your own might. What do the allies do? They
see that the Athenian mob lives on the tribunal in niggard and miserable
fashion, and they count you for nothing, for not more than the vote of
Connus; 'tis on those wretches that they lavish everything, dishes of
salt fish, wine, tapestries, cheese, honey, sesame-fruit, cushions,
flagons, rich clothing, chaplets, necklets, drinking-cups, all that
yields pleasure and health. And you, their master, to you as a reward for
all your toil both on land and sea, nothing is given, not even a clove of
garlic to eat with your little fish.

PHILOCLEON. No, undoubtedly not; I have had to send and buy some from
Eucharides. But you told me I was a slave. Prove it then, for I am dying
with impatience.

BDELYCLEON. Is it not the worst of all slaveries to see all these
wretches and their flatterers, whom they gorge with gold, at the head of
affairs? As for you, you are content with the three obols they give you
and which you have so painfully earned in the galleys, in battles and
sieges. But what I stomach least is that you go to sit on the tribunal by
order. Some lewd stripling, the son of Chereas, to wit, enters your house
balancing his body, rotten with debauchery, on his straddling legs and
charges you to come and judge at daybreak, and precisely to the minute.
"He who only presents himself after the opening of the Court," says he,
"will not get the triobolus." But he himself, though he arrives late,
will nevertheless get his drachma as a public advocate. If an accused man
makes him some present, he shares it with a colleague and the pair agree
to arrange the matter like two sawyers, one of whom pulls and the other
pushes. As for you, you have only eyes for the public pay-clerk, and you
see nothing.

PHILOCLEON. Can it be I am treated thus? Oh! what is it you are saying?
You stir me to the bottom of my heart! I am all ears! I cannot syllable
what I feel.

BDELYCLEON. Consider then; you might be rich, both you and all the
others; I know not why you let yourself be fooled by these folk who call
themselves the people's friends. A myriad of towns obey you, from the
Euxine to Sardis. What do you gain thereby? Nothing but this miserable
pay, and even that is like the oil with which the flock of wool is
impregnated and is doled to you drop by drop, just enough to keep you
from dying of hunger. They want you to be poor, and I will tell you why.
'Tis so that you may know only those who nourish you, and so that, if it
pleases them to loose you against one of their foes, you shall leap upon
him with fury. If they wished to assure the well-being of the people,
nothing would be easier for them. We have now a thousand towns that pay
us tribute; let them command each of these to feed twenty Athenians; then
twenty thousand of our citizens would be eating nothing but hare, would
drink nothing but the purest of milk, and always crowned with garlands,
would be enjoying the delights to which the great name of their country
and the trophies of Marathon give them the right; whereas to-day you are
like the hired labourers who gather the olives; you follow him who pays
you.

PHILOCLEON. Alas! my hand is benumbed; I can no longer draw my sword.
What has become of my strength?

BDELYCLEON. When they are afraid, they promise to divide Euboea among
you and to give each fifty bushels of wheat, but what have they given
you? Nothing excepting, quite recently, five bushels of barley, and even
these you have only obtained with great difficulty, on proving you were
not aliens, and then choenix by choenix. That is why I always kept
you shut in; I wanted you to be fed by me and no longer at the beck of
these blustering braggarts. Even now I am ready to let you have all you
want, provided you no longer let yourself be suckled by the pay-clerk.

CHORUS. He was right who said, "Decide nothing till you have heard both
sides," for it seems to me, that 'tis you who now gain the complete
victory. My wrath is appeased, I throw away my sticks. Come, comrade, our
contemporary, let yourself be gained over by his words; come, do not be
too obstinate or too perverse. Why have I no relation, no ally to speak
to me like this? Do not doubt it, 'tis a god who is now protecting you
and loading you with his benefits. Accept them.

BDELYCLEON. I will feed him, I will give him everything that is suitable
for an old man, oatmeal gruel, a cloak, soft furs and a maid to rub his
loins and play with his tool. But he is silent and utters not a word;
'tis a bad sign.

CHORUS. He has thought the thing over and has recognized his folly; he
reproaches himself for not having followed your advice always. But there
he is, converted by your words, and has no doubt become wiser to alter
his ways in future and to believe in none but you.

PHILOCLEON. Alas! alas!

BDELYCLEON. Now why this lamentation?

PHILOCLEON. A truce to your promises! What I love is down there, 'tis
down there I want to be, there, where the herald cries, "Who has not yet
voted? Let him rise!" I want to be the last to leave the urn of all. Oh,
my soul, my soul! where art thou? come! oh! dark shadows, make way for
me! By Heracles, may I reach the Court in time to convict Cleon of
theft.

BDELYCLEON. Come, father, in the name of the gods, believe me!

PHILOCLEON. Believe you! Ask me anything, anything, except one.

BDELYCLEON. What is it? Let us hear.

PHILOCLEON. Not to judge any more! Before I consent, I shall have
appeared before Pluto.

BDELYCLEON. Very well then, since you find so much pleasure in it, go
down there no more, but stay here and deal out justice to your slaves.

PHILOCLEON. But what is there to judge? Are you mad?

BDELYCLEON. Everything as in a tribunal. If a servant opens a door
secretly, you inflict upon him a simple fine; 'tis what you have
repeatedly done down there. Everything can be arranged to suit you. If it
is warm in the morning, you can judge in the sunlight; if it is snowing,
then seated at your fire; if it rains, you go indoors; and if you only
rise at noon, there will be no Thesmothetes to exclude you from the
precincts.

PHILOCLEON. The notion pleases me.

BDELYCLEON. Moreover, if a pleader is long-winded, you will not be
fasting and chafing and seeking vengeance on the accused.

PHILOCLEON. But could I judge as well with my mouth full?

BDELYCLEON. Much better. Is it not said, that the dicasts, when deceived
by lying witnesses, have need to ruminate well in order to arrive at the
truth?

PHILOCLEON. Well said, but you have not told me yet who will pay salary.

BDELYCLEON. I will.

PHILOCLEON. So much the better; in this way I shall be paid by myself.
Because that cursed jester, Lysistratus, played me an infamous trick
the other day. He received a drachma for the two of us and went on
the fish-market to get it changed and then brought me back three mullet
scales. I took them for obols and crammed them into my mouth; but the
smell choked me and I quickly spat them out. So I dragged him before the
Court.

BDELYCLEON. And what did he say to that?

PHILOCLEON. Well, he pretended I had the stomach of a cock. "You have
soon digested the money," he said with a laugh.

BDELYCLEON. You see, that is yet another advantage.

PHILOCLEON. And no small one either. Come, do as you will.

BDELYCLEON. Wait! I will bring everything here.

PHILOCLEON. You see, the oracles are coming true; I have heard it
foretold, that one day the Athenians would dispense justice in their own
houses, that each citizen would have himself a little tribunal
constructed in his porch similar to the altars of Hecaté, and that
there would be such before every door.

BDELYCLEON. Hold! what do you say? I have brought you everything needful
and much more into the bargain. See, here is an _article,_ should you
want to piss; it shall be hung beside you on a nail.

PHILOCLEON. Good idea! Right useful at my age. You have found the true
preventive of bladder troubles.

BDELYCLEON. Here is fire, and near to it are lentils, should you want to
take a snack.

PHILOCLEON. 'Tis admirably arranged. For thus, even when feverish, I
shall nevertheless receive my pay; and besides, I could eat my lentils
without quitting my seat. But why this cock?

BDELYCLEON. So that, should you doze during some pleading, he may awaken
you by crowing up there.

PHILOCLEON. I want only for one thing more; all the rest is as good as
can be.

BDELYCLEON. What is that?

PHILOCLEON. If only they could bring me an image of the hero Lycus.

BDELYCLEON. Here it is! Why, you might think it was the god himself!

PHILOCLEON. Oh! hero, my master! how repulsive you are to look at! 'Tis
an exact portrait of Cleonymus!

SOSIAS. That is why, hero though he be, he has no weapon.

BDELYCLEON. The sooner you take your seat, the sooner I shall call a
case.

PHILOCLEON. Call it, for I have been seated ever so long.

BDELYCLEON. Let us see. What case shall we bring up first? Is there a
slave who has done something wrong? Ah! you Thracian there, who burnt the
stew-pot t'other day.

PHILOCLEON. Hold, hold! Here is a fine state of things! you had almost
made me judge without a bar, and that is the thing of all others most
sacred among us.

BDELYCLEON. By Zeus! I had forgotten it, but I will run indoors and bring
you one immediately. What is this after all, though, but mere force of
habit!

XANTHIAS. Plague take the brute! Can anyone keep such a dog?

BDELYCLEON. Hullo! what's the matter?

XANTHIAS. Why, 'tis Labes, who has just rushed into the kitchen and
has seized a whole Sicilian cheese and gobbled it up.

BDELYCLEON. Good! this will be the first offence I shall make my father
try. (_To Xanthias._) Come along and lay your accusation.

XANTHIAS. No, not I; the other dog vows he will be accuser, if the matter
is set down for trial.

BDELYCLEON. Well then, bring them both along.

XANTHIAS. I am coming.

PHILOCLEON. What is this?

BDELYCLEON. 'Tis the pig-trough of the swine dedicated to Hestia.

PHILOCLEON. But it's sacrilege to bring it here.

BDELYCLEON. No, no, by addressing Hestia first, I might, thanks to
her, crush an adversary.

PHILOCLEON. Put an end to delay by calling up the case. My verdict is
already settled.

BDELYCLEON. Wait! I must yet bring out the tablets and the
scrolls.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! I am boiling, I am dying with impatience at your delays.
I could have traced the sentence in the dust.

BDELYCLEON. There you are.

PHILOCLEON. Then call the case.

BDELYCLEON. I am here.

PHILOCLEON. Firstly, who is this?

BDELYCLEON. Ah! my god! why, this is unbearable! I have forgotten the
urns.

PHILOCLEON. Well now! where are you off to?

BDELYCLEON. To look for the urns.

PHILOCLEON. Unnecessary, I shall use these vases.

BDELYCLEON. Very well, then we have all we need, except the clepsydra.

PHILOCLEON. Well then! and this? what is it if not a clepsydra?

BDELYCLEON. True again! 'Tis calling things by their right name! Let fire
be brought quickly from the house with myrtle boughs and incense, and let
us invoke the gods before opening the sitting.

CHORUS. Offer them libations and your vows and we will thank them that a
noble agreement has put an end to your bickerings and strife.

BDELYCLEON. And first let there be a sacred silence.

CHORUS. Oh! god of Delphi! oh! Phoebus Apollo! convert into the greatest
blessing for us all what is now happening before this house, and cure us
of our error, oh, Paean, our helper!

BDELYCLEON. Oh! Powerful god, Apollo Aguieus, who watchest at the
door of my entrance hall, accept this fresh sacrifice; I offer it that
you may deign to soften my father's excessive severity; he is as hard as
iron, his heart is like sour wine; do thou pour into it a little honey.
Let him become gentle like other men, let him take more interest in the
accused than in the accusers, may he allow himself to be softened by
entreaties; calm his acrid humour and deprive his irritable mind of all
sting.

CHORUS. We unite our vows and chants to those of this new magistrate.
His words have won our favour and we are convinced that he loves the
people more than any of the young men of the present day.

BDELYCLEON. If there be any judge near at hand, let him enter; once the
proceedings have opened, we shall admit him no more.

PHILOCLEON. Who is the defendant? Ha! what a sentence he will get!

XANTHIAS (_Prosecuting Council_). Listen to the indictment. A dog of
Cydathenea doth hereby charge Labes of Aexonia with having devoured a
Sicilian cheese by himself without accomplices. Penalty demanded, a
collar of fig-tree wood.

PHILOCLEON. Nay, a dog's death, if convicted.

BDELYCLEON. This is Labes, the defendant.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! what a wretched brute! how entirely he looks the rogue!
He thinks to deceive me by keeping his jaws closed. Where is the
plaintiff, the dog of Cydathenea?

DOG. Bow wow! bow wow!

BDELYCLEON. Here he is.

PHILOCLEON. Why, 'tis a second Labes, a great barker and a licker of
dishes.

SOSIAS (_Herald_). Silence! Keep your seats! (_To Xanthias._) And you, up
on your feet and accuse him.

PHILOCLEON. Go on, and I will help myself and eat these lentils.

XANTHIAS. Men of the jury, listen to this indictment I have drawn up. He
has committed the blackest of crimes, both against me and the
seamen. He sought refuge in a dark corner to glutton on a big
Sicilian cheese, with which he sated his hunger.

PHILOCLEON. Why, the crime is clear; the foul brute this very moment
belched forth a horrible odour of cheese right under my nose.

XANTHIAS. And he refused to share with me. And yet can anyone style
himself your benefactor, when he does not cast a morsel to your poor dog?

PHILOCLEON. Then he has not shared?

XANTHIAS. Not with me, his comrade.

PHILOCLEON. Then his madness is as hot as my lentils.

BDELYCLEON. In the name of the gods, father! No hurried verdict without
hearing the other side!

PHILOCLEON. But the evidence is plain; the fact speaks for itself.

XANTHIAS. Then beware of acquitting the most selfish of canine gluttons,
who has devoured the whole cheese, rind and all, prowling round the
platter.

PHILOCLEON. There is not even enough left for me to fill up the chinks in
my pitcher.

XANTHIAS. Besides, you _must_ punish him, because the same house cannot
keep two thieves. Let me not have barked in vain, else I shall never bark
again.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! the black deeds he has just denounced! What a shameless
thief! Say, cock, is not that your opinion too? Ha, ha! He thinks as I
do. Here, Thesmothetes! where are you? Hand me the vessel.

SOSIAS (_Thesmothetes_). Take it yourself. I go to call the witnesses;
these are a plate, a pestle, a cheese knife, a brazier, a stew-pot and
other half-burnt utensils. (_To Philocleon._) But you have not finished?
you are piddling away still! Have done and be seated.

PHILOCLEON. Ha, ha! I reckon I know somebody who will shit himself with
fright today.

BDELYCLEON. Will you never cease showing yourself hard and intractable,
and especially to the accused? You tear them to pieces tooth and nail.

PHILOCLEON. Come forward and defend yourself. What means this silence?
Answer.

SOSIAS. No doubt he has nothing to say.

BDELYCLEON. Not so, but I think he has got what happened once to
Thucydides, when accused; his jaws suddenly set fast. Get away! I
will undertake your defence.--Gentlemen of the jury, 'tis a difficult
thing to speak for a dog who has been calumniated, but nevertheless I
will try. 'Tis a good dog, and he chivies the wolves finely.

PHILOCLEON. He! that thief and conspirator!

BDELYCLEON. But 'tis the best of all our dogs; he is capable of guarding
a whole flock.

PHILOCLEON. And what good is that, if he eats the cheese?

BDELYCLEON. What? he fights for you, he guards your door; 'tis an
excellent dog in every respect. Forgive him his larceny; he is wretchedly
ignorant, he cannot play the lyre.

PHILOCLEON. I wish he did not know how to write either; then the rascal
would not have drawn up his pleadings.

BDELYCLEON. Witnesses, I pray you, listen. Come forward, grafting-knife,
and speak up; answer me clearly. You were paymaster at the time. Did you
grate out to the soldiers what was given you?--He says he did so.

PHILOCLEON. But, by Zeus! he lies.

BDELYCLEON. Oh! have patience. Take pity on the unfortunate. Labes feeds
only on fish-bones and fishes' heads and has not an instant of peace. The
other is good only to guard the house; he never moves from here, but
demands his share of all that is brought in and bites those who refuse.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! Heaven! have I fallen ill? I feel my anger cooling! Woe
to me! I am softening!

BDELYCLEON. Have pity, father, pity, I adjure you; you would not have him
dead. Where are his puppies? Come, poor little beasties, yap, up on your
haunches, beg and whine!

PHILOCLEON. Descend, descend, descend, descend!

BDELYCLEON. I will descend, although that word, "descend," has too often
raised false hope. None the less, I will descend.

PHILOCLEON. Plague seize it! Have I then done wrong to eat! What! I to be
crying! Ah! I certainly should not be weeping, if I were not blown out
with lentils.

BDELYCLEON. Then he is acquitted?

PHILOCLEON. I did not say so.

BDELYCLEON. Ah! my dear father, be good! be humane! Take this voting
pebble and rush with your eyes closed to that second urn and,
father, acquit him.

PHILOCLEON. No, I know no more how to acquit than to play the lyre.

BDELYCLEON. Come quickly, I will show you the way.

PHILOCLEON. Is this the first urn?

BDELYCLEON. Yes.

PHILOCLEON. Then I have voted.

BDELYCLEON (_aside_). I have fooled him and he has acquitted in spite of
himself.

PHILOCLEON. Come, I will turn out the urns. What is the result?

BDELYCLEON. We shall see.--Labes, you stand acquitted.--Eh! father,
what's the matter, what is it?

PHILOCLEON. Ah me! ah me! water! water!

BDELYCLEON. Pull yourself together, sir!

PHILOCLEON. Tell me! Is he really acquitted?

BDELYCLEON. Yes, certainly.

PHILOCLEON. Then it's all over with me!

BDELYCLEON. Courage, dear father, don't let this afflict you so terribly.

PHILOCLEON. And so I have charged my conscience with the acquittal of an
accused being! What will become of me? Sacred gods! forgive me. I did it
despite myself; it is not in my character.

BDELYCLEON. Do not vex yourself, father; I will feed you well, will take
you everywhere to eat and drink with me; you shall go to every feast;
henceforth your life shall be nothing but pleasure, and Hyperbolus shall
no longer have you for a tool. But come, let us go in.

PHILOCLEON. So be it; if you will, let us go in.

CHORUS (_Parabasis_). Go where it pleases you and may your happiness be
great. You meanwhile, oh! countless myriads, listen to the sound counsels
I am going to give you and take care they are not lost upon you. 'Twould
be the fate of vulgar spectators, not that of such an audience. Hence,
people, lend me your ear, if you love frank speaking. The poet has a
reproach to make against his audience; he says you have ill-treated him
in return for the many services he has rendered you. At first he kept
himself in the background and lent help secretly to other poets, and
like the prophetic Genius, who hid himself in the belly of Eurycles,
slipped within the spirit of another and whispered to him many a comic
hit. Later he ran the risks of the theatre on his own account, with his
face uncovered, and dared to guide his Muse unaided. Though overladen
with success and honours more than any of your poets, indeed despite all
his glory, he does not yet believe he has attained his goal; his heart is
not swollen with pride and he does not seek to seduce the young folk in
the wrestling school. If any lover runs up to him to complain
because he is furious at seeing the object of his passion derided on the
stage, he takes no heed of such reproaches, for he is only inspired with
honest motives and his Muse is no go-between. From the very outset of his
dramatic career he has disdained to assail those who were men, but with a
courage worthy of Heracles himself he attacked the most formidable
monsters, and at the beginning went straight for that beast with the
sharp teeth, with the terrible eyes that flashed lambent fire like those
of Cynna, surrounded by a hundred lewd flatterers who spittle-licked
him to his heart's content; it had a voice like a roaring torrent, the
stench of a seal, a foul Lamia's testicles, and the rump of a camel.
Our poet did not tremble at the sight of this horrible monster, nor did
he dream of gaining him over; and again this very day he is fighting for
your good. Last year besides, he attacked those pale, shivering and
feverish beings who strangled your fathers in the dark, throttled
your grandfathers, and who, lying in the beds of the most
inoffensive, piled up against them lawsuits, summonses and witnesses to
such an extent, that many of them flew in terror to the Polemarch for
refuge. Such is the champion you have found to purify your country
of all its evil, and last year you betrayed him, when he sowed the
most novel ideas, which, however, did not strike root, because you did
not understand their value; notwithstanding this, he swears by Bacchus,
the while offering him libations, that none ever heard better comic
verses. 'Tis a disgrace to you not to have caught their drift at once; as
for the poet, he is none the less appreciated by the enlightened judges.
He shivered his oars in rushing boldly forward to board his foe. But
in future, my dear fellow-citizens, love and honour more those of your
poets who seek to imagine and express some new thought. Make their ideas
your own, keep them in your caskets like sweet-scented fruit. If you
do, your clothing will emit an odour of wisdom the whole year through.

Formerly we were untiring, especially in _other_ exercises, but 'tis
over now; our brow is crowned with hair whiter than the swan. We must,
however, rekindle a youthful ardour in these remnants of what was, and
for myself, I prefer my old age to the curly hair and the finery of all
these lewd striplings.

Should any among you spectators look upon me with wonder, because of this
wasp waist, or not know the meaning of this sting, I will soon dispel his
ignorance. We, who wear this appendage, are the true Attic men, who alone
are noble and native to the soil, the bravest of all people. 'Tis we who,
weapon in hand, have done so much for the country, when the Barbarian
shed torrents of fire and smoke over our city in his relentless desire to
seize our nests by force. At once we ran up, armed with lance and
buckler, and, drunk with the bitter wine of anger, we gave them battle,
man standing to man and rage distorting our lips. A hail of arrows
hid the sky. However, by the help of the gods, we drove off the foe
towards evening. Before the battle an owl had flown over our army.
Then we pursued them with our lance point in their loins as one hunts the
tunny-fish; they fled and we stung them in the jaw and in the eyes, so
that even now the barbarians tell each other that there is nothing in the
world more to be feared than the Attic wasp.

Oh! at that time I was terrible, I feared nothing; forth on my galleys I
went in search of my foe and subjected him. Then we never thought of
rounding fine phrases, we never dreamt of calumny; 'twas who should prove
the strongest rower. And thus we took many a town from the Medes,
and 'tis to us that Athens owes the tributes that our young men thieve
to-day.

Look well at us, and you will see that we have all the character and
habits of the wasp. Firstly, if roused, no beings are more irascible,
more relentless than we are. In all other things, too, we act like wasps.
We collect in swarms, in a kind of nests, and some go a-judging with
the Archon,
there are yet others, who hardly move at all, like the grubs in the
cells, but remain glued to the walls and bent double to the ground.
We also pay full attention to the discovery of all sorts of means of
existing and sting the first who comes, so as to live at his expense.
Finally, we have among us drones, who have no sting and who, without
giving themselves the least trouble, seize on our revenues as they flow
past them and devour them. 'Tis this that grieves us most of all, to see
men who have never served or held either lance or oar in defence of their
country, enriching themselves at our expense without ever raising a
blister on their hands. In short, I give it as my deliberate opinion that
in future every citizen not possessed of a sting shall not receive the
triobolus.

PHILOCLEON. As long as I live, I will never give up this cloak; 'tis the
one I wore in that battle when Boreas delivered us from such fierce
attacks,

BDELYCLEON. You do not know what is good for you.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! I know not how to use fine clothing! T'other day, when
cramming myself with fried fish, I dropped so many grease spots that I
had to pay three obols to the cleaner.

BDELYCLEON. At least have a try, since you have once for all handed the
care for your well-being over to me.

PHILOCLEON. Very well then! what must I do?

BDELYCLEON. Take off your cloak, and put on this tunic in its stead.

PHILOCLEON. 'Twas well worth while to beget and bring up children, so
that this one should now wish to choke me.

BDELYCLEON. Come, take this tunic and put it on without so much talk.

PHILOCLEON. Great gods! what sort of a cursed garment is this?

BDELYCLEON. Some call it a pelisse, others a Persian cloak.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! I thought it was a wraprascal like those made at
Thymaetia.

BDELYCLEON. Pray, how should you know such garments? 'Tis only at Sardis
you could have seen them, and you have never been there.

PHILOCLEON. I' faith, no! but it seems to me exactly like the mantle
Morychus sports.

BDELYCLEON. Not at all; I tell you they are woven at Ecbatana.

PHILOCLEON. What! are there woollen ox-guts then at Ecbatana?

BDELYCLEON. Whatever are you talking about? These are woven by the
Barbarians at great cost. I am certain this pelisse has consumed more
than a talent of wool.

PHILOCLEON. It should be called wool-waster then instead of pelisse.

BDELYCLEON. Come, father, just hold still for a moment and put it on.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! horrors! what a waft of heat the hussy wafts up my nose!

BDELYCLEON. Will you have done with this fooling?

PHILOCLEON. No, by Zeus! if need be, I prefer you should put me in the
oven.

BDELYCLEON. Come! I will put it round you. There!

PHILOCLEON. At all events, bring out a crook.

BDELYCLEON. Why, whatever for?

PHILOCLEON. To drag me out of it before I am quite melted.

BDELYCLEON. Now take off those wretched clogs and put on these nice
Laconian slippers.

PHILOCLEON. I put on odious slippers made by our foes! Never!

BDELYCLEON. Come! put your foot in and push hard. Quick!

PHILOCLEON. 'Tis ill done of you. You want me to put my foot on Laconian
ground.

BDELYCLEON. Now the other.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! no, not that one; one of its toes holds the Laconians in
horror.

BDELYCLEON. Positively you must.

PHILOCLEON. Alas! alas! Then I shall have no chilblains in my old
age.

BDELYCLEON. Now, hurry up and get them on; and now imitate the easy
effeminate gait of the rich. See, like this.

PHILOCLEON. There!... Look at my get-up and tell me which rich man I most
resemble in my walk.

BDELYCLEON. Why, you look like a garlic plaster on a boil.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! I am longing to swagger and sway my rump about.

BDELYCLEON. Now, will you know how to talk gravely with well-informed men
of good class?

PHILOCLEON. Undoubtedly.

BDELYCLEON. What will you say to them?

PHILOCLEON. Oh, lots of things. First of all I shall say, that
Lamia, seeing herself caught, let fly a fart; then, that Cardopion
and her mother....

BDELYCLEON. Come, no fabulous tales, pray! talk of realities, of domestic
facts, as is usually done.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! I know something that is indeed most domestic. Once upon
a time there was a rat and a cat....

BDELYCLEON. "Oh, you ignorant fool," as Theagenes said to the
scavenger in a rage. Are you going to talk of cats and rats among
high-class people?

PHILOCLEON. Then what should I talk about?

BDELYCLEON. Tell some dignified story. Relate how you were sent on a
solemn mission with Androcles and Clisthenes.

PHILOCLEON. On a mission! never in my life, except once to Paros, a
job which brought me in two obols a day.

BDELYCLEON. At least say, that you have just seen Ephudion making good
play in the pancratium with Ascondas and, that despite his age and
his white hair, he is still robust in loin and arm and flank and that his
chest is a very breastplate.

PHILOCLEON. Stop! stop! what nonsense! Who ever contested at the
pancratium with a breast-plate on?

BDELYCLEON. That is how well-behaved folk like to talk. But another
thing. When at wine, it would be fitting to relate some good story of
your youthful days. What is your most brilliant feat?

PHILOCLEON. My best feat? Ah! 'twas when I stole Ergasion's vine-props.

BDELYCLEON. You and your vine-props! you'll be the death of me! Tell of
one of your boar-hunts or of when you coursed the hare. Talk about some
torch-race you were in; tell of some deed of daring.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! my most daring deed was when, quite a young man still, I
prosecuted Phayllus, the runner, for defamation, and he was condemned by
a majority of two votes.

BDELYCLEON. Enough of that! Now recline there, and practise the bearing
that is fitting at table in society.

PHILOCLEON. How must I recline? Tell me quick!

BDELYCLEON. In an elegant style.

PHILOCLEON. Like this?

BDELYCLEON. Not at all.

PHILOCLEON. How then?

BDELYCLEON. Spread your knees on the tapestries and give your body the
most easy curves, like those taught in the gymnasium. Then praise some
bronze vase, survey the ceiling, admire the awning stretched over the
court. Water is poured over our hands; the tables are spread; we sup and,
after ablution, we now offer libations to the gods.

PHILOCLEON. But, by Zeus! this supper is but a dream, it appears!

BDELYCLEON. The flute-player has finished the prelude. The guests are
Theorus, Aeschines, Phanus, Cleon, Acestor; and beside this last, I
don't know who else. You are with them. Shall you know exactly how to
take up the songs that are started?

PHILOCLEON. Better than any born mountaineer of Attica.

BDELYCLEON. That we shall see. Suppose me to be Cleon. I am the first to
begin the song of Harmodius, and you take it up: "There never was yet
seen in Athens ...

PHILOCLEON. ... such a rogue or such a thief."

BDELYCLEON. Why, you wretched man, 'twill be the end of you if you sing
that. He will vow your ruin, your destruction, to chase you out of the
country.

PHILOCLEON. Well! then I shall answer his threats with another song:
"With your madness for supreme power, you will end by overthrowing the
city, which even now totters towards ruin."

BDELYCLEON. And when Theorus, prone at Cleon's feet, takes his hand and
sings, "Like Admetus, love those who are brave," what reply will you
make him?

PHILOCLEON. I shall sing, "I know not how to play the fox, nor call
myself the friend of both parties."

BDELYCLEON. Then comes the turn of Aeschines, the son of Sellus, and a
well-trained and clever musician, who will sing, "Good things and riches
for Clitagoras and me and eke for the Thessalians!"

PHILOCLEON. "The two of us have squandered a deal between us."

BDELYCLEON. At this game you seem at home. But come, we will go and dine
with Philoctemon.--Slave! slave! place our dinner in a basket, and let us
go for a good long drinking bout.

PHILOCLEON. By no means, it is too dangerous; for after drinking, one
breaks in doors, one comes to blows, one batters everything. Anon, when
the wine is slept off, one is forced to pay.

BDELYCLEON. Not if you are with decent people. Either they undertake to
appease the offended person or, better still, you say something witty,
you tell some comic story, perhaps one of those you have yourself heard
at table, either in Aesop's style or in that of Sybaris; all laugh and
the trouble is ended.

PHILOCLEON. Faith! 'tis worth while learning many stories then, if you
are thus not punished for the ill you do. But come, no more delay!

CHORUS. More than once have I given proof of cunning and never of
stupidity, but how much more clever is Amynias, the son of Sellus and of
the race of forelock-wearers; him we saw one day coming to dine with
Leogaras, bringing as his share one apple and a pomegranate, and
bear in mind he was as hungry as Antiphon. He went on an embassy to
Pharsalus, and there he lived solely among the Thessalian
mercenaries; indeed, is he not the vilest of mercenaries himself?

Oh! blessed, oh! fortunate Automenes, how enviable is your fortune! You
have three sons, the most industrious in the world; one is the friend of
all, a very able man, the first among the lyre-players, the favourite of
the Graces. The second is an actor, and his talent is beyond all praise.
As for Ariphrades, he is by far the most gifted; his father would swear
to me, that without any master whatever and solely through the
spontaneous effort of his happy nature, he taught himself the use of his
tongue in the lewd places where he spends the whole of his time.

Some have said that I and Cleon were reconciled. This is the truth of the
matter: Cleon was harassing me, persecuting and belabouring me in every
way; and, when I was being fleeced, the public laughed at seeing me
uttering such loud cries; not that they cared about me, but simply
curious to know whether, when trodden down by my enemy, I would not hurl
at him some taunt. Noticing this, I have played the wheedler a bit; but
now, look! the prop is deceiving the vine!

XANTHIAS. Oh! tortoises! happy to have so hard a skin, thrice happy to
carry this roof that protects your backs! Oh! creatures full of sense!
what a happy thought to cover your bodies with this shell, which shields
it from blows! As for me, I can no longer move; the stick has so
belaboured my body.

CHORUS. Eh, what's the matter, child? for, old as he may be, one has the
right to call anyone a child who has let himself be beaten.

XANTHIAS. Alas! my master is really the worst of all plagues. He was the
most drunk of all the guests, and yet among them were Hippyllus,
Antiphon, Lycon, Lysistratus, Theophrastus and Phrynichus. But he was a
hundred times more insolent than any. As soon as he had stuffed himself
with a host of good dishes, he began to leap and spring, to laugh and to
let wind like a little ass well blown out with barley. Then he set to
a-beating me with all his heart, shouting, "Slave! slave!" Lysistratus,
as soon as he saw him, let fly this comparison at him. "Old fellow," said
he, "you resemble one of the scum assuming the airs of a rich man or a
stupid ass that has broken loose from its stable." "As for you," bawled
the other at the top of his voice, "you are like a grasshopper,
whose cloak is worn to the thread, or like Sthenelus after his
clothes had been sold." All applauded excepting Theophrastus, who made a
grimace as behoved a well-bred man like him. The old man called to him,
"Hi! tell me then what you have to be proud of? Not so much mouthing,
you, who so well know how to play the buffoon and to lick-spittle the
rich!" 'Twas thus he insulted each in turn with the grossest of jests,
and he reeled off a thousand of the most absurd and ridiculous speeches.
At last, when he was thoroughly drunk, he started towards here, striking
everyone he met. Hold, here he comes reeling along. I will be off for
fear of his blows.

PHILOCLEON. Halt! and let everyone begone, or I shall do an evil
turn to some of those who insist on following me. Clear off, rascals, or
I shall roast you with this torch!

BDELYCLEON. We shall all make you smart to-morrow for your youthful
pranks. We shall come in a body to summon you to justice.

PHILOCLEON. Ho! ho! summon me! what old women's babble! Know that I can
no longer bear to hear even the name of suits. Ha! ha! ha! this is what
pleases _me_, "Down with the urns!" Won't you begone? Down with the
dicasts! away with them, away with them! (_To the flute-girl._) Mount up
there, my little gilded cock-chafer; seize hold of this rope's end in
your hand. Hold it tight, but have a care; the rope's a bit old and
worn, but it loves a nice rubbing still. Do you see how opportunely I got
you away from the solicitations of those fellows, who wanted to make you
work their tools in your mouth? You therefore owe me this return to
gratify mine by masturbating it. But will you pay the debt? Oh! I know
well you will not even try; you will play with me, you will laugh
heartily at my poor old weapon as you have done at many another man's.
And yet, if you would not be a naughty girl, I would redeem you, when my
son is dead, and you should be my concubine, my little cuntling. At
present I am not my own master; I am very young and am watched very
closely. My dear son never lets me out of his sight; 'tis an unbearable
creature, who would quarter a thread and skin a flint; he is afraid I
should get lost, for I am his only father. But here he comes running
towards us. But be quick, don't stir, hold these torches. I am going to
play him a young man's trick, the same as he played me before I was
initiated into the mysteries.

BDELYCLEON. Oh! oh! you debauched old dotard! you desire and, meseems,
you love pretty baggages; but, by Apollo, it shall not be with impunity!

PHILOCLEON. Ah! you would be very glad to eat a lawsuit in vinegar, you
would.

BDELYCLEON. 'Tis a rascally trick to steal the flute-girl away from the
other guests.

PHILOCLEON. What flute-girl? Are you distraught, as if you had just
returned from Pluto?

BDELYCLEON. By Zeus! But here is the Dardanian wench in person.

PHILOCLEON. Nonsense. This is a torch that I have lit in the public
square in honour of the gods.

BDELYCLEON. Is this a torch?

PHILOCLEON. A torch? Certainly. Do you not see it is of several different
colours?

BDELYCLEON. And what is that black part in the middle?

PHILOCLEON. 'Tis the pitch running out while it burns.

BDELYCLEON. And there, on the other side, surely that is a girl's bottom?

PHILOCLEON. No. 'Tis a small bit of the torch, that projects.

BDELYCLEON. What do you mean? what bit? Hi! you woman! come here!

PHILOCLEON. Ah! ah! What do you want to do?

BDELYCLEON. To take her from you and lead her away. You are too much worn
out and can do nothing.

PHILOCLEON. Hear me! One day, at Olympia, I saw Euphudion boxing bravely
against Ascondas; he was already aged, and yet with a blow from his
fist he knocked down his young opponent. So beware lest I blacken _your_
eyes.

BDELYCLEON. By Zeus! you have Olympia at your finger-ends!

A BAKER'S WIFE (_to Bdelycleon_). Come to my help, I beg you, in the name
of the gods! This cursed man, when striking out right and left with his
torch, knocked over ten loaves worth an obolus apiece, and then, to cap
the deal, four others.

BDELYCLEON. Do you see what lawsuits you are drawing upon yourself with
your drunkenness? You will have to plead.

PHILOCLEON. Oh, no, no! a little pretty talk and pleasant tales will soon
settle the matter and reconcile her with me.

BAKER'S WIFE. Not so, by the goddesses twain! It shall not be said that
you have with impunity spoilt the wares of Myrtia, the daughter of
Ancylion and Sostraté.

PHILOCLEON. Listen, woman, I wish to tell you a lovely anecdote.

BAKER'S WIFE. Oh! friend, no anecdotes for me, thank you.

PHILOCLEON. One night Aesop was going out to supper. A drunken bitch had
the impudence to bark near him. Aesop said to her, "Oh, bitch, bitch! you
would do well to sell your wicked tongue and buy some wheat."

BAKER'S WIFE. You make a mock of me! Very well! Be you who you like, I
shall summons you before the market inspectors for damage done to my
business. Chaerephon here shall be my witness.

PHILOCLEON. But just listen, here's another will perhaps please you
better. Lasus and Simonides were contesting against each other for
the singing prize. Lasus said, "Damn me if I care."

BAKER'S WIFE. Ah! really, did he now!

PHILOCLEON. As for you, Chaerephon, _can_ you be witness to this woman,
who looks as pale and tragic as Ino when she throws herself from her
rock ... at the feet of Euripides?

BDELYCLEON. Here, methinks, comes another to summons you; _he_ has his
witness too. Ah! unhappy indeed we are!

ACCUSER. I summons you, old man, for outrage.

BDELYCLEON. For outrage? Oh! in the name of the gods, do not summons him!
I will be answerable for him; name the penalty and I will be more
grateful still.

PHILOCLEON. I ask for nothing better than to be reconciled with him; for
I admit I struck him and threw stones at him. So, first come here. Will
you leave it in my hands to name the indemnity I must pay, if I promise
you my friendship as well, or will you fix it yourself?

ACCUSER. Fix it; I like neither lawsuits nor disputes.

PHILOCLEON. A man of Sybaris fell from his chariot and wounded his
head most severely; he was a very poor driver. One of his friends came up
to him and said, "Every man to his trade." Well then, go you to
Pittalus to get mended.

BDELYCLEON. You are incorrigible.

ACCUSER (_to his witness_). At all events, make a note of his reply.

PHILOCLEON. Listen, instead of going off so abruptly. A woman at Sybaris
broke a box.

ACCUSER (_to his witness_). I again ask you to witness this.

PHILOCLEON. The box therefore had the fact attested, but the woman said,
"Never worry about witnessing the matter, but hurry off to buy a cord to
tie it together with; 'twill be the more sensible course."

ACCUSER. Oh! go on with your ribaldry until the Archon calls the case.

BDELYCLEON (_to Philocleon_). No, by Demeter! you stay here no longer! I
take you and carry you off.

PHILOCLEON. And what for?

BDELYCLEON. What for? I shall carry you to the house; else there would
not be enough witnesses for the accusers.

PHILOCLEON. One day at Delphi, Aesop ...

BDELYCLEON. I don't care a fig for that.

PHILOCLEON. ... was accused of having stolen a sacred vase. But he
replied, that the horn beetle ... (_Philocleon goes on with his fable
while Bdelycleon is carrying him off the scene by main force._)

BDELYCLEON. Oh, dear, dear! You drive me crazy with your horn-beetle.

CHORUS. I envy you your happiness, old man. What a contrast to his former
frugal habits and his very hard life! Taught now in quite another school,
he will know nothing but the pleasures of ease. Perhaps he will jib at
it, for indeed 'tis difficult to renounce what has become one's second
nature. However, many have done it, and adopting the ideas of others,
have changed their use and wont. As for Philocleon's son, I, like all
wise and judicious men, cannot sufficiently praise his filial tenderness
and his tact. Never have I met a more amiable nature, and I have
conceived the greatest fondness for him. How he triumphed on every point
in his discussion with his father, when he wanted to bring him back to
more worthy and honourable tastes!

XANTHIAS. By Bacchus! 'Tis some Evil Genius has brought this unbearable
disorder into our house. The old man, full up with wine and excited by
the sound of the flute, is so delighted, so enraptured, that he spends
the night executing the old dances that Thespis first produced on the
stage, and just now he offered to prove to the modern tragedians, by
disputing with them for the dancing prize, that they are nothing but a
lot of old dotards.

PHILOCLEON. "Who loiters at the door of the vestibule?"

XANTHIAS. Here comes our pest, our plague!

PHILOCLEON. Let down the barriers. The dance is now to begin.

XANTHIAS. Or rather the madness.

PHILOCLEON. Impetuous movement already twists and racks my sides. How my
nostrils wheeze! how my back cracks!

XANTHIAS. Go and fill yourself with hellebore.

PHILOCLEON. Phrynichus is as bold as a cock and terrifies his rivals.

XANTHIAS. Oh! oh! have a care he does not kick you.

PHILOCLEON. His leg kicks out sky-high, and his arse gapes open.

XANTHIAS. Do have a care.

PHILOCLEON. Look how easily my leg-joints move.

BDELYCLEON. Great gods! What does all this mean? Is it actual, downright
madness?

PHILOCLEON. And now I summon and challenge my rivals. If there be a
tragic poet who pretends to be a skilful dancer, let him come and contest
the matter with me. Is there one? Is there _not_ one?

BDELYCLEON. Here comes one, and one only.

PHILOCLEON. Who is the wretch?

BDELYCLEON. 'Tis the younger son of Carcinus.

PHILOCLEON. I will crush him to nothing; in point of keeping time, I will
knock him out, for he knows nothing of rhythm.

BDELYCLEON. Ah! ah! here comes his brother too, another tragedian, and
another son of Carcinus.

PHILOCLEON. Him I will devour for my dinner.

BDELYCLEON. Oh! ye gods! I see nothing but crabs. Here is yet
another son of Carcinus.

PHILOCLEON. What is't comes here?  A shrimp or a spider?

BDELYCLEON. 'Tis a crab,--a crabkin, the smallest of its kind; he
writes tragedies.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! Carcinus, how proud you should be of your brood! What a
crowd of kinglets have come swooping down here!

BDELYCLEON. Come, come, my poor father, you will have to measure yourself
against them.

PHILOCLEON. Have pickle prepared for seasoning them, if I am bound to
prove the victor.

CHORUS. Let us stand out of the way a little, so that they may twirl at
their ease. Come, illustrious children of this inhabitant of the briny,
brothers of the shrimps, skip on the sand and the shore of the barren
sea; show us the lightning whirls and twirls of your nimble limbs.
Glorious offspring of Phrynichus, let fly your kicks, so that the
spectators may be overjoyed at seeing your legs so high in air. Twist,
twirl, tap your bellies, kick your legs to the sky. Here comes your
famous father, the ruler of the sea, delighted to see his three
lecherous kinglets. Go on with your dancing, if it pleases you, but
as for us, we shall not join you. Lead us promptly off the stage, for
never a Comedy yet was seen where the Chorus finished off with a dance.