No More Learning

We others, now old men and heavy with years, we reproach the city; so
many are the victories we have gained for the Athenian fleets that we
well deserve to be cared for in our declining life; yet far from this, we
are ill-used, harassed with law-suits, delivered over to the scorn of
stripling orators. Our minds and bodies being ravaged with age, Posidon
should protect us, yet we have no other support than a staff. When
standing before the judge, we can scarcely stammer forth the fewest
words, and of justice we see but its barest shadow, whereas the accuser,
desirous of conciliating the younger men, overwhelms us with his ready
rhetoric; he drags us before the judge, presses us with questions, lays
traps for us; the onslaught troubles, upsets and rends poor old Tithonus,
who, crushed with age, stands tongue-tied; sentenced to a fine,[223] he
weeps, he sobs and says to his friend, "This fine robs me of the last
trifle that was to have bought my coffin. "

Is this not a scandal? What! the clepsydra[224] is to kill the
white-haired veteran, who, in fierce fighting, has so oft covered himself
with glorious sweat, whose valour at Marathon saved the country! 'Twas we
who pursued on the field of Marathon, whereas now 'tis wretches who
pursue us to the death and crush us! What would Marpsias reply to
this? [225] What an injustice, that a man, bent with age like Thucydides,
should be brow-beaten by this braggart advocate, Cephisodemus,[226] who
is as savage as the Scythian desert he was born in! Is it not to convict
him from the outset? I wept tears of pity when I saw an Archer[227]
maltreat this old man, who, by Ceres, when he was young and the true
Thucydides, would not have permitted an insult from Ceres herself! At
that date he would have floored ten miserable orators, he would have
terrified three thousand Archers with his shouts; he would have pierced
the whole line of the enemy with his shafts. Ah! but if you will not
leave the aged in peace, decree that the advocates be matched; thus the
old man will only be confronted with a toothless greybeard, the young
will fight with the braggart, the ignoble with the son of Clinias[228];
make a law that in future, the old man can only be summoned and convicted
at the courts by the aged and the young man by the youth.

DICAEOPOLIS. These are the confines of my market-place. All
Peloponnesians, Megarians, Boeotians, have the right to come and trade
here, provided they sell their wares to me and not to Lamachus. As
market-inspectors I appoint these three whips of Leprean[229] leather,
chosen by lot. Warned away are all informers and all men of Phasis. [230]
They are bringing me the pillar on which the treaty is inscribed[231] and
I shall erect it in the centre of the market, well in sight of all.

A MEGARIAN. Hail! market of Athens, beloved of Megarians. Let Zeus, the
patron of friendship, witness, I regretted you as a mother mourns her
son. Come, poor little daughters of an unfortunate father, try to find
something to eat; listen to me with the full heed of an empty belly.
Which would you prefer? To be sold or to cry with hunger.

DAUGHTERS. To be sold, to be sold!

MEGARIAN. That is my opinion too. But who would make so sorry a deal as
to buy you? Ah! I recall me a Megarian trick; I am going to disguise you
as little porkers, that I am offering for sale. Fit your hands with these
hoofs and take care to appear the issue of a sow of good breed, for, if I
am forced to take you back to the house, by Hermes! you will suffer
cruelly of hunger! Then fix on these snouts and cram yourselves into this
sack. Forget not to grunt and to say wee-wee like the little pigs that
are sacrificed in the Mysteries. I must summon Dicaeopolis. Where is he?
Dicaeopolis, will you buy some nice little porkers?

DICAEOPOLIS. Who are you? a Megarian?

MEGARIAN. I have come to your market.

DICAEOPOLIS. Well, how are things at Megara? [232]

MEGARIAN. We are crying with hunger at our firesides.

DICAEOPOLIS. The fireside is jolly enough with a piper. But what else is
doing at Megara, eh?

MEGARIAN. What else? When I left for the market, the authorities were
taking steps to let us die in the quickest manner.

DICAEOPOLIS. That is the best way to get you out of all your troubles.

MEGARIAN. True.

DICAEOPOLIS. What other news of Megara? What is wheat selling at?

MEGARIAN. With us it is valued as highly as the very gods in heaven!

DICAEOPOLIS. Is it salt that you are bringing?

MEGARIAN. Are you not holding back the salt?

DICAEOPOLIS. 'Tis garlic then?

MEGARIAN. What! garlic! do you not at every raid grub up the ground with
your pikes to pull out every single head?

DICAEOPOLIS. What _do_ you bring then?

MEGARIAN. Little sows, like those they immolate at the Mysteries.

DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! very well, show me them.

MEGARIAN. They are very fine; feel their weight. See! how fat and fine.

DICAEOPOLIS. But what is this?

MEGARIAN. A _sow_, for a certainty. [233]

DICAEOPOLIS. You say a sow! of what country, then?

MEGARIAN. From Megara. What! is that not a sow then?

DICAEOPOLIS. No, I don't believe it is.

MEGARIAN. This is too much! what an incredulous man! He says 'tis not a
sow; but we will stake, an you will, a measure of salt ground up with
thyme, that in good Greek this is called a sow and nothing else.

DICAEOPOLIS. But a sow of the human kind.

MEGARIAN. Without question, by Diocles! of my own breed! Well! What think
you? will you hear them squeal?

DICAEOPOLIS. Well, yes, i' faith, I will.

MEGARIAN. Cry quickly, wee sowlet; squeak up, hussy, or by Hermes! I take
you back to the house.

GIRL. Wee-wee, wee-wee!

MEGARIAN. Is that a little sow, or not?

DICAEOPOLIS. Yes, it seems so; but let it grow up, and it will be a fine
fat cunt.

MEGARIAN. In five years it will be just like its mother.

DICAEOPOLIS. But it cannot be sacrificed.

MEGARIAN. And why not?

DICAEOPOLIS. It has no tail. [234]

MEGARIAN. Because it is quite young, but in good time it will have a big
one, thick and red.

DICAEOPOLIS. The two are as like as two peas.

MEGARIAN. They are born of the same father and mother; let them be
fattened, let them grow their bristles, and they will be the finest sows
you can offer to Aphrodite.

DICAEOPOLIS. But sows are not immolated to Aphrodite.

MEGARIAN. Not sows to Aphrodite! Why, 'tis the only goddess to whom they
are offered! the flesh of my sows will be excellent on the spit.

DICAEOPOLIS. Can they eat alone? They no longer need their mother!

MEGARIAN. Certainly not, nor their father.

DICAEOPOLIS. What do they like most?

MEGARIAN. Whatever is given them; but ask for yourself.

DICAEOPOLIS. Speak! little sow.

DAUGHTER. Wee-wee, wee-wee!

DICAEOPOLIS. Can you eat chick-pease? [235]

DAUGHTER. Wee-wee, wee-wee, wee-wee!

DICAEOPOLIS. And Attic figs?

DAUGHTER. Wee-wee, wee-wee!

DICAEOPOLIS. What sharp squeaks at the name of figs. Come, let some figs
be brought for these little pigs. Will they eat them? Goodness! how they
munch them, what a grinding of teeth, mighty Heracles! I believe those
pigs hail from the land of the Voracians. But surely, 'tis impossible
they have bolted all the figs!

MEGARIAN. Yes, certainly, bar this one that I took from them.

DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! what funny creatures! For what sum will you sell them?

MEGARIAN. I will give you one for a bunch of garlic, and the other, if
you like, for a quart measure of salt.

DICAEOPOLIS. I buy them of you. Wait for me here.

MEGARIAN. The deal is done. Hermes, god of good traders, grant I may sell
both my wife and my mother in the same way!

AN INFORMER. Hi! fellow, what countryman are you?

MEGARIAN. I am a pig-merchant from Megara.

INFORMER. I shall denounce both your pigs and yourself as public enemies.

MEGARIAN. Ah! here our troubles begin afresh!

INFORMER. Let go that sack. I will punish your Megarian lingo. [236]

MEGARIAN.
Dicaeopolis, Dicaeopolis, they want to denounce me.

DICAEOPOLIS. Who dares do this thing? Inspectors, drive out the
Informers. Ah! you offer to enlighten us without a lamp! [237]

INFORMER. What! I may not denounce our enemies?

DICAEOPOLIS. Have a care for yourself, if you don't go off pretty quick
to denounce elsewhere.

MEGARIAN. What a plague to Athens!

DICAEOPOLIS. Be reassured, Megarian. Here is the value of your two swine,
the garlic and the salt. Farewell and much happiness!

MEGARIAN. Ah! we never have that amongst us.

DICAEOPOLIS. Well! may the inopportune wish apply to myself.

MEGARIAN. Farewell, dear little sows, and seek, far from your father, to
munch your bread with salt, if they give you any.

CHORUS. Here is a man truly happy. See how everything succeeds to his
wish. Peacefully seated in his market, he will earn his living; woe to
Ctesias,[238] and all other informers, who dare to enter there! You will
not be cheated as to the value of wares, you will not again see
Prepis[239] wiping his foul rump, nor will Cleonymus[240] jostle you; you
will take your walks, clothed in a fine tunic, without meeting
Hyperbolus[241] and his unceasing quibblings, without being accosted on
the public place by any importunate fellow, neither by Cratinus,[242]
shaven in the fashion of the debauchees, nor by this musician, who
plagues us with his silly improvisations, Artemo, with his arm-pits
stinking as foul as a goat, like his father before him. You will not be
the butt of the villainous Pauson's[243] jeers, nor of Lysistratus,[244]
the disgrace of the Cholargian deme, who is the incarnation of all the
vices, and endures cold and hunger more than thirty days in the month.

A BOEOTIAN. By Heracles! my shoulder is quite black and blue. Ismenias,
put the penny-royal down there very gently, and all of you, musicians
from Thebes, pipe with your bone flutes into a dog's rump. [245]

DICAEOPOLIS. Enough, enough, get you gone. Rascally hornets, away with
you! Whence has sprung this accursed swarm of Cheris[246] fellows which
comes assailing my door?

BOEOTIAN. Ah! by Iolas! [247] Drive them off, my dear host, you will
please me immensely; all the way from Thebes, they were there piping
behind me and have completely stripped my penny-royal of its blossom. But
will you buy anything of me, some chickens or some locusts?

DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! good day, Boeotian, eater of good round loaves. [248]
What do you bring?

BOEOTIAN. All that is good in Boeotia, marjoram, penny-royal, rush-mats,
lamp-wicks, ducks, jays, woodcocks, waterfowl, wrens, divers.

DICAEOPOLIS. 'Tis a very hail of birds that beats down on my market.

BOEOTIAN. I also bring geese, hares, foxes, moles, hedgehogs, cats,
lyres, martins, otters and eels from the Copaic lake. [249]

DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! my friend, you, who bring me the most delicious of fish,
let me salute your eels.

BOEOTIAN. Come, thou, the eldest of my fifty Copaic virgins, come and
complete the joy of our host.

DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! my well-beloved, thou object of my long regrets, thou
art here at last then, thou, after whom the comic poets sigh, thou, who
art dear to Morychus. [250] Slaves, hither with the stove and the bellows.
Look at this charming eel, that returns to us after six long years of
absence. [251] Salute it, my children; as for myself, I will supply coal
to do honour to the stranger. Take it into my house; death itself could
not separate me from her, if cooked with beet leaves.

BOEOTIAN. And what will you give me in return?

DICAEOPOLIS. It will pay for your market dues. And as to the rest, what
do you wish to sell me?

BOEOTIAN. Why, everything.

DICAEOPOLIS. On what terms? For ready-money or in wares from these parts?

BOEOTIAN. I would take some Athenian produce, that we have not got in
Boeotia.

DICAEOPOLIS. Phaleric anchovies, pottery?

BOEOTIAN. Anchovies, pottery? But these we have. I want produce that is
wanting with us and that is plentiful here.

DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! I have the very thing; take away an Informer, packed up
carefully as crockery-ware.

BOEOTIAN. By the twin gods! I should earn big money, if I took one; I
would exhibit him as an ape full of spite.

DICAEOPOLIS. Hah! here we have Nicarchus,[252] who comes to denounce you.

BOEOTIAN. How small he is!

DICAEOPOLIS. But in his case the whole is one mass of ill-nature.

NICARCHUS. Whose are these goods?

DICAEOPOLIS. Mine; they come from Boeotia, I call Zeus to witness.

NICARCHUS. I denounce them as coming from an enemy's country.

BOEOTIAN. What! you declare war against birds?

NICARCHUS. And I am going to denounce you too.

BOEOTIAN. What harm have I done you?

NICARCHUS. I will say it for the benefit of those that listen; you
introduce lamp-wicks from an enemy's country.

DICAEOPOLIS. Then you go as far as denouncing a wick.

NICARCHUS. It needs but one to set an arsenal afire.

DICAEOPOLIS. A wick set an arsenal ablaze! But how, great gods?

NICARCHUS. Should a Boeotian attach it to an insect's wing, and, taking
advantage of a violent north wind, throw it by means of a tube into the
arsenal and the fire once get hold of the vessels, everything would soon
be devoured by the flames.

DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! wretch! an insect and a wick would devour everything.
(_He strikes him_. )

NICARCHUS (_to the Chorus_). You will bear witness, that he mishandles
me.

DICAEOPOLIS. Shut his mouth. Give him some hay; I am going to pack him up
as a vase, that he may not get broken on the road.

CHORUS. Pack up your goods carefully, friend; that the stranger may not
break it when taking it away.

DICAEOPOLIS. I shall take great care with it, for one would say he is
cracked already; he rings with a false note, which the gods abhor.

CHORUS. But what will be done with him?

DICAEOPOLIS. This is a vase good for all purposes; it will be used as a
vessel for holding all foul things, a mortar for pounding together
law-suits, a lamp for spying upon accounts, and as a cup for the mixing
up and poisoning of everything.

CHORUS. None could ever trust a vessel for domestic use that has such a
ring about it.

DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! it is strong, my friend, and will never get broken, if
care is taken to hang it head downwards.

CHORUS. There! it is well packed now!

BOEOTIAN. Marry, I will proceed to carry off my bundle.

CHORUS. Farewell, worthiest of strangers, take this Informer, good for
anything, and fling him where you like.

DICAEOPOLIS. Bah! this rogue has given me enough trouble to pack! Here!
Boeotian, pick up your pottery.

BOEOTIAN. Stoop, Ismenias, that I may put it on your shoulder, and be
very careful with it.

DICAEOPOLIS. You carry nothing worth having; however, take it, for you
will profit by your bargain; the Informers will bring you luck.

A SERVANT OF LAMACHUS. Dicaeopolis!

DICAEOPOLIS. What do want crying this gait?

SERVANT. Lamachus wants to keep the Feast of Cups,[253] and I come by his
order to bid you one drachma for some thrushes and three more for a
Copaic eel.

DICAEOPOLIS. And who is this Lamachus, who demands an eel?

SERVANT. 'Tis the terrible, indefatigable Lamachus, he, who is always
brandishing his fearful Gorgon's head and the three plumes which
o'ershadow his helmet.

DICAEOPOLIS. No, no, he will get nothing, even though he gave me his
buckler. Let him eat salt fish, while he shakes his plumes, and, if he
comes here making any din, I shall call the inspectors. As for myself, I
shall take away all these goods; I go home on thrushes' wings and
blackbirds' pinions. [254]

CHORUS. You see, citizens, you see the good fortune which this man owes
to his prudence, to his profound wisdom. You see how, since he has
concluded peace, he buys what is useful in the household and good to eat
hot. All good things flow towards him unsought. Never will I welcome the
god of war in my house; never shall he chant the 'Harmodius' at my
table;[255] he is a sot, who comes feasting with those who are
overflowing with good things and brings all sorts of mischief at his
heels. He overthrows, ruins, rips open; 'tis vain to make him a thousand
offers, "be seated, pray, drink this cup, proffered in all friendship,"
he burns our vine-stocks and brutally pours out the wine from our
vineyards on the ground. This man, on the other hand, covers his table
with a thousand dishes; proud of his good fortunes, he has had these
feathers cast before his door to show us how he lives.

DICAEOPOLIS. Oh! Peace! companion of fair Aphrodite and of the sweet
Graces, how charming are your features and yet I never knew it! Would
that Eros might join me to thee, Eros, crowned with roses as Zeuxis[256]
shows him to us! Perhaps I seem somewhat old to you, but I am yet able to
make you a threefold offering; despite my age, I could plant a long row
of vines for you; then beside these some tender cuttings from the fig;
finally a young vine-stock, loaded with fruit and all round the field
olive trees, which would furnish us with oil, wherewith to anoint us both
at the New Moons.

HERALD. List, ye people! As was the custom of your forebears, empty a
full pitcher of wine at the call of the trumpet; he, who first sees the
bottom, shall get a wine-skin as round and plump as Ctesiphon's belly.

DICAEOPOLIS. Women, children, have you not heard? Faith! do you not heed
the herald? Quick! let the hares boil and roast merrily; keep them
a-turning; withdraw them from the flame; prepare the chaplets; reach me
the skewers that I may spit the thrushes.

CHORUS. I envy you your wisdom and even more your good cheer.

DICAEOPOLIS. What then will you say when you see the thrushes roasting?

CHORUS.