There is already a wind
whirling
round my navel; take great care or,
from sheer fright, I shall form food for my beetle.
from sheer fright, I shall form food for my beetle.
Aristophanes
Quick, quick, bring the dung-beetle his cake.
SECOND SERVANT. Coming, coming.
FIRST SERVANT. Give it to him, and may it kill him!
SECOND SERVANT. May he never eat a better.
FIRST SERVANT. Now give him this other one kneaded up with ass's dung.
SECOND SERVANT. There! I've done that too.
FIRST SERVANT. And where's what you gave him just now; surely he can't
have devoured it yet!
SECOND SERVANT. Indeed he has; he snatched it, rolled it between his feet
and boiled it.
FIRST SERVANT. Come, hurry up, knead up a lot and knead them stiffly.
SECOND SERVANT. Oh, scavengers, help me in the name of the gods, if you
do not wish to see me fall down choked.
FIRST SERVANT. Come, come, another made of the stool of a young
scapegrace catamite. 'Twill be to the beetle's taste; he likes it well
ground. [262]
SECOND SERVANT. There! I am free at least from suspicion; none will
accuse me of tasting what I mix.
FIRST SERVANT. Faugh! come, now another! keep on mixing with all your
might.
SECOND SERVANT. I' faith, no. I can stand this awful cesspool stench no
longer, so I bring you the whole ill-smelling gear.
FIRST SERVANT. Pitch it down the sewer sooner, and yourself with it.
SECOND SERVANT. Maybe, one of you can tell me where I can buy a
stopped-up nose, for there is no work more disgusting than to mix food
for a beetle and to carry it to him. A pig or a dog will at least pounce
upon our excrement without more ado, but this foul wretch affects the
disdainful, the spoilt mistress, and won't eat unless I offer him a cake
that has been kneaded for an entire day. . . . But let us open the door a
bit ajar without his seeing it. Has he done eating? Come, pluck up
courage, cram yourself till you burst! The cursed creature! It wallows in
its food! It grips it between its claws like a wrestler clutching his
opponent, and with head and feet together rolls up its paste like a
ropemaker twisting a hawser. What an indecent, stinking, gluttonous
beast! I know not what angry god let this monster loose upon us, but of a
certainty it was neither Aphrodite nor the Graces.
FIRST SERVANT. Who was it then?
SECOND SERVANT. No doubt the Thunderer, Zeus.
FIRST SERVANT. But perhaps some spectator, some beardless youth, who
thinks himself a sage, will say, "What is this? What does the beetle
mean? " And then an Ionian,[263] sitting next him, will add, "I think 'tis
an allusion to Cleon, who so shamelessly feeds on filth all by
himself. "--But now I'm going indoors to fetch the beetle a drink.
SECOND SERVANT. As for me, I will explain the matter to you all,
children, youths, grown-ups and old men, aye, even to the decrepit
dotards. My master is mad, not as you are, but with another sort of
madness, quite a new kind. The livelong day he looks open-mouthed towards
heaven and never stops addressing Zeus. "Ah! Zeus," he cries, "what are
thy intentions? Lay aside thy besom; do not sweep Greece away! "
TRYGAEUS. Ah! ah! ah!
FIRST SERVANT. Hush, hush! Methinks I hear his voice!
TRYGAEUS. Oh! Zeus, what art thou going to do for our people? Dost thou
not see this, that our cities will soon be but empty husks?
FIRST SLAVE. As I told you, that is his form of madness. There you have a
sample of his follies. When his trouble first began to seize him, he said
to himself, "By what means could I go straight to Zeus? " Then he made
himself very slender little ladders and so clambered up towards heaven;
but he soon came hurtling down again and broke his head. Yesterday, to
our misfortune, he went out and brought us back this thoroughbred, but
from where I know not, this great beetle, whose groom he has forced me to
become. He himself caresses it as though it were a horse, saying, "Oh! my
little Pegasus,[264] my noble aerial steed, may your wings soon bear me
straight to Zeus! " But what is my master doing? I must stoop down to look
through this hole. Oh! great gods! Here! neighbours, run here quick! here
is my master flying off mounted on his beetle as if on horseback.
TRYGAEUS. Gently, gently, go easy, beetle; don't start off so proudly, or
trust at first too greatly to your powers; wait till you have sweated,
till the beating of your wings shall make your limb joints supple. Above
all things, don't let off some foul smell, I adjure you; else I would
rather have you stop in the stable altogether.
SECOND SERVANT. Poor master! Is he crazy?
TRYGAEUS. Silence! silence!
SECOND SERVANT (_to Trygaeus_). But why start up into the air on chance?
TRYGAEUS. 'Tis for the weal of all the Greeks; I am attempting a daring
and novel feat.
SECOND SERVANT. But what is your purpose? What useless folly!
TRYGAEUS. No words of ill omen! Give vent to joy and command all men to
keep silence, to close down their drains and privies with new tiles and
to stop their own vent-holes. [265]
FIRST SERVANT. No, I shall not be silent, unless you tell me where you
are going.
TRYGAEUS. Why, where am I likely to be going across the sky, if it be not
to visit Zeus?
FIRST SERVANT. For what purpose?
TRYGAEUS. I want to ask him what he reckons to do for all the Greeks.
SECOND SERVANT. And if he doesn't tell you?
TRYGAEUS. I shall pursue him at law as a traitor who sells Greece to the
Medes. [266]
SECOND SERVANT. Death seize me, if I let you go.
TRYGAEUS. It is absolutely necessary.
SECOND SERVANT. Alas! alas! dear little girls, your father is deserting
you secretly to go to heaven. Ah! poor orphans, entreat him, beseech him.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Father! father! what is this I hear? Is it true? What!
you would leave me, you would vanish into the sky, you would go to the
crows? [267] 'Tis impossible! Answer, father, an you love me.
TRYGAEUS. Yes, I am going. You hurt me too sorely, my daughters, when you
ask me for bread, calling me your daddy, and there is not the ghost of an
obolus in the house; if I succeed and come back, you will have a barley
loaf every morning--and a punch in the eye for sauce!
LITTLE DAUGHTER. But how will you make the journey? 'Tis not a ship that
will carry you thither.
TRYGAEUS. No, but this winged steed will.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. But what an idea, daddy, to harness a beetle, on which
to fly to the gods.
TRYGAEUS. We see from Aesop's fables that they alone can fly to the abode
of the Immortals. [268]
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Father, father, 'tis a tale nobody can believe! that
such a stinking creature can have gone to the gods.
TRYGAEUS. It went to have vengeance on the eagle and break its eggs.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Why not saddle Pegasus? you would have a more
_tragic_[269] appearance in the eyes of the gods.
TRYGAEUS. Eh! don't you see, little fool, that then twice the food would
be wanted? Whereas my beetle devours again as filth what I have eaten
myself.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. And if it fell into the watery depths of the sea, could
it escape with its wings?
TRYGAEUS (_showing his penis_). I am fitted with a rudder in case of
need, and my Naxos beetle will serve me as a boat. [270]
LITTLE DAUGHTER. And what harbour will you put in at?
TRYGAEUS. Why, is there not the harbour of Cantharos at the Piraeus? [271]
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Take care not to knock against anything and so fall off
into space; once a cripple, you would be a fit subject for Euripides, who
would put you into a tragedy. [272]
TRYGAEUS. I'll see to it. Good-bye! (_To the Athenians. _) You, for love
of whom I brave these dangers, do ye neither let wind nor go to stool for
the space of three days, for, if, while cleaving the air, my steed should
scent anything, he would fling me head foremost from the summit of my
hopes. Now come, my Pegasus, get a-going with up-pricked ears and make
your golden bridle resound gaily. Eh! what are you doing? What are you up
to? Do you turn your nose towards the cesspools? Come, pluck up a spirit;
rush upwards from the earth, stretch out your speedy wings and make
straight for the palace of Zeus; for once give up foraging in your daily
food. --Hi! you down there, what are you after now? Oh! my god! 'tis a man
emptying his belly in the Piraeus, close to the house where the bad girls
are. But is it my death you seek then, my death? Will you not bury that
right away and pile a great heap of earth upon it and plant wild thyme
therein and pour perfumes on it? If I were to fall from up here and
misfortune happened to me, the town of Chios[273]would owe a fine of five
talents for my death, all along of your cursed rump. Alas! how frightened
I am! oh! I have no heart for jests. Ah! machinist, take great care of
me.
There is already a wind whirling round my navel; take great care or,
from sheer fright, I shall form food for my beetle. . . . But I think I am
no longer far from the gods; aye, that is the dwelling of Zeus, I
perceive. Hullo! Hi! where is the doorkeeper? Will no one open?
* * * * *
_The scene changes and heaven is presented. _
HERMES. Meseems I can sniff a man. (_He perceives Trygaeus astride his
beetle. _) Why, what plague is this?
TRYGAEUS. A horse-beetle.
HERMES. Oh! impudent, shameless rascal! oh! scoundrel! triple scoundrel!
the greatest scoundrel in the world! how did you come here? Oh! scoundrel
of all scoundrels! your name? Reply.
TRYGAEUS. Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. Your country?
TRYGAEUS. Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. Your father?
TRYGAEUS. My father? Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. By the Earth, you shall die, unless you tell me your name.
TRYGAEUS. I am Trygaeus of the Athmonian deme, a good vine-dresser,
little addicted to quibbling and not at all an informer.
HERMES. Why do you come?
TRYGAEUS. I come to bring you this meat.
HERMES. Ah! my good friend, did you have a good journey?
TRYGAEUS. Glutton, be off! I no longer seem a triple scoundrel to you.
Come, call Zeus.
HERMES. Ah! ah! you are a long way yet from reaching the gods, for they
moved yesterday.
TRYGAEUS. To what part of the earth?
HERMES. Eh! of the earth, did you say?
TRYGAEUS. In short, where are they then?
HERMES. Very far, very far, right at the furthest end of the dome of
heaven.
TRYGAEUS. But why have they left you all alone here?
HERMES. I am watching what remains of the furniture, the little pots and
pans, the bits of chairs and tables, and odd wine-jars.
TRYGAEUS. And why have the gods moved away?
HERMES. Because of their wrath against the Greeks. They have located War
in the house they occupied themselves and have given him full power to do
with you exactly as he pleases; then they went as high up as ever they
could, so as to see no more of your fights and to hear no more of your
prayers.
TRYGAEUS. What reason have they for treating us so?
HERMES. Because they have afforded you an opportunity for peace more than
once, but you have always preferred war. If the Laconians got the very
slightest advantage, they would exclaim, "By the Twin Brethren! the
Athenians shall smart for this. " If, on the contrary, the latter
triumphed and the Laconians came with peace proposals, you would say, "By
Demeter, they want to deceive us. No, by Zeus, we will not hear a word;
they will always be coming as long as we hold Pylos. "[274]
TRYGAEUS. Yes, that is quite the style our folk do talk in.
HERMES. So that I don't know whether you will ever see Peace again.
TRYGAEUS. Why, where has she gone to then?
HERMES. War has cast her into a deep pit.
TRYGAEUS. Where?
HERMES. Down there, at the very bottom. And you see what heaps of stones
he has piled over the top, so that you should never pull her out again.
TRYGAEUS. Tell me, what is War preparing against us?
HERMES. All I know is that last evening he brought along a huge mortar.
TRYGAEUS. And what is he going to do with his mortar?
HERMES. He wants to pound up all the cities of Greece in it. . . . But I
must say good-bye, for I think he is coming out; what an uproar he is
making!
TRYGAEUS. Ah! great gods! let us seek safety; meseems I already hear the
noise of this fearful war mortar.
WAR (_enters carrying a mortar_). Oh! mortals, mortals, wretched mortals,
how your jaws will snap!
TRYGAEUS. Oh! divine Apollo! what a prodigious big mortar! Oh, what
misery the very sight of War causes me! This then is the foe from whom I
fly, who is so cruel, so formidable, so stalwart, so solid on his legs!
WAR. Oh! Prasiae! [275] thrice wretched, five times, aye, a thousand times
wretched! for thou shalt be destroyed this day.
TRYGAEUS. This does not yet concern us over much; 'tis only so much the
worse for the Laconians.
WAR. Oh! Megara! Megara! how utterly are you going to be ground up! what
fine mincemeat[276] are you to be made into!
TRYGAEUS. Alas! alas! what bitter tears there will be among the
Megarians! [277]
WAR. Oh, Sicily! you too must perish! Your wretched towns shall be grated
like this cheese. [278] Now let us pour some Attic honey[279] into the
mortar.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! I beseech you! use some other honey; this kind is worth
four obols; be careful, oh! be careful of our Attic honey.
WAR. Hi! Tumult, you slave there!
TUMULT. What do you want?
WAR. Out upon you! You stand there with folded arms. Take this cuff o'
the head for your pains.
TUMULT. Oh! how it stings! Master, have you got garlic in your fist, I
wonder?
WAR. Run and fetch me a pestle.
TUMULT. But we haven't got one; 'twas only yesterday we moved.
WAR. Go and fetch me one from Athens, and hurry, hurry!
TUMULT. Aye, I hasten there; if I return without one, I shall have no
cause for laughing. [_Exit. _
TRYGAEUS. Ah! what is to become of us, wretched mortals that we are? See
the danger that threatens if he returns with the pestle, for War will
quietly amuse himself with pounding all the towns of Hellas to pieces.
Ah! Bacchus! cause this herald of evil to perish on his road!
WAR. Well!
TUMULT (_who has returned_). Well, what?
WAR. You have brought back nothing?
TUMULT. Alas! the Athenians have lost their pestle--the tanner, who
ground Greece to powder. [280]
TRYGAEUS. Oh! Athene, venerable mistress! 'tis well for our city he is
dead, and before he could serve us with this hash.
WAR. Then go and seek one at Sparta and have done with it!
TUMULT. Aye, aye, master!
WAR. Be back as quick as ever you can.
TRYGAEUS (_to the audience_). What is going to happen, friends? 'Tis a
critical hour. Ah!
SECOND SERVANT. Coming, coming.
FIRST SERVANT. Give it to him, and may it kill him!
SECOND SERVANT. May he never eat a better.
FIRST SERVANT. Now give him this other one kneaded up with ass's dung.
SECOND SERVANT. There! I've done that too.
FIRST SERVANT. And where's what you gave him just now; surely he can't
have devoured it yet!
SECOND SERVANT. Indeed he has; he snatched it, rolled it between his feet
and boiled it.
FIRST SERVANT. Come, hurry up, knead up a lot and knead them stiffly.
SECOND SERVANT. Oh, scavengers, help me in the name of the gods, if you
do not wish to see me fall down choked.
FIRST SERVANT. Come, come, another made of the stool of a young
scapegrace catamite. 'Twill be to the beetle's taste; he likes it well
ground. [262]
SECOND SERVANT. There! I am free at least from suspicion; none will
accuse me of tasting what I mix.
FIRST SERVANT. Faugh! come, now another! keep on mixing with all your
might.
SECOND SERVANT. I' faith, no. I can stand this awful cesspool stench no
longer, so I bring you the whole ill-smelling gear.
FIRST SERVANT. Pitch it down the sewer sooner, and yourself with it.
SECOND SERVANT. Maybe, one of you can tell me where I can buy a
stopped-up nose, for there is no work more disgusting than to mix food
for a beetle and to carry it to him. A pig or a dog will at least pounce
upon our excrement without more ado, but this foul wretch affects the
disdainful, the spoilt mistress, and won't eat unless I offer him a cake
that has been kneaded for an entire day. . . . But let us open the door a
bit ajar without his seeing it. Has he done eating? Come, pluck up
courage, cram yourself till you burst! The cursed creature! It wallows in
its food! It grips it between its claws like a wrestler clutching his
opponent, and with head and feet together rolls up its paste like a
ropemaker twisting a hawser. What an indecent, stinking, gluttonous
beast! I know not what angry god let this monster loose upon us, but of a
certainty it was neither Aphrodite nor the Graces.
FIRST SERVANT. Who was it then?
SECOND SERVANT. No doubt the Thunderer, Zeus.
FIRST SERVANT. But perhaps some spectator, some beardless youth, who
thinks himself a sage, will say, "What is this? What does the beetle
mean? " And then an Ionian,[263] sitting next him, will add, "I think 'tis
an allusion to Cleon, who so shamelessly feeds on filth all by
himself. "--But now I'm going indoors to fetch the beetle a drink.
SECOND SERVANT. As for me, I will explain the matter to you all,
children, youths, grown-ups and old men, aye, even to the decrepit
dotards. My master is mad, not as you are, but with another sort of
madness, quite a new kind. The livelong day he looks open-mouthed towards
heaven and never stops addressing Zeus. "Ah! Zeus," he cries, "what are
thy intentions? Lay aside thy besom; do not sweep Greece away! "
TRYGAEUS. Ah! ah! ah!
FIRST SERVANT. Hush, hush! Methinks I hear his voice!
TRYGAEUS. Oh! Zeus, what art thou going to do for our people? Dost thou
not see this, that our cities will soon be but empty husks?
FIRST SLAVE. As I told you, that is his form of madness. There you have a
sample of his follies. When his trouble first began to seize him, he said
to himself, "By what means could I go straight to Zeus? " Then he made
himself very slender little ladders and so clambered up towards heaven;
but he soon came hurtling down again and broke his head. Yesterday, to
our misfortune, he went out and brought us back this thoroughbred, but
from where I know not, this great beetle, whose groom he has forced me to
become. He himself caresses it as though it were a horse, saying, "Oh! my
little Pegasus,[264] my noble aerial steed, may your wings soon bear me
straight to Zeus! " But what is my master doing? I must stoop down to look
through this hole. Oh! great gods! Here! neighbours, run here quick! here
is my master flying off mounted on his beetle as if on horseback.
TRYGAEUS. Gently, gently, go easy, beetle; don't start off so proudly, or
trust at first too greatly to your powers; wait till you have sweated,
till the beating of your wings shall make your limb joints supple. Above
all things, don't let off some foul smell, I adjure you; else I would
rather have you stop in the stable altogether.
SECOND SERVANT. Poor master! Is he crazy?
TRYGAEUS. Silence! silence!
SECOND SERVANT (_to Trygaeus_). But why start up into the air on chance?
TRYGAEUS. 'Tis for the weal of all the Greeks; I am attempting a daring
and novel feat.
SECOND SERVANT. But what is your purpose? What useless folly!
TRYGAEUS. No words of ill omen! Give vent to joy and command all men to
keep silence, to close down their drains and privies with new tiles and
to stop their own vent-holes. [265]
FIRST SERVANT. No, I shall not be silent, unless you tell me where you
are going.
TRYGAEUS. Why, where am I likely to be going across the sky, if it be not
to visit Zeus?
FIRST SERVANT. For what purpose?
TRYGAEUS. I want to ask him what he reckons to do for all the Greeks.
SECOND SERVANT. And if he doesn't tell you?
TRYGAEUS. I shall pursue him at law as a traitor who sells Greece to the
Medes. [266]
SECOND SERVANT. Death seize me, if I let you go.
TRYGAEUS. It is absolutely necessary.
SECOND SERVANT. Alas! alas! dear little girls, your father is deserting
you secretly to go to heaven. Ah! poor orphans, entreat him, beseech him.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Father! father! what is this I hear? Is it true? What!
you would leave me, you would vanish into the sky, you would go to the
crows? [267] 'Tis impossible! Answer, father, an you love me.
TRYGAEUS. Yes, I am going. You hurt me too sorely, my daughters, when you
ask me for bread, calling me your daddy, and there is not the ghost of an
obolus in the house; if I succeed and come back, you will have a barley
loaf every morning--and a punch in the eye for sauce!
LITTLE DAUGHTER. But how will you make the journey? 'Tis not a ship that
will carry you thither.
TRYGAEUS. No, but this winged steed will.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. But what an idea, daddy, to harness a beetle, on which
to fly to the gods.
TRYGAEUS. We see from Aesop's fables that they alone can fly to the abode
of the Immortals. [268]
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Father, father, 'tis a tale nobody can believe! that
such a stinking creature can have gone to the gods.
TRYGAEUS. It went to have vengeance on the eagle and break its eggs.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Why not saddle Pegasus? you would have a more
_tragic_[269] appearance in the eyes of the gods.
TRYGAEUS. Eh! don't you see, little fool, that then twice the food would
be wanted? Whereas my beetle devours again as filth what I have eaten
myself.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. And if it fell into the watery depths of the sea, could
it escape with its wings?
TRYGAEUS (_showing his penis_). I am fitted with a rudder in case of
need, and my Naxos beetle will serve me as a boat. [270]
LITTLE DAUGHTER. And what harbour will you put in at?
TRYGAEUS. Why, is there not the harbour of Cantharos at the Piraeus? [271]
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Take care not to knock against anything and so fall off
into space; once a cripple, you would be a fit subject for Euripides, who
would put you into a tragedy. [272]
TRYGAEUS. I'll see to it. Good-bye! (_To the Athenians. _) You, for love
of whom I brave these dangers, do ye neither let wind nor go to stool for
the space of three days, for, if, while cleaving the air, my steed should
scent anything, he would fling me head foremost from the summit of my
hopes. Now come, my Pegasus, get a-going with up-pricked ears and make
your golden bridle resound gaily. Eh! what are you doing? What are you up
to? Do you turn your nose towards the cesspools? Come, pluck up a spirit;
rush upwards from the earth, stretch out your speedy wings and make
straight for the palace of Zeus; for once give up foraging in your daily
food. --Hi! you down there, what are you after now? Oh! my god! 'tis a man
emptying his belly in the Piraeus, close to the house where the bad girls
are. But is it my death you seek then, my death? Will you not bury that
right away and pile a great heap of earth upon it and plant wild thyme
therein and pour perfumes on it? If I were to fall from up here and
misfortune happened to me, the town of Chios[273]would owe a fine of five
talents for my death, all along of your cursed rump. Alas! how frightened
I am! oh! I have no heart for jests. Ah! machinist, take great care of
me.
There is already a wind whirling round my navel; take great care or,
from sheer fright, I shall form food for my beetle. . . . But I think I am
no longer far from the gods; aye, that is the dwelling of Zeus, I
perceive. Hullo! Hi! where is the doorkeeper? Will no one open?
* * * * *
_The scene changes and heaven is presented. _
HERMES. Meseems I can sniff a man. (_He perceives Trygaeus astride his
beetle. _) Why, what plague is this?
TRYGAEUS. A horse-beetle.
HERMES. Oh! impudent, shameless rascal! oh! scoundrel! triple scoundrel!
the greatest scoundrel in the world! how did you come here? Oh! scoundrel
of all scoundrels! your name? Reply.
TRYGAEUS. Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. Your country?
TRYGAEUS. Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. Your father?
TRYGAEUS. My father? Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. By the Earth, you shall die, unless you tell me your name.
TRYGAEUS. I am Trygaeus of the Athmonian deme, a good vine-dresser,
little addicted to quibbling and not at all an informer.
HERMES. Why do you come?
TRYGAEUS. I come to bring you this meat.
HERMES. Ah! my good friend, did you have a good journey?
TRYGAEUS. Glutton, be off! I no longer seem a triple scoundrel to you.
Come, call Zeus.
HERMES. Ah! ah! you are a long way yet from reaching the gods, for they
moved yesterday.
TRYGAEUS. To what part of the earth?
HERMES. Eh! of the earth, did you say?
TRYGAEUS. In short, where are they then?
HERMES. Very far, very far, right at the furthest end of the dome of
heaven.
TRYGAEUS. But why have they left you all alone here?
HERMES. I am watching what remains of the furniture, the little pots and
pans, the bits of chairs and tables, and odd wine-jars.
TRYGAEUS. And why have the gods moved away?
HERMES. Because of their wrath against the Greeks. They have located War
in the house they occupied themselves and have given him full power to do
with you exactly as he pleases; then they went as high up as ever they
could, so as to see no more of your fights and to hear no more of your
prayers.
TRYGAEUS. What reason have they for treating us so?
HERMES. Because they have afforded you an opportunity for peace more than
once, but you have always preferred war. If the Laconians got the very
slightest advantage, they would exclaim, "By the Twin Brethren! the
Athenians shall smart for this. " If, on the contrary, the latter
triumphed and the Laconians came with peace proposals, you would say, "By
Demeter, they want to deceive us. No, by Zeus, we will not hear a word;
they will always be coming as long as we hold Pylos. "[274]
TRYGAEUS. Yes, that is quite the style our folk do talk in.
HERMES. So that I don't know whether you will ever see Peace again.
TRYGAEUS. Why, where has she gone to then?
HERMES. War has cast her into a deep pit.
TRYGAEUS. Where?
HERMES. Down there, at the very bottom. And you see what heaps of stones
he has piled over the top, so that you should never pull her out again.
TRYGAEUS. Tell me, what is War preparing against us?
HERMES. All I know is that last evening he brought along a huge mortar.
TRYGAEUS. And what is he going to do with his mortar?
HERMES. He wants to pound up all the cities of Greece in it. . . . But I
must say good-bye, for I think he is coming out; what an uproar he is
making!
TRYGAEUS. Ah! great gods! let us seek safety; meseems I already hear the
noise of this fearful war mortar.
WAR (_enters carrying a mortar_). Oh! mortals, mortals, wretched mortals,
how your jaws will snap!
TRYGAEUS. Oh! divine Apollo! what a prodigious big mortar! Oh, what
misery the very sight of War causes me! This then is the foe from whom I
fly, who is so cruel, so formidable, so stalwart, so solid on his legs!
WAR. Oh! Prasiae! [275] thrice wretched, five times, aye, a thousand times
wretched! for thou shalt be destroyed this day.
TRYGAEUS. This does not yet concern us over much; 'tis only so much the
worse for the Laconians.
WAR. Oh! Megara! Megara! how utterly are you going to be ground up! what
fine mincemeat[276] are you to be made into!
TRYGAEUS. Alas! alas! what bitter tears there will be among the
Megarians! [277]
WAR. Oh, Sicily! you too must perish! Your wretched towns shall be grated
like this cheese. [278] Now let us pour some Attic honey[279] into the
mortar.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! I beseech you! use some other honey; this kind is worth
four obols; be careful, oh! be careful of our Attic honey.
WAR. Hi! Tumult, you slave there!
TUMULT. What do you want?
WAR. Out upon you! You stand there with folded arms. Take this cuff o'
the head for your pains.
TUMULT. Oh! how it stings! Master, have you got garlic in your fist, I
wonder?
WAR. Run and fetch me a pestle.
TUMULT. But we haven't got one; 'twas only yesterday we moved.
WAR. Go and fetch me one from Athens, and hurry, hurry!
TUMULT. Aye, I hasten there; if I return without one, I shall have no
cause for laughing. [_Exit. _
TRYGAEUS. Ah! what is to become of us, wretched mortals that we are? See
the danger that threatens if he returns with the pestle, for War will
quietly amuse himself with pounding all the towns of Hellas to pieces.
Ah! Bacchus! cause this herald of evil to perish on his road!
WAR. Well!
TUMULT (_who has returned_). Well, what?
WAR. You have brought back nothing?
TUMULT. Alas! the Athenians have lost their pestle--the tanner, who
ground Greece to powder. [280]
TRYGAEUS. Oh! Athene, venerable mistress! 'tis well for our city he is
dead, and before he could serve us with this hash.
WAR. Then go and seek one at Sparta and have done with it!
TUMULT. Aye, aye, master!
WAR. Be back as quick as ever you can.
TRYGAEUS (_to the audience_). What is going to happen, friends? 'Tis a
critical hour. Ah!
