No More Learning

BOYS.
A DOG.
A BAKER'S WIFE.
ACCUSER.
CHORUS OF ELDERS, costumed as Wasps.

SCENE: Philocleon's house at Athens.

* * * * *

THE WASPS


SOSIAS. Why, Xanthias! what are you doing, wretched man?

XANTHIAS. I am teaching myself how to rest; I have been awake and on
watch the whole night.

SOSIAS. So you want to earn trouble for your ribs,[1] eh? Don't you know
what sort of an animal we are guarding here?

XANTHIAS. Aye indeed! but I want to put my cares to sleep for a while.

SOSIAS. Beware what you do. I too feel soft sleep spreading over my eyes.
Resist it, for you must be as mad as a Corybant if you fall asleep. [2]

XANTHIAS. No! 'Tis Bacchus who lulls me off.

SOSIAS. Then you serve the same god as myself. Just now a heavy slumber
settled on my eyelids like a hostile Mede; A nodded and, faith! I had a
wondrous dream.

XANTHIAS. Indeed! and so had I. A dream such as I never had before. But
first tell me yours.

SOSIAS. Methinks I saw an eagle, a gigantic bird, descend upon the
market-place; it seized a brazen buckler with its talons and bore it away
into the highest heavens; then I saw 'twas Cleonymus had thrown it away.

XANTHIAS. This Cleonymus is a riddle worth propounding among guests. How
can one and the same animal have cast away his buckler both on land, in
the sky and at sea? [3]

SOSIAS. Alas! what ill does such a dream portend for me?

XANTHIAS. Rest undisturbed! An it please the gods, no evil will befall
you.

SOSIAS. Nevertheless, 'tis a fatal omen when a man throws away his
weapons. But what was your dream? Let me hear.

XANTHIAS. Oh! it is a dream of high import. It has reference to the hull
of the State; to nothing less.

SOSIAS. Tell it me quickly; show me its very keel.

XANTHIAS. In my first slumber I thought I saw sheep, wearing cloaks and
carrying staves,[4] met in assembly on the Pnyx; a rapacious whale was
haranguing them and screaming like a pig that is being grilled.

SOSIAS. Faugh! faugh!

XANTHIAS. What's the matter?

SOSIAS. Enough, enough, spare me. Your dream stinks vilely of old
leather. [5]

XANTHIAS. Then this scoundrelly whale seized a balance and set to
weighing ox-fat. [6]

SOSIAS. Alas! 'tis our poor Athenian people, whom this accursed beast
wished to cut up and despoil of their fat.

XANTHIAS. Seated on the ground close to it, I saw Theorus,[7] who had the
head of a crow. The Alcibiades said to me in his lisping way, "Do you
thee? Theoruth hath a crow'th head. "[8]

SOSIAS. Ah! 'twas very well lisped indeed!

XANTHIAS. This is might strange; Theorus turning into a crow!

SOSIAS. No, it is glorious.

XANTHIAS. Why?

SOSIAS. Why? He was a man and now he has suddenly become a crow; does it
not foretoken that he will take his flight from here and go to the
crows? [9]

XANTHIAS. Interpreting dreams so aptly certainly deserves two obols. [10]

SOSIAS. Come, I must explain the matter to the spectators. But first a
few words of preamble: expect nothing very high-flown from us, nor any
jests stolen from Megara;[11] we have no slaves, who throw baskets of
nuts[12] to the spectators, nor any Heracles to be robbed of his
dinner,[13] nor is Euripides loaded with contumely; and despite the happy
chance that gave Cleon his fame[14] we shall not go out of our way to
belabour him again. Our little subject is not wanting in sense; it is
well within your capacity and at the same time cleverer than many vulgar
Comedies. --We have a master of great renown, who is now sleeping up there
on the other story. He has bidden us keep guard over his father, whom he
has locked in, so that he may not go out. This father has a curious
complaint; not one of you could hit upon or guess it, if I did not tell
you. --Well then, try! I hear Amynias, the son of Pronapus, over there,
saying, "He is addicted to gambling. "

XANTHIAS. He's wrong! He is imputing his own malady to others.

SOSIAS. No, yet love is indeed the principal part of his disease. Ah!
here is Sosias telling Dercylus, "He loves drinking. "

XANTHIAS. Not at all! The love of wine is the complaint of good men.

SOSIAS. "Well then," says Nicostratus of the Scambonian deme, "he either
loves sacrifices or else strangers. "

XANTHIAS. Ah! great gods! no, he is not fond of strangers, Nicostratus,
for he who says "Philoxenus" means a dirty fellow. [15]

SOSIAS. 'Tis mere waste of time, you will not find it out. If you want to
know it, keep silence! I will tell you our master's complaint: of all
men, it is he who is fondest of the Heliaea. [16] Thus, to be judging is
his hobby, and he groans if he is not sitting on the first seat. He does
not close an eye at night, and if he dozes off for an instant his mind
flies instantly to the clepsydra. [17] He is so accustomed to hold the
balloting pebble, that he awakes with his three fingers pinched
together[18] as if he were offering incense to the new moon. If he sees
scribbled on some doorway, "How charming is Demos,[19] the son of
Pyrilampes! " he will write beneath it, "How charming is Cemos! "[20] His
cock crowed one evening; said he, "He has had money from the accused to
awaken me too late. "[21] As soon as he rises from supper he bawls for his
shoes and away he rushes down there before dawn to sleep beforehand,
glued fast to the column like an oyster. [22] He is a merciless judge,
never failing to draw the convicting line[23] and return home with his
nails full of wax like a bumble-bee. Fearing he might run short of
pebbles[24] he keeps enough at home to cover a sea-beach, so that he may
have the means of recording his sentence. Such is his madness, and all
advice is useless; he only judges the more each day. So we keep him under
lock and key, to prevent his going out; for his son is broken-hearted
over this mania. At first he tried him with gentleness, wanted to
persuade him to wear the cloak no longer,[25] to go out no more; unable
to convince him, he had him bathed and purified according to the
ritual[26] without any greater success, and then handed him over the the
Corybantes;[27] but the old man escaped them, and carrying off the
kettle-drum,[28] rushed right into the midst of the Heliasts. As Cybele
could do nothing with her rites, his son took him again to Aegina and
forcibly made him lie one night in the temple of Asclepius, the God of
Healing, but before daylight there he was to be seen at the gate of the
tribunal. Since then we let him go out no more, but he escaped us by the
drains or by the skylights, so we stuffed up every opening with old rags
and made all secure; then he drove short sticks into the wall and sprang
from rung to rung like a magpie. Now we have stretched nets all round the
court and we keep watch and ward. The old man's name is Philocleon,[29]
'tis the best name he could have, and the son is called Bdelycleon,[30]
for he is a man very fit to cure an insolent fellow of his boasting.

BDELYCLEON. Xanthias! Sosias! Are you asleep?

XANTHIAS. Oh! oh!

SOSIAS. What is the matter?

XANTHIAS. Why, Bdelycleon is rising.

BDELYCLEON. Will neither of you come here? My father has got into the
stove-chamber and is ferreting about like a rat in his hole. Take care he
does not escape through the bath drain. You there, put all your weight
against the door.

SOSIAS. Aye, aye, master.

BDELYCLEON. By Zeus! what is that noise in the chimney? Hullo! who are
you?

PHILOCLEON. I am the smoke going up.

BDELYCLEON. Smoke? smoke of what wood?

PHILOCLEON. Of fig-wood. [31]

BDELYCLEON. Ah! 'this the most acrid of all. But you shall not get out.
Where is the chimney cover? [32] Come down again. Now, up with another
cross-bar. Now look out some fresh dodge. But am I not the most
unfortunate of men? Henceforward, I shall only be called the son of the
smoky old man. Slave, hold the door stoutly, throw your weight upon it,
come, put heart into the work. I will come and help you. Watch both lock
and bolt. Take care he does not gnaw through the peg.

PHILOCLEON. What are you dong, you wretches? Let me go out; it is
imperative that I go and judge, or Dracontides will be acquitted.

BDELYCLEON. What a dreadful calamity for you!

PHILOCLEON. Once at Delphi, the god, whom I was consulting, foretold,
that if an accused man escaped me, I should die of consumption.

BDELYCLEON. Apollo, the Saviour, what a prophecy!

PHILOCLEON. Ah! I beseech you, if you do not want my death, let me go.

BDELYCLEON. No, Philocleon, no never, by Posidon!

PHILOCLEON. Well then, I shall gnaw through the net[33] with my teeth.

BDELYCLEON. But you have no teeth.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! you rascal, how can I kill you? How? Give me a sword,
quick, or a conviction tablet.

BDELYCLEON.
Our friend is planning some great crime.

PHILOCLEON. No, by Zeus! but I want to go and sell my ass and its
panniers, for 'this the first of the month. [34]

BDELYCLEON. Could I not sell it just as well?

PHILOCLEON. Not as well as I could.

BDELYCLEON. No, but better. Come, bring it here, bring it here by all
means--if you can.

XANTHIAS. What a clever excuse he has found now! What cunning to get you
to let him go out!

BDELYCLEON. Yes, but I have not swallowed the hook; I scented the trick.
I will no in and fetch the ass, so that the old man may not point his
weapons that way again. . . . [35] Stupid old ass, are you weeping because
you are going to be sold? Come, go a bit quicker. Why, what are you
moaning and groaning for? You might be carrying another Odysseus. [36]

XANTHIAS. Why, certainly, so he is! someone has crept beneath his belly.

BDELYCLEON. Who, who? Let us see.

XANTHIAS. 'Tis he.

BDELYCLEON. What does this mean? Who are you? Come, speak!

PHILOCLEON. I am Nobody.

BDELYCLEON. Nobody? Of what country?

PHILOCLEON. Of Ithaca, son of Apodrasippides. [37]

BDELYCLEON. Ha! Mister Nobody, you will not laugh presently. Pull him
out quick! Ah! the wretch, where has be crept to? Does he not resemble
a she-ass to the life?

PHILOCLEON. If you do not leave me in peace, I shall commence
proceedings.

BDELYCLEON. And what will the suit be about?

PHILOCLEON. The shade of an ass. [38]

BDELYCLEON. You are a poor man of very little wit, but thoroughly brazen.

PHILOCLEON. A poor man! Ah! by Zeus! you know not now what I am worth;
but you will know when you disembowel the old Heliast's money bag. [39]

BDELYCLEON. Come, get back indoors, both you and your ass.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! my brethren of the tribunal! oh! Cleon! to the rescue!

BDELYCLEON. Go and bawl in there under lock and key. And you there, pile
plenty of stones against the door, thrust the bolt home into the staple,
and to keep this beam in its place roll that great mortar against it.
Quick's the word.

SOSIAS. Oh! my god! whence did this brick fall on me?

XANTHIAS. Perhaps a rat loosened it.

SOSIAS. A rat? 'tis surely our gutter-judge,[40] who has crept beneath
the tiles of the roof.

XANTHIAS. Ah! woe to us! there he is, he has turned into a sparrow; he
will be flying off. Where is the net? where? pschit! pschit! get back!

BDELYCLEON. Ah! by Zeus! I would rather have to guard Scione[41] than
such a father.

SOSIAS. And how that we have driven him in thoroughly and he can no
longer escape without our knowledge, can we not have a few winks of
sleep, no matter how few?

BDELYCLEON. Why, wretch! the other jurymen will be here almost directly
to summon my father!

SOSIAS. Why, 'tis scarcely dawn yet!

BDELYCLEON. Ah, they must have risen late to-day. Generally it is the
middle of the night when they come to fetch him. They arrive here,
carrying lanterns in their hands and singing the charming old verses of
Phrynichus' "Sidonian Women";[42] 'tis their way of calling him.

SOSIAS. Well, if need be, we will chase them off with stones.

BDELYCLEON. What! you dare to speak so? Why, this class of old men, if
irritated, becomes as terrible as a swarm of wasps. They carry below
their loins the sharpest of stings, with which to sting their foe; they
shout and leap and their stings burn like so many sparks.

SOSIAS. Have no fear! If I can find stones to throw into this nest of
jurymen-wasps, I shall soon have them cleared off.

CHORUS. March on, advance boldly and bravely! Comias, your feet are
dragging; once you were as tough as a dog-skin strap and now even
Charinades walks better than you. Ha! Strymodorus of Conthyle, you best
of mates, where is Euergides and where is Chales of Phyla? Ha, ha,
bravo! there you are, the last of the lads with whom we mounted guard
together at Byzantium. [43] Do you remember how, one night, prowling
round, we noiselessly stole the kneading-trough of a baker's-wife; we
split it in two and cooked our green-stuff with it. --But let us hasten,
for the case of the Laches[44] comes on to-day, and they all say he has
embezzled a pot of money. Hence Cleon, our protector, advised us
yesterday to come early and with a three days' stock of fiery rage so as
to chastise him for his crimes. Let us hurry, comrades, before it is
light; come, let us search every nook with our lanterns to see whether
those who wish us ill have not set us some trap.

BOY. Ah! here is mud! Father, take care!

CHORUS. Pick up a blade of straw and trim the lamp of your lantern.

BOY. No, I can trim it quite well with my finger.

CHORUS. Why do you pull out the wick, you little dolt? Oil is scarce,
and 'tis not you who suffer when it has to be paid for. (_Strikes him. _)

BOY. If you teach us again with your fists, we shall put out the lamps
and go home; then you will have no light and will squatter about in the
mud like ducks in the dark.

CHORUS. I know how to punish other offenders bigger than you. But I think
I am treading in some mud. Oh! 'tis certain it will rain in torrents for
four days at least; look, what thieves are in our lamps; that is always
a sign of heavy rain; but the rain and the north wind will be good for
the crops that are still standing. . . . Why, what can have happened to our
mate, who lives here? Why does he not come to join our party? There
used to be no need to haul him in our wake, for he would march at our
head singing the verses of Phrynichus; he was a lover of singing. Should
we not, friends, make a halt here and sign to call him out? The charm of
my voice will fetch him out, if he hears it.

Why does the old man not show himself before the door? why does he not
answer? Has he lost his shoes? has he stubbed his toe in the dark and
thus got a swollen ankle? Perhaps he has a tumour in his groin. He was
the hardest of us all; he alone _never_ allowed himself to be moved. If
anyone tried to move him, he would lower his head, saying, "You might
just as well try to boil a stone. " But I bethink me, an accused ma
escaped us yesterday through his false pretence that he loved Athens and
had been the first to unfold the Samian plot. [45] Perhaps his acquittal
has so distressed Philocleon that he is abed with fever--he is quite
capable of such a thing. --Friend, arise, do not thus vex your hear, but
forget your wrath. Today we have to judge a man made wealthy by treason,
one of those who set Thrace free;[46] we have to prepare him a funeral
urn . . . so march on, my boy, get a-going.

BOY. Father, would you give me something if I asked for it?

CHORUS. Assuredly, my child, but tell me what nice thing do you want me
to buy you? A set of knuckle-bones, I suppose.

BOY. No, dad, I prefer figs; they are better.

CHORUS. No, by Zeus! even if you were to hang yourself with vexation.

BOY. Well then, I will lead you no father.

CHORUS. With my small pay, I am obliged to buy bread, wood, stew; and now
you ask me for figs!

BOY. But, father, if the Archon[47] should not form a court to-day, how
are we to buy our dinner? Have you some good hope to offer us or merely
"Helle's sacred waves"? [48]

CHORUS. Alas! alas! I have not a notion how we shall dine.

BOY. Oh! my poor mother! why did you let me see this day?

CHORUS. Oh! my little wallet! you seem like to be a mere useless
ornament!

BOY. 'Tis our destiny to groan.