Aristophanes
THE FROGS
405 BC
Translator’s Note
This translation, which has been prepared by Ian Johnston of Malaspina University-College, Nanaimo, BC, Canada, is in the public domain and may be used by anyone for any purpose, without permission and without charge, provided the source is acknowledged. Released June 2003.
This text provides links to explanatory notes (indicated by asterisks), but those reading the entire play might be better served by printing out those pages separately.
The normal line numbers refer to this text. The ones in square brackets refer to the Greek text.
The translator would like to acknowledge the extremely valuable help of W. B. Stanford’s edition of The Frogs (London: Macmillan, 1963).
For comments, questions, corrections, suggestions for improvements please contact Ian Johnston.
For
Annie
in whom the best spirit of Aristophanes still lives on.
The Frogs
Dramatis Personae
XANTHIAS:
a slave
DIONYSUS: the god, appearing in human form as a middle-aged man
HERCULES: the legendary hero
CORPSE: a dead man being carried off to Hades
CHARON: the ferry man transporting the dead to Hades
CHORUS OF FROGS
CHORUS OF INITIATES: worshippers of the gods of the underworld
AEACUS: a gatekeeper in Hades
SERVANT
FIRST HOSTESS (PANDOKEUTRIA)
SECOND HOSTESS (PLATANE)
SERVANT OF PLUTO
EURIPIDES: the playwright
AESCHYLUS: the playwright
PLUTO: king of Hades
VARIOUS ATTENDANTS
[The play opens on a street leading to Hades, with a door in the centre of the backstage area. Enter Dionysus, appearing as a middle-aged man with a noticeable paunch, wearing a yellow tunic and over that a lion skin. He’s carrying a huge club, one commonly associated with Hercules. On his feet he wears soft leather lace-up boots. Behind him comes his slave Xanthias riding on a donkey and carrying a huge amount of luggage. Xanthias notices the audience]
XANTHIAS:
Look, master, an audience! Shouldn’t I say something?
Tell them one of those jokes
they always fall for?
DIONYSUS:
Oh, all right—say what you like. Only no jokes
about how you’re dying to
piss. I can’t stand those—
they’re all so stale.
XANTHIAS: What about my other jokes?
DIONYSUS:
Go ahead—just nothing about your bladder,
about how it’s going to
burst.
XANTHIAS:
What? You mean I can’t tell
that really funny one . . .
DIONYSUS:
I suppose so—
but don’t say anything about
the bit.
XANTHIAS: What bit?
DIONYSUS:
The bit about how you need to shift your load 10
to take a piss.
XANTHIAS:
Not even this one—
"Here I am transporting
such a load
if I get no relief I may
explode."
[10]
DIONYSUS:
Please, please, don't say that one—
not unless I’m sick and need
to throw up.
XANTHIAS:
Then what’s the point of my being here like this?
Why do I get to carry all the
heavy baggage
if I can’t tell the usual
porter jokes—you know,
the ones Ameipsias and
Phrynichus
and Lycias, too, in all their
comedies
20
provide the slave who carries
all the bags.*
DIONYSUS:
Just don’t. Those jokes are all so feeble—
when I have to watch a play and
hear them
by the time I leave I’ve aged
at least a year.
XANTHIAS
[striking a heroic tragic pose]
Alas, for my neck beneath this
triply damned yoke.
I suffer all this pressure and
can’t tell my joke.
[20]
DIONYSUS:
It’s an outrage, sheer insolence, that I,
Dionysus, son of Winejar, have
to walk like this,
sweating along so he can ride
at ease
without a care and carrying no
load.
XANTHIAS:
What!?
30
Aren’t I carrying the load?
DIONYSUS:
How can you be?
You’re riding on your ass.
XANTHIAS:
I’m loaded down.
All this stuff . . .
DIONYSUS: What do you mean by that?
XANTHIAS: What I just said carries lots of weight.
DIONYSUS: Isn’t the donkey carrying our load?
XANTHIAS: No, no way. Not the load I’m holding.
DIONYSUS:
How come?
How can you be carrying
anything at all
when someone else is carrying
you?
XANTHIAS:
I’ve no idea.
But my shoulder’s falling
off.
[30]
DIONYSUS:
All right, then.
Since you claim the donkey’s
useless to you,
40
why not take your turn and
carry it?
XANTHIAS:
What a wretched life!
I should have gone away to
fight at sea—
then I’d be free and I’d
have told you straight
what you could do with that ass
of yours.*
DIONYSUS:
Get down, you useless idiot! We’re there—
by the door I’m aiming for,
my first stop.
[Dionysus knocks very aggressively on the door and calls out in a very imperious tone]
Hey, in there! Doorman! I’m summoning you.
[The door opens and Hercules steps out, wearing a lion’s skin and carrying a club. He’s amazed that someone is dressed up to resemble him]
HERCULES:
Who’s banging on this door—smashing at it
like some wild centaur. My god,
what’s this?
[Hercules inspects Dionysus’ outfit and starts to laugh uproariously]
DIONYSUS: Hey, my boy . . .
XANTHIAS: What?
DIONYSUS: Didn’t you see?
XANTHIAS: See what? 50 [40]
DIONYSUS: How scared he was of me?
XANTHIAS:
Yes, by god, he was,
scared you’re nuts.
HERCULES
[doubling up with laughter] By holy Demeter,
I can’t stop laughing. I’ll
try biting my lip.
No, no use. I can’t stop
laughing at him.
DIONYSUS: Come here, my good man. I need something from you.
HERCULES
[still laughing out of control]
I can’t help myself—he’s
so ridiculous.
Seeing that lion skin above
that yellow dress.
What’s going on? Do people
with large clubs
now walk around in leather
booties?
Where on earth do you think you’re
going?
60
DIONYSUS: I’ve done naval service under Cleisthenes.*
HERCULES: At that sea battle?
DIONYSUS:
Yes—and sunk enemy ships,
twelve or thirteen of 'em.
[50]
HERCULES: Just the two of you?
DIONYSUS: Yes, by Apollo, we did.
XANTHIAS: Then I woke up.
DIONYSUS:
I was on board with Euripides' Andromeda,
reading to myself aloud, when
suddenly
a huge urge seized my heart.
You’ve no idea how strong.
HERCULES: An urge? How big was it?
DIONYSUS: The size of Molon—tiny.*
HERCULES: For a woman?
DIONYSUS: No, no.
HERCULES: A young lad, then?
DIONYSUS: Certainly not.
HERCULES: Well, then, a man?
DIONYSUS: Ugh! 70
HERCULES: Did you grab hold of your Cleisthenes?
DIONYSUS:
Don’t mock me, brother.* I’m not
doing so well,
tormented by such hot desires.
HERCULES:
Tell me,
my little brother, what’s it
like?
DIONYSUS
I can’t explain.
[60]
But I’ll try to show you by
analogy.
Have you ever had a craving for
some stew?*
HERCULES: For stew? In my life maybe ten thousand times.
DIONYSUS:
Is that explanation clear enough to you?
Or shall I try some other way?
HERCULES:
Not about
stew!
That I understand completely.
DIONYSUS:
Well then, 80
that’s how much I’m eaten
up with my desire
for Euripides.
HERCULES: Even when he’s dead?*
DIONYSUS:
So no one’s going to talk me out of it—
I have to find him.
HERCULES: Right down in Hell?
DIONYSUS:
Or even lower,
by god, if there’s such a
place.
[70]
HERCULES: What’s the point of that?
DIONYSUS:
I need a clever poet. There’s none around.
The ones we’ve got are all so
lousy.
HERCULES: What? Isn’t Iophon still up there?*
DIONYSUS:
He’s the only good one left—if he’s any good.
I’m not really sure if the
case.
90
HERCULES:
If you’ve got to take a playwright back,
why not Sophocles? He’s
better than Euripides.
DIONYSUS:
Not ’til I get Iophon all by himself,
without his father, Sophocles,
so I can test
the metal of his poetry.
Besides, Euripides
is such a rascal he may try to
flee Hades
[80]
and come with me. But Sophocles
was nice—
easy going while on earth and
down here, too.
HERCULES: What about Agathon? Where’s he?
DIONYSUS:
He’s left us—
a fine poet lamented by his
friends.
100
HERCULES: Where’s he gone?
DIONYSUS: Off to feast with saints.*
HERCULES: And Xenocles?*
DIONYSUS: Oh by god, may he drop dead!
HERCULES: Well then, Pythangelos?
XANTHIAS:
What about ME?
In pain all this time—my
shoulder's sore as hell.
HERCULES:
Surely you've other artsy-fartsy types—
thousands of tragic poets—all
of them
[90]
way more wordy than Euripides?
DIONYSUS:
No, no—
all chatterboxes, twittering
swallows in a music hall,
mere foliage—disgraces to the
artist’s craft.
Once they get a chance to stage
their plays,
110
to crap all over tragedy, they
disappear.
If you looked you’d never
find one playwright,
someone creative who could well
declaim
a worthy sentiment.
HERCULES:
That word “creative”—
what’s it mean?
DIONYSUS:
Someone poetical enough
to give utterance to something
grand,
something like
[Dionysus strikes a tragic pose]
“the sky, Zeus’ pied-a-terre,”
“the foot of time,” or this—“a mind that will not
swear
[100]
on sacred offerings but a
perjured
tongue
that’s false with no sense of
its perfidy.”
120
HERCULES: You like that stuff?
DIONYSUS: Like it? I’m crazy about it.
HERCULES: I swear it’s all bullshit—and you know it.
DIONYSUS:
Now, now, don’t try to tell me what to think,
not with tragedy. You’re no
expert there.
HERCULES: I still say it sounds like total rubbish.
DIONYSUS: Why not teach me how to stuff my guts?
XANTHIAS: What about ME?
DIONYSUS:
That’s the reason I’ve come here
and dressed like you—so you
can fill me in,
in case I need to know, about
this place—
who welcomed you down here,
who'd you meet
130
[110]
that time you went down after
Cerberus.*
Tell me about the harbours,
resting places,
bakeries and brothels, water
fountains,
the cities, highways, all the
detours,
the local customs and the fine
hotels,
the ones with fewest bugs.
XANTHIAS: Still no word of me.
HERCULES:
Oh you valiant heart! Are you man enough
to venture down below?
DIONYSUS:
Forget my courage.
Show me the highway, the
shortest one there
is,
that takes me directly down to
Hades.
140
Don’t prattle on about the
temperature—
and say it's way too hot or
cold for me.
HERCULES:
Let’s see . . . what should I mention first of all?
Which one? Hmmm. You could try
a stool and rope—
you could just hang yourself.
DIONYSUS:
Stop it right there.
That way gives me a choking
feeling.
HERCULES:
There’s a straight short cut, well traveled, too—
with pestle and mortar . . .
DIONYSUS: You mean hemlock.*
HERCULES: That’s it!
DIONYSUS:
Too cold—too much like winter. Right away
the shins get frozen solid.
HERCULES:
All right, then.
150
You want me to tell you how to
get there fast.
DIONYSUS: Yes, by god. I’m not one to take a hike.
HERCULES: How ’bout a stroll to Kerameikos* . . .
DIONYSUS: Okay, what then?
HERCULES:
Climb up the tower there—
right to the very top . . .
DIONYSUS: And then what? [130]
HERCULES:
Take a look at the torch race starting up—
when the spectators all yell
out “They’re off!”
then off you go as well.
DIONYSUS: Off? Where to?
HERCULES: Down.
DIONYSUS:
No, I can’t take that road. I’d
pulverize
both rissole wrappers of my
brain.
HERCULES: What’s left? 160
DIONYSUS: The road you used.
HERCULES:
Oh, an enormous journey.
At the very start you come to a vast lake—
immense and bottomless.
DIONYSUS: How do I get across?
HERCULES:
In a tiny boat—miniscule—like this [indicating the size].
An ancient sailor takes you for
a fee—
two obols.
[140]
DIONYSUS:
Two obols? It’s amazing
what two obols can buy
anywhere.*
How come it’s here in Hades,
too?
HERCULES:
That was Theseus.*
He started it. Once past the
lake you’ll find the snakes.
You’ll see thousands of 'em,
horrific monsters, too. 170
DIONYSUS:
Don’t keep trying to scare me. That won’t work.
There’s no way you’ll get
me to turn back.
HERCULES:
Then a huge sewer, always full of liquid turds—
and lying in it anyone who
harmed a guest
or screwed a lad and then took back
the cash,
or smacked his mother, punched
his father’s jaw,
or swore false oaths, or else had
copied out
[150]
a speech of Morsimus.*
DIONYSUS:
By god, with them in the shit
should lie whoever learned a
war dance by Cinesias.*
HERCULES:
Next the breath of flutes will sound around you. 180
You’ll see the finest light,
just like in Athens,
and myrtle groves, with happy
men and women
gathered there to celebrate and
clap their hands.
DIONYSUS: So who are they?
HERCULES:
Those are the initiates,
the ones who celebrate the
mysteries.*
XANTHIAS:
Then, by god, in these mysteries I play the ass.
I’ll not stand for this a
moment longer.
[160]
[Xanthias dismounts and starts to unload the baggage he has been carrying]
HERCULES:
Those ones will tell you all you need to know.
These initiates live closest to
the road
which takes you to the doors of
Pluto’s place.*
190
And so, my brother, I bid you
fond farewell.
DIONYSUS: Good bye—god keep you healthy, too.
[Hercules exits back through the door. Dionysus turns to Xanthias, who has just about finished putting down all the luggage he has been carrying]
You there—take up the baggage once again!
XANTHIAS: Before I’ve put it down?
DIONYSUS: Yes, and hurry up.
[Enter a solemn funeral cortege parrying a dead man towards Hades]
XANTHIAS:
Come on, I’m begging you. Hire one of them—
someone carrying the corpse.
That’s why they’re here.
DIONYSUS: And if I don’t find anyone?
XANTHIAS: I’ll do it.
DIONYSUS:
Fair enough. All right, they’re bringing out a corpse
[170]
You there . . . you stiff . . .
I’m talking to you . . . Hallo!
[The corpse suddenly sits up straight]
You want to take a little luggage down to hell? 200
CORPSE: How much?
DIONYSUS: This stuff here.
CORPSE: Will you pay two drachmas?
DIONYSUS: My god, no. Less than that.
CORPSE: Then go away.
DIONYSUS: Hang on, my dear fellow. Can’t we haggle?
CORPSE: If you don’t pay two drachmas, forget it.
DIONYSUS: How about nine obols?
CORPSE:
No bloody way!
I’d rather you shoved me back
to life again.
[Corpse lies down and the funeral procession moves away]
DIONYSUS: What a pompous boor!
XANTHIAS:
To hell with him—
I’ll take the stuff myself.
[Xanthias starts loading himself with the baggage once again]
DIONYSUS:
That’s my good man—
a loyal and worthy slave. Let’s
get that boat . . . .
[Enter Charon rowing his small boat across the stage]
CHARON: Ahoy there! Coming alongside. [180]
XANTHIAS: What’s this?
DIONYSUS:
This? 210
By god, it’s the lake
Hercules talked about.
And I see the boat . . .
XANTHIAS:
You’re right. Thanks to Poseidon.
This must be Charon.
DIONYSUS:
Ahoy there, Charon . . .
Greetings, Charon . . . Charon,
halloooo!
CHARON:
Who’s seeks a rest from work and trouble?
Who’s heading for Fields of
Forgetfulness,
Never-never land, the
Cerberians,
the Ravens* and Tartarus.
DIONYSUS: That’s me.
CHARON: Then jump aboard.
DIONYSUS:
Where do you put in?
The Ravens? Is that a stop?
CHARON:
Yes, by god— 220
a special stop just for you.
Get in.
DIONYSUS: [to Xanthias] All right, my lad, hop in.
CHARON:
I won’t take the slave—
[190]
not unless he fought at sea to
save his skin.
XANTHIAS: Not me, by god, no way. My eyes were bad.
CHARON: Then you must make a detour round the lake.
XANTHIAS: Where do I wait for you?
CHARON:
At Wuthering Rock*—
right by the rest stop.
DIONYSUS: You got that?
XANTHIAS: I got that.
[picking up the bags]
Why am I so unlucky? When we began
I must've really pissed
somebody
off.
CHARON: [to Dionysus] Sit down there—at that oar.
[Dionysus sits on one of the oars]
Anyone else?
230
Hurry up—all aboard! What
are you doing?
DIONYSUS:
What am I doing? I’m sitting on this oar.
That’s what you ordered me to
do.
CHARON: Come on, fatso—park your butt right here.
DIONYSUS: [moving off the oar] There! [200]
CHARON: Can you pick up the oar? Stretch your arms.
DIONYSUS: Like this?
CHARON:
Don’t be such a fool. Set your foot there.
Now pull the oar with all your
force.
DIONYSUS:
How can I?
I’ve had no practice. I’m
no sailor.
And besides, I’m not from
Salamis.*
How'm I supposed to row a
boat?
240
CHARON:
It’s not hard. You’ll hear lovely melodies
once you make the effort.
DIONYSUS: Songs? Whose songs?
CHARON: The amazing music of the swan frogs.
DIONYSUS: All right, then. Get the tempo going.
CHARON: Yo ho, heave ho. Yo ho heave ho.
[As the small boat begins to move, the Chorus of Frogs is heard from off stage]*
CHORUS
OF FROGS:
Brekekekex koax koax
Brekekekex koax koax.
Children of the marsh and lake
harmonious song now sweetly
make,
our own enchanting melodies
250
koax koax
The songs we sang for Nysa’s
lord,
for Dionysus, son of Zeus,
in Limnai at the Feast of Jars*
as people in their drunken glee
thronged
into our sanctuary.
Brekekekex koax koax.
[220]
DIOYSUS:
[still rowing] I’m starting to get a pain in the ass
from all your koax
koax.
CHORUS OF FROGS: Brekekekex koax koax. 260
DIONYSUS: Not that you give a damn about it.
CHORUS OF FROGS: Brekekekex koax koax.
DIONYSUS:
Piss off—and take that koax koax with you.
Nothing but koax koax.
CHORUS
OF FROGS:
Yes, and for us that’s fine
you meddling fool—so asinine.
Music-loving Muses love us
too
as does goat-footed Pan
playing music on melodious
pipes.
Apollo as he strums his lyre
270
loves us and what we sing,
for in the marshy waters here
we grow the reeds that bridge
his string.
Brekekekex koax koax.
DIONYSUS:
[still rowing] Well, I’m getting blisters and a sweaty bum.
Next time I bend down it’s
going to speak . . .
[As Dionysus leans forward for the next stroke he lifts his rear end up in the air to fart at the Frog Chorus, but their next line drowns out the sound]
CHORUS OF FROGS: Brekekekex koax koax.
DIONYSUS: Stop it, you music-loving tribe! [240]
CHORUS
OF FROGS:
No, no. We’ll sing on all the more—
if
we’ve ever hopped on shore
280
on sunny days through weeds and
rushes
rejoicing in our lovely songs
as we dive and dive once more,
or as from Zeus’ rain we flee
to sing our varied harmonies
at the bottom of the marsh,
our bubble-splashing melodies.
DIONYSUS:
Brekekekex koax koax—
[250]
from you I’m catching your
disease!
CHORUS
OF FROGS: If that’s the case, you’ll never please. 290
That’s hard on us.
DIONYSUS:
But worse for me—
I may blow up here as I row.
CHORUS OF FROGS: Brekekekex koax koax
DIONYSUS: Go on. Keep croaking. I don’t care.
CHORUS
OF FROGS: We’ll croak on ’til our throats wear out.
We’ll croak all day.
[260]
DIONYSUS:
Brekekekex koax koax
You never beat me in this play!
CHORUS
OF FROGS: And you’ve no chance to win your way,
not matched with us.
DIONYSUS:
And you’ve no hope outdoing me. 300
No, no. If I must I’ll yell
all day,
koaxing you to get my way—
Brekekekex koax koax
[Dionysus listens for a response from the Chorus, but there is none]
You see. Sooner or later I was going to win—
and make you stop your harsh
koaxing din.
CHARON:
Stop it. Ship that oar alongside here.
Get out . . . and pay your
fare.
DIONYSUS: Two obols? Here. [270]
[Dionysus pays Charon, who rows his way off stage. Dionysus starts looking around for Xanthias]
Xanthias! Hey, Xanthias!
XANTHIAS: [offstage] Over here!
DIONYSUS: [still calling] Come here!
[Xanthias appears with the baggage but without the donkey]
XANTHIAS: Greetings, master.
DIONYSUS: All right, what have we got?
XANTHIAS: Nothing but filthy muck—mud and darkness. 310
DIONYSUS:
Did you see the men who beat their fathers—
or perjurers—the ones he
mentioned?
XANTHIAS: You mean you don’t?
DIONYSUS:
[looking at the audience] By Poseidon, yes I do!
Now I see them. So what do we
do next?
XANTHIAS:
We’d better get away from here.
Hercules mentioned to us it's
the place
where wild beast prowl.
DIONYSUS:
To Hell with him!
He was talking big to make me
scared.
[280]
He saw I was a fighter, and he’s
jealous.
No one’s more full of it than
Hercules.
320
But I’m keen now for some
adventure,
some exploit worthy of this
expedition.
XANTHIAS: Of course you are. What’s that? I hear a noise.
DIONYSUS: What? Where is it?
XANTHIAS: Behind us.
DIONYSUS: [pushing Xanthias] Get behind me.
XANTHIAS: No, it’s up ahead.
DIONYSUS: [pushing Xanthias again] You get in front.
XANTHIAS:
My god!
Now I see it. Ooooh, a
monstrous beast!
DIONYSUS: [cowering behind Xanthias] What’s it like?
XANTHIAS:
It's weird—all sorts of shapes.
Now it’s an ox—no, no, a
jackass—
now it’s a woman—what a
gorgeous babe!
[290]
DIONYSUS:
Where is she?
I’ll go say hello.
XANTHIAS:
Hold on a minute! 330
She’s not a woman any more.
Now she’s a bitch!
DIONYSUS: [terrified] It’s Empusa!!*
XANTHIAS: Her whole face is on fire!
DIONYSUS: Her legs—does she have one made of bronze?
XANTHIAS: Yes.
By Poseidon, yes. The other’s
made of cow shit.
And that’s no lie.
DIONYSUS: Where can I run?
XANTHIAS: [imitating Dionysus] Where can I run?
DIONYSUS:
[appealing the audience]
O holy man, save me—so we can
drink together.*
XANTHIAS: We’re screwed! Oh, lord Hercules!
DIONYSUS:
Don’t call me that!
I’m begging you, my man—don’t
say that name.
XANTHIAS: Then Dionysus . . .
DIONYSUS: That’s worse than Hercules. [300]
XANTHIAS:
[to the imaginary monster]
Beat it! Shoo!
Come on, master.
DIONYSUS: What’s going on? 340
XANTHIAS:
Cheer up—we’ve come through everything
just fine.
Now like Hegelochus we can
recite
“After the storm I see the
seals are calm.”*
Empousa’s left.
DIONYSUS: You swear?
XANTHIAS: Cross my heart.
DIONYSUS: Swear again.
XANTHIAS: Yes, by Zeus.
DIONYSUS: Swear it one more time.
XANTHIAS: By Zeus, I swear.
DIONYSUS:
That was a close shave—
looking at her almost made me
puke.
XANTHIAS: You were so terrified you stained your pants.
DIONYSUS:
[in a tragic tone] Woe, woe, why do such ills afflict me so?
Which god shall I accuse of
thus destroying me?
350
[310]
XANTHIAS: How ’bout Zeus’ airy pied-a-terre or the foot of time?
[The sound of music being played on the pipes comes from inside the house]
XANTHIAS: Listen!
DIONYSUS: What is it?
XANTHIAS: You don’t hear that?
DIONYSUS: What?
XANTHIAS: A tune played on the flute.
DIONYSUS:
[continuing his tragic rant]
Ah yes, and now
the scent of torches just came
wafting o’er me,
torches of mystery . . .
XANTHIAS:
[interrupting]
Shhhh. Let’s squat down here—
keep quiet and pay attention.
[The Chorus of Initiates is heard offstage]
CHORUS
OF INITIATES: Iacchus, O Iacchus,
Iacchus, O Iacchus.
XANTHUS:
Master, this is it—the initiates
doing their chant, the ones he
talked about—
360
Diagoras’ hymn to Iacchus.*
[320]
DIONYSUS:
It sounds like that to me. We’d best shut up,
so we find out for sure.
CHORUS
OF INITIATES: Iacchus, living here
in your highly honoured shrines—
Iacchus, O Iacchus
in this meadow come to
dance
with partners in your mystery.
Shake the garland round your
head,
the fruit-filled myrtle, come
and tread
370
[330]
our playful rite’s unbridled
steps
where the Graces join in, too—
our pure and sacred dance and
song,
the chant of your initiate
throng.
XANTHIAS:
O holy noble daughter of Demeter,*
I just smelt roast pork—how
sweet a smell that is.
DIONYSUS: If you keep quiet, you may just get a slice.
[Enter the Chorus of Initiates carrying torches]
LEADER OF THE CHORUS: Awake the blazing torches in your hands!
CHORUS
OF INITIATES: O Iacchus, Iacchus—with us you stand
light-bearing star in our
nocturnal rite.
380
For now the meadow blazes
light,
old men’s knees will move
again
as they dance off their ancient
pain,
the lengthy cycle of their aged
plight
in this your ceremonial night.
As your radiant torches blaze
bring to this flowery marshy
place,
the forward march of all the
young
that constitute your choral
throng,
O sacred one.
390
CHORUS
LEADER: Let all those stand in silence here
and keep their distance from
our dance—
all those who have no sure
command
of ritual words and purposes,
who have not purified their
hearts,
the ones who’ve never seen or
danced
the noble Muses’ ritual
songs,
or played their part in Bacchic
rites
of bull-devouring Cratinus,*
or like words fit for foolish
clowns
400
when such words are not
suitable—
or anyone who just can't turn
away
from fights and hateful party
strife,
who cannot be a genial citizen,
easy going with his
countrymen,
but lights and fans the flames
of war,
ambitious to advance
himself,
[360]
whoever guides our state
through storms
and is corrupted by some bribe,
betrays our watch posts and our
ships
410
or from Aegina smuggles goods,
like that wretch Thorycion,
our customs agent who shipped
off
illicit stuff to Epidaurus*—
oar pads and cloth for sails
and pitch,
or who persuades some other man
to send supplies to hostile
ships,
or anyone opposing Hecate
in dithyrambic choruses,
or any politician setting out
420
to pare back pay our poets get
because they mock him in these
rites,
ancient rites of Dionysus.
I say to all such people, and I say again—
and for a third time I state
once more—
stand back from our choral
mysteries.
[370]
But those now here begin the
songs,
the dances lasting all night
long,
as fits our ceremonial throng.
CHORUS
OF INITIATES:
Now each one boldly marches on
430
into the meadow’s flowery
lap,
and each one stamps the ground—
we joke, make fun, we mock,
our bellies crammed with
breakfast food.
CHORUS
LEADER: Move on, now—but see you praise
the saving goddess in a noble
way,
as you sing out our
melodies.
She says she acts to save our
land
[380]
from season unto season,
against the wishes of
Thorycion.
440
Come now, cry aloud another chant
for goddess Demeter, our
harvest queen,
a celebration made in sacred
song
CHORUS
OF INITIATES
O Demeter, queen of our sacred
rites, stand with us here
preserve us now, your chorus.
Let me play in safety,
let me dance all day, tell lots
of really funny jokes,
and offer many serious
reflections, too.
[390]
Then, as befits your ceremonial
rites, let me,
with my ridicule and fun, take
off first prize,
let me wear the wreath, garland
of victory.
450
CHORUS
LEADER: Come now, with your singing summon here
that lovely god, our partner in
this dance.
CHORUS:
Widely honoured Iacchus,
creator of the sweetest joyful
song,
come here with us to Demeter,
show us how you move along
this lengthy way with so much
ease.
Iacchus, lover of the dance,
escort me forward as I prance.
In your playful penny-pinching mood
460
you’ve torn my tiny dancing
shoes,
you’ve ripped my dress to
shreds—
Iacchus, you’ve found
a way
for all of us to dance and play
what more, we never have to
pay.
O Iacchus, lover of the dance
escort me forward as I prance.
What's more, as I just glanced aside
around me here, I saw a girl,
[410]
a lovely partner in the dance—
470
her scanty dress was ripped in
two,
I saw a nipple peeking through.
Iacchus, lover of the dance,
escort me forward as I prance.
DIONYSUS:
Hey, I’m always keen to enjoy myself.
I’d like to dance with her.
XANTHIAS: Me, too.
CHORUS
OF INITIATES: Would you like to join us now in making fun
of Archedemos, who at seven
years old
was toothless, no genuine
Athenian teeth.*
And now he plays big shot in
politics
480
among the dead above—the best
there is
at double dealing and
corruption.
And Cleisthenes, I hear, still
picks his ass
and rips his cheeks apart among
the tombstones,
blubbering over his dead lover
Sabinos.
And Callias, they say, son of
the man
who used to bugger his own
horses,
has fights at sea, naval
entanglements,
his arse hole covered by a lion
skin.
[430]
DIONYSUS
[approaching the Leader of the Chorus]
Could you please inform the two
of us
490
where Pluto lives when he’s
at home down here?
We’re strangers in these
parts. We’ve just arrived.
LEADER
OF THE CHORUS: No need to travel very far from here—
so don’t ask me again. You
should know
you’re there—right at this
very door.
DIONYSUS: [to Xanthias] All right, lad, pick up the bags again.
XANTHIAS:
[grumbling as he picks up the luggage]
What’s this all mean—the
same old storyline,
with Corinth, son of Zeus . . .
all this baggage.*
CHORUS
OF INITIATES: Keep up the dance
along the round path sacred to
our goddess,
500
to the flower-bearing grove—let’s
play
with those who join this
festival,
the one our goddess so adores.
I’ll join the women and the
girls
who dance to the goddess all
night long,
the ones who bear the sacred
light.
Let’s move on into flowery
meadows,
the rose-filled fields,
and worship there
the way we always do, with song
and dance,
where blessed Fates assemble,
too.
510
[The Chorus exits]
DIONYSUS:
Let’s see—what style do I use at this point
to knock upon the door? Which
one to use?
What’s the local style of
knocking here?
XANTHIAS:
Stop wasting time. Try chewing on the door—
act like Hercules. You’ve got
his length and strength.
DIONYSUS: [knocking ] You in there! Doorkeeper!
AEACUS: [from inside] Who is it?
DIONYSUS: It's great Hercules!
[Aeacus bursts through the door and grabs Dionysus very roughly]
AEACUS:
Oh you abominable, you shameless reckless wretch—
villain, villain, damned
smiling villain—
the man who made off with
Cerberus my dog!
You grabbed him by the throat
and throttled him, 520
then took off on the run, while
I stood guard.
Now you’re caught—black-hearted
Stygian rocks,
and blood-dripping peaks of
Acheron
will hold you down. Roaming
hounds of Cocytus
will gnaw your guts to bits—Echnida,
too,
and she’s a hundred heads.
The Tartesian eel
will chew your lungs, your
kidneys bleed
from entrails Tithrasian
Gorgons rip apart.
I’ll set out hot foot in
their direction.
[Aeacus lets go of Dionysus, who drops to the ground in terror. Exit Aeacus back into the house. Dionysus lifts his tunic and inspects his underpants]
XANTHIAS: What have you done?
DIONYSUS: I’ve made an offering. Call the god. 530
XANTHIAS:
You’re being ridiculous. Get up. Move
it,
[480]
before some stranger spots you.
DIONYSUS:
I’m going to faint.
Bring the sponge here—set it
on my heart.
[Xanthias rummages through the bags and finds a large sponge]
XANTHIAS: I’ve found the sponge! Here—you can do it.
[Dionysus takes the sponge and begins to clean up his crotch with it]
XANTHIAS:
Where are you putting that sponge? Oh golden gods,
you keep your heart in there?
DIONYSUS:
It was scared—
it ran off to my lower bowel.
XANTHIAS:
Of all gods and men
no one’s more cowardly than
you.
DIONYSUS:
Me?
How can I be when I asked you
for the sponge?
Another man would not have
asked, as I did.
540
XANTHIAS: What would he have done?
DIONYSUS:
Well, a coward
would have lain there and stunk
up the place.
But I stood up—what’s more,
I wiped myself.
[490]
XANTHIAS: By Poseidon, a valiant act.
DIONYSUS:
By Zeus. I think it was.
Weren’t you scared shitless
by his angry words,
by all those threats?
XANTHIAS: By Zeus, I never thought of them.
DIONYSUS:
All right then, since you’re so brave, so valiant,
you can be me. Take this club
and lion skin.
If you’re got the guts, I’ll
trade places with you.
I’ll carry all the baggage.
XANTHIAS:
All right. 550
I’ve got no choice. Quick,
give me that.
[Xanthias takes the club and puts on the lion skin]
XANTHIAS:
[in the grand style] Now gaze upon the Xanthian Hercules—
see if I turn coward and act
like you.
[500]
DIONYSUS:
No, by god, you’ll well deserve a whipping.
Come on, then, I’ll pick up
the bags.
[Dionysus starts to pick up a few of the smaller pieces. A Servant enters through the door]
SERVANT:
Have you come back, my dearest Hercules?
Come on in. Once the goddess
heard you’d come
she had us baking bread loaves
right away,
boiling up pea soup—two or
three cauldrons full,
roasting an entire ox, baking
honey cakes
560
and cookies. So do come in.
XANTHIAS:
That’s really nice,
but I’m afraid . . .
SERVANT:
I won’t let you get away—
by Apollo, no. She’s stewing
bird meat,
[510]
toasting fresh desserts, mixing
sweetest wines.
Please come in.
XANTHIAS: I appreciate it, but . . .
SERVANT:
You can’t be serious. I won’t let you leave.
There’s a lovely flute girl
in there, just for you—
two
or three dancing girls, as well.
XANTHIAS:
What’s that?
Did you say dancing girls?
SERVANT:
Young and in full bloom—
all freshly plucked. So come on
in. Right now
570
the cook’s all ready to
produce the fish.
The table’s being brought in.
XANTHIAS:
You go on back.
First, tell those dancing girls
inside I’m coming.
[to Dionysus]
You, slave, follow me. And bring the baggage. [520]
DIONYSUS:
Hey, hold on a minute. All this pretence,
you can’t be taking it so
seriously.
The fact I dressed you up as
Hercules—
that was just fun. Don’t play
the fool with me.
Pick up these bags again and
bring them in.
XANTHIAS:
What? You're not intending to take back from me 580
what you gave in person?
DIONYSUS:
You bet I am.
Take off that lion skin.
XANTHIAS:
I want witnesses—
I entrust my law suit to the
gods.
DIONYSUS:
What gods?
To think that you, a slave and
mortal, too,
[530]
could play Hercules, Alcmene’s
son—
so arrogant and stupid.
XANTHIAS:
All right, all right.
Have it your way, then. Take
the costume.
Perhaps some day the gods'll
make you need me.
[Xanthias hands the club and lion skin to Dionysus]
CHORUS:
There’s a man with brains,
with keen intelligence—
590
someone
who’s sailed about a bit
and always rolls himself around
to the right side of the ship.
He’s not one to stand
transfixed
like some image made in paint
or frozen solid like a stone.
To move away from where one stands
to places much more comfortable—
that indicates a clever man,
a born Theramenes.*
600
DIONYSUS:
Now that would be extremely funny
to see Xanthias, my slave,
lying at ease
enjoying bed linen from
Milesia,
as he smooches with some
dancing girl.
He asks me for a pot to piss in—
but
I, looking at him straight, grab him hard
right by his cucumber.
[Dionysus laughs at the thought, but then reconsiders]
But then he’d see me
and, being a rascal, sock me on
the jaw.
He’d knock my front teeth out
for sure.
[Pandokeutria, a landlady, enters through the door, looks at Dionysus, and calls back through the doorway]
PANDOKEUTRIA:
Plathane, Plathane, come out here.
610
That fellow’s back who came
to our hotel
and ate up all our bread, all
sixteen loaves.
[550]
[Enter Plathane, another landlady]
PLATHANE: My god, that’s the one.
XANTHIAS: Oh, oh. Someone’s in trouble.
PANDODEUTRIA:
And twenty boiled hams afterwards as well—
at
half an obol each.
XANTHIAS: Now he’s in for it.
PANDOKEUTRIA: And lots of garlic, too.
DIONYSUS:
My good women, you jest.
You don’t know what you’re
saying.
PANDOKEUTRIA:
Oh yes, we do.
You thought I wouldn’t know
you any more
because you’ve got those
little booties on.
What else was there? I haven’t
said a word
620
about the pickled fish.
PLATHANE:
You left out
all the fresh cheese, by god,
the scoundrel ate.
He gobbled up the baskets,
too.
[560]
PANDOKEUTRIA:
To top it all,
when I tallied up his bill, he
just looked at me
and yelled, a massive
roar right in my face.
XANTHIAS: That’s just like him. He does that everywhere.
PANDOKEUTRIA: Then he pulled out his sword—he looked insane.
PLATHANE: My god, you poor dear!
PANDOKEUTRIA:
We were both terrified.
Somehow we ran up fast onto
the shelf,
and he took off, grabbing up
the mats.
630
XANTHIAS: Well, that’s exactly how he operates.
PANDOKEUTRIA:
We’ve got to deal with him somehow. I know—
go call my patron Cleon.*
PLATHANE:
If you meet him,
get Hyperbolos, as well. We’ll
fix this fellow.
[570]
PANDOKEUTRIA:
You wretched greedy swine—I’d be so happy
to smash your molars with a rock, those
teeth
which gobbled down my stuff.
DIONYSUS:
That’s really nice—
and I’d like to dump you in a deep
ravine.
PLATHANE:
I could take a sickle and slice that gullet
which wolfed down all my tripe.
Instead of that,
640
I’ll get Cleon to draw up a
charge,
so we can fish food out of him right here.
[Exit Plathane and Pandokeutria]
DIONYSUS:
Now, may I die the nastiest of deaths,
my little Xanthias, if I’m
not fond of you . . .
XANTHIAS:
I know what you’re thinking. Just stop right there.
[580]
Don’t say a word. I’m Hercules again—
but I won’t do it.
DIONYSUS:
Dear little Xanthias,
don’t say such things.
XANTHIAS:
How could I be Hercules—
remember I’m a slave and mortal, too.
DIONYSUS:
I know you’re angry—you’ve a right to be.
650
But even if you hit me, I won’t
criticize.
And if in future I take anything from you,
may I be chopped down root and branch.
Let me die in the worst way possible—
me, my wife, and kids—and Archedemus,
too—
the man with clammy eyes.
XANTHIAS: On those conditions I accept your oath.
[Xanthias and Dionysus exchange the lion skin and club once again]
CHORUS:
Since you’ve taken up the skin,
the one you had before,
your task is now to start again,
660
to reinvigorate yourself—
once more put on that dreadful stare,
recall the god you imitate.
If you get caught in foolish
talk
or squeak out squeals of fear,
you’ll be compelled a second
time
to carry all the bags.
XANTHIAS:
Men, the advice you give me is not bad.
I was thinking the same thing
myself.
What’s more, if all this
turns out a success,
670
he’ll try to take this back from me
again.
[600]
I know that for a fact. But I’ll make
myself
a manly man—with a gaze like mustard.
I need to do that—for just as I thought
I hear the sound of scraping by the door.
[Enter Aeacus with servants]
AEACUS:
Tie up this dog thief. Get a move on, too—
so we can punish him. Be quick about it.
DIONYSUS: Oh, oh. Someone’s in trouble now.
XANTHIAS:
What the hell!
You stay away from me!
AEACUS: Oh ho, you’re fighting back!
[calling inside the house]
Ditylas, Sceblias, Pandocus—outside!—
680
come here and punch this fellow
out.
[Servants appear and begin to fight Xanthias]
DIONYSUS:
It's shameful, a complete disgrace—
[610]
the way he hits them back—and
more than that—
he
steals.
AEACUS: That’s shocking.
DIONYSUS:
It’s even worse.
It’s scandalous and dreadful.
XANTHIAS:
Now, by god,
I’m prepared to die if I was
ever here
before today, or stole a thing
from you
that’s worth a hair. What’s
more, I’ll make an offer,
like a true gentleman—take
this slave of mine
and torture him. If you find
out from him
690
I’ve done wrong, then take me
out and kill me.
AEACUS: How should I torture him?
XANTHIAS:
All the ways there are.
Tie him to a ladder, hang him
up,
whip him with nails, twist him
on the rack,
strip off skin, fill his nose
with vinegar,
load bricks on him—do
everything you can.
Just don’t flog him with
fresh onions or a leek.
AEACUS:
That offer's fair. So if I beat the slave
and cripple him, I’ll pay for
damages.
XANTHIAS: Not to me. Just take him off for torture. 700
AEACUS:
No. I’ll torture him right here, so he’ll confess
before your very eyes.
[To Dionysus]
Put down that load.
And hurry up. Don’t give me
any lies.
DIONYSUS:
I here proclaim no one should torture me.
I’m an immortal god. If you
do so,
you’ll have yourself to
blame.
AEACUS: What are you saying? [630]
DIONYSUS:
I'm saying I'm Dionysus, an immortal,
a son
of Zeus—this man here’s a slave.
AEACUS: You hear that?
XANTHIAS:
I hear what he claims to be—
all
the more good reason for flogging him.
710
If he’s a god, he won’t feel a thing.
DIONYSUS:
You’re right.
And since you also claim
that you’re a god,
why don’t you take as many
blows as me?
XANTHIAS:
Fair enough. Then whichever of the two
you see bursting into tears or
flinching
as he’s whipped—you’ll
know he’s not the god.
AEACUS:
You’re a fine gentleman—that’s obvious.
You stand for justice. All
right—the two of you,
take off your clothes.
[Xanthias and Dionysus remove their clothes and get down on all fours in preparation for the whipping. Aeacus produces a massive whip]
XANTHIAS:
How will you judge this?
How will you keep it fair?
AEACUS:
That’s easy.
720
I’ll alternate the blows.
XANTHIAS: A fine suggestion.
AEACUS: [striking Xanthias] There!
XANTHIAS: Watch closely if I flinch or not.
AEACUS: But I just hit you.
XANTHIAS: By god, I didn’t feel a thing.
AEACUS: All right. Now I’ll lay into this one here.
[Aeacus strikes Dionysus]
DIONYSUS: When are you going to start my whipping?
AEACUS: I just did.
DIONYSUS: Why didn’t I sneeze?
AEACUS:
I haven't a clue..
Back to this one again.
XANTHIAS: Get on with it!
[Aeacus strikes Xanthias much harder than the first time]
XANTHIAS: [feeling the pain] Ahhhh!!!
AEACUS: What’s that sound about? Did that blow hurt?
XANTHIAS:
No, by god. I was just remembering
[650]
the feast for Hercules at
Diomeia.
730
AEACUS: The man’s a saint. All right, now this one’s turn.
[Aeacus strikes Dionysus, again much harder than before]
DIONYSUS: Oooowww! Ahhh!!
AEACUS: What was that cry?
DIONYSUS: I see men on horseback.
AEACUS: Why are your eyes full of tears?
DIONYSUS: I smell onions.
AEACUS: You didn’t feel a thing?
DIONYSUS:
No, nothing—
nothing that bothered me.
AEACUS:
All right, then,
back to this one here.
[Aeacus hits Xanthias really hard]
XANTHIAS: Aiiieeee!!
AEACUS: What was that?
XANTHIAS:
[pretending he has a thorn in his hand]
A little prickle. Pull it
out.
AEACUS:
What’s going on?
Now it’s this one’s turn.
[Aeacus strikes Dionysus very hard]
DIONYSUS:
Aaaiiii!! O Apollo,
who presides at Delphi
and at Delos . . .
XANTHIAS: You hear that—the man’s in pain.
DIONYSUS:
No, I’m not. 740
[660]
I was remembering some poetry,
a verse from Hipponax.
XANTHIAS:
You’re getting nowhere.
Hit him on the ribs.
AEACUS:
A good idea, by god.
Stick out that pot of yours.
[Aeacus hits Dionysus savagely on the ribs and stomach]
DIONYSUS: Aaaiii! O Poseidon . . .
XANTHIAS: Someone’s feeling pain.
DIONYSUS:
[continuing to recite poetry]
. . . you who command
Aegean headlands and the
green-grey sea . . .
AEACUS:
Holy Demeter, I can’t sort this out.
Which one's the god? You'd best
come inside.
My master Pluto will know who you are,
so will Persephone, his wife—they're
gods.
750
DIONYSUS:
Now you talking. I’d have liked it better
if you’d thought of that before these
whippings.
[Dionysus and Xanthias and Aeacus go into the house leaving the Chorus on stage]
CHORUS:
You Muses, enter now our sacred dance.
Enjoy our songs and gaze
upon
the massive crowds of people
here,
thousands of clever thinkers in
their seats,
in love with honour more than
Cleophon,
on whose snarling lips a
Thracian swallow sits,
[680]
making an awful din—on that
foreign leaf
she squawks her nightingale’s lament,
760
for he’ll soon be sentenced, sent to die
although the jury’s votes create a tie.*
CHORUS
LEADER: It’s just and proper in this city
our sacred chorus give advice and teach.
So first it seems appropriate to us
to
free the citizens from inequalities—
to ease their fears. So if a man slips up
thanks to the wrestling tricks
of Phrynicus,*
I say we should allow the ones
who fall
to state their case, reform
their evil ways.
770
Besides that’s no dishonour
to our city.
It would bring benefits. It’s scandalous
that those who fought a battle once at sea
should instantly become Plataeans,
masters instead of slaves.* I don’t deny
this worked out well—in fact, I praise
it.
It’s the only well-intentioned thing you
did.
But as well as this it stands to reason
we should forget the single blow of
fortune
of those who fought so much at sea beside
you,
780
just like their fathers, your ethnic
kinsmen—
that's what they keep requesting. But you
here,
whom
nature made the wisest of all people,
should drop your anger and make everyone
who fights alongside us at sea
a kinsman,
a citizen. For if we are too
proud,
too puffed up with self-worth,
especially now,
when we’re encircled by the
sea’s embrace,
in future time we’ll look like total
fools.
If I’ve a keen sense of the life and style
790
of someone who will someday cry in woe,
this tiny irritating ape Cleigenes,
[710]
the most corrupt of all our laundry types,
those noble men who cut the soap with ash,
dilute the mix, and use Cimolian earth,
won’t be with us long. He knows it, too—
that’s why he’s not a man promoting
peace.
He knows that someday in a drunken fit
he
may well lose his staff of office,
and, more than that, be stripped of all
his clothes.*
800
This city, it often seems to me
treats our best and worthiest
citizens
the way it does our old silver
coins,
our new gold ones, as well.*
This money
was never counterfeit—no,
these coins
appeared to be the finest coins of all,
the only ones which bore the proper stamp.
Everywhere among barbarians and Greeks
they stood the test. But these we do not
use.
Instead we have our debased coins of
bronze,
810
poorly struck some days ago or yesterday.
That’s how we treat our finest citizens,
the nobly born, our righteous men,
our best and brightest, the ones well
trained
in music and the dance at the palaestra.*
Instead we use foreign bronze for
everything—
useless men from useless fathers, red
heads,*
[730]
men who’ve come here very recently—
the sort the city at its most negligent
would never use in earlier
days,
820
not even as a scapegoat.* But
now,
you silly fools, it’s time to
change your ways.
Use worthy people once again. You’ll see—
if you’re successful, then you’ll merit praise.
And if you fail, well, you’ll be a fine
match
for the tree you’re hanging from. At any
rate,
should you slip up, that’s what the wise
will say.
[Enter Xanthias with a servant from the house]
SERVANT:
By Zeus who saves us, that master of yours
is a very cultured gentleman.
XANTHIAS:
Of course, he is.
The only things he knows are
how to drink
830
[740]
and dip his dink.
SERVANT:
But not to beat you on the spot
when they proved that you’re
the slave—and one
who claimed you were the master.
XANTHIAS:
If he had,
he’d have had regrets—and
that’s a fact.
SERVANT:
What you just did is worthy of a slave,
something I love to do.
XANTHIAS:
Forgive my asking,
but what is it you love to do?
SERVANT:
It's more than love—
almost ecstasy—when I can curse my master
out of ear shot.
XANTHIAS:
What about really bitching,
whenever you’ve received a
total thrashing
840
and run outside?
SERVANT: Yes, I do like that, too.
XANTHIAS: What about sticking your nose in everything?
SERVANT: By god, there’s nothing finer—that’s for sure.
XANTHIAS:
By Zeus, divine protector of our
race,
[750]
what about listening to our
masters’ chat
when they spread gossip . . .
SERVANT: I’m even crazier for that!
XANTHIAS:
. . . then passing on the gossip all around,
to everyone outside the house?
SERVANT:
You mean me?
Every time I do that, I piss
myself.
XANTHIAS:
By Phoebus Apollo, give me your hand,
850
let me kiss you, and you kiss
me.
[Notices a noise from inside the house]
Tell me,
by Zeus, patron of all flogged
slaves like us,
what’s going on inside the
house, that noise,
all that yelling and abuse?
SERVANT:
Oh that—
that’s Euripides and Aeschylus.
XANTHIAS: Ah ha!
SERVANT:
Big, big trouble’s in the works down here
among the dead—a massive civil war.
[760]
XANTHIAS: What about?
SERVANT:
There’s a custom in these parts
that in the arts—the great and worthy
ones—
the best man in his special area
860
gets all his meals for free at City
Hall
in the chair of honour next to
Pluto . . .
XANTHIAS: I get it.
SERVANT:
. . . until someone else arrives
who has more skill than he
does. At that point,
he has to yield his place.
XANTHIAS:
But why would this
get Aeschylus upset?
SERVANT:
Well, he had his chair,
the one for tragedy, as the
finest
in that form of art.
XANTHIAS: Who’s got it now? [770]
SERVANT:
When Euripides came down to Hades
he started showing off his
rhetoric
870
to thieves, bag snatchers,
parricides,
to all the ones who steal—and
here in Hades
that’s most of us. Well, they listened to
him,
heard his counter-arguments, his twists
and turns,
and went nuts for him. So they then
proposed
he was the wisest of all men. With that,
Euripides got so worked up he claimed
that chair where Aeschylus sits down.
XANTHIAS: Didn’t people throw stuff at him?
SERVANT: My god, no.
Quite the opposite. They all cried out
880
to have a trial set up which
could find out
which of the two men was the
wiser poet.
[780]
XANTHIAS: The crowd of scoundrels?
SERVANT:
Yes, that bunch—
they made a din, by god—right up to heaven.
XANTHIAS: Didn’t Aeschylus get some support?
SLAVE: It's like this audience—too few good men.
XANTHIAS: So what’s Pluto planning to set up?
SLAVE:
A contest— there's going to be a trial right here,
a test of skill.
XANTHIAS:
What about Sophocles—
how come he didn’t claim the poet’s
chair?
890
SLAVE:
My god, he wouldn’t. When he first arrived
he kissed Aeschylus, shook him by the hand,
and kept his distance from the chair of
honour.
[790]
And now, according to Cleidemides,
he means to sit by as a substitute.
If Aeschylus wins out, he’ll keep his
place.
If not, in this contest of poetic skill
he says he’ll fight on to the bitter end
against Euripides.
XANTHIAS: So this affair is on.
SLAVE:
Yes, in a minute. In this very spot
900
some fairly weird things will
be going on—
they’re testing poetry with balance
scales!
XANTHIAS: What?! They’ll weigh tragedy in milligrams?
SERVANT:
And they’re bringing out some measuring sticks,
rulers for words, framed rectangles . . .
XANTHIAS: Will they be constructing bricks? [800]
SERVANT:
. . . bevels, too,
and wedges—all because
Euripides
says he’ll test their tragedies, every
word.
XANTHIAS:
Well, my guess is that Aeschylus
isn’t liking this at all.
SLAVE:
He just glared,
910
lowering his head as if he were
a bull.
XANTHIAS: Who’s going to judge this trial?
SLAVE:
That’s difficult.
Wise men are hard to find—in short
supply.
And Aeschylus didn’t really hit it off
with the Athenians . . .
XANTHIAS:
Perhaps because
he thought that most of them
were criminals.
SERVANT:
. . . and he considered other people
worthless as judges of true
poetry.
[810]
So at last they turned toward
your master,
since he’s got some knowledge
of that art.
920
But let’s go in. There’s always
trouble for us,
every time our master’s in a rush.
[Xanthias and the Servant go into the house]
CHORUS:
[in a parody of the tragic style]
Now the loud-roaring hero feels in full his fury—
that valiant vehemence which surges up
within,
when he confronts his rival in
poetic craft
sharpening smooth-talking
tusks, just like a boar.
His frenzied passion's going to
make those eyeballs roll.
The battle’s here at hand—helmet-glancing
war,
horse-crested words, while splintered axles
break apart,
as the subtle chisel-worker tries to
push and parry
930
[820]
steed-prancing phrases from the man who
builds our minds.
The bristling crest erect there on his
shaggy neck,
his natural hair, a fearful scowl upon his
brow,
and bellowing, he’ll launch his language
fixed with bolts,
like planking for a ship, he’ll rip the
words apart,
blasting with his giant’s lungs. The
other man,
the one who works his mouth, who tortures
every word,
unrolling his smooth tongue and shaking
envy’s rein,
will dissect and parse those words, and,
splitting hairs,
refute all that large labour of the former’s
lungs.
940
[Enter Aeschylus, Euripides, Dionysus, and Pluto, with attendants]
EURIPIDES:
I’ll not give up the chair—no more advice.
[830]
I say I’m better in poetic skill.
DIONYSUS:
Why are you silent, Aeschylus? You hear
the claim he’s made.
EURIPIDES:
His high-and-mighty pose—
he does that at the start of every play,
some hocus-pocus for his
tragedies.
DIONYSUS: My dear fellow, that’s too much big talk.
EURIPIDES:
I know the man—and for a long time now
I’ve studied him. He makes crude
characters
with stubborn tongues. As for his own
mouth,
950
it’s unrestrained and uncontrolled,
unlocked,
no proper discourse, bombastiloquent.
AESCHYLUS:
Is that so, you garden-goddess
child?
[840]
You say that of me, you gossip-monger,
a beggar’s poet who picks and
stitches rags?
You’ll regret those words.
DIONYSUS:
Hey, Aeschylus,
hold on. Don’t fire up your
heart so angrily,
with such ill will.
AESCHYLUS:
No, no, I won’t hold back,
’til I’ve exposed the man and clearly
proved
this cripples’ poet is a boastful fool .
. .
960
DIONYSUS:
[to the attendants]
Hey, boys, bring out a
sheep—a black one, too.
It looks as if a storm’s about to break.*
AESCHYLUS:
. . . collecting all those monodies from Crete,
importing impure marriage into
art . . .*
[850]
DIONYSUS:
Whoa, hold on there, much-honoured Aeschylus.
And you, my poor Euripides,
back off
beyond this breaking storm—that
would be wise,
in case his anger cracks your skull in
two,
some heady phrase makes all your brain
leak out
your hero Telephos. And you there, Aeschylus,
970
don’t get so angry. Test him, but calmly—
and then be tested, too. It’s just not
right
for poets to engage in such abuse,
like
two women selling bread. You bellow
as if you were a tree on fire.
EURIPIDES:
I’m ready.
[860]
I don’t mind biting or being bitten
first,
whatever he prefers, about my diction,
or the songs and sinews of my tragic plays—
and by god, about Peleus, too,
my Meleager or my Aeolos,
980
or, even more about my
Telephos.*
DIONYSUS: What do you want to do? Tell us, Aeschylus.
AESCHYLUS:
I have no wish to enter battle here.
The war we fight is not on
equal terms.
DIONYSUS: Why’s that?
AESCHYLUS:
My poetry did not die with me,
but his did once he died. So it’s
down here—
he’ll have it with him when he wants to
speak.
But nonetheless since it’s what you
want,
we must go through with this.
[870]
DIONYSUS:
[to the assembled group]
Come now,
someone bring an offering here,
and fire as well,
990
so I can pray before this
contest starts,
our battle of the brains, and
judge the fight
with maximum aesthetic
expertise.
[addressing the Chorus]
Now for the Muses you should sing a song.
CHORUS:
Oh you nine sacred Muses
mighty Zeus' virgin daughters,
gazing down on subtle minds,
you see intelligence at work
in men who write our maxims.
When such as these go out to
fight,
1000
with counterarguments and
tricks,
with fiercely studied wrestling
moves,
with crooked throws, come to us
here,
observe the power of these
mouths,
their awesome skill in making
words,
[880]
sawing phrases up like sawdust.
Now our great contest in this
art
stands ready let the business
start.
DIONYSUS:
Before we have you two recite your lines,
you ought to
offer up your prayers.
AESCHYLUS:
Oh Demeter,
1010
who
nourishes my mind, make me worthy
to
be there in your mysteries.
DIONYSUS:
[to Euripides]
It’s your turn—
take
some incense. Make an offering.
EURIPIDES:
All right—
but
I pray to different gods.
DIONYSUS:
Personal ones?
Your
very own? Freshly minted?
EURIPIDES: That’s right. [890]
DIONYSUS: Then pray away to those private gods of yours.
EURIPIDES:
Oh air, my food, oh pivot of my tongue,
oh
native wit, oh nose that smells so fine,
whatever
words I seize upon, let me
refute
them—let the victory be mine.
1020
CHORUS:
Now we’re filled with great desire
to
hear from poets with such skill,
the
pathway in this war of words
they’ll
walk along. Their tongues are wild,
no
lack of boldness in their mood,
nor
are their intellects asleep.
It
looks as though we’re going to see
[900]
one
man say something quite urbane
and
finely trimmed. The other one
will
seize him and his arguments,
1030
the
roots and all, and then attack
and
scatter words around the place
like
wrestle-rolling on a mat.
DIONYSUS:
[To Aeschylus and Euripides]
You
must speak at full speed. But see you talk
this
way—with elegance, no metaphors,
and nothing someone else might say.
EURIPIDES:
All right.
As
for myself—the kind of poet I am—
I’ll
say that in my final words. For first,
I’ll demonstrate this fellow’s fraudulent,
a
cheat. I’ll show just how he took them in,
1040
and
fooled those idiots reared on Phrynichos.*
[910]
First,
he’d wrap a person up and sit him down
with
his face hidden away—some character
like
Niobe or his Achilles—
mere
window dressing for the tragedy.
They
didn’t speak or even mutter.
DIONYSUS: That’s right. They didn’t.
EURIPIDES:
And then his Chorus thumped their lyrics out—
strings
of them, four in a row without a break,
the
character just sat on stage in silence.
DIONYSUS:
Well, I liked that they kept quiet. It pleased me. 1050
It
wasn’t any worse than those today
who
babble on and on.
EURIPIDES:
You were a fool—
no
doubt of that.
DIONYSUS:
I think so, too. But why so?
Why did
our friend here do that?
EURIPIDES:
It was a trick
designed
to keep spectators in their seats,
waiting
for when Niobe might start to speak.
So
the play continued on and on and on . . .
[920]
DIONYSUS:
What a rascal! How he had me fooled!
[to
Aeschylus] Why are you fretting there
and fidgeting?
EURIPIDES:
Because I’ve caught him out. When he’d played this trick 1060
and
half the play was done, someone would speak up,
a
dozen ox-like words—with eyebrows, crests,
some
fear-faced things full of the bogey man,
which
no one in the audience understood.
AESCHYLUS: How miserable I feel . . .
DIONYSUS: Stay quiet please.
EURIPIDES: Nothing he said was ever clear.
DIONYSUS: [to Aeschylus] Don’t grind your teeth.
EURIPIDES:
He talked on about Scamanders, trenches,
shields
with bronze enamelled griffon-eagles,
in
horse-cliffed phrases hard to comprehend.
DIONYSUS:
Yes, by god, one long night I got no sleep
1070
from
worrying what kind of bird was called
the
tawny clear-voiced horse cock.
AESCHYLUS:
You idiot!
It
was a symbol painted on the ships.
DIONYSUS: I thought it was Eryxis, Philoxenos’ son.
EURIPIDES:
Did you have to work a rooster in
just
for the tragedy?*
AESCHYLUS:
You god-forsaken wretch,
what
sorts of plays did you create?
EURIPIDES:
None like you—
no
horse-cock monsters or goat-stags, by god,
the
sort they paint on Persian tapestries.
When
I first took this art of plays from you,
1080
crammed with bombast to the
gills, fustian stuff,
[940]
at
first I made it slim, reduced its weight,
with
vesicles, and walks, and laxatives.
I
gave a potion drawn from bookish chat,
and
took care nursing it with monodies.
DIONYSUS: Mixing in Cephisophon, as well.*
EURIPIDES:
I wasn’t fool enough to put in there
whatever
stuff I chanced upon, or add
just
anything I found. The character
who
came out first would right away explain
1090
on
my behalf the background of the play.
DIONYSUS: Which was better than your own, by god.
EURIPIDES:
After those opening words I never set
anything
superfluous in the play. No.
For
me the woman spoke—so did the slave,
the
master, maiden, the old woman, too.
AESCHYLUS: Well, shouldn’t you be killed for daring this?
EURIPIDES:
By Apollo, no. I was doing my work
the
democratic way.
DIONYSUS:
[to Euripides]
My dear chap,
I’d
forget that—from your point of view
1100
that’s
not the best line you could take.*
EURIPIDES:
[indicating the audience]
I
taught these people here to speak their minds . . .
AESCHYLUS:
I say so too—and before doing that
I
wish you’d split apart—right down the middle.
EURIPIDES:
.
. . introducing subtle rules for words,
for
verses nicely trimmed. I taught them to think,
to
see, to understand, to love new twists
and
double dealing, to suspect the worst,
to
be too smart in everything . . .
AESCHYLUS: I agree.
EURIPIDES:
. . . and I brought in domestic issues, too— 1110
useful
matters of things we understand,
things
people here could challenge me about.
[960]
They
know their stuff—so they could test my art.
I
didn’t boast or lose my common sense.
Nor
did I scare them all with characters
like
Cycnus and Memnon, who walk around
with
bells attached.* Look at our disciples,
his
and mine—you know them all quite well.
Meganeitos
and rough Phormisios
are
his—great long-beard-lance-and-trumpet men,
1120
flesh-rippers
with the pine—whereas, for me
there’s
neat Theramenes and Cleitophon.*
DIONYSUS:
Theramenes? Now, he’s a clever man,
expert
in everything. When he meets trouble,
when
it hits him in the face, he gets away,
no
problem, by changing who he is—
if
being a Chian doesn’t work for him,
[970]
he
claims that he's Achaean.*
EURIPIDES:
[rushing his concluding speech]
I
taught these people here
to
think about such things.
1130
I
brought logic into art.
I
made them questioners.
Now
they see everything
and
understand it all.
Their
minds are more profound—
they
organize their homes
much
better than before.
So
now they ask “Where’s this?”
“How’s
it going?” “Who took that?”
DIONYSUS:
[imitating Euripides speaking style here]
Yes,
by god, that’s what they do.
1140
[980]
Now
each Athenian man
goes
home and starts to yell—
to
scream at his own servants,
“Where’s
my pot? My sardine—
who’s
bitten off its head?
My
bowl from bygone years,
is
it, too, dead and gone?
And
where’s my garlic clove?
I
had it yesterday.
Who’s
munching on my olives?”
1150
Before
this, they’d just sit
and
gape there stupidly,
like
little mummy’s boys
[990]
and
silly sweet-toothed fools.
CHORUS:
[to Aeschylus] You see this, radiant Achilles,*
Come
now, what can you say to him?
Don’t let your anger take
control
and carry you beyond the track.
He’s
charged you with some dreadful things.
But
now, you noble gentleman,
1160
respond
to him, but not with wrath
Haul
in your sails—except the tips—
[1000]
then
bit by bit bring in your ship.
Keep
watching for an easy wind.
You just may get a gentle breeze.
DIONYSUS:
Now you who were first among the Greeks
to
raise the solemn towers of spoken words
adorning
them with tragic gibberish,
be
strong and spout forth eloquence.
AESCHYLUS:
This trial enrages me—it pains my spleen
1170
to
have to answer such a man. But still,
to
stop your claim that I’m incompetent
you
answer this for me: Why should anyone
admire
the man who is a poet?
EURIPIDES:
For cleverness
and
good advice—and since we help improve
the
men who live within our cities.
AESCHYLUS:
So if that’s something you didn’t do,
[1010]
instead
transforming fine and decent men
to
make them scoundrels, what would you say
you'd then deserve by way of
punishment?
1180
DIONYSUS: Death—but don’t ask him.
AESCHYLUS:
Consider first
the
nature of the men he got from me—
were
they not nobly born and six feet tall?
There
were no runaways, no layabouts,
no
scoundrels like today, no ne’er-do-wells.
No.
Those men breathed spears and javelins,
white-crested
helmets, coronets, and greaves,
with
passions wrapped in seven oxhide folds.
EURIPIDES: This is getting bad.
DIONYSUS:
His helmet-making
wears
me down.
EURIPIDES:
What exactly did you do
1190
to
make these men so noble?
DIONYSUS:
Aeschylus,
speak
up. Forget your pride and stubbornness.
[1020]
AESCHYLUS: I wrote a play brim full of war god Ares.
DIONYSUS: Which one was that?
AESCHYLUS:
My Seven Against Thebes.
Every
man who saw it fell in love with war.
DIONYSUS:
But you did something bad there with the Thebans—
you
made them more courageous in the war.
For
that you should be spanked.
AESCHYLUS:
[to the audience]
You too,
you could have trained yourselves for war as well,
but
you weren’t so inclined. Then after that,
1200
by
putting on my Persians I instructed them
so
they were always keen to beat their foes—
thus
honouring our finest act.*
DIONYSUS:
I was pleased
when
you cried out in sorrowful lament,
“Oh
child of Darius, who is dead,” and then,
the
chorus clapped its hands and all yelled out
“Booo
hooo.”
AESCHYLUS:
Poets need to work on things like this.
[1030]
Look
back—they’ve been useful from the start,
the
noble race of poets. There’s Orpheus—
he
taught us rituals and not to kill,
1210
Musaeus
showed us cures for sicknesses
and
oracles as well, and Hesiod
taught
farming, harvest times, and how to plough.
As
for divine Homer, where’s his renown,
his
special fame, if not in what he taught,
those
useful facts about courageous deeds,
and
battle ranks and how men arm themselves.
DIONYSUS:
Well, that may be, but Homer didn’t teach
a
thing to Pantacles, that clumsy oaf.
The
other day while marching on parade,
1220
he
clipped his helmet on, and then he tried
to
tie the crest on top.
AESCHYLUS:
And brave men, too—
Homer
gave us lots—with them the hero
Lamachos. I took Homeric warriors,
[1040]
and let my brain write many noble deeds
about
great lion-hearted fighting men
like
Patroclos and Teucer—in this way
I
urged our citizens to match themselves
with
them, when they heard the trumpet sound.
But
by god I never made a single whore
1230
like
Phaedra or that Sthenoboia.*
No
one’s ever known me as a man
who
writes about the way a woman loves.
EURIPIDES:
No, by god. Whatever you possess,
there’s
nothing there of Aphrodite.
AESCHLYUS:
Let her stay away! But she took her seat
when
she sat down hard on you and yours.
She
really squashed you flat.
DIONYSUS:
She sure did, by god.
What
you wrote about the wives of other men
you
had to suffer with your own.
EURIPIDES:
You wretched man, 1240
How
has my Stheneboia harmed our state?
AESCHYLUS:
Because you helped persuade the noble wives
[1050]
of
well-born men to drink down hemlock,
ashamed
of those like your Bellerophon.
EURIPIDES: My Phaedra story—did I make that up?
AESCHYLUS:
No—it was there. But it’s a poet’s task
to
conceal disgrace—not put it on parade
front
and centre and instruct men in it.
Small
children have a teacher helping them,
for
young men there’s the poets—we’ve got
1250
a
solemn duty to say useful things.
EURIPIDES:
When you spout on of Lycabettus
and
subjects like magnificant Parnassus,
does this involve your teaching useful things?
We
need to use the language people use.
AESCHYLUS:
You pestering demon, don’t you see
that
noble thoughts and fine ideas perforce
produce
a language of commensurate size?
Besides,
it’s fitting for the demi-gods
to
speak in loftier terms—just as they wear
1260
[1060]
much
finer robes than ours. But you besmirched
what
I displayed with such nobility.
EURIPIDES: What did I do?
AESCHYLUS:
First, you dressed your kings in rags,
to
make them pitiful to all who watched.
EURIPIDES: If I did that, what damage did it do?
AESCHYLUS:
It’s your fault no rich man any more
is
keen to pay out money for a ship.
Instead
he wraps himself in rags and weeps
and
whines about how poor he is.
DIONYSUS:
Yes, by Demeter, that’s true. But underneath 1270
he
wears a tunic of pure wool. And then,
if
he deceives them with a speech like that,
he
pops up in the market by the fish.*
AESCHYLUS:
And then you taught them how to babble on
with
stupid gossip—so the wrestling schools
[1070]
stood
empty and the buttocks of our young,
who chattered all the time, were quite worn out.
You
then convinced the Paralos’ crew*
to
argue with their officers. In my day
they
were ignorant of this—all they knew
1280
was
how to yell for food and cry “Yo ho.”
DIONYSUS:
By Apollo, that’s right—and how to fart
straight
in the faces of the rowers there, or shit
on
sailors down below, their mess mates.
On shore they’d rob someone. Now they talk back—
they
never row—just sail out here and there.
AESCHYLUS:
[rapidly summing up his opening argument]
What
crimes is he not guilty of?
Did
he not put up on display
pimps
and women giving birth
in
holy shrines and having sex
1290
[1080]
with
their own brothers, and then claim
that
living is no life? So now,
because
of him our city here
is
crammed with bureaucratic types
and
stupid democratic apes
who
always cheat our people.
Nobody caries on the torch—
no one's trained
in that these days.
DIONYSUS:
No, by god, they're not. That’s why
while
at the Panathenic games
1300
[1090]
I
laughed myself quite pissless—
a
slow, pallid, porky runner
went
on by—head drooping down—
far
behind the rest. In that race
he
wasn’t very good. Well then,
the
folks at Keremeios gate
began
to whack him in the gut,
to
hit his ribs and sides and butt.
While
their hands were slapping him,
he
let rip a tremendous fart
1310
which
killed the torch. Then on he ran.
CHORUS:
The event is huge, the strife intense—
the
mighty war goes on. It’s hard to choose.
[1100]
When
one man presses hard, the other one
wheels
round and launches the attack once more.
[addressing Aeschylus and Euripides]
You
two, don’t you stay inactive where you sit.
For
wit knows many varied ways to strike.
And
so, no
matter what you’re fighting for,
speak
out, set to, bring up your works—
the old and new. Put your daring to the test—
1320
say
something that’s intelligent and deft.
Don't be
afraid the people watching here
are
just too ignorant and will not see
[1110]
the
subtle points in what you two may say.
Don’t
worry on that score, for it’s not true.
They’ve
served in wars—and each man owns a book.
He
understands the witty parts. You see,
it’s
in their nature to possess strong minds,
but
now the whetstone’s really sharpened them.
So
have no fears—examine everything—
1330
at least for
the spectators’ benefit
since
they’ve become so wise.
EURIPIDES:
All right, I’ll turn to the prologues you composed,
so
I can start off with a test to check
[1120]
the
first part of a clever poet’s tragedy.
In
setting down just how events occurred
this
man was never clear
DIONYSUS: Which one will you test?
EURIPIDES:
Quite a few. [to Aeschylus] But first, will you recite for me
an
opening from your Oresteia.
DIONYSUS: Let everyone keep quiet. Achilles, speak. 1340
AESCHYLUS
[quoting from the Choephoroi]
“Oh
Hermes underground, who oversees
my
father’s power, be my rescuer,
my
ally, answering the prayers I make.
I’ve
come back and returned unto this land.”
DIONYSUS: You see some flaws in this?
EURIPIDES: More than a dozen.
DIONYSUS: But the whole thing's only four lines long! [1130]
EURIPIDES:
And each of them has twenty errors.
DIONYSUS: I warn you, Aeschylus, keep quiet. If not,
you’ll
forfeit these four lines and owe some more.
AESCHYLUS:
Am I to remain silent just for him?
1350
DIONYSUS: I think that's best.
EURIPIDES:
Right at the very start
he’s
made a huge mistake—as high as heaven.
AESCHYLUS: You do see you’re talking rubbish.
EURIPIDES:
If so,
it
doesn’t bother me.
AESCHYLUS:
You claim I’m wrong—
Well,
where are my mistakes?
EURIPIDES: Recite the start again.
AESCHYLUS:
“Oh Hermes underground, who oversees
my
father’s power . . .”
EURIPIDES:
Orestes says this
at
the tomb of his dead father, does he not?
AESCHYLUS: I won’t deny it. [1140]
EURIPIDES:
Since his father died
a
brutal death at the hands of his own wife
1360
and
by a secret trick, how can he claim
that
Hermes watches over anything?
AESCHYLUS:
That’s not my sense—when he speaks, he means
Hermes,
god of luck, who watches all the dead.
And
his words clearly show that this Hermes
obtained
that office from his father Zeus.
EURIPIDES:
So you’ve made an even bigger blunder
than
I thought—if this subterranean job
comes
from his dad . . .
DIONYSUS:
If that’s the case,
he’s
a grave robber on his father’s side.
1370
AESCHYLUS:
That’s cheap wine you’re drinking, Dionysus,
[1150]
it lacks bouquet.
DIONYSUS: Recite another line for him.
[to Euripides]
And you, take care about the damage you inflict.
AESCHYLUS:
[quoting again] “. . . my father’s power, be my rescuer,
my
ally, answering the prayers I make.
I’ve
come back and returned unto this land.”
EURIPIDES:
The skilful Aeschylus has just revealed
the
same thing twice.
DIONYSUS: How so?
EURIPIDES:
Look at the verse.
All
right, I’ll tell you—“I’ve come back”
is
followed by the word “returned”—coming back
1380
and
returning—they mean the same.
DIONYSUS:
Yes, by god—
exactly
like a man who says to someone,
“Hey,
lend me a baking dish or, if you like,
a
dish for baking.”
AESCHYLUS:
You blithering idiot,
[1160]
it’s
not the same at all. That line of verse
has
beautifully chosen words.
EURIPIDES:
It does?
Then
show me what you mean.
AESCHYLUS:
To come unto a land
refers
to someone with a native home—
he’s
come back—there’s nothing else implied.
But
when a man arrives who’s been an exile,
1390
he
comes back and returns.*
DIONYSUS:
By Apollo, that’s good!
What
do you say to that, Euripides?
EURIPIDES:
I say Orestes didn’t "return" home.
He
came in secret, without permission
from
those in charge.
DIONYSUS:
By Hermes, that’s good.
But
I don’t get what you mean.
EURIPIDES:
Come on then,
try
another line.
DIONYSUS:
Yes, let’s have some more.
Get
a move on, Aeschylus. And you,
keep
looking out for something bad.
AESCHYLUS:
[reciting more lines]
“On
this heaped-up burial mound I pray
1400
my
father hears and listens . . .”
EURIPIDES:
It’s there again—
he’s
saying the same thing twice—
to
hear, to listen—obviously the same.
DIONYSUS:
Well, you fool, he is speaking to the dead.
And
we don’t reach them even with a triple prayer.
AESCHYLUS: All right, how do you compose your prologues?
EURIPIDES:
I’ll tell you. And if I say the same thing twice
or
you see extra padding there, some verse
that
doesn’t suit the plot, then spit on me.
DIONYSUS:
Come on, speak up. I need to clearly hear
1410
[1180]
the
language in your prologues working well.
EURIPIDES:
[reciting from one of his plays]
“Oedipus
to start with was a lucky man . . .”
AESCHYLUS:
By god, no he wasn’t—his nature
gave
him a dreadful fate. Before his birth
Apollo
said he’d murder his own father—
he
wasn’t even born! How could he be
a
lucky man right at the very start?
EURIPIDES:
[continuing to recite]
“Then
he became most wretched of all men.”
AESCHYLUS:
No, no, by god. He always was like that.
And
why? Because as soon as he was born,
1420
he was
exposed out in the cold, in a pot,
[1190]
so
he wouldn’t grow into a murderer
and
kill his father. He dragged himself away
to Polybus on
mutilated feet.
And
after that he married an old woman,
though
he was young, and, as things turned out,
she
was his mother. So he poked out his eyes.
DIONYSUS:
Then he’d have ended happy after all,
if, like Erastinides, he’d been
a general.*
EURIPIDES: You’re being stupid. I make my prologues well. 1430
AESCHYLUS:
Is that so? Well, by god, I won’t scratch
each
phrase word for word, but with help from the gods
I’ll
kill your prologues with a little oil jug.
[1200]
EURIPIDES: My prologues? With an oil jug?
AESCHYLUS:
Yes, just one.
The
way you write, well, everything fits in—
a
little fleece, a little oil jug,
a
little bag—they all mesh nicely in
with
your iambics. Let me demonstrate.*
EURIPIDES: What this? You’ll demonstrate?
AESCHYLUS: That’s what I’m saying.
DIONYSUS: All right, Euripides, you’ve got to speak. 1440
EURIPIDES:
[reciting some more of his own lines]
“Aegyptos,
so many people say,
with
fifty children in a rowing boat,
landing
in Argos . . .”
AESCHYLUS: . . . lost his little oil jug.
EURIPIDES:
What’s this stuff about an oil jug?
You’ll
regret this.
DIONYSUS:
Recite another prologue
[1210]
so I
can see the point again.
EURIPIDES:
[continuing to recite]
“Dionysus
clothed in fawn skins leaps
among
the torches on Parnassus,
on that mount he waved
his thysrus—
there he danced and . . .”
AESCHYLUS: . . . lost his little oil jug.
DIONYSUS:
Oh dear, 1450
we’ve
been stricken with an oil jug once again.
EURIPIDES:
It’s no big deal. In this next prologue
he
can’t tie in his little oil jug.
“Among
all men there’s not one living
who’s
blessed in everything—if nobly born
he
lacks sufficient livelihood, or else,
if
basely born, . . .”
AESCHYLUS: . . . he’s lost his little oil jug.
DIONYSUS: Euripides . . .
EURIPIDES: What?
DIONYSUS:
It seems to me
you
should haul in your sails. This little oil jug—
[1220]
it’s
going to introduce a mighty storm.
1460
EURIPIDES:
By Demeter, I won’t even think of it.
Here’s
one will knock that oil jug from his hand.
DIONYSUS:
All right, recite another one—take care—
keep
your distance from that oil jug.
EURIPIDES:
“Abandoning Sidon city, Cadmus,
Agenor’s
son . . .”
AESCHYLUS: . . . lost his little oil jug.
DIONYSUS:
My dear fellow, buy the oil jug from him,
so
he can’t shatter all our prologues.
EURIPIDES:
What?
I
should purchase it from him?
DIONYSUS: I think you should.
EURIPIDES:
No way. I’ve got lots of prologues to recite— 1470
[1230]
ones
where he can’t stick in his little oil jug.
“Pelops,
son of Tantalus, arrived at Pisa,
and
riding his swift horses . . .”
AESCHYLUS: . . . lost his little oil jug.
DIONYSUS:
You see—he stuck in that little oil jug
once
again. Look, my good man, pay his price—
use
all your means. You’ll get it for an obol.
And
it’s really nice—a good one.
EURIPIDES:
Not yet—
I’ve
still got plenty left: “Oeneus once
from
his own land . . .”
AESCHYLUS: . . . lost his little oil jug.
EURIPIDES:
Let me at least recite the whole line first—
1480
“Oeneus
once from his own land received
a
bounteous harvest—then while offering
[1240]
first
fruits for sacrifice . . .”
AESCHYLUS: . . . lost his little oil jug.
DIONYSUS: In the middle of the service? Who stole it?
EURIPIDES:
Back off, my dear man—let him speak to this:
“Zeus,
as truth reports . . .”
DIONYSUS:
You’ll be destroyed—
For
he’ll just say “lost his little oil jug.”
These
oil jugs pop up in your prologues
the
way warts grow on eyes. For god’s sake,
change
the subject. What about his lyrics?
1490
EURIPIDES:
All right. I’ll show how bad he is at them.
His
songs are awful—they all sound just the same.
[1250]
CHORUS:
What’s going to happen now?
I’ve
got an idea how
he’ll
criticize and mar
the
one whose lyrics are
our
finest songs so far.
How
will his censure ring
to a
Dionysian king,
for
me a fearful thing?
1500
[1260]
EURIPIDES:
His songs are truly quite astonishing.
I’ll
give quick proof, for I’ll condense them all
into
a single song.
DIONYSUS:
All right, you do that.
I’ll gather up some pebbles and keep score.
[Someone begins the accompaniment on a flute]
EURIPIDES:
[beginning his parody of Aeschylus]
Phthian
Achilles, oh, you hear the crash—
the
loud man-slaughtering BASH, why don’t you come,
come
here to help us? As the primordial race,
we
honour Hermes by the lake—BASH.
Why
come you not to our assistance?
DIONYSUS: That’s two bashes for you, Aeschylus. 1510
EURIPIDES:
[continuing the parody]
Most
glorious of Achaean men, O Atreus,
[1270]
who
rules far and wide, learn of me—BISH BASH—
why
come you not to our assistance?
DIONYSUS: There’s a third bash for you, Aeschylus.
EURIPIDES:
[continuing the parody]
Be
still! Attendants on the bee priestess
are
nigh to open up Artemis’ shrine—BASH.
Why
come you not to our assistance?
I
have authority to utter out in full,
to
speak those fatal orders ruling us
and
this our expedition—BISH BASH.
1520
Why
come you not to our assistance?
DIONYSUS:
By ruling Zeus, what a pile of bashes!
The
toilet’s where I want to be right now—
this
bashing’s swollen both my kidneys.
[1280]
EURIPIDES:
Don’t go, not before you listen to
another
group of songs, compressed medlies
of
this man’s lyric melodies.
DIONYSUS:
All right then, go on.
But
you can leave out all the bash and crash.
EURIPIDES:
[continuing his parody of Aeschylus]
How
the Achaeans’ twin-throned power, youth of Greece—
Tophlatto-thratto-phlilatto-thrat—
1530
sent
by the Sphinx, presiding she dog of unlucky days—
Tophlatto-thratto-phlilatto-thrat—
swooping
bird with spear and with avenging hand—
Tophlatto-thratto-phlilatto-thrat—
[1290]
granting
eager sky-diving dogs to light upon—
Tophlatto-thratto-phlilatto-thrat—
the
allied force assembled to assault great Ajax—
Tophlatto-thratto-phlilatto-thrat.
DIONYSUS:
What’s this phlatto-thrat? Is it from Marathon?
Where
did you pick up your rope-twisting songs?
1540
AESCHYLUS:
I brought them to a noble place from somewhere fine,
lest
I be seen to gather up my crop
from
that same sacred meadow of the Muse
[1300]
as
Phrynichos. But this fellow over here
gets his songs anywhere—from prostitutes,
Meletus’
drinking songs, flute tunes from Caria,
from
lamentations or dance melodies,
as
in a moment I will demonstrate.
Let
someone bring a lyre here—and yet
who
needs a lyre for this man? Where is she,
1550
that
girl who beats time with her castanets?
Come
hither, you Muse of this Euripides—
for
your style fits the songs we’re going to sing.
[Enter a very old and ugly woman who accompanies Aeschylus’ parody by clicking her castanets and dancing very badly]
DIONYSUS:
[reacting to the old woman’s appearance]
This
Muse is hardly the most gorgeous babe
we've
ever seen from Lesbos, that’s
for sure.
AESCHYLUS:
[parodying Euripides]
You
chattering kingfishers in the sea
in
the ever-flowing waves
[1310]
who
wet wing-tops with water drops
like
so much dripping dew,
and
spiders underneath the roof,
1560
your
fingers wi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-inding
threads
for stretching on the loom,
work
of tuneful weaving rods,
where
dolphins, those flute-loving fish,
leap
at the blue-peaked prows,
at
oracles and stadiums.
I joy in early budding vines,
[1320]
the
spiral cluster, killing pain.
Oh
my child, hurl your arms about me . . .
You
see this foot?
DIONYSUS: I see it.
AESCHYLUS: And the other one?
DIONYSUS: I see that too.* 1570
AESCHYLUS:
[to Euripides] You write this sort of bilge and then you dare
to
criticize my songs—you, who wrote your tunes
to
twelve-stringed music of Cyrene?* Bah!
So
much for his songs. I still want to check
his
solo melodies, their lyric style.
[1330]
[parodying Euripides once more]
O
Night, oh darkly shining Night,
what are you sending me,
what
dreams of woe,
from
Hades’ halls—
what
souls without a soul,
1580
the
children of black night,
so horrible they raise my hair
in
black corpse-clothes—
murder,
murder—
such
huge fingernails.
Now,
servants, light my lamp for me,
haul
river water in your pails
and
warm it up, so I
may
rinse away my dream,
[1340]
O
spirit of the sea.
1590
That’s
it—oh all you
who
share this house with me,
gaze
here upon these portents.
My
Glyce’s fled away—
she
stole my cock and ran.
You
nymphs born on the mountain peaks,
and
you, oh Mania, aid me now.
There
I was, poor wretched me,
at work with all my daily tasks,
my
spindle full of thread,
1600
my
fingers wi-i-i-i-i-i-i-inding,
as I
wove skeins of yarn
to
carry off to market
[1350]
for sale in early morning.
But
now my bird has flown,
flown
off into the atmosphere
its
wing-tips oh so nimble.
It’s
left me woes, woes,
and
in my eyes tears, tears—
they
trickle, trickle down,
1610
oh
miserable me.
Oh
you Cretans, Ida’s children,
seize
your bows and rescue me.
Swiftly move your limbs,
make full circle round this house.
And
child Diktynna, Artemis,
so
beautiful, by all means bring
your
baby bitches to my home.
[1360]
And
you, oh Hecate, Zeus’ child,
with
blazing fire-brands in both your hands,
1620
light my way to Glyke’s place,
so I
can then reveal her theft
and
catch her in the act.
DIONYSUS: Stop the songs.
AESCHYLUS:
All right. I’ve said enough.
Now
I want to bring him to the balance scale,
the very thing to test our poetry—
to
check how much our phrases weigh.
DIONYSUS:
Come here, then, if I have to do this—
treating
poets just like cheese for sale.
CHORUS:
Clever men like these take pains,
1630
[1370]
for
here’s a marvel once again.
Devices
new and strange they bring.
Who
else would think up such a thing?
I’d
not believe it—even though
I
met someone who told me so.
DIONYSUS: Come on. Stand beside the balance scales.
AESCHYLUS and EURIPIDES: [together] All right.
DIONYSUS:
Now, each of you grab hold and don’t let go
until
I yell at you—I’ll say “Cuckoo!”
[1380]
AESCHYLUS
and EURIPIDES: [each one holding a scale pan]
We’re
holding on.
DIONYSUS: Speak your line into the scale.
EURIPIDES:
[reciting]
“I wish that Argive ship had never flown . . .”
1640
AESCHYLUS:
[reciting]
“O river Spercheios, where cattle graze . . .”
DIONYSUS: Cuckoo!!! Let go . . .
[Dionysus inspects the scale pans and sees that Aeschylus’ side has sunk more]
The pan on this man's side
has
gone much further down.
EURIPIDES: And why is that?
DIONYSUS:
Why? Because he put a river in it.
He
wet his words the way wool-sellers do—
whereas
you put in a word with wings.
EURIPIDES: All right, let him speak again and match me.
DIONYSUS: Grab hold again.
AESCHYLUS and EURIPIDES: We’re ready.
DIONYSUS: So speak down. [1390]
EURIPIDES:
[reciting]
“Persuasion has no temple except speech.”
AESCHYLUS:
[reciting]
“The only god who loves no gifts is Death.”
1650
DIONYSUS:
Let go. Let go. This one’s going down again.
He
put death in—the heaviest of harms.
EURIPIDES:
But I put in persuasion—and my line
was
beautifully expressed.
DIONYSUS:
Persuasion’s light—
she’s got no brains at all.
Say something else,
a heavy line,
immense
and ponderous,
to make you sink.
EURIPIDES:
A heavy line like that,
where can I find such lines in
all my verse?
DIONYSUS:
I’ll tell you. “ Achilles threw the dice—
[1400]
two
snake’s eyes and a four.” You’d better speak—
1660
it’s
the last time the two of you get weighed.
EURIPIDES:
[reciting]
“His right hand grasped the heavy iron club . . .”
AESCHYLUS:
[reciting]
“Chariot piled on chariot, corpse on corpse . . .”
DIONYSUS: This time he got you once again.
EURIPIDES: How so?
DIONYSUS:
He put in two chariots and two stiffs.
A
hundred Egyptians couldn’t shift that load.*
AESCHYLUS:
No more contest with me word for word—
put
him in the scale pan with his wife and kids,
throw
on Cephisophon. Let him step in,
sit
down—he can bring all his books. For me—
1670
I’ll
only speak two verses of my own.
[1410]
DIONYSUS:
These men are friends of mine, so I won’t judge
the
two of them. I don’t want to be at war
with either man. One of them, I think,
is
really clever. The other I enjoy.
PLUTO: Won’t you fail to get the thing you came for?
DIONYSUS: What if I chose the other man?
PLUTO:
Take one—
whichever
one you wish, so you don’t leave
and
make your trip in vain.
DIONYSUS:
May gods bless you.
Look,
how ’bout this—I came here for a poet.
1680
EURIPIDES: What for?
DIONYSUS:
So I might save our city
and
let it keep its choruses. Therefore,
whichever
one of you will give our state
[1420]
the best advice, well, that’s the man I’ll take.
So
first, a question for each one of you—
What’s
your view of Alcibiades?*
This
issue plagues our city.
EURIPIDES:
The people there—
what
do they think of him?
DIONYSUS:
What do they think?
The
city yearns for him, but hates him, too,
yet
wants him back. But you two, tell me this—
1690
what’s
your sense of him?
.EURIPIDES:
I hate a citizen
who
helps his native land by seeming slow,
but
then will quickly inflict injuries
which
profit him but give our city nothing.
DIONYSUS:
By Poseidon, that’s well said. Now, Aeschylus,
[1430]
what’s
your view on this?
AESCHYLUS:
The wisest thing
is not to rear a lion cub
inside the city,
but
if that's what the citizens have done,
we’d must adjust ourselves to fit its ways.
DIONYSUS:
By Zeus the saviour, this decision’s hard.
1700
One
spoke with skill, the other was so clear.
All
right, each one of you speak up again.
Tell
me of our state—how can we save her?
EURIPIDES:
Use Cinesias as Cleocritus’ wings—
then
winds would lift them over the flat sea.*
DIONYSUS: A really funny sight. But what’s the point?
EURIPIDES:
In a sea fight, they’d take some vinegar,
[1440]
and
dump the bottles in opponents’ eyes.
But
I know the answer—let me speak.
DIONYSUS: All right, say on.
EURIPIDES:
When those among us
1710
who
have no faith act faithfully, and things
bereft
of trust are trusted . . .
DIONYSUS:
What’s that?
I
don’t get what you’re saying. Speak out
more
clearly—more matter with less art.
EURIPIDES:
If we removed our trust from politicians
on
whom we now rely, and used the ones
we
don’t use now, we could be saved. It’s clear
we’re
not doing well with what we’re doing now,
if
we reversed our course, we might be saved.
[1450]
DIONYSUS:
Well put, O Palamedes,* you clever man.
1720
Did
you come up with this idea yourself,
or
is it from Cephisophon?
EURIPIDES:
It’s mine alone.
that
bit about those jars of vinegar—
Cephisophon’s idea.
DIONYSUS: [to Aeschylus] Now you. What do you say?
AESCHYLUS:
About our state—acquaint me first of all
with those in her employ. Surely they’re good men?
DIONYSUS: Of course they’re not. She hates those worst of all.
AESCHLYUS: She loves the ne’er-do-wells?
DIONYSUS:
Not really—
but
she's got no choice. She has to use 'em.
AESCHYLUS:
How can one save a city like this one,
1730
which
has no taste for woolen city coats
or
country cloaks of goat skin?
DIONYSUS:
By Zeus,
to get upstairs, you’d best come up with something.
[1460]
AESCHYLUS: Up there I’d talk, but I don’t want to here.
DIONYSUS: Don’t be that way. Send something good from here.
AESCHYLUS:
When they consider their foe’s land their own
and
think of their land as the enemy’s,
and when
they look upon their ships as riches
and
see their wealth as wretchedness . . .*
DIONYSUS: Yes, but jury members wolf down all the cash. 1740
PLUTO: You should decide.
DIONYSUS:
I’ll make my choice between them.
I’ll
choose the one who’s pleasing to my soul.
EURIPIDES:
Do not forget those gods by whom you swore
to
take me home. You have to choose your friends . . .
[1470]
DIONYSUS: My tongue made that oath, but I choose Aeschylus.
EURIPIDES: What have you done, you foulest of all men?
DIONYSUS: Me? I’ve picked Aeschylus to win. Why not?
EURIPIDES:
Do you dare to look me in the face
after
you’ve done the dirtiest of deeds?
DIONYSUS: What’s dirty if this audience approves? 1750
EURIPIDES:
You’re heartless. Will you never think of me
now
that I’m dead?
DIONYSUS:
What if living isn’t really dying,
or
breathing dining, or sleep a pillow slip?*
PLUTO: Come inside now, Dionysus.
DIONYSUS: What for?
PLUTO: So I can entertain you here, before you go.
DIONYSUS: An excellent idea, by god. I won’t say no. [1480]
CHORUS:
Blest is the man with keen intelligence—
we learn this truth in many ways
Once
he’s shown his own good sense
he
goes back home again.
1760
He
brings our citizens good things
as well as family and friends,
with
his perceptive mind.
[1490]
So
to be truly civilized,
don’t
sit by Socrates and chat
or
cast the Muses’ work aside,
forgetting
the most vital skills
of
writing tragedies.
Wasting time with pompous words,
while
idly scratching verbal bits—
1770
that
suits a man who’s lost his wits
PLUTO:
So now, farewell, Aeschylus—go,
[1500]
save
our city with your noble thoughts,
and
educate our fools—we have so many.
Take
this sword, hand it to Cleophon.
Present
this rope to tax collector
Myrmex and his colleague Nicomachos—
this hemlock give to Archenomos.
Tell
them to come here fast without delay.
If
they don’t come soon, then, by Apollo,
1780
[1510]
I’ll
brand and cripple them, then ship them down
at full speed
underground with Adeimantos,
Leucolophos's son.*
AESCHYLUS:
That I'll do. As for my chair of honour,
give
it to Sophocles to keep safe for me
in
case I ever come back here. He’s the one
whose
talent I would put in second place.
Bear
in mind—the rogue right there, this clown,
[1520]
this
liar, will never occupy my chair,
not
even by mistake.
PLUTO:
[to the Chorus]
Let your torches shine, 1790
your
sacred torches light the way for him,
escort
him on his way—and praise his fame
with
his own songs and dances.
CHORUS:
First, all you spirits underneath the ground,
let’s
bid our poet here a fond farewell,
as
he goes upward to the light. To the city
grant
worthy thoughts of every excellence.
[1530]
Then
we could put an end to our great pain,
the
harmful clash of arms Let Cleophon—
and
all those keen to fight—war on their enemy
1800
in
their ancestral fields, on their own property.*
Explanatory Notes for Aristophanes' The Frogs
[Note that the line numbers in the following notes refer to the translated text not to the original Greek]
* (line 21) Phrynichus, Ameipsias, Lycias: comic poets, rivals of Aristophanes. [Back to text]
* (line 44) the fight at sea refers to the naval victory of Arginusae. Athenian slaves who had fought were freed (this is the first of a number of references to this action). [Back to text]
* (line 61) Cleisthenes: a well-known homosexual in Athens, a favourite target of Aristophanes. [Back to text]
* (line 68) Molon: a man remarkable for his size—either very large or very small. The joke would seem to demand something very small. Given the sexual innuendo, it may be the case that Molon was a very big man with (reputedly) a very small penis. [Back to text]
* (line 72) brother: Hercules and Dionysus are both sons of Zeus, hence brothers. [Back to text]
* (line 76) stew: Hercules was famous for his enormous appetite. [Back to text]
* (line 82) dead: Euripides had died in Macedonia the year before the first production of The Frogs. [Back to text]
* (line 88) Iophon: son of Sophocles and a writer of tragedies. [Back to text]
* (line 101) Agathon: an important and successful Athenian tragic playwright. He’d recently left Athens and was living in Macedonia. [Back to text]
* (line 102) Xenocles and Pythangelos: minor Athenian tragic playwrights. [Back to text]
*(line 131) Cerberus: in one of Hercules’ most famous exploits, he went down into Hell and returned with the Cerberus, the watch dog of Hades. [Back to text]
*(line 148) hemlock: a lethal poison which begins by numbing the lower limbs. [Back to text]
*(line 153) Kerameikos: a district in Athens. [Back to text]
*(line 167) two obols: the standard amount for welfare payments or daily pay for soldiers and sailors. [Back to text]
*(line 168) Theseus: the legendary founder of Athens, who made his own journey to Hades and back, and hence (according to this comment) introduced Athenian customs into Hades. [Back to text]
*(line 178) Morsimus: an inferior tragic playwright. [Back to text]
*(line 179) Cinesias: an Athenian poet. [Back to text]
*(line 185) the mysteries: secret cult religious rituals for special groups of initiates. [Back to text]
*(line 190) Pluto: god of Hades. [Back to text]
*(line 218) Ravens: a reference to a curse invoking the ravens to pick someone’s bones. Charon lists various regions of Hell like so many stop on a bus route. [Back to text]
*(line 226) Wuthering Rock: a part of the landscape of hell (possibly invented here by Aristophanes). [Back to text]
*(line 239) Salamis: an island close to Athens, famous for its sailors. [Back to text]
*(line 245) Chorus of Frogs: it’s not clear whether this chorus remains off stage or not. [Back to text]
*(line 254) feast of Jars: a reference to an annual Athenian festival (the Anthesteria) held early in the year in the precinct of Dionysus "in the marsh" (Limnai). The festival involved a lot of drinking. [Back to text]
*(line 332) Empousa: a celebrated Athenian ghost-monster who could change her shape. [Back to text]
336) so we can drink together: Dionysus here appeals to the audience, specifically to the Priest of Dionysus who traditionally sat in the front row. [Back to text] 343) Hegelochos . . . seals are calm: Hegelochos was an actor in Euripides' plays who garbled a word and made the lines ridiculous (like changing "sea" to "seal"). [Back to text] 361) Iacchos was a minor divine presence associated with Dionysian celebrations. Diagoras may refer to a notorious Athenian atheist. [Back to text] 375) daughter of Demeter: a reference to Persephone, wife of Pluto, king of Hades.[Back to text] 399) Cratinus:a well-known and successful comic poet before Aristophanes. [Back to text] 414) Aegina . . . Thoracion . . . Epidauros: Aegina was an island centre for illegal trade during the war. Thoracion was (one assumes) well known as a corrupt official. Epidauros was a naval centre close to Athens. [Back to text] 479) Archedemos . . . teeth: a complex joke about a prominent Athenian politician, alleging that he is not a genuine citizen (someting that was determined at seven years of age).[Back to text] 498) Corinth, son of Zeus: an expression meaning (in effect) "always the same old stuff." People from Corinth were (by reputation) never tired of boasting about the divine origin of the founder of their city. [Back to text] 600) Theramenes: An Athenian politician famous for his political survival skills. [Back to text] 633) Cleon . . . Hyperbolos: Athenian politicians with a special interest in leading the common people. [Back to text] 762) Cleophon . . . votes are equal: Cleophon was an Athenian politicianin favour of the war. The gibe here suggests he's not a true Athenian. Aristophanes' prediction that Cleophon would soon be sentenced to death came true a year later. [Back to text] 768) Phrynichus: Athenian politician who led the revolution in 411 BC. [Back to text] 775) Plataeans . . . masters instead of slaves: after the naval battle of Arginusae, the Athenians freed the slaves who had fought and gave them rights of citizenship equivalent to the rights of the Plataeans, important allies of Athens. [Back to text] 800) Cleigenes . . . clothes: Aristophanes here attacks the keeper of a public bath and laundry for cheating his customers, predictng that soon he will lose his political office. [Back to text] 804) our new gold ones, as well: a famous comparison between the political leaders and the debased coinage (one of the effects of the war). [Back to text] 815) palaestra: the traditional school in Athens, emphasizing physical fitness and the arts. [Back to text] 817) red heads: a reference to foreigners or slaves, not true Athenians. [Back to text] 821) scapegoat: once a year in Athens two condemned criminals were beaten out of the city and executed in a purification ritual to cleanse the city of its collective guilt. [Back to text] 962) about to break: Dionysus pretends he needs to offer a sacrifice to placate the god of storms. [Back to text] 850) monodies . . . marriage into art: an attack on Euripides’ innovations and on the alleged immorality in his plays. Monodies are long lyrical solos for main characters. [Back to text] 981) Telephos: a beggar hero of one of Euripides’ plays. [Back to text] 1041) Phrynichos: the most important writer of tragedy before Aeschylus. [Back to text] 1076) rooster . . . just for the tragedy: Aeschylus refers to a rooster in Agamemnon. [Back to text] 1086) Cephisophon: an Athenian who lived in Euripides’ house and was rumoured have assisted Euripides with his plays and had an affair with his wife. [Back to text] 1101) line you could take: Euripides’ sympathies in his life appeared to be with the oligarchs, not with the democrats in Athens. [Back to text] 1117) with bells attached: Cycnus and Memnon were characters in plays by Aeschylus. Warriors had bells attached to their shields or to their horses’ harnesses. [Back to text] 1122) Cleitophon: an Athenian member of the group around Socrates. [Back to text] 1128) Achaean: this joke is hard to render accurately. The Greek says (literally) “not a Chian [i.e., from Chios] but a Kian” or (more freely) “not a Chian with a ch but a Kian with a k,” indicating the man’s slippery character, able to change nationality by altering the spelling of the word. The change to “Achaean” may make the joke somewhat more compressed and workable, especially when the speech is spoken rather than read. [Back to text] 1155) Achilles: calling Aeschylus "Achilles" is a reminder both of his traditionally noble character and of his mood. Like Achilles he sits there silent and enraged. [Back to text] 1203) finest act: a reference to the defeat of the Persians at the Battle of Marathon in 490 BC, for most Athenians the high point of their city’s history. [Back to text] 1231) Phaedra and Sthenoboea: an attack on heroines in plays by Euripides. [Back to text] 1273) by the fish: a reference to the fact that fish was an expensive food in Athens at the time. [Back to text] 1277) Paralos’ crew: the Paralos was the flag ship of the Athenian navy. [Back to text] 1391) and returns: Aeschylus’ hair-splitting point is that “come back” and “return” mean different things, because the latter is appropriate for those whose political status is uncertain. [Back to text] 1429) Erastinides: Athenian general condemned to death after the battle of Arginusae. [Back to text] 1438) demonstrate: in the section which follows Aeschylus repeatedly uses the phrase "lost his little oil jug" to bring out the triviality of Euripides' verse, especially its rhythms and its imagery. [Back to text] 1570) that too: Aeschylus is calling attention to the rhythmic feet in Euripides’ verse. Dionysus, of course, misunderstands and starts inspecting Aeschylus’ feet.[Back to text] 1573) Cyrene: a notorious prostitute. [Back to text] 1666) raise that load: Egyptians had a reputation for great strength. [Back to text] 1686) Alcibiades: a brilliant and charismatic, but erratic and controversial Athenian politician and general in the closing years of the Peloponnesian War. [Back to text] 1705) flat sea: Cinesias was very tall and skinny, and Cleocritus was reported to look like an ostrich. [Back to text] 1720) Palamedes: a hero in the Trojan war. [Back to text] 1739) wretchedness: Aeschylus is here apparently defending the early Athenian policy of putting all their faith in the navy to prosecute the war, leaving the land open for enemy occupation. [Back to text] 1753) pillow slip: Dionysus is here mocking Euripides with echoes of the latter’s own verses. [Back to text] 1783) Adeimantos: a general in Athens, later accused of treachery. [Back to text] 1801) properties: Cleophon was a leader of the pro-war party. The point here is that many of those advocating war were not putting their own property in danger, unlike many Athenian farmers and landowners whose lands were occupied by the enemy forces. [Back to text][Back to johnstonia home page]