Chapter II: Part 2

Undoubtedly the comic poet who mounted the stage to praise himself in the parabasis would deserve to be handed over to the sticks of the beadles. Nevertheless, oh Muse, if it be right to esteem the most honest and illustrious of our comic writers at his proper value, permit our poet to say that he thinks he has deserved a glorious renown. First of all, 'tis he who has compelled his rivals no longer to scoff at rags or to war with lice; and as for those Heracles, always chewing and ever hungry, those poltroons and cheats who allow themselves to be beaten at will, he was the first to cover them with ridicule and to chase them from the stage;(1) he has also dismissed that slave, whom one never failed to set a-weeping before you, so that his comrade might have the chance of jeering at his stripes and might ask, "Wretch, what has happened to your hide? Has the lash rained an army of its thongs on you and laid your back waste?" After having delivered us from all these wearisome ineptitudes and these low buffooneries, he has built up for us a great art, like a palace with high towers, constructed of fine phrases, great thoughts and of jokes not common on the streets. Moreover 'tis not obscure private persons or women that he stages in his comedies; but, bold as Heracles, 'tis the very greatest whom he attacks, undeterred by the fetid stink of leather or the threats of hearts of mud. He has the right to say, "I am the first ever dared to go straight for that beast with the sharp teeth and the terrible eyes that flashed lambent fire like those of Cynna,(2) 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."(3)

I did not recoil in horror at the sight of such a monster, but fought him relentlessly to win your deliverance and that of the Islanders. Such are the services which should be graven in your recollection and entitle me to your thanks. Yet I have not been seen frequenting the wrestling school intoxicated with success and trying to tamper with young boys;(4) but I took all my theatrical gear(5) and returned straight home. I pained folk but little and caused them much amusement; my conscience rebuked me for nothing. Hence both grown men and youths should be on my side and I likewise invite the bald(6) to give me their votes; for, if I triumph, everyone will say, both at table and at festivals, "Carry this to the bald man, give these cakes to the bald one, do not grudge the poet whose talent shines as bright as his own bare skull the share he deserves."

Oh, Muse! drive the War far from our city and come to preside over our dances, if you love me; come and celebrate the nuptials of the gods, the banquets of us mortals and the festivals of the fortunate; these are the themes that inspire thy most poetic songs. And should Carcinus come to beg thee for admission with his sons to thy chorus, refuse all traffic with them; remember they are but gelded birds, stork-necked dancers, mannikins about as tall as a pat of goat dung, in fact machine-made poets.(7) Contrary to all expectation, the father has at last managed to finish a piece, but he owns himself that a cat strangled it one fine evening.(8)

Such are the songs(9) with which the Muse with the glorious hair inspires the able poet and which enchant the assembled populace, when the spring swallow twitters beneath the foliage;(10) but the god spare us from the chorus of Morsimus and that of Melanthius!(11) Oh! what a bitter discordancy grated upon my ears that day when the tragic chorus was directed by this same Melanthius and his brother, these two Gorgons,(12) these two harpies, the plague of the seas, whose gluttonous bellies devour the entire race of fishes, these followers of old women, these goats with their stinking arm-pits. Oh! Muse, spit upon them abundantly and keep the feast gaily with me.

f(1) In spite of what he says, Aristophanes has not always
disdained this sort of low comedy--for instance, his
Heracles in 'The Birds.'

f(2) A celebrated Athenian courtesan of Aristophanes' day.

f(3) Cleon. These four verses are here repeated from the
parabasis of 'The Wasps,' produced 423 B.C., the year before
this play.

f(4) Shafts aimed at certain poets, who used their renown as
a means of seducing young men to grant them pederastic
favours.

f(5) The poet supplied everything needful for the production
of his piece--vases, dresses, masks, etc.

f(6) Aristophanes was bald himself, it would seem.

f(7) Carcinus and his three sons were both poets and
dancers. (See the closing scene of 'The Wasps.') Perhaps
relying little on the literary value of their work, it seems
that they sought to please the people by the magnificence of
its staging.

f(8) He had written a piece called 'The Mice,' which he
succeeded with great difficulty in getting played, but it
met with no success.

f(9) This passage really follows on the invocation, "Oh,
Muse! drive the War," etc., from which indeed it is only
divided by the interpolated criticism aimed at Carcinus.

f(10) The scholiast informs us that these verses are
borrowed from a poet of the sixth century B.C.

f(11) Sons of Philocles, of the family of Aeschylus, tragic
writers, derided by Aristophanes as bad poets and notorious
gluttons.

f(12) The Gorgons were represented with great teeth, and
therefore the same name was given to gluttons. The Harpies,
to whom the two voracious poets are also compared, were
monsters with the face of a woman, the body of a vulture and
hooked beak and claws.

TRYGAEUS Ah! 'tis a rough job getting to the gods! my legs are as good as broken through it. How small you were, to be sure, when seen from heaven! you had all the appearance too of being great rascals; but seen close, you look even worse.

SERVANT Is that you, master?

TRYGAEUS So I've been told.

SERVANT What has happened to you?

TRYGAEUS My legs pain me; it is such a plaguey long journey.

SERVANT Oh! tell me...

TRYGAEUS What?

SERVANT Did you see any other man besides yourself strolling about in heaven?

TRYGAEUS No, only the souls of two or three dithyrambic poets.

SERVANT What were they doing up there?

TRYGAEUS They were seeking to catch some lyric exordia as they flew by immersed in the billows of the air.

SERVANT Is it true, what they tell us, that men are turned into stars after death?

TRYGAEUS Quite true.

SERVANT Then who is that star I see over yonder?

TRYGAEUS That is Ion of Chios,(1) the author of an ode beginning "Morning"; as soon as ever he got to heaven, they called him "the Morning Star."

f(1) A tragic and dithyrambic poet, who had written many
pieces, which had met with great success at Athens.

SERVANT And those stars like sparks, that plough up the air as they dart across the sky?(1)

f(1) The shooting stars.

TRYGAEUS They are the rich leaving the feast with a lantern and a light inside it.--But hurry up, show this young girl into my house, clean out the bath, heat some water and prepare the nuptial couch for herself and me. When 'tis done, come back here; meanwhile I am off to present this one to the Senate.

SERVANT But where then did you get these pretty chattels?

TRYGAEUS Where? why in heaven.

SERVANT I would not give more than an obolus for gods who have got to keeping brothels like us mere mortals.

TRYGAEUS They are not all so, but there are some up there too who live by this trade.

SERVANT Come, that's rich! But I bethink me, shall I give her something to eat?

TRYGAEUS No, for she would neither touch bread nor cake; she is used to licking ambrosia at the table of the gods.

SERVANT Well, we can give her something to lick down here too.

CHORUS Here is a truly happy old man, as far as I can judge.

TRYGAEUS Ah! but what shall I be, when you see me presently dressed for the wedding?

CHORUS Made young again by love and scented with perfumes, your lot will be one we all shall envy.

TRYGAEUS And when I lie beside her and caress her bosoms?

CHORUS Oh! then you will be happier than those spinning-tops who call Carcinus their father.(1)

f(1) It has already been mentioned that the sons of Carcinus
were dancers.

TRYGAEUS And I well deserve it; have I not bestridden a beetle to save the Greeks, who now, thanks to me, can make love at their ease and sleep peacefully on their farms?

SERVANT The girl has quitted the bath; she is charming from head to foot, both belly and buttocks; the cake is baked and they are kneading the sesame-biscuit;(1) nothing is lacking but the bridegroom's virility.

f(1) It was customary at weddings, says Menander, to give
the bride a sesame-caked as an emblem of fruitfulness,
because sesame is the most fruitful of all seeds.

TRYGAEUS Let us first hasten to lodge Theoria in the hands of the Senate.

SERVANT But tell me, who is this woman?

TRYGAEUS Why, 'tis Theoria, with whom we used formerly to go to Brauron,(1) to get tipsy and frolic. I had the greatest trouble to get hold of her.

f(1) An Attic town on the east coast, noted for a
magnificent temple, in which stood the statue of Artemis,
which Orestes and Iphigenia had brought from the Tauric
Chersonese and also for the Brauronia, festivals that were
celebrated every four years in honour of the goddess. This
was one of the festivals which the Attic people kept with
the greatest pomp, and was an occasion for debauchery.

SERVANT Ah! you charmer! what pleasure your pretty bottom will afford me every four years!

TRYGAEUS Let us see, who of you is steady enough to be trusted by the Senate with the care of this charming wench? Hi! you, friend! what are you drawing there?

SERVANT I am drawing the plan of the tent I wish to erect for myself on the isthmus.(1)

f(1) Competitors intending to take part in the great
Olympic, Isthmian and other games took with them a tent,
wherein to camp in the open. Further, there is an obscene
allusion which the actor indicates by a gesture.

TRYGAEUS Come, who wishes to take the charge of her? No one? Come, Theoria, I am going to lead you into the midst of the spectators and confide you to their care.

SERVANT Ah! there is one who makes a sign to you.

TRYGAEUS Who is it?

SERVANT 'Tis Ariphrades. He wishes to take her home at once.

TRYGAEUS No, I'm sure he shan't. He would soon have her done for, absorbing all her life-force. Come, Theoria, put down all this gear.(1)

Senate, Prytanes, look upon Theoria and see what precious blessings I place in your hands. Hasten to raise its limbs and to immolate the victim. Admire the fine chimney,(2) it is quite black with smoke, for 'twas here that the Senate did their cooking before the war. Now that you have found Theoria again, you can start the most charming games from to-morrow, wrestling with her on the ground, either on your hands and feet, or you can lay her on her side, or stand before her with bent knees, or, well rubbed with oil, you can boldly enter the lists, as in the Pancratium, belabouring your foe with blows from your fist or otherwise. The next day you will celebrate equestrian games, in which the riders will ride side by side, or else the chariot teams, thrown one on top of another, panting and whinnying, will roll and knock against each other on the ground, while other rivals, thrown out of their seats, will fall before reaching the goal, utterly exhausted by their efforts.--Come, Prytanes, take Theoria. Oh! look how graciously yonder fellow has received her; you would not have been in such a hurry to introduce her to the Senate, if nothing were coming to you through it;(3) you would not have failed to plead some holiday as an excuse.

f(1) Doubtless the vessels and other sacrificial objects and
implements with which Theoria was laden in her character of
presiding deity at religious ceremonies.

f(2) Where the meats were cooked after sacrifice; this also
marks the secondary obscene sense he means to convey.

f(3) One of the offices of the Prytanes was to introduce
those who asked admission to the Senate, but it would seem
that none could obtain this favour without payment. Without
this, a thousand excuses would be made; for instance, it
would be a public holiday, and consequently the Senate could
receive no one. As there was some festival nearly every
day, he whose purse would not open might have to wait a very
long while.

CHORUS Such a man as you assures the happiness of all his fellow-citizens.

TRYGAEUS When you are gathering your vintages you will prize me even better.

CHORUS E'en from to-day we hail you as the deliverer of mankind.

TRYGAEUS Wait until you have drunk a beaker of new wine, before you appraise my true merits.

CHORUS Excepting the gods, there is none greater than yourself, and that will ever be our opinion.

TRYGAEUS Yea, Trygaeus of Athmonia has deserved well of you, he has freed both husbandman and craftsman from the most cruel ills; he has vanquished Hyberbolus.

SERVANT Well then, what must be done now?

TRYGAEUS You must offer pots of green-stuff to the goddess to consecrate her altars.

SERVANT Pots of green-stuff(1) as we do to poor Hermes--and even he thinks the fare but mean?

f(1) This was only offered to lesser deities.

TRYGAEUS What will you offer them? A fatted bull?

SERVANT Oh no! I don't want to start bellowing the battle-cry.(1)

f(1) In the Greek we have a play upon the similarity of the
words (for) a bull, and to shout the battle-cry.

TRYGAEUS A great fat swine then?

SERVANT No, no.

TRYGAEUS Why not?

SERVANT We don't want any of the swinishness of Theagenes.(1)

f(1) Theagenes, of the Piraeus, a hideous, coarse, debauched
and evil-living character of the day.

TRYGAEUS What other victim do you prefer then?

SERVANT A sheep.

TRYGAEUS A sheep?

SERVANT Yes.

TRYGAEUS But you must give the word the Ionic form.

SERVANT Purposely. So that if anyone in the assembly says, "We must go to war," all may start bleating in alarm, "Oi, oi."(1)

f(1) That is the vocative of the Ionic form of the word; in
Attic Greek it is contracted throughout.

TRYGAEUS A brilliant idea.

SERVANT And we shall all be lambs one toward the other, yea, and milder still toward the allies.

TRYGAEUS Then go for the sheep and haste to bring it back with you; I will prepare the altar for the sacrifice.

CHORUS How everything succeeds to our wish, when the gods are willing and Fortune favours us! how opportunely everything falls out.

TRYGAEUS Nothing could be truer, for look! here stands the altar all ready at my door.

CHORUS Hurry, hurry, for the winds are fickle; make haste, while the divine will is set on stopping this cruel war and is showering on us the most striking benefits.

TRYGAEUS Here is the basket of barley-seed mingled with salt, the chaplet and the sacred knife; and there is the fire; so we are only waiting for the sheep.

CHORUS Hasten, hasten, for, if Chaeris sees you, he will come without bidding, he and his flute; and when you see him puffing and panting and out of breath, you will have to give him something.

TRYGAEUS Come, seize the basket and take the lustral water and hurry to circle round the altar to the right.

SERVANT There! 'tis done. What is your next bidding?

TRYGAEUS Hold! I take this fire-brand first and plunge it into the water.

SERVANT Be quick! be quick! Sprinkle the altar.

TRYGAEUS Give me some barley-seed, purify yourself and hand me the basin; then scatter the rest of the barley among the audience.

SERVANT 'Tis done.

TRYGAEUS You have thrown it?

SERVANT Yes, by Hermes! and all the spectators have had their share.

TRYGAEUS But not the women?

SERVANT Oh! their husbands will give it them this evening.(1)

f(1) An obscene jest.

TRYGAEUS Let us pray! Who is here? Are there any good men?(1)

f(1) Before sacrificing, the officiating person asked, "Who
is here?" and those present answered, "Many good men."

SERVANT Come, give, so that I may sprinkle these. Faith! they are indeed good, brave men.

TRYGAEUS You believe so?

SERVANT I am sure, and the proof of it is that we have flooded them with lustral water and they have not budged an inch.(1)

f(1) The actors forming the chorus are meant here.

TRYGAEUS Come, then, to prayers; to prayers, quick!--Oh! Peace, mighty queen, venerated goddess, thou, who presidest over choruses and at nuptials, deign to accept the sacrifices we offer thee.

SERVANT Receive it, greatly honoured mistress, and behave not like the coquettes, who half open the door to entice the gallants, draw back when they are stared at, to return once more if a man passes on. But do not act like this to us.

TRYGAEUS No, but like an honest woman, show thyself to thy worshippers, who are worn with regretting thee all these thirteen years. Hush the noise of battle, be a true Lysimacha to us.(1) Put an end to this tittle-tattle, to this idle babble, that set us defying one another. Cause the Greeks once more to taste the pleasant beverage of friendship and temper all hearts with the gentle feeling of forgiveness. Make excellent commodities flow to our markets, fine heads of garlic, early cucumbers, apples, pomegranates and nice little cloaks for the slaves; make them bring geese, ducks, pigeons and larks from Boeotia and baskets of eels from Lake Copais; we shall all rush to buy them, disputing their possession with Morychus, Teleas, Glaucetes and every other glutton. Melanthius(2) will arrive on the market last of all; 'twill be, "no more eels, all sold!" and then he'll start a-groaning and exclaiming as in his monologue of Medea,(3) "I am dying, I am dying! Alas! I have let those hidden in the beet escape me!"(4) And won't we laugh? These are the wishes, mighty goddess, which we pray thee to grant.

f(1) Lysimacha is derived from (the Greek for) put an end
to, and (the Greek for) fight.

f(2) A tragic poet, reputed a great gourmand.

f(3) A tragedy by Melanthius.

f(4) Eels were cooked with beet.--A parody on some verses in
the 'Medea' of Melanthius.

SERVANT Take the knife and slaughter the sheep like a finished cook.

TRYGAEUS No, the goddess does not wish it.(1)

f(1) As a matter of fact, the Sicyonians, who celebrated the
festival of Peace on the sixteenth day of the month of
Hecatombeon (July), spilled no blood upon her altar.

SERVANT And why not?

TRYGAEUS Blood cannot please Peace, so let us spill none upon her altar. Therefore go and sacrifice the sheep in the house, cut off the legs and bring them here; thus the carcase will be saved for the choregus.

CHORUS You, who remain here, get chopped wood and everything needed for the sacrifice ready.

TRYGAEUS Don't I look like a diviner preparing his mystic fire?

CHORUS Undoubtedly. Will anything that it behooves a wise man to know escape you? Don't you know all that a man should know, who is distinguished for his wisdom and inventive daring?

TRYGAEUS There! the wood catches. Its smoke blinds poor Stilbides.(1) I am now going to bring the table and thus be my own slave.

f(1) A celebrated diviner, who had accompanied the Athenians
on their expedition to Sicily. Thus the War was necessary
to make his calling pay and the smoke of the sacrifice
offered to Peace must therefore be unpleasant to him.

CHORUS You have braved a thousand dangers to save your sacred town. All honour to you! your glory will be ever envied.

SERVANT Hold! Here are the legs, place them upon the altar. For myself, I mean to go back to the entrails and the cakes.

TRYGAEUS I'll see to those; I want you here.

SERVANT Well then, here I am. Do you think I have been long?

TRYGAEUS Just get this roasted. Ah! who is this man, crowned with laurel, who is coming to me?

SERVANT He has a self-important look; is he some diviner?

TRYGAEUS No, I' faith! 'tis Hierocles.

SERVANT Ah! that oracle-monger from Oreus.(1) What is he going to tell us?

f(1) A town in Euboea on the channel which separated that
island from Thessaly.

TRYGAEUS Evidently he is coming to oppose the peace.

SERVANT No, 'tis the odour of the fat that attracts him.

TRYGAEUS Let us appear not to see him.

SERVANT Very well.

HIEROCLES What sacrifice is this? to what god are you offering it?

TRYGAEUS (TO THE SERVANT) Silence!--(ALOUD.) Look after the roasting and keep your hands off the meat.

HIEROCLES To whom are you sacrificing? Answer me. Ah! the tail(1) is showing favourable omens.

f(1) When sacrificing, the tail was cut off the victim and
thrown into the fire. From the way in which it burnt the
inference was drawn as to whether or not the sacrifice was
agreeable to the deity.

SERVANT Aye, very favourable, oh, loved and mighty Peace!

HIEROCLES Come, cut off the first offering(1) and make the oblation.

f(1) This was the part that belonged to the priests and
diviners. As one of the latter class, Hierocles is in haste
to see this piece cut off.

TRYGAEUS 'Tis not roasted enough.

HIEROCLES Yea, truly, 'tis done to a turn.

TRYGAEUS Mind your own business, friend! (TO THE SERVANT.) Cut away. Where is the table? Bring the libations.

HIEROCLES The tongue is cut separately.

TRYGAEUS We know all that. But just listen to one piece of advice.

HIEROCLES And that is?

TRYGAEUS Don't talk, for 'tis divine Peace to whom we are sacrificing.

HIEROCLES Oh! wretched mortals, oh, you idiots!

TRYGAEUS Keep such ugly terms for yourself.

HIEROCLES What! you are so ignorant you don't understand the will of the gods and you make a treaty, you, who are men, with apes, who are full of malice?(1)

f(1) The Spartans.

TRYGAEUS Ha, ha, ha!

HIEROCLES What are you laughing at?

TRYGAEUS Ha, ha! your apes amuse me!

HIEROCLES You simple pigeons, you trust yourselves to foxes, who are all craft, both in mind and heart.

TRYGAEUS Oh, you trouble-maker! may your lungs get as hot as this meat!

HIEROCLES Nay, nay! if only the Nymphs had not fooled Bacis, and Bacis mortal men; and if the Nymphs had not tricked Bacis a second time...(1)

f(1) Emphatic pathos, incomprehensible even to the diviner
himself; this is a satire on the obscure style of the
oracles. Bacis was a famous Boeotian diviner.

TRYGAEUS May the plague seize you, if you don't stop wearying us with your Bacis!

HIEROCLES ...it would not have been written in the book of Fate that the bends of Peace must be broken; but first...

TRYGAEUS The meat must be dusted with salt.

HIEROCLES ...it does not please the blessed gods that we should stop the War until the wolf uniteth with the sheep.

TRYGAEUS How, you cursed animal, could the wolf ever unite with the sheep?

HIEROCLES As long as the wood-bug gives off a fetid odour, when it flies; as long as the noisy bitch is forced by nature to litter blind pups, so long shall peace be forbidden.

TRYGAEUS Then what should be done? Not to stop War would be to leave it to the decision of chance which of the two people should suffer the most, whereas by uniting under a treaty, we share the empire of Greece.

HIEROCLES You will never make the crab walk straight.

TRYGAEUS You shall no longer be fed at the Prytaneum; the war done, oracles are not wanted.

HIEROCLES You will never smooth the rough spikes of the hedgehog.

TRYGAEUS Will you never stop fooling the Athenians?

HIEROCLES What oracle ordered you to burn these joints of mutton in honour of the gods?

TRYGAEUS This grand oracle of Homer's: "Thus vanished the dark war-clouds and we offered a sacrifice to new-born Peace. When the flame had consumed the thighs of the victim and its inwards had appeased our hunger, we poured out the libations of wine." 'Twas I who arranged the sacred rites, but none offered the shining cup to the diviner.(1)

f(1) Of course this is not a bona fide quotation, but a
whimsical adaptation of various Homeric verses; the last is
a coinage of his own, and means, that he is to have no part,
either in the flesh of the victim or in the wine of the
libations.

HIEROCLES I care little for that. 'Tis not the Sibyl who spoke it.(1)

f(1) Probably the Sibyl of Delphi is meant.

TRYGAEUS Wise Homer has also said: "He who delights in the horrors of civil war has neither country nor laws nor home." What noble words!

HIEROCLES Beware lest the kite turn your brain and rob...

TRYGAEUS Look out, slave! This oracle threatens our meat. Quick, pour the libation, and give me some of the inwards.

HIEROCLES I too will help myself to a bit, if you like.

TRYGAEUS The libation! the libation!

HIEROCLES Pour out also for me and give me some of this meat.

TRYGAEUS No, the blessed gods won't allow it yet; let us drink; and as for you, get you gone, for 'tis their will. Mighty Peace! stay ever in our midst.

HIEROCLES Bring the tongue hither.

TRYGAEUS Relieve us of your own.

HIEROCLES The libation.

TRYGAEUS Here! and this into the bargain (STRIKES HIM).

HIEROCLES You will not give me any meat?

TRYGAEUS We cannot give you any until the wolf unites with the sheep.

HIEROCLES I will embrace your knees.

TRYGAEUS 'Tis lost labour, good fellow; you will never smooth the rough spikes of the hedgehog.... Come, spectators, join us in our feast.

HIEROCLES And what am I to do?

TRYGAEUS You? go and eat the Sibyl.

HIEROCLES No, by the Earth! no, you shall not eat without me; if you do not give, I take; 'tis common property.

TRYGAEUS (TO THE SERVANT) Strike, strike this Bacis, this humbugging soothsayer.

HIEROCLES I take to witness...

TRYGAEUS And I also, that you are a glutton and an impostor. Hold him tight and beat the impostor with a stick.

SERVANT You look to that; I will snatch the skin from him which he has stolen from us.(1) Are you going to let go that skin, you priest from hell! do you hear! Oh! what a fine crow has come from Oreus! Stretch your wings quickly for Elymnium.(2)

f(1) The skin of the victim, that is to say.

f(2) A temple in Euboea, close to Oreus. The servant means,
"Return where you came from."

CHORUS Oh! joy, joy! no more helmet, no more cheese nor onions!(1) No, I have no passion for battles; what I love, is to drink with good comrades in the corner by the fire when good dry wood, cut in the height of the summer, is crackling; it is to cook pease on the coals and beechnuts among the embers, 'tis to kiss our pretty Thracian(2) while my wife is at the bath. Nothing is more pleasing, when the rain is sprouting our sowings, than to chat with some friend, saying, "Tell me, Comarchides, what shall we do? I would willingly drink myself, while the heavens are watering our fields. Come, wife, cook three measures of beans, adding to them a little wheat, and give us some figs. Syra! call Manes off the fields, 'tis impossible to prune the vine or to align the ridges, for the ground is too wet to-day. Let someone bring me the thrush and those two chaffinches; there were also some curds and four pieces of hare, unless the cat stole them last evening, for I know not what the infernal noise was that I heard in the house. Serve up three of the pieces for me, slave, and give the fourth to my father. Go and ask Aeschinades for some myrtle branches with berries on them, and then, for 'tis the same road, you will invite Charinades to come and drink with me to the honour of the gods who watch over our crops." When the grasshopper sings his dulcet tune, I love to see the Lemnian vines beginning to ripen, for 'tis the earliest plant of all. I love likewise to watch the fig filling out, and when it has reached maturity I eat with appreciation and exclaim, "Oh! delightful season!" Then too I bruise some thyme and infuse it in water. Indeed I grow a great deal fatter passing the summer in this way than in watching a cursed captain with his three plumes and his military cloak of a startling crimson (he calls it true Sardian purple), which he takes care to dye himself with Cyzicus saffron in a battle; then he is the first to run away, shaking his plumes like a great yellow prancing cock,(3) while I am left to watch the nets.(4) Once back again in Athens, these brave fellows behave abominably; they write down these, they scratch through others, and this backwards and forwards two or three times at random. The departure is set for to-morrow, and some citizen has brought no provisions, because he didn't know he had to go; he stops in front of the statue of Pandion,(5) reads his name, is dumbfounded and starts away at a run, weeping bitter tears. The townsfolk are less ill-used, but that is how the husbandmen are treated by these men of war, the hated of the gods and of men, who know nothing but how to throw away their shield. For this reason, if it please heaven, I propose to call these rascals to account, for they are lions in times of peace, but sneaking foxes when it comes to fighting.

f(1) This was the soldier's usual ration on duty.

f(2) Slaves often bore the name of the country of their
birth.

f(3) Because of the new colour which fear had lent his
chlamys.

f(4) Meaning, that he deserts his men in mid-campaign,
leaving them to look after the enemy.

f(5) Ancient King of Athens. This was one of the twelve
statues, on the pedestals of which the names of the soldiers
chose for departure on service were written. The decrees
were also placarded on them.

TRYGAEUS Oh! oh! what a crowd for the nuptial feast! Here! dust the tables with this crest, which is good for nothing else now. Halloa! produce the cakes, the thrushes, plenty of good jugged hare and the little loaves.

A SICKLE-MAKER Trygaeus, where is Trygaeus?

TRYGAEUS I am cooking the thrushes.

SICKLE-MAKER Trygaeus, my best of friends, what a fine stroke of business you have done for me by bringing back Peace! Formerly my sickles would not have sold at an obolus apiece; to-day I am being paid fifty drachmae for every one. And here is a neighbour who is selling his casks for the country at three drachmae each. So come, Trygaeus, take as many sickles and casks as you will for nothing. Accept them for nothing; 'tis because of our handsome profits on our sales that we offer you these wedding presents.

TRYGAEUS Thanks. Put them all down inside there, and come along quick to the banquet. Ah! do you see that armourer yonder coming with a wry face?

A CREST-MAKER Alas! alas! Trygaeus, you have ruined me utterly.

TRYGAEUS What! won't the crests go any more, friend?

CREST-MAKER You have killed my business, my livelihood, and that of this poor lance-maker too.

TRYGAEUS Come, come, what are you asking for these two crests?

CREST-MAKER What do you bid for them?

TRYGAEUS What do I bid? Oh! I am ashamed to say. Still, as the clasp is of good workmanship, I would give two, even three measures of dried figs; I could use 'em for dusting the table.

CREST-MAKER All right, tell them to bring me the dried figs; 'tis always better than nothing.

TRYGAEUS Take them away, be off with your crests and get you gone; they are moulting, they are losing all their hair; I would not give a single fig for them.

A BREASTPLATE-MAKER Good gods, what am I going to do with this fine ten-minae breastplate, which is so splendidly made?

TRYGAEUS Oh, you will lose nothing over it.

BREASTPLATE-MAKER I will sell it to you at cost price.

TRYGAEUS 'Twould be very useful as a night-stool...

BREASTPLATE-MAKER Cease your insults, both to me and my wares.

TRYGAEUS ...if propped on three stones. Look, 'tis admirable.

BREASTPLATE-MAKER But how can you wipe, idiot?

TRYGAEUS I can pass one hand through here, and the other there, and so...

BREASTPLATE-MAKER What! do you wipe with both hands?

TRYGAEUS Aye, so that I may not be accused of robbing the State, by blocking up an oar-hole in the galley.(1)

f(1) The trierarchs stopped up some of the holes made for
the oars, in order to reduce the number of rowers they had
to supply for the galleys; they thus saved the wages of the
rowers they dispensed with.

BREASTPLATE-MAKER So you would pay ten minae(1) for a night-stool?

f(1) The mina was equivalent to about three pounds, ten
shillings.

TRYGAEUS Undoubtedly, you rascal. Do you think I would sell my rump for a thousand drachmae?(1)

f(1) Which is the same thing, since a mina was worth a
hundred drachmae.

BREASTPLATE-MAKER Come, have the money paid over to me.

TRYGAEUS No, friend; I find it hurts me to sit on. Take it away, I won't buy it.

A TRUMPET-MAKER What is to be done with this trumpet, for which I gave sixty drachmae the other day?

TRYGAEUS Pour lead into the hollow and fit a good, long stick to the top; and you will have a balanced cottabos.(1)

f(1) For 'cottabos' see note above.

TRUMPET-MAKER Ha! would you mock me?

TRYGAEUS Well, here's another notion. Pour in lead as I said, add here a dish hung on strings, and you will have a balance for weighing the figs which you give your slaves in the fields.

A HELMET-MAKER Cursed fate! I am ruined. Here are helmets, for which I gave a mina each. What I to do with them? who will buy them?

TRYGAEUS Go and sell them to the Egyptians; they will do for measuring loosening medicines.(1)

f(1) Syrmoea, a kind of purgative syrup much used by the
Egyptians, made of antiscorbutic herbs, such as mustard,
horse-radish, etc.

A SPEAR-MAKER Ah! poor helmet-maker, things are indeed in a bad way.

TRYGAEUS That man has no cause for complaint.

SPEAR-MAKER But helmets will be no more used.

TRYGAEUS Let him learn to fit a handle to them and he can sell them for more money.(1)

f(1) As wine-pots or similar vessels.

SPEAR-MAKER Let us be off, comrade.

TRYGAEUS No, I want to buy these spears.

SPEAR-MAKER What will you give?

TRYGAEUS If they could be split in two, I would take them at a drachma per hundred to use as vine-props.

SPEAR-MAKER The insolent dog! Let us go, friend.

TRYGAEUS Ah! here come the guests, children from the table to relieve themselves; I fancy they also want to hum over what they will be singing presently. Hi! child! what do you reckon to sing? Stand there and give me the opening line.

THE SON OF LAMACHUS "Glory to the young warriors..."

TRYGAEUS Oh! leave off about your young warriors, you little wretch; we are at peace and you are an idiot and a rascal.

SON OF LAMACHUS "The skirmish begins, the hollow bucklers clash against each other."(1)

f(1) These verses and those which both Trygaeus and the son
of Lamachus quote afterwards are borrowed from the 'Iliad.'

TRYGAEUS Bucklers! Leave me in peace with your bucklers.

SON OF LAMACHUS "And then there came groanings and shouts of victory."

TRYGAEUS Groanings! ah! by Bacchus! look out for yourself, you cursed squaller, if you start wearying us again with your groanings and hollow bucklers.

SON OF LAMACHUS Then what should I sing? Tell me what pleases you.

TRYGAEUS "'Tis thus they feasted on the flesh of oxen," or something similar, as, for instance, "Everything that could tickle the palate was placed on the table."

SON OF LAMACHUS "'Tis thus they feasted on the flesh of oxen and, tired of warfare, unharnessed their foaming steeds."

TRYGAEUS That's splendid; tired of warfare, they seat themselves at table; sing, sing to us how they still go on eating after they are satiated.

SON OF LAMACHUS "The meal over, they girded themselves..."

TRYGAEUS With good wine, no doubt?

SON OF LAMACHUS "...with armour and rushed forth from the towers, and a terrible shout arose."

TRYGAEUS Get you gone, you little scapegrace, you and your battles! You sing of nothing but warfare. Who is your father then?

SON OF LAMACHUS My father?

TRYGAEUS Why yes, your father.

SON OF LAMACHUS I am Lamachus' son.

TRYGAEUS Oh! oh! I could indeed have sworn, when I was listening to you, that you were the son of some warrior who dreams of nothing but wounds and bruises, of some Boulomachus or Clausimachus;(1) go and sing your plaguey songs to the spearmen.... Where is the son of Cleonymus? Sing me something before going back to the feast. I am at least certain he will not sing of battles, for his father is far too careful a man.

f(1) Boulomachus is derived from (two Greek words meaning)
to wish for battle; Clausimachus from (two others), the
tears that battles cost. The same root (for) 'battle' is
also contained in the name Lamachus.

SON OF CLEONYMUS "An inhabitant of Sais is parading with the spotless shield which I regret to say I have thrown into a thicket."(1)

f(1) A distich borrowed from Archilochus, a celebrated poet
of the seventh century B.C., born at Paros, and the author
of odes, satires, epigrams and elegies. He sang his own
shame. 'Twas in an expedition against Sais, not the town in
Egypt as the similarity in name might lead one to believe,
but in Thrace, that he had cast away his buckler. "A might
calamity truly!" he says without shame. "I shall buy
another."

TRYGAEUS Tell me, you little good-for-nothing, are you singing that for your father?

SON OF CLEONYMUS "But I saved my life."

TRYGAEUS And dishonoured your family. But let us go in; I am very certain, that being the son of such a father, you will never forget this song of the buckler. You, who remain to the feast, 'tis your duty to devour dish after dish and not to ply empty jaws. Come, put heart into the work and eat with your mouths full. For, believe me, poor friends, white teeth are useless furniture, if they chew nothing.

CHORUS Never fear; thanks all the same for your good advice.

TRYGAEUS You, who yesterday were dying of hunger, come, stuff yourselves with this fine hare-stew; 'tis not every day that we find cakes lying neglected. Eat, eat, or I predict you will soon regret it.

CHORUS Silence! Keep silence! Here is the bride about to appear! Take nuptial torches and let all rejoice and join in our songs. Then, when we have danced, clinked our cups and thrown Hyperbolus through the doorway we will carry back all our farming tools to the fields and shall pray the gods to give wealth to the Greeks and to cause us all to gather in an abundant barley harvest, enjoy a noble vintage, to grant that we may choke with good figs, that our wives may prove fruitful, that in fact we may recover all our lost blessings, and that the sparkling fire may be restored to the hearth.

TRYGAEUS Come, wife, to the fields and seek, my beauty, to brighten and enliven my nights. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!

CHORUS Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus! oh! thrice happy man, who so well deserve your good fortune!

TRYGAEUS Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!

CHORUS Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS What shall we do to her?

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS What shall we do to her?

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS We will gather her kisses.

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS We will gather her kisses.

CHORUS Come, comrades, we who are in the first row, let us pick up the bridegroom and carry him in triumph. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus! Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!

TRYGAEUS Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!

CHORUS You shall have a fine house, no cares and the finest of figs. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!

TRYGAEUS Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!

CHORUS The bridegroom's fig is great and thick; the bride's very soft and tender.

TRYGAEUS While eating and drinking deep draughts of wine, continue to repeat: Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!

CHORUS Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!

TRYGAEUS Farewell, farewell, my friends. All who come with me shall have cakes galore.