Ponder awhile over matters that
interest
you.
Aristophanes
A truce to this chatter!
follow me and no more of it.
STREPSIADES. First give me a honey-cake, for to descend down there sets
me all a-tremble; meseems 'tis the cave of Trophonius.
SOCRATES. But get in with you! What reason have you for thus dallying at
the door?
CHORUS. Good luck! you have courage; may you succeed, you, who, though
already so advanced in years, wish to instruct your mind with new studies
and practise it in wisdom!
CHORUS (_Parabasis_). Spectators! By Bacchus, whose servant I am, I will
frankly tell you the truth. May I secure both victory and renown as
certainly as I hold you for adept critics and as I regard this comedy as
my best. I wished to give you the first view of a work, which had cost me
much trouble, but I withdrew, unjustly beaten by unskilful rivals. [512]
'Tis you, oh, enlightened public, for whom I have prepared my piece, that
I reproach with this. Nevertheless I shall never willingly cease to seek
the approval of the discerning. I have not forgotten the day, when men,
whom one is happy to have for an audience, received my 'Young Man' and my
'Debauchee'[513] with so much favour in this very place. Then as yet
virgin, my Muse had not attained the legal age for maternity;[514] she
had to expose her first-born for another to adopt, and it has since grown
up under your generous patronage. Ever since you have as good as sworn me
your faithful alliance. Thus, like Electra[515] of the poets, my comedy
has come to seek you to-day, hoping again to encounter such enlightened
spectators. As far away as she can discern her Orestes, she will be able
to recognize him by his curly head. And note her modest demeanour! She
has not sewn on a piece of hanging leather, thick and reddened at the
end,[516] to cause laughter among the children; she does not rail at the
bald, neither does she dance the cordax;[517] no old man is seen, who,
while uttering his lines, batters his questioner with a stick to make his
poor jests pass muster. [518] She does not rush upon the scene carrying a
torch and screaming, 'La, la! la, la! ' No, she relies upon herself and
her verses. . . . My value is so well known, that I take no further pride in
it. I do not seek to deceive you, by reproducing the same subjects two or
three times; I always invent fresh themes to present before you, themes
that have no relation to each other and that are all clever. I attacked
Cleon[519] to his face and when he was all-powerful; but he has fallen,
and now I have no desire to kick him when he is down. My rivals, on the
contrary, once that this wretched Hyperbolus has given them the cue, have
never ceased setting upon both him and his mother. First Eupolis
presented his 'Maricas';[520] this was simply my 'Knights,' whom this
plagiarist had clumsily furbished up again by adding to the piece an old
drunken woman, so that she might dance the cordax. 'Twas an old idea,
taken from Phrynichus, who caused his old hag to be devoured by a monster
of the deep. [521] Then Hermippus[522] fell foul of Hyperbolus and now all
the others fall upon him and repeat my comparison of the eels. May those
who find amusement in their pieces not be pleased with mine, but as for
you, who love and applaud my inventions, why, posterity will praise your
good taste.
Oh, ruler of Olympus, all-powerful king of the gods, great Zeus, it is
thou whom I first invoke; protect this chorus; and thou too, Posidon,
whose dread trident upheaves at the will of thy anger both the bowels of
the earth and the salty waves of the ocean. I invoke my illustrious
father, the divine Aether, the universal sustainer of life, and Phoebus,
who, from the summit of his chariot, sets the world aflame with his
dazzling rays, Phoebus, a mighty deity amongst the gods and adored
amongst mortals.
Most wise spectators, lend us all your attention. Give heed to our just
reproaches. There exist no gods to whom this city owes more than it does
to us, whom alone you forget. Not a sacrifice, not a libation is there
for those who protect you! Have you decreed some mad expedition? Well! we
thunder or we fall down in rain. When you chose that enemy of heaven, the
Paphlagonian tanner,[523] for a general, we knitted our brow, we caused
our wrath to break out; the lightning shot forth, the thunder pealed, the
moon deserted her course and the sun at once veiled his beam threatening
no longer to give you light, if Cleon became general. Nevertheless you
elected him; 'tis said, Athens never resolves upon some fatal step but
the gods turn these errors into her greatest gain. Do you wish that this
election should even now be a success for you? 'Tis a very simple thing
to do; condemn this rapacious gull named Cleon[524] for bribery and
extortion, fit a wooden collar tight round his neck, and your error will
be rectified and the commonweal will at once regain its old prosperity.
Aid me also, Phoebus, god of Delos, who reignest on the cragged peaks of
Cynthia;[525] and thou, happy virgin,[526] to whom the Lydian damsels
offer pompous sacrifice in a temple of gold; and thou, goddess of our
country, Athene, armed with the aegis, the protectress of Athens; and
thou, who, surrounded by the Bacchanals of Delphi, roamest over the rocks
of Parnassus shaking the flame of thy resinous torch, thou, Bacchus, the
god of revel and joy.
As we were preparing to come here, we were hailed by the Moon and were
charged to wish joy and happiness both to the Athenians and to their
allies; further, she said that she was enraged and that you treated her
very shamefully, her, who does not pay you in words alone, but who
renders you all real benefits. Firstly, thanks to her, you save at least
a drachma each month for lights, for each, as he is leaving home at
night, says, "Slave, buy no torches, for the moonlight is
beautiful,"--not to name a thousand other benefits. Nevertheless you do
not reckon the days correctly and your calendar is naught but
confusion. [527] Consequently the gods load her with threats each time
they get home and are disappointed of their meal, because the festival
has not been kept in the regular order of time. When you should be
sacrificing, you are putting to the torture or administering justice. And
often, we others, the gods, are fasting in token of mourning for the
death of Memnon or Sarpedon,[528] while you are devoting yourselves to
joyous libations. 'Tis for this, that last year, when the lot would have
invested Hyperbolus[529] with the duty of Amphictyon, we took his crown
from him, to teach him that time must be divided according to the phases
of the moon.
SOCRATES. By Respiration, the Breath of Life! By Chaos! By the Air! I
have never seen a man so gross, so inept, so stupid, so forgetful. All
the little quibbles, which I teach him, he forgets even before he has
learnt them. Yet I will not give it up, I will make him come out here
into the open air. Where are you, Strepsiades? Come, bring your couch out
here.
STREPSIADES. But the bugs will not allow me to bring it.
SOCRATES. Have done with such nonsense! place it there and pay attention.
STREPSIADES. Well, here I am.
SOCRATES. Good! Which science of all those you have never been taught, do
you wish to learn first? The measures, the rhythms or the verses?
STREPSIADES. Why, the measures; the flour dealer cheated me out of two
_choenixes_ the other day.
SOCRATES. 'Tis not about that I ask you, but which, according to you, is
the best measure, the trimeter or the tetrameter? [530]
STREPSIADES. The one I prefer is the semisextarius.
SOCRATES. You talk nonsense, my good fellow.
STREPSIADES. I will wager your tetrameter is the semisextarius. [531]
SOCRATES. Plague seize the dunce and the fool! Come, perchance you will
learn the rhythms quicker.
STREPSIADES. Will the rhythms supply me with food?
SOCRATES. First they will help you to be pleasant in company, then to
know what is meant by oenoplian rhythm[532] and what by the
dactylic. [533]
STREPSIADES. Of the dactyl? I know that quite well.
SOCRATES. What is it then?
STREPSIADES. Why, 'tis this finger; formerly, when a child, I used this
one. [534]
SOCRATES. You are as low-minded as you are stupid.
STREPSIADES. But, wretched man, I do not want to learn all this.
SOCRATES. Then what _do_ you want to know?
STREPSIADES. Not that, not that, but the art of false reasoning.
SOCRATES. But you must first learn other things. Come, what are the male
quadrupeds?
STREPSIADES. Oh! I know the males thoroughly. Do you take me for a fool
then? The ram, the buck, the bull, the dog, the pigeon.
SOCRATES. Do you see what you are doing; is not the female pigeon called
the same as the male?
STREPSIADES. How else? Come now?
SOCRATES. How else? With you then 'tis pigeon and pigeon!
STREPSIADES. 'Tis true, by Posidon! but what names do you want me to give
them?
SOCRATES. Term the female pigeonnette and the male pigeon.
STREPSIADES. Pigeonnette! hah! by the Air! That's splendid! for that
lesson bring out your kneading-trough and I will fill him with flour to
the brim.
SOCRATES. There you are wrong again; you make _trough_ masculine and it
should be feminine.
STREPSIADES. What? if I say _him_, do I make the _trough_ masculine?
SOCRATES. Assuredly! would you not say him for Cleonymus?
STREPSIADES. Well?
SOCRATES. Then trough is of the same gender as Cleonymus?
STREPSIADES. Oh! good sir! Cleonymus never had a kneading-trough;[535] he
used a round mortar for the purpose. But come, tell me what I _should_
say?
SOCRATES. For trough you should say _her_ as you would for Sostrate. [536]
STREPSIADES. _Her_?
SOCRATES. In this manner you make it truly female.
STREPSIADES. That's it! _Her_ for trough and _her_ for Cleonymus. [537]
SOCRATES. Now I must teach you to distinguish the masculine proper names
from those that are feminine.
STREPSIADES. Ah! I know the female names well.
SOCRATES. Name some then.
STREPSIADES. Lysilla, Philinna, Clitagora, Demetria.
SOCRATES. And what are masculine names?
STREPSIADES. They are countless--Philoxenus, Melesias, Amynias.
SOCRATES. But, wretched man, the last two are not masculine.
STREPSIADES. You do not reckon them masculine?
SOCRATES. Not at all. If you met Amynias, how would you hail him?
STREPSIADES. How? Why, I should shout, "Hi! hither, Amyni_a_! "[538]
SOCRATES. Do you see? 'tis a female name that you give him.
STREPSIADES. And is it not rightly done, since he refuses military
service? But what use is there in learning what we all know?
SOCRATES. You know nothing about it. Come, lie down there.
STREPSIADES. What for?
SOCRATES.
Ponder awhile over matters that interest you.
STREPSIADES. Oh! I pray you, not there! but, if I must lie down and
ponder, let me lie on the ground.
SOCRATES. 'Tis out of the question. Come! on to the couch!
STREPSIADES. What cruel fate! What a torture the bugs will this day put
me to!
SOCRATES. Ponder and examine closely, gather your thoughts together, let
your mind turn to every side of things; if you meet with a difficulty,
spring quickly to some other idea; above all, keep your eyes away from
all gentle sleep.
STREPSIADES. Oh, woe, woe! oh, woe, woe!
SOCRATES. What ails you? why do you cry so?
STREPSIADES. Oh! I am a dead man! Here are these cursed Corinthians[539]
advancing upon me from all corners of the couch; they are biting me, they
are gnawing at my sides, they are drinking all my blood, they are
twitching off my testicles, they are exploring all up my back, they are
killing me!
SOCRATES. Not so much wailing and clamour, if you please.
STREPSIADES. How can I obey? I have lost my money and my complexion, my
blood and my slippers, and to cap my misery, I must keep awake on this
couch, when scarce a breath of life is left in me.
SOCRATES. Well now! what are you doing? are you reflecting?
STREPSIADES. Yes, by Posidon!
SOCRATES. What about?
STREPSIADES. Whether the bugs will not entirely devour me.
SOCRATES. May death seize you, accursed man!
STREPSIADES. Ah! it has already.
SOCRATES. Come, no giving way! Cover up your head; the thing to do is to
find an ingenious alternative.
STREPSIADES. An alternative! ah! I only wish one would come to me from
within these coverlets!
SOCRATES. Hold! let us see what our fellow is doing. Ho! you! are you
asleep?
STREPSIADES. No, by Apollo!
SOCRATES. Have you got hold of anything?
STREPSIADES. No, nothing whatever.
SOCRATES. Nothing at all!
STREPSIADES. No, nothing but my tool, which I've got in my hand.
SOCRATES. Are you not going to cover your head immediately and ponder?
STREPSIADES. Over what? Come, Socrates, tell me.
SOCRATES. Think first what you want, and then tell me.
STREPSIADES. But I have told you a thousand times what I want. 'Tis not
to pay any of my creditors.
SOCRATES. Come, wrap yourself up; concentrate your mind, which wanders
too lightly, study every detail, scheme and examine thoroughly.
STREPSIADES. Oh, woe! woe! oh dear! oh dear!
SOCRATES. Keep yourself quiet, and if any notion troubles you, put it
quickly aside, then resume it and think over it again.
STREPSIADES. My dear little Socrates!
SOCRATES. What is it, old greybeard?
STREPSIADES. I have a scheme for not paying my debts.
SOCRATES. Let us hear it.
STREPSIADES. Tell me, if I purchased a Thessalian witch, I could make the
moon descend during the night and shut it, like a mirror, into a round
box and there keep it carefully. . . .
SOCRATES. How would you gain by that?
STREPSIADES. How? Why, if the moon did not rise, I would have no interest
to pay.
SOCRATES. Why so?
STREPSIADES. Because money is lent by the month.
SOCRATES. Good! but I am going to propose another trick to you. If you
were condemned to pay five talents, how would you manage to quash that
verdict? Tell me.
STREPSIADES. How? how? I don't know, I must think.
SOCRATES. Do you always shut your thoughts within yourself. Let your
ideas fly in the air, like a may-bug, tied by the foot with a thread.
STREPSIADES. I have found a very clever way to annul that conviction; you
will admit that much yourself.
SOCRATES. What is it?
STREPSIADES. Have you ever seen a beautiful, transparent stone at the
druggists, with which you may kindle fire?
SOCRATES. You mean a crystal lens. [540]
STREPSIADES. Yes.
SOCRATES. Well, what then?
STREPSIADES. If I placed myself with this stone in the sun and a long way
off from the clerk, while he was writing out the conviction, I could make
all the wax, upon which the words were written, melt.
SOCRATES. Well thought out, by the Graces!
STREPSIADES. Ah! I am delighted to have annulled the decree that was to
cost me five talents.
SOCRATES. Come, take up this next question quickly.
STREPSIADES. Which?
SOCRATES. If, when summoned to court, you were in danger of losing your
case for want of witnesses, how would you make the conviction fall upon
your opponent?
STREPSIADES. 'Tis very simple and most easy.
SOCRATES. Let me hear.
STREPSIADES. This way. If another case had to be pleaded before mine was
called, I should run and hang myself.
SOCRATES. You talk rubbish!
STREPSIADES. Not so, by the gods! if I was dead, no action could lie
against me.
SOCRATES. You are merely beating the air. Begone! I will give you no more
lessons.
STREPSIADES. Why not? Oh! Socrates! in the name of the gods!
SOCRATES. But you forget as fast as you learn. Come, what was the thing I
taught you first? Tell me.
STREPSIADES. Ah! let me see. What was the first thing? What was it then?
Ah! that thing in which we knead the bread, oh! my god! what do you call
it?
SOCRATES. Plague take the most forgetful and silliest of old addlepates!
STREPSIADES. Alas! what a calamity! what will become of me? I am undone
if I do not learn how to ply my tongue. Oh! Clouds! give me good advice.
CHORUS. Old man, we counsel you, if you have brought up a son, to send
him to learn in your stead.
STREPSIADES. Undoubtedly I have a son, as well endowed as the best, but
he is unwilling to learn. What will become of me?
CHORUS. And you don't make him obey you?
STREPSIADES. You see, he is big and strong; moreover, through his mother
he is a descendant of those fine birds, the race of Coesyra. [541]
Nevertheless, I will go and find him, and if he refuses, I will turn him
out of the house. Go in, Socrates, and wait for me awhile.
CHORUS (_to Socrates_).
STREPSIADES. First give me a honey-cake, for to descend down there sets
me all a-tremble; meseems 'tis the cave of Trophonius.
SOCRATES. But get in with you! What reason have you for thus dallying at
the door?
CHORUS. Good luck! you have courage; may you succeed, you, who, though
already so advanced in years, wish to instruct your mind with new studies
and practise it in wisdom!
CHORUS (_Parabasis_). Spectators! By Bacchus, whose servant I am, I will
frankly tell you the truth. May I secure both victory and renown as
certainly as I hold you for adept critics and as I regard this comedy as
my best. I wished to give you the first view of a work, which had cost me
much trouble, but I withdrew, unjustly beaten by unskilful rivals. [512]
'Tis you, oh, enlightened public, for whom I have prepared my piece, that
I reproach with this. Nevertheless I shall never willingly cease to seek
the approval of the discerning. I have not forgotten the day, when men,
whom one is happy to have for an audience, received my 'Young Man' and my
'Debauchee'[513] with so much favour in this very place. Then as yet
virgin, my Muse had not attained the legal age for maternity;[514] she
had to expose her first-born for another to adopt, and it has since grown
up under your generous patronage. Ever since you have as good as sworn me
your faithful alliance. Thus, like Electra[515] of the poets, my comedy
has come to seek you to-day, hoping again to encounter such enlightened
spectators. As far away as she can discern her Orestes, she will be able
to recognize him by his curly head. And note her modest demeanour! She
has not sewn on a piece of hanging leather, thick and reddened at the
end,[516] to cause laughter among the children; she does not rail at the
bald, neither does she dance the cordax;[517] no old man is seen, who,
while uttering his lines, batters his questioner with a stick to make his
poor jests pass muster. [518] She does not rush upon the scene carrying a
torch and screaming, 'La, la! la, la! ' No, she relies upon herself and
her verses. . . . My value is so well known, that I take no further pride in
it. I do not seek to deceive you, by reproducing the same subjects two or
three times; I always invent fresh themes to present before you, themes
that have no relation to each other and that are all clever. I attacked
Cleon[519] to his face and when he was all-powerful; but he has fallen,
and now I have no desire to kick him when he is down. My rivals, on the
contrary, once that this wretched Hyperbolus has given them the cue, have
never ceased setting upon both him and his mother. First Eupolis
presented his 'Maricas';[520] this was simply my 'Knights,' whom this
plagiarist had clumsily furbished up again by adding to the piece an old
drunken woman, so that she might dance the cordax. 'Twas an old idea,
taken from Phrynichus, who caused his old hag to be devoured by a monster
of the deep. [521] Then Hermippus[522] fell foul of Hyperbolus and now all
the others fall upon him and repeat my comparison of the eels. May those
who find amusement in their pieces not be pleased with mine, but as for
you, who love and applaud my inventions, why, posterity will praise your
good taste.
Oh, ruler of Olympus, all-powerful king of the gods, great Zeus, it is
thou whom I first invoke; protect this chorus; and thou too, Posidon,
whose dread trident upheaves at the will of thy anger both the bowels of
the earth and the salty waves of the ocean. I invoke my illustrious
father, the divine Aether, the universal sustainer of life, and Phoebus,
who, from the summit of his chariot, sets the world aflame with his
dazzling rays, Phoebus, a mighty deity amongst the gods and adored
amongst mortals.
Most wise spectators, lend us all your attention. Give heed to our just
reproaches. There exist no gods to whom this city owes more than it does
to us, whom alone you forget. Not a sacrifice, not a libation is there
for those who protect you! Have you decreed some mad expedition? Well! we
thunder or we fall down in rain. When you chose that enemy of heaven, the
Paphlagonian tanner,[523] for a general, we knitted our brow, we caused
our wrath to break out; the lightning shot forth, the thunder pealed, the
moon deserted her course and the sun at once veiled his beam threatening
no longer to give you light, if Cleon became general. Nevertheless you
elected him; 'tis said, Athens never resolves upon some fatal step but
the gods turn these errors into her greatest gain. Do you wish that this
election should even now be a success for you? 'Tis a very simple thing
to do; condemn this rapacious gull named Cleon[524] for bribery and
extortion, fit a wooden collar tight round his neck, and your error will
be rectified and the commonweal will at once regain its old prosperity.
Aid me also, Phoebus, god of Delos, who reignest on the cragged peaks of
Cynthia;[525] and thou, happy virgin,[526] to whom the Lydian damsels
offer pompous sacrifice in a temple of gold; and thou, goddess of our
country, Athene, armed with the aegis, the protectress of Athens; and
thou, who, surrounded by the Bacchanals of Delphi, roamest over the rocks
of Parnassus shaking the flame of thy resinous torch, thou, Bacchus, the
god of revel and joy.
As we were preparing to come here, we were hailed by the Moon and were
charged to wish joy and happiness both to the Athenians and to their
allies; further, she said that she was enraged and that you treated her
very shamefully, her, who does not pay you in words alone, but who
renders you all real benefits. Firstly, thanks to her, you save at least
a drachma each month for lights, for each, as he is leaving home at
night, says, "Slave, buy no torches, for the moonlight is
beautiful,"--not to name a thousand other benefits. Nevertheless you do
not reckon the days correctly and your calendar is naught but
confusion. [527] Consequently the gods load her with threats each time
they get home and are disappointed of their meal, because the festival
has not been kept in the regular order of time. When you should be
sacrificing, you are putting to the torture or administering justice. And
often, we others, the gods, are fasting in token of mourning for the
death of Memnon or Sarpedon,[528] while you are devoting yourselves to
joyous libations. 'Tis for this, that last year, when the lot would have
invested Hyperbolus[529] with the duty of Amphictyon, we took his crown
from him, to teach him that time must be divided according to the phases
of the moon.
SOCRATES. By Respiration, the Breath of Life! By Chaos! By the Air! I
have never seen a man so gross, so inept, so stupid, so forgetful. All
the little quibbles, which I teach him, he forgets even before he has
learnt them. Yet I will not give it up, I will make him come out here
into the open air. Where are you, Strepsiades? Come, bring your couch out
here.
STREPSIADES. But the bugs will not allow me to bring it.
SOCRATES. Have done with such nonsense! place it there and pay attention.
STREPSIADES. Well, here I am.
SOCRATES. Good! Which science of all those you have never been taught, do
you wish to learn first? The measures, the rhythms or the verses?
STREPSIADES. Why, the measures; the flour dealer cheated me out of two
_choenixes_ the other day.
SOCRATES. 'Tis not about that I ask you, but which, according to you, is
the best measure, the trimeter or the tetrameter? [530]
STREPSIADES. The one I prefer is the semisextarius.
SOCRATES. You talk nonsense, my good fellow.
STREPSIADES. I will wager your tetrameter is the semisextarius. [531]
SOCRATES. Plague seize the dunce and the fool! Come, perchance you will
learn the rhythms quicker.
STREPSIADES. Will the rhythms supply me with food?
SOCRATES. First they will help you to be pleasant in company, then to
know what is meant by oenoplian rhythm[532] and what by the
dactylic. [533]
STREPSIADES. Of the dactyl? I know that quite well.
SOCRATES. What is it then?
STREPSIADES. Why, 'tis this finger; formerly, when a child, I used this
one. [534]
SOCRATES. You are as low-minded as you are stupid.
STREPSIADES. But, wretched man, I do not want to learn all this.
SOCRATES. Then what _do_ you want to know?
STREPSIADES. Not that, not that, but the art of false reasoning.
SOCRATES. But you must first learn other things. Come, what are the male
quadrupeds?
STREPSIADES. Oh! I know the males thoroughly. Do you take me for a fool
then? The ram, the buck, the bull, the dog, the pigeon.
SOCRATES. Do you see what you are doing; is not the female pigeon called
the same as the male?
STREPSIADES. How else? Come now?
SOCRATES. How else? With you then 'tis pigeon and pigeon!
STREPSIADES. 'Tis true, by Posidon! but what names do you want me to give
them?
SOCRATES. Term the female pigeonnette and the male pigeon.
STREPSIADES. Pigeonnette! hah! by the Air! That's splendid! for that
lesson bring out your kneading-trough and I will fill him with flour to
the brim.
SOCRATES. There you are wrong again; you make _trough_ masculine and it
should be feminine.
STREPSIADES. What? if I say _him_, do I make the _trough_ masculine?
SOCRATES. Assuredly! would you not say him for Cleonymus?
STREPSIADES. Well?
SOCRATES. Then trough is of the same gender as Cleonymus?
STREPSIADES. Oh! good sir! Cleonymus never had a kneading-trough;[535] he
used a round mortar for the purpose. But come, tell me what I _should_
say?
SOCRATES. For trough you should say _her_ as you would for Sostrate. [536]
STREPSIADES. _Her_?
SOCRATES. In this manner you make it truly female.
STREPSIADES. That's it! _Her_ for trough and _her_ for Cleonymus. [537]
SOCRATES. Now I must teach you to distinguish the masculine proper names
from those that are feminine.
STREPSIADES. Ah! I know the female names well.
SOCRATES. Name some then.
STREPSIADES. Lysilla, Philinna, Clitagora, Demetria.
SOCRATES. And what are masculine names?
STREPSIADES. They are countless--Philoxenus, Melesias, Amynias.
SOCRATES. But, wretched man, the last two are not masculine.
STREPSIADES. You do not reckon them masculine?
SOCRATES. Not at all. If you met Amynias, how would you hail him?
STREPSIADES. How? Why, I should shout, "Hi! hither, Amyni_a_! "[538]
SOCRATES. Do you see? 'tis a female name that you give him.
STREPSIADES. And is it not rightly done, since he refuses military
service? But what use is there in learning what we all know?
SOCRATES. You know nothing about it. Come, lie down there.
STREPSIADES. What for?
SOCRATES.
Ponder awhile over matters that interest you.
STREPSIADES. Oh! I pray you, not there! but, if I must lie down and
ponder, let me lie on the ground.
SOCRATES. 'Tis out of the question. Come! on to the couch!
STREPSIADES. What cruel fate! What a torture the bugs will this day put
me to!
SOCRATES. Ponder and examine closely, gather your thoughts together, let
your mind turn to every side of things; if you meet with a difficulty,
spring quickly to some other idea; above all, keep your eyes away from
all gentle sleep.
STREPSIADES. Oh, woe, woe! oh, woe, woe!
SOCRATES. What ails you? why do you cry so?
STREPSIADES. Oh! I am a dead man! Here are these cursed Corinthians[539]
advancing upon me from all corners of the couch; they are biting me, they
are gnawing at my sides, they are drinking all my blood, they are
twitching off my testicles, they are exploring all up my back, they are
killing me!
SOCRATES. Not so much wailing and clamour, if you please.
STREPSIADES. How can I obey? I have lost my money and my complexion, my
blood and my slippers, and to cap my misery, I must keep awake on this
couch, when scarce a breath of life is left in me.
SOCRATES. Well now! what are you doing? are you reflecting?
STREPSIADES. Yes, by Posidon!
SOCRATES. What about?
STREPSIADES. Whether the bugs will not entirely devour me.
SOCRATES. May death seize you, accursed man!
STREPSIADES. Ah! it has already.
SOCRATES. Come, no giving way! Cover up your head; the thing to do is to
find an ingenious alternative.
STREPSIADES. An alternative! ah! I only wish one would come to me from
within these coverlets!
SOCRATES. Hold! let us see what our fellow is doing. Ho! you! are you
asleep?
STREPSIADES. No, by Apollo!
SOCRATES. Have you got hold of anything?
STREPSIADES. No, nothing whatever.
SOCRATES. Nothing at all!
STREPSIADES. No, nothing but my tool, which I've got in my hand.
SOCRATES. Are you not going to cover your head immediately and ponder?
STREPSIADES. Over what? Come, Socrates, tell me.
SOCRATES. Think first what you want, and then tell me.
STREPSIADES. But I have told you a thousand times what I want. 'Tis not
to pay any of my creditors.
SOCRATES. Come, wrap yourself up; concentrate your mind, which wanders
too lightly, study every detail, scheme and examine thoroughly.
STREPSIADES. Oh, woe! woe! oh dear! oh dear!
SOCRATES. Keep yourself quiet, and if any notion troubles you, put it
quickly aside, then resume it and think over it again.
STREPSIADES. My dear little Socrates!
SOCRATES. What is it, old greybeard?
STREPSIADES. I have a scheme for not paying my debts.
SOCRATES. Let us hear it.
STREPSIADES. Tell me, if I purchased a Thessalian witch, I could make the
moon descend during the night and shut it, like a mirror, into a round
box and there keep it carefully. . . .
SOCRATES. How would you gain by that?
STREPSIADES. How? Why, if the moon did not rise, I would have no interest
to pay.
SOCRATES. Why so?
STREPSIADES. Because money is lent by the month.
SOCRATES. Good! but I am going to propose another trick to you. If you
were condemned to pay five talents, how would you manage to quash that
verdict? Tell me.
STREPSIADES. How? how? I don't know, I must think.
SOCRATES. Do you always shut your thoughts within yourself. Let your
ideas fly in the air, like a may-bug, tied by the foot with a thread.
STREPSIADES. I have found a very clever way to annul that conviction; you
will admit that much yourself.
SOCRATES. What is it?
STREPSIADES. Have you ever seen a beautiful, transparent stone at the
druggists, with which you may kindle fire?
SOCRATES. You mean a crystal lens. [540]
STREPSIADES. Yes.
SOCRATES. Well, what then?
STREPSIADES. If I placed myself with this stone in the sun and a long way
off from the clerk, while he was writing out the conviction, I could make
all the wax, upon which the words were written, melt.
SOCRATES. Well thought out, by the Graces!
STREPSIADES. Ah! I am delighted to have annulled the decree that was to
cost me five talents.
SOCRATES. Come, take up this next question quickly.
STREPSIADES. Which?
SOCRATES. If, when summoned to court, you were in danger of losing your
case for want of witnesses, how would you make the conviction fall upon
your opponent?
STREPSIADES. 'Tis very simple and most easy.
SOCRATES. Let me hear.
STREPSIADES. This way. If another case had to be pleaded before mine was
called, I should run and hang myself.
SOCRATES. You talk rubbish!
STREPSIADES. Not so, by the gods! if I was dead, no action could lie
against me.
SOCRATES. You are merely beating the air. Begone! I will give you no more
lessons.
STREPSIADES. Why not? Oh! Socrates! in the name of the gods!
SOCRATES. But you forget as fast as you learn. Come, what was the thing I
taught you first? Tell me.
STREPSIADES. Ah! let me see. What was the first thing? What was it then?
Ah! that thing in which we knead the bread, oh! my god! what do you call
it?
SOCRATES. Plague take the most forgetful and silliest of old addlepates!
STREPSIADES. Alas! what a calamity! what will become of me? I am undone
if I do not learn how to ply my tongue. Oh! Clouds! give me good advice.
CHORUS. Old man, we counsel you, if you have brought up a son, to send
him to learn in your stead.
STREPSIADES. Undoubtedly I have a son, as well endowed as the best, but
he is unwilling to learn. What will become of me?
CHORUS. And you don't make him obey you?
STREPSIADES. You see, he is big and strong; moreover, through his mother
he is a descendant of those fine birds, the race of Coesyra. [541]
Nevertheless, I will go and find him, and if he refuses, I will turn him
out of the house. Go in, Socrates, and wait for me awhile.
CHORUS (_to Socrates_).
