Translated by Gilbert Murray
AESCHYLUS
agamemnon (17th Thousand)
the choephoroe
the eumenides
the suppliant women (supplices)
prometheus bound
the seven against thebes
the persians
ARISTOPHANES
the frogs (24th Thousand)
the birds
EURIPIDES
alcestis (24th Thousand)
electra (50th Thousand)
hippolytus (38th Thousand)
iphigenia in tauris (32nd Thousand)
medea (33rd Thousand)
rhesus
bacchæ (31st Thousand)
trojan women (49th Thousand)
ion
MENANDER
the arbitration
the rape of the locks
SOPHOCLES
oedipus, king of thebes (30th Thousand)
antigone
the wife of heracles
oedipus at colonus
٭
the oresteia
(collected edition)
the complete plays of aeschylus
collected plays of euripides
Translated into English rhyming
verse with Introduction
and notes
by
O.M.
Formerly Regius Professor of Greek
in the
University of Oxford
London
GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD
FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1956
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review, as permitted under the Copyright Act 1911, no portion may be
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made to the publisher, © George Allen & Unwin Ltd., 1956.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
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BY UNWIN BROTHERS LIMITED
WOKING AND LONDON
What Aristophanes himself felt about The Knights is shown by a famous passage in the Wasps (1080 ff., repeated in Peace, 795 ff.) where the Chorus explains that this poet made Comedy a more serious thing.
The Beast's frown was paralyzing, like that of the Gorgon, and instead of snakes "a hundred damned blackmailers' tongues came whistling out of his hair." The angry description is in part confirmed in more sober prose by Thucydides' description of Cleon as "The most violent of the citizens, and at this time most influential with the populace" (III, 37; IV, 21). The peak of "this time" was just about the time when The Knights was produced in the spring of 424 b.c. In the previous summer a Lacedaemonian force, comprising some four hundred high-born Spartans with attendant troops, had been cut off in the island of Sphacteria in the Bay of Pylos by seventy Athenian ships under Demosthenes (Thuc. IV, 26-39). The island, being[Pg 6] thickly wooded and pathless, could not be taken by assault, and the blockade was hindered by the daring of Helot volunteers, who, crossing in boats or simply swimming, brought food from the mainland. Time was spent in negotiations with Sparta, and Cleon lost patience. "If the generals were men" he declared, "they would easily capture the island." "If he were in command he would bring the Spartans in as prisoners within twenty days." Nicias, the senior general, thereupon offered to resign his office and proposed that Cleon should take his place. Conscious of his poor military record (ll. 443, 368), Cleon tried to refuse, but in a scene of mixed derision and enthusiasm was compelled to accept. Meantime a fire on the island, fanned by a gale, had swept most of the covering wood away, and Demosthenes was preparing an assault when Cleon arrived with fresh troops. The attack was made with complete success on the second night after Cleon's arrival. Thus, as Thucydides says, "Cleon's lunatic promise was fulfilled," and his prestige with the people vastly increased.
This was the immediate situation at the time when The Knights was produced, but in order to understand the play we should try to realize the mechanism of Athenian democracy from the later years of Pericles onward. The first establishment of the democracy had been, as Herodotus tells us, an inspiration to Athens (V, 78). Under the tyrants the Athenians had been in war "No better than their neighbours." But now that they were free they became "far the first of all."[Pg 7] Certainly in the world of thought and artistic creation Athens entered upon her period of supreme greatness, but politically she had adopted a constitution which in the strain of war led to strange results. The Demos itself, and not any selected class, must decide all questions of policy. No qualification was required. The whole citizen population, without any test or election, met to speak and to vote in the Assembly, and their vote was decisive. The actual Agenda had been prepared by the Council, or Boulé, a body of five hundred, fifty from each tribe, not elected but chosen by lot. Month by month in the Council Chamber at the edge of the Agora the Council settled minor issues and made proposals for the final decision of the Assembly. All legal cases were decided by the Jury Courts. These Jury Courts, six thousand men over thirty, forming ten juries of six hundred each, were chosen by lot equally from all the ten tribes. It will be seen that, while every possible precaution was taken to prevent corruption, there was none to ensure competency, nor to check the dangers of popular prejudice and passion. There was no experienced judge to advise the jury, no trained lawyers, no elected parliament, and no cabinet of responsible ministers. Only the generals and executive magistrates were appointed by real election and not by lot. In earlier times the Senate of the Areopagus, composed, like the Roman Senate, of ex-archons who had discharged their magistracy without blame, might have gone far to counteract these weaknesses, but in 460 it had been deprived of its political powers, and confined[Pg 8] to jurisdiction in cases involving the danger of blood-pollution to the community. They still judged cases of murder or crimes involving the death penalty, and exercised a certain ill-defined censorship in cases of grave public need: but no more. Athens was left a "pure democracy," governed by the feelings of the Assembly at the moment and the personal influence of the leaders of public opinion.
The fundamental question at issue between the two main parties in Athens, the Moderates, like Nicias, and the extreme Democrats, was the policy towards Sparta. Against the Persian invader Athens and Sparta had been close partners, and both looked back with pride to the great battles of that time—Athens to Marathon and Salamis, Sparta to Thermopylae; both alike to their final victory side by side at Plataea. Could this partnership be maintained or must the underlying rivalry be allowed to grow into definite war? The more aristocratic Athenians were always attracted by Spartan "Virtue." The literary and intellectual classes also seem in general to have felt that peace and co-operation between the two leading cities was a necessity for the welfare of Hellas. However, the Spartan ultimatum in 432 had demanded that Athens should "set the Hellenes free," i.e. dissolve her Empire. Pericles saw that to obey such an order was to accept a position of "slavery," or definite subjection, to Sparta, and was convinced that Athens with her command of the sea was in the long run the stronger power. It is not clear what policy, democrat as he was, he would have urged in 423. Cleon[Pg 9] and the violent democrats were for war till Sparta was conquered; Nicias, with the moderates, for peace and friendship as soon as Athenian independence could be assured. When the Peace of Nicias was signed in 421, three years after this play, it seemed as if the hopes of the believers in co-operation were gained, and Aristophanes was able to write his Peace. But before the year was out fresh hostilities had already blocked the way.
Pericles' confidence in the power of Athens might well have been justified had Athens not been stricken at the very start of the war by a pestilence which destroyed, it is said, a third of her population. It originated in "Egypt and Ethiopia," but in Athens was made particularly severe by the overcrowding of the city with refugees from the open country, which was swept by hostile invasions. The city was filled with unemployed countrymen for whose support Pericles found it necessary to set up a system of payment for public service, notably two obols a day for attendance at the jury courts, perhaps a drachma a day for sitting on the Council, and some fee for even being present at the General Assembly. The fees were increased from time to time; by 425 the juror's fee was three obols, and later it was more. The Tribute of the Allies, originally a return for the effective defence provided by the Athenian fleet against piracy or Persian aggression, was doubled by Cleon in 425, and irregularly increased afterwards. There was also a source of public money in the confiscations of property and the fines[Pg 10] imposed on prisoners found guilty by the jury courts—but, often, according to Aristophanes, guilty of no offence except wealth and lack of political influence. Taxes were heavy, and it is a serious threat to "get a man listed in a higher income group" (925). Athens was to an extreme degree a "welfare State," but Cleon seems to have had a very narrow conception of the Demos whose welfare he was bound to protect. Only true-born Athenians were qualified, for one thing; not people with any touch of foreign blood, and apparently, under Cleon's leadership, only the real voters. Soldiers serving abroad and sailors in the fleet could at a pinch be neglected. Their pay was hard to find. They could not show their resentment in the day by day voting, and after all, armed men can generally find food for themselves wherever they are! (1066-1077). It was the vote of the Demos day by day that determined policy and leadership, and Cleon, according to his critic, openly admits that if he can satisfy the Demos, he cares nothing about the wrongs or rights of individuals (776).
Brutal and unscrupulous as this policy was, it had about it something heroic. Life might be hard, almost intolerably hard; but there must be no weakening. The men in the prime of life were, during much of the time, nearly all away fighting (Ar. Lysistrata, 524). The city was crowded with women, children and old men camping in any empty space they could find, in temporary shacks, porches of temples, sentry boxes and "holes in the ground." Twenty thousand slaves had deserted (Thuc. VII, 27). Oil was scarce. Children[Pg 11] were crying for food (Ar. Wasps, 297 ff.). A shoal of fish in the Piraeus was a miracle that could alter the whole aspect of life. To be granted a square meal in the Prytaneum was a serious practical help as well as a public honour (281 ff., 354 ff., 1293 ff.). To critics of the demagogues the lusty appetite of Cleon or Cleonymus seemed an additional offence. Meantime Athens might have her territory devastated, her slaves deserting, her food all imported and terribly scarce; but Cleon's Demos was not going to give in, nor yet, through any pedantic high principles or scruples of honour, fail to seize any advantage or to practise any act of intimidation that might make the difference between victory and defeat. Cleon died a poor man. His plea that he stole not for himself but only for the city (1226), seems to have been roughly true. He did from time to time unscrupulously fleece the subject allies; he did secure the conviction of rich offenders who could be profitably fined; he did fall behindhand in the pay of the troops. After all there are few nations in history, up to quite modern times, who could claim to be innocent of similar exactions and irregularities in times of sore need. What is remarkable about Athens is the persistence of enlightened public protest against such conduct. Grote makes an interesting attempt to defend Cleon's policy, but all our ancient witnesses, Thucydides, Xenophon, Plato, Isocrates, agree in condemnation of the extreme democracy. So, of course, do the comedians. Indeed the general plot of The Knights, the supersession of the leading demagogue by someone[Pg 12] more utterly vulgar and unscrupulous than himself, was so popular as to cause various mutual charges of plagiarism. Aristophanes says that Eupolis in the Maricas "turned my Knights inside out as badly as you would expect" (Clouds, 554) and "made out of my cloak three threadbare jerkins" (Fr., 189), while Eupolis goes so far as to say "I helped our bald friend in writing the Knights and made him a present of it" (Baptae, fr. 78). The scholiast on Knights, 1281, professes to show the place in the second parabasis at which "some people say" that Eupolis "began." If so, Eupolis was possibly responsible for the high-minded Agoracritus who "has boiled Demos and turned him from rotten to sweet," and for the grand scene (1316-1334), so different in tone from its surroundings, which reads like an alternative ending for the play. Aristophanes' explanation of the Offal-monger's new name, Agoracritus, is merely farcical. It was a regular well-known name, meaning "Agora-Chosen" or "the choice of the city." This looks as if Agoracritus was perhaps meant to be the true choice of the city, when in its right mind, and not doing politics on the Pnyx. Possibly this idea belonged to Eupolis' conception of the plot, and might help to explain the inconsistency between the final scenes and all the earlier part of the play.
However this may be, we must not forget the remarkable courage involved in the unqualified attack by a young man of no position on the great demagogue of the hour, who was also "the most violent of the citizens."[Pg 13] Aristophanes had already championed the subject allies against Athenian oppression in the Babylonians, and had even stated a good case for the Spartans against the fury of popular war fever in the Acharnians. No doubt he suffered for his rashness. He says he was "almost killed with mud and dirt" and put in serious danger of losing his citizenship (Acharnians, 375 ff.). But he survived, and never faltered in his outspoken championship both of peace and of honest politics. One must indeed marvel at the high degree of "parrhesia," or free speech that was allowed in Athens even in the height of an exhausting war.
first slave (The General demosthenes)
second slave (The General nicias)
offal-monger or sausage-monger, afterwards named agoracritus
paphlagon, a Paphlagonian slave (The Demagogue cleon)
chorus of athenian knights, a somewhat aristocratic class, who manned the cavalry regiments
the demos of Athens, a prejudiced and arbitrary old gentleman
Scene: in front of the House or Palace of DEMOS. Sitting on the stage are two slaves who have just been whipped. They are never actually named, but their masks are likenesses of real people, in fact, of the two generals; the first speaker represents the daring DEMOSTHENES, the second the prudent and pious commander-in-chief NICIAS.
Demosthenes
Oh, gimminy, it hurts! Oh, gimminy-John! Deuce take that upstart sneak, that Paphlagon, The tanner. Ever since the day he crashed Our gates, he's always getting someone thrashed.
Nicias
Deuce take him first and worst of all his clan! Him and his slanders!
Demosthenes
Hallo, poor old man,
How are you feeling?
Nicias
Devilish bad, like you.
Demosthenes
Then come along this way, and let us miew Together, as the old composers do.
Both
Miew! Miew! Miew! Miew! Miew!
Demosthenes
Oh, why this whimpering? We must find some way To save our skins, not sit and moan all day.
Nicias
To save our skins? Say how.
Demosthenes
No, you tell me . . .
Don't make me fight.
Nicias
By Apollo, let me be!
Speak, don't be afraid. And then I'll speak as well.
Demosthenes
"Ah, would that thou couldst tell what I must tell."
Nicias
It gives me cold feet. Oh, if I could say The word some dark Euripidean way!
Demosthenes
Oh, lordy, lordy, no wild cabbages! Some chain-dance that unchains the dancer, please. Can you say ertlets, ertlets?
Nicias
Yes, with ease.
Ertlets. Is that right? Ertlets.
Demosthenes
Now say dees.
Nicias
Dees.
Demosthenes
Very good. Now say it slow at first,
Ertlets, then dees, then quickly till you burst,
Go.
Nicias
Ertlets, dees; ertLets; Dees, ert; Let's. . . . Oh!
Demosthenes
Well, what do you think?
Nicias
But can we? . . . Oh, no, no,
I'm frightened. . . . Better go and cling somewhere
To a holy image.
Demosthenes
Holy grandmother!
You don't believe in the gods!
Nicias
Of course I do.
Demosthenes
What reason have you?
Nicias
Reason? Why, I know
I'm a God-help-us failure. . . . That enough?
Demosthenes
It's a good point. But let us try the stuff A different way. Suppose I were to tell The audience the whole tale?
Nicias
You might as well;
But first we'll beg them to be so far kind
As show us by their faces if they find
Some pleasure in our verses and our plot.
Demosthenes
Here goes then. [To the audience.] We two have master, hot Of temper, ignorant, full as full can be[Pg 21 41-68] Of votes and motions, fretful, elderly, And slightly deaf, Demos of Council Square. This Demos, on the first day of the year, Purchased a slave, a Paphlagonian tanner, An utterly wicked and malicious planner Of lies. This rascal in a moment took The old boy's measure; reads him like a book; Fawns, wheedles, flatters; feeds him from his yard With titbits: "My good man, why work so hard? One case done? Then you need a bath," he'll say. "Then meat, wine, sweets—and wages for the day. You'd like me to serve supper?" Round he looks To find some dish prepared by other cooks, And serves it as his gift. Why, not to boast, I had myself some Spartans, warm on toast, Last week, when round he trotted, did them brown, And served them up to Demos as his own. He drives us off and lets no other man Wait table; stands there with a cowhide fan To flap any competitor away. Then, oracles! The old man is a prey To wandering soothsayers, and Paphlagon Has made the thing a business of his own; Then he goes telling tales, not one word true, And we get whacked; and on he goes all through The house, with hints and threats, He'll have his tip Or else . . . "You saw young Hylas get the whip? My doing! And I fancy, though I might Still change, you're in for a bad time to-night." So we pay up; if not, the old man's stick[Pg 22 69-84] Will bleed it out of us ten times as thick. Well, mate, we must be quick and think, we two, What road to take and who will save us, who.
Nicias
Ertlets the only road, mate. There it lies.
Demosthenes
It can't be done. The Paphlagonian's eyes Are everywhere. One leg holds Pylos down, The other is on the platform in this town. He straddles half the oceans in his stride And squats on all the diggings, far and wide, And claims, I know, that every mine is his.
Nicias
It's best for us to die.
Demosthenes
Well, if it is,
We'll do it? What would be the bravest way?
Nicias
The bravest way? I wonder—I should say To drink bull's blood. The great Themistocles Did that. No death could suit us more than his.
Demosthenes
Bull's blood? No! Wine unwatered! That will gain The Spirit of Luck, and stimulate the brain.
Nicias
You and your wine unwatered! Always drink With you! How can a man be cool and think, When all confused and not himself with wine?
Demosthenes
Confused and not himself? Is that your line, You mug of dull cold water? If you can, Just tell me of any better friend to man Than wine! When men are drinking don't they glow With happiness, win all their cases, grow Rich and successful, give all friends a part? Quick now, pop in and fetch me out a quart. I'll wash my brain and find some great idea.
Nicias
Your drink will play the deuce with us.
Demosthenes
No fear! You fetch it out. [Exit Nicias into the house. Meanwhile I'll just lie down. When once I'm drunk I'll do the whole place brown With plans and dodges and bright beams of thought.
[He makes himself comfortable. Re-enter Nicias with a wine flagon and cup.
Nicias
Good Lord, how lucky that I wasn't caught Stealing the wine!
Demosthenes
Yes, splendid! What's the brute
Doing?
Nicias
Why, he has just swallowed up for loot
Some public fines, and now he's lying slack
Among his raw hides, snoring on his back.
Demosthenes
[Holding out his cup
Come, splash it in. No water. Let it flow
In streams.
Nicias
With prayer to the Good Spirit!
Demosthenes
No, Drink to the Spirit of wine, good Pramnian! Drink! [Pause: then with a start. O Spirit Pramnian! Only you could think[Pg 25 109-119] Of such a plan: I couldn't.
Nicias
For God's sake
Tell me. What is it?
Demosthenes
Just go in and take—
Now, quickly, while the Paphlagonian sleeps—
That book of oracles he always keeps
By him.
Nicias
All right. Only I somehow think I smell some evil spirit in that drink. [Nicias goes.
Demosthenes
And I meantime. . . . Ah well, the jug's at hand
To wash my brain and think out something grand.
[He drinks. Re-enter Nicias with the Book.
Nicias
Lord, how that man does snort and snore! But look; He never saw me, and I've got his book Of oracles: his private stock, for sure.
Demosthenes
Good man! Here, I can read them while you pour.
Quick, let me see what's in them. Hurry up!
(Looking at the book.) Yes, oracles. The cup! Give me the cup![Pg 26 120-128]
Nicias
There! What does the book say?
Demosthenes
Another please!
Nicias
"Another please!" That's really what it says?
Demosthenes
O Bakis!
Nicias
Yes? He says . . .
Demosthenes
The cup! Make haste!
Nicias
The cup seems greatly to the prophet's taste.
Demosthenes
You gory Paphlagonian, you did well To keep this close! You feared the oracle About yourself.
Nicias
About himself? Eh, what?
Demosthenes
It's written here, man, how he goes to pot.
Nicias
How?
Demosthenes
How? This book quite plainly prophesies
How first an Oakum-monger must arise
The fortunes of all Athens to control. . . .
Nicias
Monger the first! What follows in the roll?
Demosthenes
A Mutton-monger next our lord shall be. . . .
Nicias
Monger the second. What's his destiny?
Demosthenes
To reign in pride until some dirtier soul Rise than himself. That hour his knell shall toll. For close behind a Leather-monger reels, —Our Paphlagonian—lunging at his heels, Tornado-voiced, a roaring beast of prey.
Nicias
The Mutton-monger runs, and fades away Before him?
Demosthenes
Yes.
Nicias
And that's the end? The store
Is finished? . . . Oh for just one monger more!
Demosthenes
There is one more, and one you'ld never guess.
Nicias
There is? What is he?
Demosthenes
Shall I tell you?
Nicias
Yes.
Demosthenes
His fall is by an Offal-monger made.
Nicias
An Offal-monger! Glory, what a trade! . . .
Demosthenes
Up, and to work! That monger must be found!
Nicias
We'll seek him out.
[They proceed to go seeking, when enter Offal-monger: they see a man with a pieman's tray hanging round his neck, selling offal.
Nicias
See, on this very ground
By Providence!
Demosthenes
O blessing without end!
O Offal-monger, friend and more than friend!
To us, to Athens, saviour evermore! . . .
This way!
Offal-monger
What's up? What are you shouting for?
Demosthenes
Come here; come forward, and be taught by me Your splendid fate, your rich felicity!
Nicias
Here! Take his tray off! Pour into his head
The blessed oracles and all they've said.
I'll go and keep my eye on Paphlagon.
[Exit Nicias.
Demosthenes
Come, my good man, put all these gadgets down. "Kiss Earth thy Mother and the gods adore."
Offal-monger
There. What's it all about?
Demosthenes
O blest and more!
Now nothing, but to-morrow, Lord of All!
O Prince of Athens, the majestical. . . .
Offal-monger
Look here, gents, can't you let me wash my stuff And sell the puddings? . . . I've had mor'n enough.
Demosthenes
Puddings, deluded being? Just look up. You see those rows and rows of people?
Offal-monger
Yup.
Demosthenes
You are their Lord and Master! You, Heaven sent, To people, market, harbour, parliament, To kick the Council, break the High Command, Send men to gaol, get drunk in the Grand Stand. . . .
Offal-monger
Not me?
Demosthenes
Yes, and you don't yet see it—you! Get up on . . . here, your own old tray will do. [He gets up on the table. See all the islands dotted round the scene?
Offal-monger
Yup.
Demosthenes
The great ports, the mercantile marine?
Offal-monger
Yup.
Demosthenes
Yup! And then he doesn't see he's blest!
Now cast one eye towards Carthage in the west,
One round to Caria—take the whole imprint.
Offal-monger
Shall I be any blesseder with a squint?
Demosthenes
Tut tut, man! All you see is yours to sell.
You shall become, so all the stars foretell,
A great, great man.
[Offal-monger gets down.
Offal-monger
But do explain; how can
A poor little Offal-monger be a "man"?
Demosthenes
That's just the reason why you're bound to grow, Because you're street-bred, brazen-faced and low.
Offal-monger
You see, I don't quite know as I deserve . . .
Demosthenes
You don't quite know? . . . What means this shaken nerve? Some secret virtue? No? Don't say you came Of honest parents?
Offal-monger
Honest? Lord, not them!
Both pretty queer.
Demosthenes
Oh, happy man and wife
To start your son so well for public life!
Offal-monger (flustered)
Just think of the eddication I ain't had— Bar letters; and I mostly learnt 'em bad!
Demosthenes
The pity is you learnt such things at all. 'Tis not for learning now that people call, Nor thoughtfulness, nor hearts of generous make. 'Tis ignorance and no scruples. Come and take The prize that gods and prophets offer you.
Offal-monger
What are the actual words?
Demosthenes
All good and true And wise. And yet like an enigma too. "Lo, when the crooked-of-claw tan-eagle shall fix full sore His clutch on a bumbleton Snake, a skin distended with gore, Then shall the garlic and brine on the proud Paphlagonian's breath Pass like a phantom away; and then, God promiseth, Then is the Tripe-monger's hour for kingdom and majesty ripe— Unless, of course, he prefers to continue mongering tripe."
Offal-monger
What is all that to me? Please make it clear.
Demosthenes
Tan-eagle; that's the Paphlagonian here.
Offal-monger
And crooked-of-claw; what is that?
Demosthenes
Doesn't it say?
He grips and claws whatever comes his way.
Offal-monger
What does the snake mean?
Demosthenes
It's all similes.
Snakes are long thin things, so are sausages;
Then obviously, both sausages and snakes
Are swoln with blood. That is the point he makes.
The snake will beat the Tan-eagle with ease,
Unless he is weakened by false flatteries.
Offal-monger
The oracles please me. But I don't see yet How ever I shall learn to rule a state.
Demosthenes
Easy as lying! Do as now you do.
Turn every question to a public stew.
Hash things, and cook things. Win the common herd
By strong sweet sauces in your every word.
For other gifts, you have half the catalogue
Already, for the perfect demagogue;
A blood-shot voice, low breeding, huckster's tricks—[Pg 35 218-234]
What more can man require for politics?
The prophets and Apollo's word concur.
Up! To the Bug of Hum libation pour,
And crown your brow and fight him!
Offal-monger
Who will fight
Beside me? All the rich are in a fright
Before him, and the poor folk of the town
Turn green and vomit if they see him frown.
Demosthenes
A thousand Knights there are, men good and true. Who hate the creature and will champion you; Then, in the city, all of gentle breed; In the audience, any who can think and read; And I: and Phoebus for the cause will strike! Don't be afraid. The face will not be like. The mask-makers were all afraid. Not one Would do it. Never mind. He will be known All right. The audience knows its way about.
[Nicias from inside.
O God! The Paphlagonian's coming out!
[Enter Paphlagon, threateningly through the centre door.
Paphlagon
By the Twelve Gods, it's coming for you two! Plotting against the People, both of you, [Looking round. For years. . . . That cup too! It's Chalcidian ware; And Chalcis full of treason! I could swear You are in it. . . . Yes, you pair of scoundrels; play No tricks. Your time is up. You'll die to-day. [Offal-monger begins to run away.
Demosthenes
Hi! Stop! Where are you off to? Face the call, Bold Offal-monger. Don't betray us all. [Calling aloud. Horsemen, horsemen, to the rescue! Now's the moment. Simon, you! You Panaetius! Wheeling boldly, close the right wing, and be true. [The Chorus approach on both sides. Here they come. Now charge him home, and now recover; beat him back! See the cloud of dust that's rising? They're just closing to attack. Stop him, stop him, and then chase him. Put him utterly to flight.
[Enter Chorus, as if on horses, one division from Left and one from Right. They chase Paphlagon, who dodges them.
Chorus A
Beat the stick-at-nothing scoundrel whom our horses loathe at sight, Tax-extortor, bribe-extractor, pit and whirlpool of blackmail! Stick-at-nothing! Stick-at-nothing! Many times I tell the tale, For he always sticks at nothing, many times and every day!
Chorus B
Stop him, stop him, and then chase him! Muddle him and block his way! Show you hate him just as we do; fall upon him with a shout; Only mind he doesn't dodge you; well he knows the back way out, The way Eucrates absconded to the husks that set him free.
Paphlagon
[to Chorus A
Ho, my Greybeards of the Assembly, Brethren of the Obols three,
Whom I feed by shouting always, true or false, whatever suits,
Bring me help here! I am assaulted by these vile seditious brutes.
Chorus A
You who grab the public grants and never wait for the division, You who watch the officials' Records, carefully with due precision, Sorting out the ripe, the green, the nearly ripe, until you find Someone who will give no trouble, a good fig with gaping rind;
Chorus B
Hook him with a lying charge; recall him from the Chersonese; Then, while letting loose the tough ones, masticate him at your ease. Just the same with private persons, anyone of lamblike mood, Rich, good-natured, shy of law-courts—nab him; he's your destined food.
Paphlagon
[to Chorus B
Gentlemen, you mean to join them? For your sake I'm suffering this.
I was going to move a motion, here on the Acropolis,
To commemorate your valour by a monument on high.
Chorus A
Humbug! Wriggler! Us his Greybeards? Soothe us so? He'd better try!
This way round he may elude us. Well, we'll catch him that way round.[Pg 39 270-281]
If through arms and hands he dodges, legs can bring him to the ground.
Paphlagon
O Democracy! O Athens! What wild beasts besausage me!
Chorus B
Shouting! That's the way he always deafens the democracy. If you beat our man in shouting, you can wear a crown of flowers; But if his cool cheek out-cheeks you, that's enough; the cake is ours.
Paphlagon
I inform against this person. I have known him to export Gadgets for the Spartan Navy, strong foods of a soupish sort.
Offal-monger
Him too; I inform against him! To his front-row banquet seat He goes running empty-bellied, and comes out again replete.
Demosthenes
Yes, and with such food in war time! Beef and wheat bread, and a dish Even Pericles was never granted, slices of prime fish!
Paphlagon
Oh, death is coming to you two.
Offal-monger
I'll thunder twice as loud as you.
Paphlagon
I'll outshout you, shout for shout.
Offal-monger
Yell for yell, I'll yell you out!
Paphlagon
As war leader I'll prove you slack.
Offal-monger
I'll cut my dogsmeat from your back.
Paphlagon
I'll promise twice as much as you.
Offal-monger
I'll hinder all you try to do.
Paphlagon
Dare to face me and not shrink.
Offal-monger
I'm market-born. I never blink.
Paphlagon
You're for the dustbin if you squeak!
Offal-monger
The dung-heap if you try to speak!
Paphlagon
You daren't confess you steal; I do.
Offal-monger
By Hermes of the Market Square, I openly, in public view, Steal, and deny I'm stealing. There!
Paphlagon
That's just a trick from me you got. I'll warn the Customs of that lot, By you imported, But unreported, Of Sacred Sausage, pot on pot!
Chorus
Deeply stained, foul of smell, Screamer, with your cheek and jaw All this land's borders swell, Every council, every law, Every tax, every court. Mud you stir of every sort, You whose words perturbate And be-muddle all our state.
Leader
You whose voice has made all Athens deaf while on the rocks you stand, Watching for the shoals of tribute, to harpoon them as they land.
Paphlagon
I know how this job was patched up out of old conspiracies.
Offal-monger
Patched up? If you don't know patching, then I don't know sausages. Well you patch your rotten cow-hides, slice them, set them out for sale To the back-bush folk, all doctored slyly to look stout and hale, And before two days of wearing they'll be larger by a span.
Demosthenes
Yes, I know; that's just how I was cheated by this cobbler man. When I bought some, all the neighbours laughed to see me, and, by Zeus! Long before I reached my garden I was swimming in the shoes.
Chorus
Brazen-face, how well you've worshipped, from your earliest tradition, Brass, the true protecting angel of the rising politician, While the son of Hippodamus, watching, is dissolved in tears. By Her help you've skinned the Allies, plucking every tree that bears, But, oh, we've got a man at last, Thank goodness, with a murkier past, He'll outstrip you, baulk you, trip you; so much anyone can see, With humbug and bamboozling tricks and multiplex rascality.
Leader
Fruit of the mud that makes men "Men," the "Men" we're really needing, Come, show what nonsense it all is, this talk of decent breeding.
Offal-monger
Yes, that I will. I'll show you what he is. We'll have a showdown.
Paphlagon
Allow me!
Offal-monger
No, I claim that I'm your equal, just as low down
As you.
Leader
And if he questions that, explain so was your father.
Paphlagon
Allow me!
Offal-monger
No, by Zeus!
Paphlagon
By Zeus, allow me. . . .
Offal-monger
No, I'd rather
Fight to a finish for the right to have the first audition;
You shan't speak first.
Paphlagon
Oh, I shall burst!
Offal-monger
No, I refuse permission.
Leader
Oh, no, no, if he wants to burst, by all means let him, let him!
Paphlagon
What moves the man? To face my frown what wild hope can have set him?
Offal-monger
I too can speak, and make strong sauce for multitudes to guzzle.
Paphlagon
To speak! I'd like to see you face some unexpected puzzle, Treat it straight off, just as it came, a mess uncooked and bloody. I'll tell you what's the great mistake, with you and everybody; You have a suit against some licensed alien; by much nursing And monologuing in the street, and all night long rehearsing, Drinking cold water, showing off, and plaguing all who know you, You win, and then think you can speak! How blinded! I could show you!
Offal-monger
And what have you been drinking, that you dare to keep the nation Silent, by you and none but you be-talked into stagnation?
Paphlagon
By none but me? Well, who could do as I do? Who could swallow Like me some pounds of tunny-steak, with quarts of wine to follow, Unmixed, and then to Pylos turn and send the generals packing?
Offal-monger
I can! I'll guzzle beef and pork, a cow's paunch with a backing Of haggis, drink the broth of it, then, without washing, splutter Loud words at all the speakers, and put Nicias in a flutter.
Demosthenes
There's one thing there I can't approve, though liking all the rest of it; You keep the state-soup to yourself and swallow all the best of it.
Paphlagon
You can't eat great sea-pike and then confound Milesian generals.
Offal-monger
No, I'll eat ribs of beef and then buy up the mines and minerals.
Paphlagon
I'll sweep the Council; I'll be quick behind you if you're first in.
Offal-monger
I'll use your skin as a balloon and blow it up to bursting.
Paphlagon
I'll drag you out then by the tail—out backwards, bending double.
Demosthenes
Poseidon, if you trouble him, from me too you'll have trouble. . . .
Paphlagon
I'll have you in the pillory tied.
Offal-monger
For cowardice first I'll run you in.
Paphlagon
I'll bind a footstool with your hide.
Offal-monger
I'll make a thief's bag of your skin.
Paphlagon
I'll lay you down and pin you out.
Offal-monger
I'll make good cats-meat of your snout.
Paphlagon
I'll tear the lashes from your eyes.
Offal-monger
Your gizzard I will surgeonize.
Demosthenes
By Zeus, then, like a skilful cook Inside your mouth I'll fix a hook, And pull your tongue out from inside, And when I've got you opened wide I'll make a thorough search to look, Is your appendix scarified.
Chorus
There can be, then, a fiercer flame Than fire; there can be yet a word More daring and more dead to shame Than even Athenian ears have heard. Hard war it is, what'er befall; Go at him, harass him and trip; Be satisfied with nothing small; At last you have him on the hip. Just smooth him out and use your art[Pg 49 388-401] To work him softer in your hold; You'll find that he's a coward at heart, Do I not know his ways of old?
Offal-monger
Still the same; he's never changed his pattern since his life began; Went and stole another's harvest, and so proved that he's a "Man," And the wheat-ears he imported from that harvest in his bale He's still keeping parched in prison, and still offering them for sale.
Paphlagon
You can't hurt me while the Council listens to my words, and while Still the great blank face of Demos sits there with its booby smile.
Chorus
Changing not, what'er betide, Changing never, cold or hot, Brazen-cheeked, un-blushing-eyed, Creature, if I hate you not, Make of me a floor-mat in Cratînus' bedroom, yes, or worse, Make me learn to sing a part in Morsimus's tragic verse! O percher on blossoms, O bird that can find[Pg 50 402-416] Always and everywhere peckings of plunder, May you soon with the same easy absence of mind Vomit everything up as you smuggled it under; Oh, then we shall sing no song but one, "Drink, drink, for the deed is done!" And that old poet of the isles will eye his wheaten crackers, And dance a paean of delight and shout a double Bacchus.
Paphlagon
If ever your sheer shamelessness beats mine, you pair deluded, The Holies of the market-place may treat me as excluded!
Offal-monger
Now by the bruising and the clouts that formed my education From childhood on, with sundry stabs of knives for extra ration, With such a training can't I beat him? Certainly I'm able; So big I've grown, just fed on crumbs and leavings from the table.
Paphlagon
On table-leavings, like a dog? How then, for all your prattle, You fool, can you expect to face the Dog-Baboon in battle?
Offal-monger
Oh, I have other dodges too. My tricks will never falter.
I had one that would always cheat the cooks about the altar.
"Look, lads! A swallow! Spring has come!" I'd say,
"It's well worth looking"
And look they would, and I'd annex whatever meat was cooking.
Demosthenes
A clever bit of flesh yourself! That was the line to follow. Like nettle-gatherers in the spring, you "Stole before the swallow."
Offal-monger
They noticed nothing; or at worst, if anyone did spot it,
I squeezed the stuff between my hams, and swore I hadn't got it!
[Showing his hands.
And one high politician said, who saw what I was doing,
"This child is born for office in the high craft he's pursuing."
Demosthenes
He saw the point at once. Indeed his own experience told it. You swear you haven't touched a thing, and teach your hams to hold it.
Paphlagon
I'll make you, yes, the two of you, by Zeus, repent your daring When once I rise like a strong wind, tempestuous and blaring, And fall upon you with a blast confounding earth and ocean.
Offal-monger
I'll take a reef in; then I'll set my sausage-sails in motion, Out on the current, down the wind, away, and leave you wailing.
Demosthenes
And if you spring a leak, I'm there, to look after the baling.
Paphlagon
That mass of public funds; . . .
Demosthenes
Look out, the gale is getting warmer.
Paphlagon
I swear shall not remain unknown . . .
Demosthenes
That smells of the informer.
Paphlagon
I know you got ten talents from that Potidaean riot.
Offal-monger
All right. Suppose I give you one? You'll take it and keep quiet?
Demosthenes
He'll take it like a shot, I guess, So loose the sheets. The wind is less.
Paphlagon
You'll have to meet four separate lines Of fraud, with hundred-talent fines.
Offal-monger
And what of your court martials, twenty? And simple thefts—Oh, hundreds, plenty!
Paphlagon
I'll prove you, beyond doubt, to be Of that attainted family, Who wronged Athena's sanctuary, The outcast Alcmaeonidae.
Offal-monger
Your grandfather—I know, has been The confidential tanner to . . .
Paphlagon
Impossible! To what? To who?
Offal-monger
To Byrsinê! the tyrant's Queen.
Paphlagon
You rogue!
Offal-monger
You stick-at-nothing, you!
Demosthenes
Have at him now!
Paphlagon
Good God! They mean To beat me, these intriguers do!
Demosthenes
Have at him! Beat him to his knees With haggis-bags and sausages, Let his inside be well supplied With sound regrets and penances!
Leader
All hail to you, O man of guts, and spirit past all prizing,
A star to Athens and her sons amid our darkness rising.
How well you meet him, word for word, exact in perfect measure,[Pg 55 459-470]
What thanks or praises can we find to pay you for this pleasure?
Paphlagon
O Mother Earth, I've long known, I'm not blind, You've had for years this web of plots outlined And fastened like a plan with glue and pin.
Offal-monger
Your goings-on in Argos! All to win Argive support? No, just a ruse, say I, For talks with enemy agents on the sly.
Demosthenes
[To Offal-monger God bless my soul, have you no similes, No breezy tradesman's metaphors like his?
Offal-monger
I know the anvil it's all tempered on, And hammered. It's those prisoners that he won.
Demosthenes
Good! Good! Your hammer can defeat his glue.
Offal-monger
And men from the other side are hammering too. I warn you well, no gold or silver bright, Nor secret visits from your friends by night Shall muzzle me or win me to withhold This that I know. All Athens shall be told!
Paphlagon
No, that's my job. This moment I shall go Straight to the Council. There, I'll let them know Your work; the midnight gatherings you lead; Your parleys with the Persian and the Mede, Your projects curdling all Boeotia through. . . .
Offal-monger
Boeotian cheese? What price a pound or two?
Paphlagon
By Heracles, this time I'll have you floored!
[Paphlagon rushes out.
Demosthenes
Bring out whatever treasure you've got stored Of nerve or wit! Perhaps you've kept it hid Between your hams, the way you said you did? Now run like lightning to the Council-place. He's there already, and will heap disgrace On all of us and shout. . . . Oh, how he'll shout!
Offal-monger
Just as I am I'll go. Let me put out
These haggises and knives, and leave them here.
[He does so.
Demosthenes
Take some of this. Anoint your neck and ear, Make them too slippery for his lies to grip.
Offal-monger
Well said! Yes, that's a true professional tip.
Demosthenes
Some garlick too. Quick, snap it up.
Offal-monger
What for?
Demosthenes
Cocks fight their best when garlicked to the core. Be off now!
Offal-monger
Off I go.
Demosthenes
Think well how best
To bite him, trip him, throw him, peck his crest
And eat his wattles—and come home to rest!
[Exit Offal-monger accompanied by Demosthenes.
Chorus
Goodwill go with you, and fortunes fair, On every side, to fulfil my prayer. The God of the Market be ever your guide To battle abroad victorious, And then back home to return in pride All crown-bespangled and glorious. And you, our friends, who yourselves have wooed The changeful Muse in her every mood, Give to our song an attention shrewd But friendly and uncensorious.
Parabasis
If one of the comedy-writers of old had tried to persuade us Knights To appear on these boards reciting his words we'd have said he exceeded his rights. But our poet to-day has deserved our support and we'll do what he asks us to do. He befriends us by hating the people we hate, by daring to speak what is true, And boldly confronting the Dragon himself and the hurricane rage in his eyes. Now he tells us that dozens of people have come to see him, and asked in surprise Why he never makes claim in his own proper name for a licence to put on a play; So he sends us to-day to explain to you here why he does so. He wishes to say That this state of his mind doesn't mean that he's blind;[Pg 59 515-530] it is really because he insists That producing a comedy is on the whole the most difficult art that exists; Such a multitude woos that particular Muse, and her smiles are bestowed on so few. Then your taste has been always an annual plant and quick-perishing; all this he knew. He remembered what happened to Magnes so soon as the grey hairs started to show, Though he, above all competition, had won first prizes in show after show. All colours he had, and all musical notes with his harps and his flutter of wings, His Lydian thrums and his gad-fly hums, and that frog that turns green as he sings. Yet it wasn't enough; there was one cloudy day in his age—in his prime there was none— When you hissed the old grey-headed man from the stage: because somehow he flagged in his fun. He remembered Cratînus in earlier times, with applause all round in a flood; How torrent-like over the level he poured and tore up the trees as they stood, Oaks, plane-trees and enemies, up with them all, and out, with a laugh and a thud. There was no song sung but "O magical 'touch,' O tip of a golden shoe," And "Planters of delicate palms, well-oiled," so wide his influence flew. But now, when you see him havering round,[Pg 60 531-545] you show him no pity or ruth, When the pegs of his lyre are all falling out and his tone has forgotten its truth, And the joints are all gaping apart, and, himself white-haired, he wanders about, Like poor old Connos, a faded crown on his head, and dying of drought. Why, he ought for the sake of his triumphs of old to drink deep at the Prytany feast, And not drone on the stage, but sit polished and brushed in the front row, beside the High Priest. And Crates again, what tempers of yours he endured, what explosions of bile, Whose exquisite luncheons, at little expense, sent everyone home with a smile, To enjoy the most choice of original points pronounced by the driest of lips; He alone held out to the end, if indeed he did, with occasional slips. It was this sort of thing made our poet hold back. And besides, he thought it was clear That a man must first learn how to row at his oar before ever attempting to steer; Then again, learn how to keep watch at the bow, and study the ways of the winds; And then at last captain a craft of his own. So, bearing all this in your minds, That our man is discreet, and not one of the sort that bursts in and fumbles and faddles, Come, churn up the surge and speed him ahead[Pg 61 546-568] with a good baker's dozen of paddles. Let our festival gaiety gallantly run Till he feel in his heart that his purpose is won And depart in grace With a smile on his face And a brow shining bright in the sun.
Hymn to Poseidon, patron of the Knights.
Lord of the horse, Poseidon, sweet To thee is the noise of galloping feet, The neighing of steeds and the galleons fleet Blue-prowed and tribute-bearing; And the chariot-strife of lads who race To win with triumph a glorious place Or fail—with a burst of swearing. Come to our dances, O Dolphin-king, O Golden Trident, to whom we sing At Sunion, aye and Geraistos' crest, Thou Cronos-Born, by Athenians blest, Rewarder of Phormio's daring. Now we wish to speak the praises of our fathers; men they were Worthy of the land they lived in and the festal Robe we bear; Far and wide they fought their battles, on dry land and armèd hull, Victory after victory reaped and made our city's records full. None of them who on the waters saw an enemy's ensign fly[Pg 62 569-584] Ever thought of counting numbers; "At them!" was the only cry. And on land too, if some rider from his charger chanced to fall, With bruised back he rubbed the place and, swearing he'd not fallen at all, Just fought on. Ah, then no soldier cried for public recognition And free food, or clustered round this man's papa with a petition. Now, unless they get free rations and high seats in the front row, They refuse to fight, these soldiers! Well, we Knights, we gladly go, Not for any pay but honour, Athens and her gods to save. That's enough. Ah yes, beyond it just one little thing we crave, Don't, if ever wars are finished, hate us in that peaceful scene Just because our hair is barbered and our bodies are scraped clean!
Hymn to Athena, patron of all Athens
Protectress Pallas, thine ear incline; List to a city for ever thine, For ever faithful in things divine, Of cities the first and fairest[Pg 63 585-604] In warfare, aye, and in poetry, And power to be more than now we see; O thou that our peril sharest, Bring with thee Victory, her whose light Guides us ever in march or fight; Join with her in our dance's flow, With her be ours against every foe; Now, now, is the time to show Thy power and the gift thou bearest. Next about our friends, the horses, we must tell you what we know. Well do they deserve our praises. They have shared from long ago So much of our serious business, first the invasions, then the fights. But we're not so much astonished by their work on land; by rights It's the way they manned the transports, at a run; and duly brought "Dinner bowls, one; onions, many; heads of garlic, quite a lot." In they jumped and gripped the paddles just as we poor mortals do, Pulled their weight and neighed and snorted; "Hwynnh'm, who's for rowing, who?" "Grip there! What do you think you're doing? Pull your weight, you Sigma-brand!" Out they leapt again at Corinth, and the young ones in the sand Dug with hoofs rough beds to sleep in, and in search[Pg 64 605-617] for forage good, Since there was no decent clover, took the little crabs for food. Some they'd dig for under water, some above the sand they'd nab, Till Theôrus heard a whimper from some poor Corinthian crab. "O Poseidon! This is awful! We can find no trick nor force, Dry as sand or wet as water, to shake off this Attic horse." [Re-enter Offal-monger.
Leader
All hail, O comrade! Hail, most dashing blade! How anxious we have been! But now you've made A safe return. How has the battle ended?
Offal-monger
Hail me as Council-King, surnamed The Splendid!
Chorus
Then now hurrah, hurrah! We all can shout it with a will.
Your words are lovely, but the deeds you do are lovelier still.
Go over the whole thing again. I'd run a mile to hear you.[Pg 65 618-646]
And never fear to speak your mind. We're all on fire to cheer you.
Offal-monger
Indeed it is a tale worth listening to. Close on the fellow's heels from here I flew, But ere I reached the chamber, there was he Like a volcano, raging thunderously Against the Knights; spoke of "Conspirators" And "Gulfs" and "Crags," with such seductive force They sat amazed, their eyes mustard-and-fire, Their wild suspicions climbing high and higher, Like bean-stalks, and their brows all fiercely knit. So, when I saw that they were swallowing it Like milk and taking all his lies for true, I prayed: "O gods of Humbug, Bugaboo, O Blarney, Boozlebam and Horsemarines, O Market-place, sole teacher of my teens, Grant me a nimble tongue, a brazen cheek, A shameless voice!" I had just begun to speak That prayer when on my right a fat man sneezed! So I saluted. With one shove I eased The lintel door, pressed in and, opening wide My mouth and shouting, "Councillors!" I cried, "Good news! Good news! And I am the first man To bring it. Never since the war began Have I such sprats in the Piraeus seen; And cheap!" At that they smoothed their faces clean From troubles, and then voted me a crown[Pg 66 647-673] As bringer of Good News, and I put down A motion—confidential, to be told Them only—to buy up all dishes sold In pottery shops and so bring down the price Of sprats. At that they cheered me to the skies, And hung upon my words. So Paphlagon, Well knowing how the Council's heart is won, Proposed a motion; "Gentlemen," he said, "For this good fortune let due thanks be paid, A hundred beeves to the Goddess." So that brought The Council round to him. Those beeves, I thought, Have got me beaten. So, before he knew, I trumped his hundred by proposing two, And after that a vow to Artemis, When once the price of sprats and anchovies Falls to one groat a hundred, to assign A thousand kids. At that all ears were mine. So then he lost his head, did Paphlagon, And tried to interrupt and was moved on By chairmen and police, and all the crowd Was standing up and arguing long and loud About the sprats. And he "One moment more," Kept havering, "just one moment, I implore; A herald's message I must introduce From Sparta, with proposals for a truce." Then all the Council with one voice began Shouting "A truce? Of course! Yes, my good man, They know about our sprats. They've had the tip. We need no truces now. Let the war rip!" They shouted for the Chairman to declare[Pg 67 674-693] The Council closed, and vaulted everywhere Over the rails. I knew what they would need, And bought up all the coriander seed And herbs in the market. Then as relishes I doled them out for sprats and anchovies, Free, gratis and for nothing. Wildly they Applauded and hurrahed me on my way. Thus with a pinch of coriander seed I have made the Council mine in word and deed.
Chorus
Always in luck, by hit on hit, You show you're Fortune's favourite. Our schemer now has met a schemer With ways still trickier and extremer, More adept in rascalities, More varied and more wide In pretexts and realities Of cunning rarefied. But don't think all is over yet; Keep up the fight, and don't forget That, ever since the lists were set, The Knights are on your side.
Offal-monger
Indeed, yes; but he is coming. Here he is, A great dull wave of storms and menaces Rolling before him. Will the ruffian try To drink my blood? Boo for his cheek, say I. [Enter Paphlagon.[Pg 68 694-705]
Paphlagon
Unless my old tricks fail me, may I burst In pieces, but I vow I'll kill you first!
Offal-monger
I enjoy your threats, I mock your bugaboo, I dance a jolly jig and sing Cuckoo!
Paphlagon
By Earth! If I don't eat you raw and give This land good riddance—Oh, I cannot live!
Offal-monger
You'll eat me, will you? Well, I'll swallow you In big gulps, though it burst me so to do.
Paphlagon
Now, by my Seat of Honour, Pylos-won . . .
Offal-monger
Your seat of Honour! It will be some fun To see you back to the last benches driven.
Paphlagon
I'll tie you in the stocks, I will by Heaven!
Offal-monger
What temper! Come now, what'll you have for sauce? And what for the main dish? I think a purse.
Paphlagon
I'll tear you open till your entrails spout.
Offal-monger
I'll scoop your Prytanean banquets out.
Paphlagon
I'll charge you in Demos' court, and make you pay.
Offal-monger
No, I'll charge you and lie some bolder way.
Paphlagon
Rascal, he won't believe your calumnies, While I can fool him any way I please.
Offal-monger
You are very sure he just belongs to you!
Paphlagon
I know what food he is accustomed to.
Offal-monger
You do, and like a bad nurse, feed him wrong; Take all his food, and when you've chewed it long, Give him one bit and swallow twice as much.
Paphlagon
If so, my knowledge of the man is such, He shuts up or stays open, as I please.
Offal-monger
My mouth can do that, so astute it is.
Paphlagon
You think you beat me in the Council Hall; He'll never think so. Come now, let us call On Demos.
Offal-monger
No objection here. Proceed;
Let nothing stop us.
Paphlagon
[Turning to the House. Demos, ho! We need Your presence here.
Offal-monger
Yes, father. Please come out.
Paphlagon
Yes, old man; dear old man, come! Hear about The outrageous insults that I've had to bear.
[The Central Door opens, and Demos comes out.
Demos
What's all that noise? Please leave my doorway clear. You've spoilt my olive-branch. (Looking at it) That's a clean break. Well, Paphlagon, who has wronged you?
Paphlagon
For your sake
I am bruised by him and his young bloods.
Demos
What for?
Paphlagon
Demos, because I am your friend; nay, more, Your lover.
Demos
Yes. And (to Offal-monger) who on earth are you?
Offal-monger
A rival for your heart, a lover true.
Long have I wished your happiness to plan,
And with me many an honest gentleman,
But we are all hindered by this man. For, like[Pg 72 736-749]
Some reigning beauty, you must always strike
Away men of good breeding, and affix
Your faith on spivs who sell you candlesticks,
Shoes, leather, raw hides. . . .
Paphlagon
Yes, for good works done
To state and Demos.
Offal-monger
Good works? Mention one.
Paphlagon
Pylos. I saw the generals were slack, Sailed there myself and brought the prisoners back.
Offal-monger
I found a pot cooked by another man, Full of good food, and off with it I ran.
Paphlagon
Please, Demos, call a meeting now, to test Which of us claimants really serves you best; Then you can choose your friend.
Offal-monger
Yes, do, and fix
The thing past doubt. . . . But, please, not on the Pnyx!
Demos
There is no other place where I could sit. The meeting is there, and you'll both come to it.
Offal-monger
Plague take it, then I'm done! The old man here At home has brains exceptionally clear, But seat him once upon that rock, he sits Mouth-open, blind, like one who has lost his wits.
Chorus
Ah, now, my friend, it's time to spread All the sail you carry, And keep a fighting soldier's head And strokes that none can parry, If you're to get the best of him, For oh, the man is cunning; He'd slip through any prison cell; So up, my friend, and face him well, With shining sky and favouring swell, Attack and set him running!
Leader
Be well on your guard; be ready in time, before he can close to attack, To run your longboat alongside and hang out your dolphins to drop on his back.
Paphlagon
Now to our Lady, Athena, the Blest, whose arm our city defends, I pray that if truly to Demos himself I have been the most faithful of friends, Then, next after Lysicles and his hareem, I be granted a seat in row one, Of the Prytany Banquet, the same as to-day, in return for the nothing I've done. If not, if I don't fight for no one but you, and protect you from any mishaps, Then may I be slaughtered and severed in two and cut into chariot straps!
Offal-monger
And I, if I don't give you help as a friend, and attend to you more like a son, Just mince me in trimmings! Is that not enough? Ought anything more to be done? Then grate me up here on this board, to be served in a salmagundi with cheese, And for burial, drag me away to the grave with a flesher's hook under my knees!
Paphlagon
And how, among all public men except me, could you find such an absolute friend? Didn't I, when I used in the Council to sit, hand out to you funds without end, By the art of the squeeze and the twist and the rack,[Pg 75 775-786] and blackmail in varieties, too? Not caring how mere private citizens squealed if I just gave pleasure to you?
Offal-monger
Good Demos, there's not much glory in that. It's a path I can easily tread. Light-heartedly picking up other men's loaves, I'll provide your table with bread. That creature your friend and true-hearted! I'll show that he's neither. His real desire Is simply to warm his own hands; that is why he goes piling the logs on your fire. It was you that at Marathon battled amain and played with the Persian at swords, And, conquering, gave all our speakers the chance to gargle with mountainous words; Yet here, without ever a thought, he has left you to sit on the cold, hard stone, While I—pray, rise!—for your comfort have brought a new cushion, skilfully sewn, That She who at Salamis rubbed on the bench may never have blisters again. [He places the cushion for Demos.
Demos
O man, who are you? A fruit, can it be, of the high Harmodian strain? My soul, it's the deed of a generous man and a friend[Pg 76 787-796] to democracy true.
Paphlagon
Good God! Are such paltry attentions enough to win
the man over to you?
Offal-monger
Well, weren't your baits still meaner than these when
you caught him and made him your friend?
Paphlagon
I'll stake my head that there never has been a man so strong to defend The Demos in battle against all odds as I, or to love him so dear.
Offal-monger
A queer sort of love, when you don't care a jot at compelling him year after year To keep on living in upturned casks and shacks and holes in the dust, Just prisoned like bees to be robbed at your ease. You rejected in utter disgust The peace that Archeptolemos brought; and when there's an embassy here Proposing a truce, you whisk it away straight off with a flea in its ear.
Paphlagon
Till over all Hellas our Demos is King! For doesn't the oracle say, "In Arcadia too he shall sit as a judge, with five good obols for pay?" If he'll only be patient whatever occurs, as his servant and friend I'll engage For ever in some sound blackguardly way, to provide his regular wage.
Offal-monger
To make Demos a king of Arcadia, pish! No such dream dazzles your eyes, But to see that your own extortions keep up and you "gifts" from the frightened Allies. While, what with the war and the mist all around, poor Demos can't see what you do, And poverty, need, and the thought of his pay, make him listen to no one but you. If he ever gets home to his farm and to peace, and has long, calm mornings to live, And with good wheat porridge his vigour restores and can take what the olive cakes give, When at last he has learnt what real good things your juryman juggle has lost him, He'll return a rude rustic intent on a vote to destroy you, whatever it cost him, You know it, and that's why you keep him deceived with your self-dreams and visions of power.
Paphlagon
It is really too bad that this man should go on and discredit me hour after hour In the eyes of all Athens and Demos himself, when the city from me has received More service, more wonders of service, I vow, than Themistocles ever achieved.
Offal-monger
"O city of Argos, just list to the man!" You make yourself rival to him Who found our city with glories half-full, and left her complete to the brim, And stuck on a new Piraeus as well, to serve as her breakfast-time toast, And added the fish of a new-found sea, while none of the old was lost! Whereas you make us men of a mean little town with your oracles bogus or true, And your "quarters walled in" and your "quarters walled off," a pretty Themistocles you! Yet you wipe your fingers on prime white bread, while he lies in banishment still.
Paphlagon
O Demos, it's monstrous to suffer this man to go
trampling on me at his will
Just because I'm your friend.
Demos
Stop there as you are! No more of this flinging of dirt! Why, even as it is, it's a mighty long time you've been hoodwinking me to my hurt.
Offal-monger
Yes, Demos, old friend, he's a rascal and more, Whenever you yawn he does mischief galore, When our Archons' accounts are put to the vote The juiciest bits go down this fellow's throat; While he plunges both hands in the national trusts, Which he uses as gravy to sop up his crusts.
Paphlagon
You'll suffer for this! I'll bring you to grief, You thirty-thousand-drachmae thief!
Offal-monger
Why splash and splutter and beat the sea? Your record's as dark as dark can be On the books of Pallas Athene. And I'll soon make clear to the public eye— Yes, by Demeter, or let me die!— Those forty hundreds you had on the sly As a "gift" from wrecked Mitylene!
Chorus
O, aren't you come to all mankind a comfort and a blessing! I envy you that nimble tongue. Why, if you keep on pressing, You'll soon be the first man in Greece; you'll dictate every motion In Athens, and your Trident rule the Allies o'er the ocean. Well-managed crises and alarms will reap you harvests golden, But now he's given you such a hold, be sure you keep him holden. You'll easily outdo the man, your ribs have such a hide on.
Paphlagon
Oh, things are not at that pass yet, no, by your own Poseidon! I have one record that's enough to silence all complaining, While of the Shields at Pylos won there's still a plate remaining.
Offal-monger
Stop there! No more about the Shields. You've given me such a handle
If you would pose as Demos' friend, I call it just a scandal
Deliberately to leave those Shields with straps on, fit for battle.[Pg 81 849-863]
Demos, the thing's a plot; to keep you all like helpless cattle
Unarmed. If ever need should come to examine and confound him,
Think what a serried mass he's got of young bloods all around him.
Tanners, cheese-dealers, bee-keepers, who all live near the tanners,
So, if you once begin to growl and look like "playing banners,"
At dead of night they'll seize the Shields, and arm and take their station
At the entrance of the corn exchange, to quell you by starvation.
Demos
Those Shields have still their handles on? My stars! You politician! Your frauds upon the public have too long been our perdition.
Paphlagon
Good Heavens, man, don't be a prey to every new informer. I am here, your friend. You'll never find a truer heart or warmer. I mastered the conspirators. I watch for every gathering Of secret forces in the state and instantly . . .
Offal-monger
Go blathering!
Like eel-fishers; with water clear they know they'll have no catches
But once they make it thick with mud, the eels come up in batches.
So you make profits while you keep the land in troubled weather.
Now, answer one small point; have you, with all your stocks of leather,
Given to this Demos, whom you love so truly, have you ever
Given one patch to mend his shoes?
Demos
No, by Poseidon, never!
Offal-monger
Does that not show you what he is? Now, I, I've brought a faring
For you, and here it is; new shoes for your immediate wearing.
(Gives the shoes)
Demos
By Zeus, of all the friends I've known I reckon you the surest, And toward the city and her toes your loyalty the purest!
Paphlagon
It's shocking that two shoes should have effects so deleterious, And make people forget my works, so helpful and so serious. I stopped the Sodomites, and swept away a Certain Person. . . .
Offal-monger
Why do you want to poke your nose in dirt, and try to worsen What's bad? Why need you touch that scum? No doubt you'd feel much easier Without them. They so well might be your rivals in the Ecclesia. You've seen your Demos tunicless, at his age, exposed fully To winter winds, and never thought he needs one, warm and woolly, With two good sleeves (wraps Demos in tunic) like this I bring to wrap you; is it pleasant?
Demos
Why, not Themistocles himself gave Athens such a present. Of course, to build Piraeus was quite clever; that was his gift; Original, but hardly more original than this gift.
Paphlagon
Confound it, what vile monkey-tricks the fellow keeps devising!
Offal-monger
I use your own: I'm like a guest who, suddenly uprising At night to go outside the house may take his neighbour's slippers.
Paphlagon
In small attentions anyhow I'll suffer no outstrippers.
I'll wrap him in this extra cloak; (takes off his own cloak)
and you go hang, you sinner!
Demos
Ugh! Ugh! Get out! It smells! It's like the workshop of a skinner.
Offal-monger
He wrapped you round on purpose with that stuff to get you strangled. He has tried before. You know those stalks of silphium that he dangled Before all eyes so strangely cheap?
Demos
I know.
Offal-monger
You know the action
Of silphium? Well, he hoped the crowd of judges on their benches
Would murder one another by their massed and mutual stenches.
Paphlagon
What low buffooneries you use to beat down my defences!
Offal-monger
The Goddess bids me beat you in your game of false pretences.
Paphlagon
Beat me you shan't!—Good Demos, here, well cooked in all its stages, I bring you, for no work at all, a soup-plate-full of wages.
Offal-monger
And, look, for your poor legs, I've brought this little alabaster To cover those sore places, with a soft emollient plaster.
Paphlagon
I'll pluck your grey hairs, one by one, and leave you young and blooming.
Offal-monger
A hare's foot, see, for your poor eyes, if ever they want grooming.
Paphlagon
Come, blow your nose, great Demos; there! Now wipe your fingers on my hair.
Offal-monger
No, mine!
Paphlagon
No, mine! Well I don't care. I tell you what I'll do to you. I'll get you nominated to Command a trireme at your own Expense. I'll find an ancient one, That never lets you rest from cost Of maintenance and fresh repairs, And make it first of all my cares To see you get a rotten mast!
Offal-monger
The Paphlagon's gone paffling; Stop! He's boiling over. Save him, pray. Take all those burning logs away And skim the curses from on top!
Paphlagon
I'll make you bleed for words like these. When surtax gives the final squeeze, I'll have you registered, you dog; In the High Income catalogue.
Offal-monger
I make no threats of what I'll do. I merely make this prayer for you. I pray above your coals a dish May stand of hissing cuttle-fish, While you have got to make that day A speech about Miletus (pay One talent, if the cause is won) And you are hoping you can fill Your paunch with cuttle-fish and still Be there in time, when in they run To fetch you, and in fear to lose The hope you cherish Of that dear talent, in a rush You swallow all that boiling mush And choking, perish!
Chorus
Well said, by Zeus, Apollo and Demeter!
Demos
Yes, so say I. This fellow is no mean Statesman. Why, not for ages has there been One more exactly suited to the mind[Pg 88 945-956] Of patriots of the penny-a-dozen kind. You with your shows of friendship, Paphlagon, Have angered me. Give back that signet-stone. You are no more my steward. (Paphlagon gives back the ring.)
Paphlagon
There! But mind,
If you don't stick to me, you'll only find
Another much the same but not so nice.
Demos
This ring here can't be mine. The whole device Looks to me different. I don't clearly see . . .
Offal-monger
Here, let me look. What ought the sign to be?
Demos
A beefy roll of proletarian fat.
Offal-monger
That isn't on it.
Demos
Not the roll? Then what?
Offal-monger
A stuffed gull making speeches on a rock.
Demos
Ugh! Ugh!
Offal-monger
What's up?
Demos
It gave me quite a shock. Take it away! That ring was never mine. The stuffed gull is Cléonymus's sign. [To the Offal-monger. Take my true ring. Be you my minister!
Paphlagon
O Demos, please not yet! Not till you hear My private oracles!
Offal-monger
All right, mine too!
Paphlagon
His, Demos? But by his you are only due To be a "Hollow skin."
Offal-monger
By yours, without
A skin at all.
Paphlagon
No, you're completely out.
My oracles by fate declare you bound
To reign over all Greece, with roses crowned.
Offal-monger
And mine, that robed in purple, fold on fold, Spangled and crowned and charioted in gold, You'll rise to prosecute Miss Smikythê.
Leader
Well, fetch your oracles. I'd like to see Him hear them.
Offal-monger
Very good.
Demos
And fetch yours too.
Paphlagon
Agreed!
Offal-monger
Agreed, by Zeus!
Demos
Well, that will do. [Exeunt Paphlagon and Offal-monger.
Chorus
To all who at home in our city stay And all who seek us from far away, How passing sweetly will dawn the day, Which shines on Cleon's confounding; And yet there are people, so I am told, Stiff-grained oddities, cross and old, From the talking-shop where the laws are sold, A different music sounding. Who say if there hadn't a Paphlagon been Two useful objects we never had seen, A ladle for stirring a muddy tureen And a pestle for braying and pounding. This point also may cause surprise, At the swinish style of his ears and eyes; That the other boys at his music school Report that he made it a regular rule, By touching only the tips of a thing To tune his lyre to a tipsy ring, Till the teacher in wrath said "Take him away; There's nothing this boy can learn to play Unless there are tips abounding."
[Re-enter Paphlagon and Offal-monger heavily laden with bundles.
Paphlagon
There, look at mine. And I've not brought them all.
Offal-monger
They'll break my back. And that's not nearly all.
Demos
What's all this?
Paphlagon
Oracles.
Demos
Not all?
Paphlagon
You find
This much? I have a chestful left behind.
Offal-monger
I have an attic and two flats quite full At home.
Demos
What prophet gave your oracle?
Paphlagon
Bakis himself gave mine.
Demos
And yours some other?
Offal-monger
Glanis was mine, Bakis's elder brother.
Demos
What do they deal with?
Paphlagon [Looking over his oracles]
Athens, Pylos, you, And me and . . . Oh, all other subjects too.
Demos
And what are yours?
Offal-monger
Athens, fresh mackerel, Sparta, pease porridge, profiteers who sell Corn in false measure, you, me . . . and he said That Paphlagon may go and boil his head.
Demos
Come, then, suppose you read them out aloud, Especially that one about the cloud I like so much; the one which says that I Shall be an eagle in the cloud on high.
Paphlagon
"Mark, O Erechtheus' son, the deep oracular tones
That call to thee out of the shrine by the line of immaculate thrones,
Bidding thee ever preserve thy watch-dog, faithful and true,[Pg 94 1017-1029]
Keen-toothed, ever agape and agrowl, who with love ever new
Standeth providing thy fees. Though his path be with jealousy crossed
By a thousand croaking daws, preserve him or all shall be lost."
Demos
Daws . . . dogs. . . . By Earth, I don't make sense of it; Both unclean things, the Goddess won't admit . . . Then, daws, dogs, and Erechtheus! They don't fit.
Paphlagon
I am your dog. In your defence I bay. The god bids you preserve me night and day.
Offal-monger
No; this dog twists his text; gnaws it about, As he might gnaw his kennel to get out. I've got the dog-text here, the genuine one.
Demos
Then read it. Meantime I'll pick up a stone; That oracle dog might bite one to the bone!
Offal-monger
"Mark, O Erechtheus' child, that slave-trapping Cerberus hound! Well with his tail he can fawn, but at dinner he loiters around Watching, until some time, when he catches you looking away, He snatches a bit from your plate. And besides that, day after day, Off to the kitchen he goes, and there unseen and in silence Privily gobbles away at dishes and cities and islands."
Demos
That's better, Glanis. Yes, that's something like.
Paphlagon
Listen, old mate! Hear all before you strike! "A woman in Athens the Blest gives birth to a Lion, with eyes Keen for the Demos to fight against armies of poisonous flies. Well he bestrideth his cubs; see therefore thou guard him for good, Building about him towers that are iron and a wall that is wood." You understand that?
Demos
By Apollo, no
I don't.
Paphlagon
He bids you never let me go,
Your one and only lion!
Offal-monger
I see for sure
One thing which this man's trying to obscure,
The only place that is both iron and wood,
In which he bids you keep the lion for good.
Demos
What does it mean, then?
Offal-monger
Why, the pillory,
Wood with five iron holes. There, obviously,
He bids you keep this man.
Demos
I think, don't you,
That oracle may very soon come true?
Paphlagon
Listen not thou. That voice is a raven's envious caw; True to thy falcon abide, who bore thee as prey in his claw One unforgettable prize, those Lacedaemonian chicks.
Offal-monger
That was a mere chance shot of a Paphlagon up to his tricks. "Cecropides ill-counselled, is that so worthy of honour? Burdens a woman can bear if a man just puts them upon her. Fighting is what she can't do. A fight gives a woman a fit."
Paphlagon
"There is Pylos and Pylos awash." You know that oracular bit? "And a yet third Pylos as well. . . ."
Demos
A wet third? I don't understand.
A wet, and a wash and a swell?
Offal-monger
He'll need all the tubs in the land.
Demos
What, all the tubs? No bath for me to-day?
Offal-monger
No hope, the man has taken them all away. Then, here again! Here is an oracle, About the ships, which you must ponder well.
Demos
Well, read it out. I am pondering night and day Where I can find them their arrears of pay.
Offal-monger
"Aligiades, beware of the dog-fox, quick to deceive,
Reynard the silent biter, the swift and clever to thieve."
You see the meaning?
Demos
Well, Philostratus Is a dog-fox.
Offal-monger
No, no. He is warning us How this man's always sending ships to sue The Allies for money. Don't allow him to.
Demos
How does "dog-fox" mean ships?
Offal-monger
Why, ships in flocks Win races; so do dogs.
Demos
But why the fox?
Offal-monger
The foxes are our hungry men at arms Who nibble the green grapes on all the farms.
Demos
Poor foxes! Where am I to get them food?
Offal-monger
Food and "Three days' provisions" I'll make good.
"Hear yet again and be warned; thus speaketh Phoebus Apollo
Lest ye be further deceived, beware of the Hand that is Hollow."
Demos
What's all this about Hollow Hands?
Offal-monger
It is Paphlagon's hand that is meant.
It is held out begging for more, "hollow" always and never content.
Paphlagon
No, no he explains it all wrong. It's a thing we can all understand. Diopeithes the prophet alone has the true "hollow" beggarman's hand. But here is a word about you, an oracle mighty of wing; An eagle, it says, you shall be and govern the earth as a king.
Offal-monger
Mine too says a King; yes, of course, of the earth and the Red Sea too, And sit in Ecbatana judging, with biscuits and honey to chew.
Paphlagon
But I, I have dreamed a dream, where the Goddess herself with a spoon Poured upon Demos's head health, riches and every boon.
Offal-monger
Why, so did I have a dream, where the Goddess herself in state Down from the Citadel came, and her owl on her shoulder sate, Ready to pour on our heads by the bucket, in happy combine, Ambrosial balsam on you and on him mixed garlic and brine.
Demos
Hurrah!
There's no one to touch Glanis for good sense!
[To Offal-monger
I give myself to you in confidence
To guide my old feet and re-educate.
Paphlagon
Not yet, not yet, I implore you! Only wait. I'll keep you in barley, full rate for the day.
Demos
Barley, I hate the name of it!—The way You two have deceived me, you and Theuphanes!
Paphlagon
Pearl-barley, all prepared and sure to please!
Offal-monger
I'll give you cakes, baked to a turn and sweet, With seasoning cooked. Nothing to do but eat!
Demos
Be quick then, both; do what you've got to do. I promise that whichever of you two Shall treat me best shall hold the reins of state.
Paphlagon
I'll get there first!
Offal-monger
Get out! Absquatulate! [Exeunt quarrelling.
Chorus
O Demos, a reign austere At which all men quake and fear, Is yours; you are grown a sheer Totalitarian; But, oh, you are easily led, Flattered and fancy-fed; You believe what the last man said, And your wisdom, if not quite fled, Is a bad absentarian.
Demos
There is no very plenteous share Of brains under your long hair, If you think I am not aware How I founder and flop; I like to doze in the blare Of talk, but am quite all there; I keep one rogue, to care For me and my daily fare, I puff him full up with air; And then make him go pop!
Chorus
Well, that you can safely do, If indeed to your plan you're true; While giving each rogue his due You may carefully feed them Like sheep with the end in view, Till fatted enough to stew, If the food for the day falls through And you happen to need them.
Demos
Just watch me, how warily I twist that whole company Who think to bamboozle me As a fool with no gumption, I watch them, and fee by fee How much they have stolen see; Then tickle them inwardly, By the ballot-vote's surgery Till up comes the whole débris Of their previous consumption. [The two re-enter with large bags, jostling.
Paphlagon
Get out. You block the way.
Offal-monger
No, you, you pest!
Paphlagon
Demos, thrice long ago I have stood here, dressed And ready, to promote your happiness.
Offal-monger
Thrice? I've been ten or twelve times, more or less. Long, long ago, and hundreds of agoes.
Demos (Aside.)
And I some thirty thousand of agoes Have sat here thinking how I loathe these two.
Offal-monger
You know, then, how to act?
Demos
No, tell me you.
Offal-monger
Set us both racing, starting fair from scratch To make you happy.
Demos
Good. Yes. That's a match.
Take places.
Paphlagon
Good.
Demos
Now, off!
Paphlagon
You're fouling me!
[The two go off, and presently return, suiting the action to the word.
Demos
(Aside.) I'm like a beauty dosed with flattery By two young swains. . . . I must assume an air!
Paphlagon
There, Demos, I am first. Here is a chair.
Offal-monger
But not a table. That I am first to bring.
Paphlagon
And here's a barley cake, a delicate thing Made of whole meal, part of the Pylos prize.
Offal-monger
I've brought some special bread-crusts, the right size For soup, shaped by the Goddess' ivory hand.
Demos
What a vast finger, Goddess! That is grand.
Paphlagon
Here's some pea-soup, well coloured; quite first rate. 'Twas stirred by Pallas, Pillar of the Gate.
Offal-monger
Her love for Demos she is revealing now, Wielding her soup-plate high above your brow.
Demos
Well said; where would this sorry land have been Had she not veiled it with her soup tureen?
Paphlagon
The Dread of Armies sends this slice of fish.
Offal-monger
The Daughter of Power sends this boiled meat, this swish Of haggis, paunch and chitterlings, with her love.
Demos
Fair payment for the Robe that Demos wove.
Paphlagon
She of the Gorgon Crest commands you eat This manna-cake; 'twill help to man the fleet.
Offal-monger
All these too!
Demos
What am I to do with these
Mixed entrails?
Offal-monger
Belly-timber; this, she sees,
Is just what's wanted for your ships of war,
She always watches o'er them from afar.
Some wine now; (mixing water into the wine) two to three goes prettily.
Demos [Drinking.
What lovely wine! How well it bears its three!
Offal-monger
Tritonis three-to-twoed it just like that.
Paphlagon
Take now this slice of fish-cake, rich and fat.
Offal-monger
A slice? I give you my whole cake.—So there!
Paphlagon
Ah, see what I've got; here! . . . You can't get hare!
Offal-monger
Confound it, no! Where is there hare for me? . . . My soul, devise me some profundity!
Paphlagon [With his dish of hare.
You see this, you poor devil?
Offal-monger
Much I care.
You see those people coming to me?
Paphlagon
Where?
Offal-monger
Envoys with money bags.
Paphlagon
Where? I must rush.
Offal-monger
What's that to you? They are visitors: don't push.
[While Paphlagon is looking for the Envoys the Offal-monger grabs his dish.
See, Demos, dear; I bring you sumptuous fare.
Paphlagon
Oh damn! You cheat! You've stolen my jugged hare!
Offal-monger
Like you at Pylos. That was just my wish.
Paphlagon
I faced a battle.
Offal-monger
And I a burning dish!
Demos
"How did thy thought to this bold deed incline?"
Offal-monger
"The thought the goddess gave; the grab was mine."
Demos
The prize is his who served the food; that's flat.
Paphlagon
Am I to be outbrazened? . . . Oh, not that!
Offal-monger
Now, Demos, make your choice, which of us two Gives better service to your paunch and you.
Demos
Well, how am I to judge? I want a test That everyone will recognize as best.
Offal-monger
I'll tell you. Take my bag and look inside Then have a look at his, and so decide.
Demos
Well, I'll look first at yours.—It's empty! What?
Offal-monger
Yes, grandfather, I gave you all I'd got.
Demos
There's genuine love of Demos in this sack.
Offal-monger
Across now to the Paphlagonian's pack! You see!
Demos [Examining it.
God bless me, bursting with good cheer!
That fish cake too! Why, most of it's still here.
For me he cut a little slice, no more.
Offal-monger
That's just the way he treated you before. He doled you out small bits of what he got And kept the big things for his private pot.
Demos
Rogue, with your thieving how you did me down, "Me, who bestowed thy riches and thy crown."
Paphlagon
[Almost breaking down.
I only stole things for my country's good.
Demos
Quick, put that crown away. It's understood This man shall have it.—Quick, rogue; drop that crown.
Paphlagon
No, no; (keeping hold of the crown) the Prophet has set clearly down What sort of man my conqueror must be.
Offal-monger
Quoting my name? Or just describing me?
Paphlagon
At least before I yield I mean to try If in the least you'd suit the prophecy. How were you trained? To what school did you go?
Offal-monger
My head was clouted in the knacker's row.
Paphlagon
Ah me, what memory clutches at my heart! Howbeit. . . . Your tutor then taught you—what further art?
Offal-monger
To steal, and lie and look men in the face.
Paphlagon
"Apollo, Lycian, spare me of thy grace!" And what was your career, as man full made?
Offal-monger
Dog's meat, and odd jobs in the brothel trade.
Paphlagon
Me miserable! My life hath reached its stop. . . . Yet, one faint hope: you sold things in a shop In the market . . . not just peddling at the gates?
Offal-monger
The gates; where salt fish sells at special rates.
Paphlagon
So to its end the word of God must roll.
Wheel back to silence this afflicted soul.
And thou, my crown, though sore it hurteth me,
"Farewell, some other head shall balance thee,
More knavish? No. More blest, it well may be."
[Exit Paphlagon carried off by attendants.
Demos
Zeus of united Hellas! Thine the prize!
Chorus
[To Offal-monger.
And hail to thee, in thy great victories!
Remember you were made a man by me;
Make me your specialized horse-secretary.
Demos
What is your true name?
Offal-monger
Agoracritus;
An argufy-er most notorious
I have always been, and the Agora my field.
Demos
So be it. To Agoracritus I yield My self, you, and that Paphlagonian too.
Offal-monger
I in return, Demos, will care for you.
Nay, all considered, you may set me down
As best friend to the great Hath-beenians town.
[Exeunt.
Chorus
If you doubt what the suitable course is For opening or closing a lay, Just praise our swift Knights and their horses;[Pg 114 1265-1285] Don't drearily day after day Make Lysistratus wince and throw curses At Thumantis, that homeless old seer, Who, in spite of his optimist verses Is hungry and haunted with fear. He clings to thy knees, O Apollo, At Delphi, imploring with tears That his paunch may not always be hollow; It is that that he fears. To revile a thorough rascal can't be called an act of spite. It's a tribute to the honest, if you choose to view it right. Now there is a certain person about whom I have to strike Ugly notes; but no one knows him; I must name a man I like To explain him. Arignôtus to all hearers gives delight Who have any music in them and can tell black tunes from white. But he has a brother no wise like himself, Ariphrades, Who's a rascal; yes, that's simply what he wants to be and is. Nor, if he were just a rascal would I let that make me sore; "Rascal," "utter rascal," even; that is what one bargains for; But he's found out something extra; fouls his mouth with crapulous Tunes of Polymêstus, and goes singing with Oiônichus.[Pg 115 1286-1305] He who loathes not such proceedings never shall be counted free As a guest to share my board or drink of the same cup with me. How oft in the dark meditations Of midnight I wished that I knew How Cleônymus gets at his rations, And, whence, and so easily too! For he browses on every stranger, They say, who owns anything good, And sinks himself deep in the manger, And won't lift his head from his food, Till they cry with one voice round the stable, "Great master, we pray by thy knees, Have mercy at least for the table! Abstain and release it; oh, please!" When our ships of war decided a great conference to invoke First among them rose a matron of maturer years and spoke: "Sisters, have you ever heard what things are being said in town? Who's to take a hundred of us off to Carthage on his own? Who d'you think? That undeserving drink-gone-sour, Hyperbolus!" All agreed it was too bad, too shocking, to be treated thus. And one maiden who knew nothing of man's ways cried feelingly[Pg 116 1306-1318] "Phoebus the Preserver, never shall that man be lord of me! Rather, if I must, with wood-worms and old age I'll waste away." "Nay, nor handle me," responded Ocean Bride and Flying Spray! "Sure as out of pine and timbers we were built from mast to keel! If the Athenians really mean it, we will sail indoors and kneel Suppliant at the shrine of Theseus or the great Eumenides; Never shall that man as captain turn us all to mockeries; Let him launch out to perdition all alone, and sail away, Like the lamps he used to deal in, floating on an oily tray!"
[Enter by Central Door Agoracritus, transformed in dress and manner.
Agoracritus
Now peace, and be still! A seal on your lips! Let the witness-box echo no voices! And shut be the gates of the Jurymen's courts, wherein this people rejoices. Let the theatre sing for the news that I bring and welcome the wonderful tale!
Chorus
O star in the night to Athens the Blest, O help of the Islands, hail! Say what glad thought is this you have brought, and our altars shall smoke in the street.
Agoracritus
I have boiled your Demos in magical herbs and turned
him from rotten to sweet.
Chorus
O worker of wonders, where standeth he now, or
where hath he laid him down?
Agoracritus
He dwells in the Athens of ancient days, in Her of the
Violet Crown.
Chorus
How can we look on him? How is he changed? What
like in carriage and dress?
Agoracritus
As he was when he sate at Miltiadés' side, and with great Aristeidês at mess. But soon ye shall see him. There, hearken, above us the Gates of the Rock unfold.
[To the audience, bidding them turn to the Acropolis.
Uplift your voices and open your eyes on Athens, the Athens of old; The wonderful city, the City of Song, true home of our Demos, behold!
Chorus
O shining Athens, O violet-crowned, O blest all cities above, Unveil to our eyes the Lord of the Greeks, the Lord of the land we love!
[Enter Demos through the central door, in his new raiment.
Agoracritus
It is he, in the clean grave garment of old, with the grasshopper bright in his hair; No longer he smells of balloting shells, but of Peace and balm in the air.
Chorus
All hail, O king over Hellas the Great, we rejoice in thy joy; for again Thy life is worthy of Athens and true to the trophy on Marathon plain.
Demos
O Agoracritus, my best friend for sure, What good you have done me by your boiling cure!
Agoracritus
Have I? Ah, what you did and what you were You know not, or you'd be my worshipper.
Demos
What was I, then, and what things did I do?
Agoracritus
When someone in the Ecclesia said to you "Demos, I am your lover and your friend, I, I alone, protect you and defend," Soon as you heard that opening, up you'd fly, Wings flapping, horns uplifted.
Demos
No! Not I?
Agoracritus
So when he had soundly fleeced you, off he went.
Demos
Treat me like that? and I sit there content?
Agoracritus
Why, friend, your ears, according to the call, Went shut or open like a parasol.
Demos
Had I grown such a dotard, such a dunce!
Agoracritus
Why, if two speakers pled with you at once, One for the warships, one to use the whole Fund to provide the jurors with their dole, The dole would leave the triremes dry on shore. Don't crouch so. Try to be your true self: try! Why hang your head? Be your true self once more.
Demos
I am crushed with shame in thinking of the past.
Agoracritus
It was not all your fault. Don't be downcast. 'Twas your deceivers. But henceforth let's see; Suppose some low speech-monger makes a plea, "Unless you can condemn this prisoner too, Jurors, there won't be bread enough for you." What will you do to one who talks like this?
Demos
Lift the brute up and fling him to the abyss, With fat Hyperbolus tied about his throat!
Agoracritus
Ah, yes, that strikes a new and wholesome note. Then tell me of your policies at large.
Demos
First to the trireme rowers I'll discharge, As they touch port, their full arrears of pay.
Agoracritus
Ah, many a blistered rump will bless that day!
Demos
Then, no man entered in the infantry Shall be transferred by private jobbery; The name, where once writ, shall continue writ.
Agoracritus
That gives Cleônymus's shield a hit.
Demos
Then, no smooth cheeks shall loll in the mart at ease.
Agoracritus
Where will poor Strato rest, or Cleisthenes?
Demos
I mean those youngsters in the myrrh-market, Who gabble in the language of their set, "Smart fellow, Phaeax; dodged ingeniously That death sentence; a caustic critic he; Gnomic; conclusive; lucid; pertinent; Quick to confound the obstructive element."
Agoracritus
Who will the jabbering element confound?
Demos
I'll make them all go hunt with horse and hound, Programmes and resolutions clean forgot.
Agoracritus
That being agreed, an easy chair I've brought, A page, too, young and strong, to carry it. Sit on him too, if ever he calls for it.
Demos [Taking the chair.
With joy I settle to my ancient state.
Agoracritus
The more so when I bring, however late,
Libations, and present a life-long truce.
[Presenting Peace, a beautiful maiden.
Demos
Ye gods, how lovely! In the name of Zeus, Can I embrace her, take her for my own? Where did you find her?
Agoracritus
Where the Paphlagon
Had kept her cloistered, hidden from your eyes.
Now she is yours. Here, take her as your prize
Home to the fields and farms.
Demos
And he whose sway
Wrecked Athens, what atonement shall he pay?
Agoracritus
Oh, nothing much; he'll have my old estate, Dealing in offal at the city gate; Dog's flesh and ass's mixed shall be his ware; With tipsy harlots he can curse and swear, And when he's thirsty, drink the bath-water.
Demos
You've hit it. That just suits his character,
'Gainst washermen and whores his lungs to test.
And thou, come to the Prytanean feast;
Take the High Seat where once that reptile reigned
And don this robe of the green spring unstained.
[To attendants.
Him lift to his due trade, to meet the eyes
Of those he wronged most deeply, our Allies.
L. 2. A slave was often called simply by the name of his nation, Syrus, Lydus, Getas; so here Paphlagon. The Paphlagonians were a tribe in Northern Anatolia. The name carries a suggestion of "Wop" or "Dago" and perhaps also suggests spluttering. Cf. 919.
L. 9. Mi-ew: an imitation of flute-music without words, as practised by Olympus and "the old composers."
L. 16. "Would that thou couldst tell": from Euripides, Hippolytus, 345, where Phaedra shrinks from confessing her love.
L. 19. Wild cabbages: a stock joke at Euripides. His mother owned land and apparently sold the produce.
L. 26. "Lets-Dees-Ert." More than twenty thousand slaves did take advantage of the war to desert (Thuc. VII, 27).
L. 42. Council Square: literally "the Pnyx," the hill with seats for 20,000 where the Assembly met. Cf. 749.
L. 50. One case: the fee was for "a day's work."
L. 61. Oracles: Thucydides mentions (II. 8, XXI. 2) the interest in oracles and omens caused by the war; often ridiculed by Aristophanes. Cf. the "Angels of Mons" in 1914.
Ll. 78, 79. "Mine" is "his": puns on proper names in the original.
L. 107. Pramunian wine: often mentioned. It was harsh and strong; the meaning of the adjective is not known.
L. 123. Bakis: often mentioned together with Sibylla; sometimes in the plural Bakides like Sibyllæ. Cf. 1003.
Ll. 128-136. After the death of Pericles very inferior men took his place. The "Oakum-monger" or Rope-dealer was Eucrates, general in 432-1 b.c. Cf. 254. The "Sheep-monger," Lysicles, general in 428-7, said to have married Aspasia. Cf. 765.
L. 178. "Be a man": cf. Cleon's "If the generals were men. . . ." Introd. p. 6.
L. 221. The Bug of Hum: cf. the imaginary spirits of deceit or stupidity in 634 ff., and Canning's lines: "With a Bug Bug Bug and a Hum Hum Hum, See the great philosophers come."
L. 232. The mask-makers: in the Old Comedy masks were often made into likenesses or caricatures of particular persons. The New Comedy carefully avoided such likenesses as it avoided personal attacks.
L. 234. The Paphlagon's coming out: given in the MSS. to Nicias, evidently speaking from inside. Most editors give it to the Offal-monger.
L. 242. The change of metre marks the inrush of the Chorus. They come in two divisions, from right and left. The Knights were probably represented on horseback, either with hobby-horses or perhaps riding on men with horses' heads and tails. See the vase picture in Pickard-Cambridge, Dith. Trag. and Com., p. 244.
Panaetius is not known, but Simon's book on Horsemanship is mentioned by Xenophon (Hippike, 1).
L. 254. Eucrates: cf. 129. The allusion is not known.
L. 256. Whom I feed: the Jurymen look to him for their regular fee.
L. 262. Recall him from the Chersonese: allusion not known.
L. 313. Tunnies came in shoals, so a watcher was placed on a cliff to look out for them. They were then driven into nets or narrow inlets.
L. 322. "Brass": anaideia, lack of all aidôs, a word covering the ideas of "shame," "ruth" and "honour."
L. 326. Hippodamus: cf. 794, described by Aristotle as an able but eccentric man (Pol. II, 31). His son, Archeptolemus, advocated peace in 425. His continuous work for peace led to dealings with Sparta which were thought treasonable, and he was executed with Antiphon in 411.
L. 392. "A man": cf. 178.
L. 400. Cratînus: the Comedian. Cf. 526.
L. 401. Morsimus: a great-nephew of Aeschylus, was a tragedian. One of the crimes for which men are sunk in the mud of Hades (Frogs, 151) is copying out a speech of Morsimus.
L. 402. O percher on blossoms, etc.: apparently a parody of a song of "the old poet of the isles," Simonides of Ceos, from whom v. 406 is certainly taken. He will dance with delight at getting at last some real wheaten bread. Cf. 819.
L. 412. The Offal-monger's education had consisted in getting his head clouted by the authorities and sometimes being stabbed in street fights. Cf. 1236.
L. 440. Attainted family: the Alcmaeonidae, some of whom two hundred years before had violated an altar of refuge while pursuing followers of the would-be tyrant Cylou. This old far-fetched charge was sometimes revived against Pericles and Alcibiades.
L. 449. The tyrant's Queen: her name, Myrsine, is changed to Byrsine to suggest byrsa, a hide.
L. 490. Take some of this: oil from the Offal-monger's tray, or wine from Demosthenes' flagon?
Ll. 507-550. Parabasis. The Old Comedy has regularly in the middle of a play a "parabasis" or "coming forward" of the poet in person or his representative, to defend or explain himself. Aristophanes here had had two of his early plays produced by, and in the name of, the actor Callisthenes, and another under that of Philonides. He explains here why; he could write but he was shy of trying to produce.
The criticism of his fellow comedians which follows is pleasantly intimate and appreciative. Magnes had written plays with choruses of Harpers, Birds, Lydians, Gadflies, Wasps. Crates is charmingly described. Eupolis is not mentioned; probably he was not on very good terms with "our bald friend" just now. Cratînus, it is suggested, was in his time the best of them all but had taken to drink and gone to pieces. The sequel is curious. Apparently the old man retorted by writing a comedy about himself called Putînê, The Wineflask,[Pg 129] in which the poet's true wife, Comedia, is about to divorce him because he has deserted her and taken up with the disreputable girl, Methê (Drink). His friends succeed in redeeming him. This abundant confession, it would seem, so moved the audience that they gave the old sinner the first prize over Aristophanes' Clouds. See Clouds, 520 ff., where, in a second edition of the play, Aristophanes protests against the judgment. The Putînê was Cratînus' last effort.
L. 534. Connus: a great musician, teacher of Socrates, who fell into poverty and neglect. Eupolis describes him as "crowned but dying of thirst."
L. 550. Shining bright in the sun: a joke on his own baldness. Cf. the claim of Eupolis, "I helped our bald friend with his Knights." See Introduction, p. 12.
L. 561. Phormio: the Athenian admiral, who had won brilliant victories in 429.
L. 566. The Robe: The famous robe carried in the Panathenaic procession and presented to the Goddess. It was newly woven for each festival by girls of noble family.
L. 574. This man's papa; our fathers did not run to Cleon's father for favours.
L. 605. Leapt out at Corinth: Nicias had just had a successful campaign there in which the cavalry won the battle of Solygeia. Corinthians were "crabs" as Frenchmen might be called "Frogs" and Germans "Boches."
L. 608. Theôrus said: a certain Theôrus brought false news from Thrace (Ach., 134), but the point is obscure.
L. 639. Sneezed: an encouraging omen.
Ll. 645-680. The main point of this speech is to show what a state of general hunger Cleon's policy had produced. A shoal of fish would be food for thousands, a big sacrifice of cattle and goats would be a gorgeous feast. The small aromatic coriander seeds were a relish almost like salt. As for peace, it was not as important as sprats.
L. 773. In the Council: i.e. merely a member of Boulé: now he is Stratêgus.
L. 775. The art of squeeze, etc.: cf. Lysias (30, 22): "When the Council has resources enough it does no great wrong, but when in difficulties it accepts impeachments, confiscates the property of citizens, and obeys the most unscrupulous advisers." The "money-collecting ships," sent to collect arrears of tribute, probably did some "squeezing." Cf. 776 and the last line of the play.
L. 786. Harmodian strain: like Harmodius and Aristogeiton, who killed the tyrant Hipparchus, 514 b.c.
L. 793. Living in upturned casks: cf. Thuc. II, 17 and 52. The overcrowded people settled in any unoccupied place they could find, porches of temples, sentry towers, rough shacks, etc.
L. 794. Archeptolemus: cf. 327. There were several overtures from the Spartans after the Pylos affair.
L. 835. Gift from wrecked Mitylene: a bitter jest. Cleon had proposed, and for the moment carried, a proposal for a wholesale death sentence on the Mitylenaeans. It was immediately revoked.
L. 855. Playing "banners"; playing ostrakinda, a game of banning or exiling someone.
L. 941. Well said, by Zeus, etc.: a line of plain prose in the original.
L. 959. Cleônymus: A favourite butt of comedy, a fat flatterer of Cleon's who on some memorable occasion had thrown away his shield and run. In the Wasps he is "the big flatteronymus shield-dropper"; elsewhere, a plant that regularly drops its shields in the autumn.
L. 962. A hollow skin: a well-known oracle said that Athens could never sink but would float like a wineskin.
L. 967. Robed in purple: outlandish pomp. Democracy in Athens had established a habit of simple dress (Thuc. I, 6) as the French and American revolutions did in Europe.
L. 968. Smikythê: the man Smikythus is made into a woman and therefore needs a guardian. Probably he shaved. Cf. 1373.
L. 1004. Glanis, elder brother of the prophet Bakis, seems to be an invention. Glanis was a kind of fish, wheat-fish or Silurus; which suggests that Bakis also was a fish of some kind.
L. 1014. Erechtheides: cf. 1054, 1067. Erechtheus, Cecrops and Aigeus were legendary kings of Athens. Note how under the influence of all these oracles the ordinary dialogue runs into epic hexameters.
L. 1044. I have ignored this line, "Why did I never know you were Antileon (Pro-lion)?" Nothing is known of Antileon.
L. 1056. Burdens a woman can bear: an epic line from the Contest between Ajax and Odysseus. Ajax had carried off the body of Patroclus from the thick of the battle but, after all . . .
L. 1059. There were at least three towns called Pylos (Gate) in the Peloponnese. Demos is made to mis-hear the word Pylos and take it for pyelos, a tub. I make him also mishear "yet" and "as well."
L. 1069. Dog-fox: the Laconian breed of hounds was said to be a hybrid of dog and fox. The line looks like a quotation from some anti-Spartan oracle, like the warnings against "mating with wolves" and "trusting fiery-eyed apes" in the Peace (1065, 1076).
L. 1076. Foxes: the soldiers in the fleet are like foxes because, not having their pay, they rob gardens.
L. 1090. The Goddess herself: here she is seen in a dream, but later, 1167 ff., she does things for Demos in person, and her epithets grow more and more martial and ceremonial.
L. 1102. Theophanes: unknown.
L. 1121. A change in Demos. He is no longer a mere stupid victim to flattery. He sees through his flatterers and means to confound them. It seems to go with the much greater transformation of the Offal-monger. See on l. 1257.
L. 1170. How vast a finger: if it had to reach all the way down from the ivory hand of the great statue on the Acropolis.
L. 1188. As if Tritonis or Tritogenia was derived from tritos—"third."
L. 1192. Hares: almost unprocurable in Attica; plentiful in Boeotia and the Megarid. Ach., 878, 520.
L. 1203. "The thought, etc.," parody of Euripides?
L. 1225. "Me who bestowed, etc.": a line in a broad Peloponnesian dialect (more like: "An' me wha gi'ed ye gifties an' a croon!") said to come from a play, The Helots, by Eupolis, in which a Helot reproaches Poseidon for his ingratitude.
L. 1226. Stole for my country's good: cf. Introd., p. 11.
Ll. 1248-9, 52. So to its end, etc.: tragic lines; cf. Eur. Fr., 322, and the famous words of Alcestis (Alc., 177): "Some woman shall lie here instead of me, More loving—no; happy she well may be."
L. 1256. A puzzling line; literally "I will be your Phanos, drafter of briefs," but nothing is known of Phanos nor is "drafter of briefs" at all certain.
L. 1257. Agoracritus: a real name, like Democritus, Theocritus. The interpretation here given is farcical. But if this new name is connected with the change of character it is possible that "the Choice of the Agora" is meant to be a true choice as against a mere deceiver of the Agora. See Introduction.
L. 1268. Thumantis: a prophet belonging to Cleon's party, would prophesy good cheer for everyone, while really himself afraid of starvation. Cf. Cleônymus in the antistrophe, 1292.
L. 1263. "Hath-been-ian": the word is "Kekhênaiôn"—"open-mouthed," i.e. hungry, or perhaps[Pg 134] gullible, made to sound like "Athênaiôn." It is suggested later that the true Athens is a "Has-been." Cf. 1323-5.
L. 1281. Ariphrades, though a pupil of the great Anaxagoras, is much attacked for alleged bad habits. Polymnestus greatly developed flute music and even applied it to the orthios nomos, which was meant for the lyre. Nothing is known of Oiônichus.
L. 1304. Hyberbolus: the successor to Cleon, like a Cleon gone sour. He was ostracized in 417, probably by an agreement between the real rival parties, as he was hardly important enough for ostracism. He advocated the Sicilian expedition and thought it would lead to the conquest of Carthage. Cf. Thuc. VI, 15, 90.
L. 1329. Pinder's line, "O Athens the shining, the violet-crowned, and full of song," was treasured in the Athenians' memory. The brightness of the air and abundance of wild flowers in Attica are often noted, but the central and sacred "Athens of old" is of course the Acropolis. The Propylaea were not visible from the Theatre of Dionysus, but the great rock of the Acropolis faced it and in this magnificent appeal the Acropolis as a whole, though not seen, is imagined.
L. 1331. Grasshopper: in the old pre-democratic days noble Athenians had gold grasshoppers as brooches in their hair (Thuc. I, 63) and sometimes were accompanied by a page carrying a light chair (Athenaeus XII, p. 512). Demos must evidently be made to look transformed.
L. 1374. Cleisthenes and Strato evidently followed the new fashion of shaving the face, originated by imitation of Macedonian kings.
L. 1377. Phaiax: apparently the idol of a clever "Bloomsbury Set." He "ingeniously escaped death," probably by an ingenious defence when accused of treason. Eupolis says he was a clever talker but no speaker.
L. 1389. Thirty Years Truce: there had been such a Treaty in 445 b.c. and to restore it was the great hope of the peace party. The word for "truce" is plural in form, "libations" because both sides poured, but of course the figure of Peace is one divine woman.
L. 1405. Our Allies: literally "the strangers," which was the regular term for the non-Athenian members of the empire (Ach., 505, Peace, 644). The allied "cities and islands" were of course specially exposed to Cleon's extortions; perhaps also they had a claim on Aristophanes' sympathy as representing old-fashioned Ionian culture.
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Transcriber's Notes:-
The line numbers refer to the lines in the original Greek text, not the lines as translated.
Minor punctuation errors corrected.