No More Learning

DICAEOPOLIS. Who ever saw an oxen baked in an oven? What a lie!

AMBASSADOR. On my honour, he also had us served with a bird three times
as large as Cleonymus,[165] and called the Boaster.

DICAEOPOLIS. And do we give you two drachmae, that you should treat us to
all this humbug?

AMBASSADOR. We are bringing to you, Pseudartabas,[166] the King's Eye.

DICAEOPOLIS. I would a crow might pluck out thine with his beak, thou
cursed ambassador!

HERALD. The King's Eye!

DICAEOPOLIS. Eh! Great gods! Friend, with thy great eye, round like the
hole through which the oarsman passes his sweep, you have the air of a
galley doubling a cape to gain the port.

AMBASSADOR. Come, Pseudartabas, give forth the message for the Athenians
with which you were charged by the Great King.

PSEUDARTABAS. Jartaman exarx 'anapissonnai satra. [167]

AMBASSADOR. Do you understand what he says?

DICAEOPOLIS. By Apollo, not I!

AMBASSADOR. He says, that the Great King will send you gold. Come, utter
the word 'gold' louder and more distinctly.

DICAEOPOLIS. Thou shalt not have gold, thou gaping-arsed Ionian. [168]

DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! may the gods forgive me, but that is clear enough.

AMBASSADOR. What does he say?

DICAEOPOLIS. That the Ionians are debauchees and idiots, if they expect
to receive gold from the barbarians.

AMBASSADOR. Not so, he speaks of medimni[169] of gold.


DICAEOPOLIS. What medimni? Thou art but a great braggart; but get your
way, I will find out the truth by myself. Come now, answer me clearly, if
you do not wish me to dye your skin red. Will the Great King send us
gold? (_Pseudartabas makes a negative sign. _) Then our ambassadors are
seeking to deceive us? (_Pseudartabas signs affirmatively. _) These
fellows make signs like any Greek; I am sure that they are nothing but
Athenians. Oh, ho! I recognize one of these eunuchs; it is Clisthenes,
the son of Sibyrtius. [170] Behold the effrontery of this shaven rump!
How! great baboon, with such a beard do you seek to play the eunuch to
us? And this other one? Is it not Straton?

HERALD. Silence! Let all be seated. The Senate invites the King's Eye to
the Prytaneum. [171]

DICAEOPOLIS. Is this not sufficient to drive one to hang oneself? Here I
stand chilled to the bone, whilst the doors of the Prytaneum fly wide
open to lodge such rascals. But I will do something great and bold. Where
is Amphitheus? Come and speak with me.

AMPHITHEUS. Here I am.

DICAEOPOLIS. Take these eight drachmae and go and conclude a truce with
the Lacedaemonians for me, my wife and my children; I leave you free, my
dear citizens, to send out embassies and to stand gaping in the air.

HERALD. Bring in Theorus, who has returned from the Court of
Sitalces. [172]

THEORUS. I am here.

DICAEOPOLIS. Another humbug!

THEORUS. We should not have remained long in Thrace. . . .

DICAEOPOLIS. Forsooth, no, if you had not been well paid.

THEORUS. . . . If the country had not been covered with snow; the rivers
were ice-bound at the time that Theognis[173] brought out his tragedy
here; during the whole of that time I was holding my own with Sitalces,
cup in hand; and, in truth, he adored you to such a degree, that he wrote
on the walls, "How beautiful are the Athenians! " His son, to whom we gave
the freedom of the city, burned with desire to come here and eat
chitterlings at the feast of the Apaturia;[174] he prayed his father to
come to the aid of his new country and Sitalces swore on his goblet that
he would succour us with such a host that the Athenians would exclaim,
"What a cloud of grasshoppers! "

DICAEOPOLIS. May I die if I believe a word of what you tell us! Excepting
the grasshoppers, there is not a grain of truth in it all!

THEORUS. And he has sent you the most warlike soldiers of all Thrace.

DICAEOPOLIS. Now we shall begin to see clearly.

HERALD. Come hither, Thracians, whom Theorus brought.

DICAEOPOLIS. What plague have we here?

THEORUS. 'Tis the host of the Odomanti. [175]

DICAEOPOLIS. Of the Odomanti? Tell me what it means. Who has mutilated
their tools like this?

THEORUS. If they are given a wage of two drachmae, they will put all
Boeotia[176] to fire and sword.

DICAEOPOLIS. Two drachmae to those circumcised hounds! Groan aloud, ye
people of rowers, bulwark of Athens! Ah! great gods! I am undone; these
Odomanti are robbing me of my garlic! [177] Will you give me back my
garlic?

THEORUS. Oh! wretched man! do not go near them; they have eaten
garlic. [178]

DICAEOPOLIS. Prytanes, will you let me be treated in this manner, in my
own country and by barbarians? But I oppose the discussion of paying a
wage to the Thracians; I announce an omen; I have just felt a drop of
rain. [179]

HERALD. Let the Thracians withdraw and return the day after to-morrow;
the Prytanes declare the sitting at an end.

DICAEOPOLIS. Ye gods, what garlic I have lost! But here comes Amphitheus
returned from Lacedaemon. Welcome, Amphitheus.

AMPHITHEUS. No, there is no welcome for me and I fly as fast as I can,
for I am pursued by the Acharnians.

DICAEOPOLIS. Why, what has happened?

AMPHITHEUS. I was hurrying to bring your treaty of truce, but some old
dotards from Acharnae[180] got scent of the thing; they are veterans of
Marathon, tough as oak or maple, of which they are made for sure--rough
and ruthless. They all set to a-crying, "Wretch! you are the bearer of a
treaty, and the enemy has only just cut our vines! " Meanwhile they were
gathering stones in their cloaks, so I fled and they ran after me
shouting.

DICAEOPOLIS. Let 'em shout as much as they please! But have you brought
me a treaty?

AMPHITHEUS. Most certainly, here are three samples to select from,[181]
this one is five years old; take it and taste.

DICAEOPOLIS. Faugh!

AMPHITHEUS. Well?

DICAEOPOLIS. It does not please me; it smells of pitch and of the ships
they are fitting out. [182]

AMPHITHEUS. Here is another, ten years old; taste it.

DICAEOPOLIS. It smells strongly of the delegates, who go round the towns
to chide the allies for their slowness. [183]

AMPHITHEUS. This last is a truce of thirty years, both on sea and land.

DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! by Bacchus! what a bouquet! It has the aroma of nectar
and ambrosia; this does not say to us, "Provision yourselves for three
days. " But it lisps the gentle numbers, "Go whither you will. "[184] I
accept it, ratify it, drink it at one draught and consign the Acharnians
to limbo. Freed from the war and its ills, I shall keep the Dionysia[185]
in the country.

AMPHITHEUS. And I shall run away, for I'm mortally afraid of the
Acharnians.

CHORUS. This way all! Let us follow our man; we will demand him of
everyone we meet; the public weal makes his seizure imperative. Ho,
there! tell me which way the bearer of the truce has gone; he has escaped
us, he has disappeared. Curse old age! When I was young, in the days when
I followed Phayllus,[186] running with a sack of coals on my back, this
wretch would not have eluded my pursuit, let him be as swift as he will;
but now my limbs are stiff; old Lacratides[187] feels his legs are
weighty and the traitor escapes me. No, no, let us follow him; old
Acharnians like ourselves shall not be set at naught by a scoundrel, who
has dared, great gods! to conclude a truce, when I wanted the war
continued with double fury in order to avenge my ruined lands. No mercy
for our foes until I have pierced their hearts like a sharp reed, so that
they dare never again ravage my vineyards. Come, let us seek the rascal;
let us look everywhere, carrying our stones in our hands; let us hunt him
from place to place until we trap him; I could never, never tire of the
delight of stoning him.

DICAEOPOLIS. Peace! profane men! [188]

CHORUS. Silence all! Friends, do you hear the sacred formula? Here is he,
whom we seek! This way, all! Get out of his way, surely he comes to offer
an oblation.

DICAEOPOLIS. Peace, profane men! Let the basket-bearer[189] come forward,
and thou, Xanthias, hold the phallus well upright. [190]

WIFE OF DICAEOPOLIS. Daughter, set down the basket and let us begin the
sacrifice.

DAUGHTER OF DICAEOPOLIS. Mother, hand me the ladle, that I may spread the
sauce on the cake.

DICAEOPOLIS. It is well! Oh, mighty Bacchus, it is with joy that, freed
from military duty, I and all mine perform this solemn rite and offer
thee this sacrifice; grant, that I may keep the rural Dionysia without
hindrance and that this truce of thirty years may be propitious for me.

WIFE OF DICAEOPOLIS. Come, my child, carry the basket gracefully and with
a grave, demure face. Happy he, who shall be your possessor and embrace
you so firmly at dawn,[191] that you belch wind like a weasel. Go
forward, and have a care they don't snatch your jewels in the crowd.

DICAEOPOLIS. Xanthias, walk behind the basket-bearer and hold the phallus
well erect; I will follow, singing the Phallic hymn; thou, wife, look on
from the top of the terrace. [192] Forward!
Oh, Phales,[193] companion of
the orgies of Bacchus, night reveller, god of adultery, friend of young
men, these past six[194] years I have not been able to invoke thee. With
what joy I return to my farmstead, thanks to the truce I have concluded,
freed from cares, from fighting and from Lamachuses! [195] How much
sweeter, Phales, oh, Phales, is it to surprise Thratta, the pretty
wood-maid, Strymodorus' slave, stealing wood from Mount Phelleus, to
catch her under the arms, to throw her on the ground and possess her! Oh,
Phales, Phales! If thou wilt drink and bemuse thyself with me, we will
to-morrow consume some good dish in honour of the peace, and I will hang
up my buckler over the smoking hearth.

CHORUS. It is he, he himself. Stone him, stone him, stone him, strike the
wretch. All, all of you, pelt him, pelt him!

DICAEOPOLIS. What is this? By Heracles, you will smash my pot. [196]

CHORUS. It is you that we are stoning, you miserable scoundrel.

DICAEOPOLIS. And for what sin, Acharnian Elders, tell me that!

CHORUS. You ask that, you impudent rascal, traitor to your country; you
alone amongst us all have concluded a truce, and you dare to look us in
the face!

DICAEOPOLIS. But you do not know _why_ I have treated for peace. Listen!

CHORUS. Listen to you? No, no, you are about to die, we will annihilate
you with our stones.

DICAEOPOLIS. But first of all, listen. Stop, my friends.

CHORUS. I will hear nothing; do not address me; I hate you more than I do
Cleon,[197] whom one day I shall flay to make sandals for the Knights.
Listen to your long speeches, after you have treated with the Laconians!
No, I will punish you.

DICAEOPOLIS. Friends, leave the Laconians out of debate and consider only
whether I have not done well to conclude my truce.

CHORUS. Done well! when you have treated with a people who know neither
gods, nor truth, nor faith.

DICAEOPOLIS. We attribute too much to the Laconians; as for myself, I
know that they are not the cause of all our troubles.

CHORUS. Oh, indeed, rascal! You dare to use such language to me and then
expect me to spare you!

DICAEOPOLIS. No, no, they are not the cause of all our troubles, and I
who address you claim to be able to prove that they have much to complain
of in us.

CHORUS. This passes endurance; my heart bounds with fury. Thus you dare
to defend our enemies.

DICAEOPOLIS. Were my head on the block I would uphold what I say and rely
on the approval of the people.

CHORUS. Comrades, let us hurl our stones and dye this fellow purple.

DICAEOPOLIS. What black fire-brand has inflamed your heart! You will not
hear me? You really will not, Acharnians?

CHORUS. No, a thousand times, no.

DICAEOPOLIS. This is a hateful injustice.

CHORUS. May I die, if I listen.

DICAEOPOLIS. Nay, nay! have mercy, have mercy, Acharnians.

CHORUS. You shall die.

DICAEOPOLIS. Well, blood for blood! I will kill your dearest friend. I
have here the hostages of Acharnae;[198] I shall disembowel them.

CHORUS. Acharnians, what means this threat? Has he got one of our
children in his house? What gives him such audacity?

DICAEOPOLIS. Stone me, if it please you; I shall avenge myself on this.
(_Shows a basket_. ) Let us see whether you have any love for your coals.

CHORUS. Great gods! this basket is our fellow-citizen. Stop, stop, in
heaven's name!

DICAEOPOLIS. I shall dismember it despite your cries; I will listen to
nothing.

CHORUS. How! will you kill this coal-basket, my beloved comrade?

DICAEOPOLIS. Just now, you did not listen to me.

CHORUS. Well, speak now, if you will; tell us, tell us you have a
weakness for the Lacedaemonians. I consent to anything; never will I
forsake this dear little basket.

DICAEOPOLIS. First, throw down your stones.

CHORUS. There! 'tis done. And you, do you put away your sword.

DICAEOPOLIS. Let me see that no stones remain concealed in your cloaks.

CHORUS. They are all on the ground; see how we shake our garments. Come,
no haggling, lay down your sword; we threw away everything while crossing
from one side of the stage to the other. [199]

DICAEOPOLIS. What cries of anguish you would have uttered had these coals
of Parnes[200] been dismembered, and yet it came very near it; had they
perished, their death would have been due to the folly of their
fellow-citizens. The poor basket was so frightened, look, it has shed a
thick black dust over me, the same as a cuttle-fish does. What an
irritable temper! You shout and throw stones, you will not hear my
arguments--not even when I propose to speak in favour of the
Lacedaemonians with my head on the block; and yet I cling to my life.

CHORUS. Well then, bring out a block before your door, scoundrel, and let
us hear the good grounds you can give us; I am curious to know them. Now
mind, as you proposed yourself, place your head on the block and speak.

DICAEOPOLIS. Here is the block; and, though I am but a very sorry
speaker, I wish nevertheless to talk freely of the Lacedaemonians and
without the protection of my buckler. Yet I have many reasons for fear. I
know our rustics; they are delighted if some braggart comes, and rightly
or wrongly loads both them and their city with praise and flattery; they
do not see that such toad-eaters[201] are traitors, who sell them for
gain. As for the old men, I know their weakness; they only seek to
overwhelm the accused with their votes. [202] Nor have I forgotten how
Cleon treated me because of my comedy last year;[203] he dragged me
before the Senate and there he uttered endless slanders against me; 'twas
a tempest of abuse, a deluge of lies. Through what a slough of mud he
dragged me! I nigh perished. Permit me, therefore, before I speak, to
dress in the manner most likely to draw pity.

CHORUS. What evasions, subterfuges and delays! Hold! here is the sombre
helmet of Pluto with its thick bristling plume; Hieronymus[204] lends it
to you; then open Sisyphus'[205] bag of wiles; but hurry, hurry, pray,
for our discussion does not admit of delay.

DICAEOPOLIS. The time has come for me to manifest my courage, so I will
go and seek Euripides. Ho! slave, slave!

SLAVE. Who's there?

DICAEOPOLIS. Is Euripides at home?

SLAVE. He is and he isn't; understand that, if you have wit for't.

DICAEOPOLIS. How? He is and he isn't! [206]

SLAVE. Certainly, old man; busy gathering subtle fancies here and there,
his mind is not in the house, but he himself is; perched aloft, he is
composing a tragedy.

DICAEOPOLIS. Oh, Euripides, you are indeed happy to have a slave so quick
at repartee! Now, fellow, call your master.

SLAVE. Impossible!

DICAEOPOLIS. So much the worse. But I will not go. Come, let us knock at
the door. Euripides, my little Euripides, my darling Euripides, listen;
never had man greater right to your pity. It is Dicaeopolis of the
Chollidan Deme who calls you. Do you hear?

EURIPIDES. I have no time to waste.

DICAEOPOLIS. Very well, have yourself wheeled out here. [207]

EURIPIDES. Impossible.

DICAEOPOLIS. Nevertheless. . . .

EURIPIDES. Well, let them roll me out; as to coming down, I have not the
time.

DICAEOPOLIS. Euripides. . . .

EURIPIDES. What words strike my ear?

DICAEOPOLIS. You perch aloft to compose tragedies, when you might just as
well do them on the ground. I am not astonished at your introducing
cripples on the stage. [208] And why dress in these miserable tragic rags?
I do not wonder that your heroes are beggars. But, Euripides, on my knees
I beseech you, give me the tatters of some old piece: for I have to treat
the Chorus to a long speech, and if I do it ill it is all over with me.

EURIPIDES. What rags do you prefer? Those in which I rigged out
Aeneus[209] on the stage, that unhappy, miserable old man?

DICAEOPOLIS. No, I want those of some hero still more unfortunate.

EURIPIDES. Of Phoenix, the blind man?

DICAEOPOLIS. No, not of Phoenix, you have another hero more unfortunate
than him.

EURIPIDES. Now, what tatters _does_ he want? Do you mean those of the
beggar Philoctetes?

DICAEOPOLIS. No, of another far more the mendicant.

EURIPIDES. Is it the filthy dress of the lame fellow, Bellerophon?

DICAEOPOLIS. No, 'tis not Bellerophon; he, whom I mean, was not only lame
and a beggar, but boastful and a fine speaker.

EURIPIDES. Ah! I know, it is Telephus, the Mysian.

DICAEOPOLIS. Yes, Telephus. Give me his rags, I beg of you.

EURIPIDES.