No More Learning

CHORUS. By the goddesses, you will not laugh presently over your crime
and your impious speech. For with impiety, as 'tis meet, shall we reply
to your impiety. Soon fortune will turn round and overwhelm you. Come!
bring wood along. Let us burn the wretch, let us roast him as quickly as
possible.

SIXTH WOMAN. Bring faggots, Mania! (_To Mnesilochus. _) You will be mere
charcoal soon.

CHORUS. Grill away, roast me, but you, my child, take off this Cretan
robe and blame no one but your mother for your death. But what does this
mean? The little girl is nothing but a skin filled with wine and shod
with Persian slippers. [605] Oh! you wanton, you tippling woman, who think
of nothing but wine; you are a fortune to the drinking-shops and are our
ruin; for the sake of drink, you neglect both your household and your
shuttle!

SIXTH WOMAN. Faggots, Mania, plenty of them.

MNESILOCHUS. Bring as many as you like. But answer me; are you the mother
of this brat?

SIXTH WOMAN. I carried it ten months. [606]

MNESILOCHUS. You carried it?

SIXTH WOMAN. I swear it by Artemis.

MNESILOCHUS. How much does it hold? Three cotylae? [607] Tell me.

SIXTH WOMAN. Oh! what have you done? You have stripped the poor child
quite naked, and it is so small, so small.

MNESILOCHUS. So small?

SIXTH WOMAN. Yes, quite small, to be sure.

MNESILOCHUS. How old is it? Has it seen the feast of cups thrice or four
times?

SIXTH WOMAN. It was born about the time of the last Dionysia. [608] But
give it back to me.

MNESILOCHUS. No, may Apollo bear me witness.

SIXTH WOMAN. Well, then we are going to burn him.

MNESILOCHUS. Burn me, but then I shall rip this open instantly.

SIXTH WOMAN. No, no, I adjure you, don't; do anything you like to me
rather than that.

MNESILOCHUS. What a tender mother you are; but nevertheless I shall rip
it open. (_Tears open the wine-skin_. )

SIXTH WOMAN. Oh, my beloved daughter! Mania, hand me the sacred cup, that
I may at least catch the blood of my child.

MNESILOCHUS. Hold it below; 'tis the sole favour I grant you.

SIXTH WOMAN. Out upon you, you pitiless monster!

MNESILOCHUS. This robe belongs to the priestess. [609]

SIXTH WOMAN. What belongs to the priestess?

MNESILOCHUS. Here, take it. (_Throws her the Cretan robe. _)

SEVENTH WOMAN. Ah! unfortunate Mica! who has robbed you of your daughter,
your beloved child?

SIXTH WOMAN. That wretch. But as you are here, watch him well, while I go
with Clisthenes to the Prytanes and denounce him for his crimes.

MNESILOCHUS. Ah! how can I secure safety? what device can I hit on? what
can I think of? He whose fault it is, he who hurried me into this
trouble, will not come to my rescue. Let me see, whom could I best send
to him? Ha! I know a means taken from Palamedes; like him, I will write
my misfortune on some oars, which I will cast into the sea. But there are
no oars here. Where might I find some? [610] Where indeed? Bah! what if I
took these statues[611] instead of oars, wrote upon them and then threw
them towards this side and that. 'Tis the best thing to do. Besides, like
oars they are of wood. Oh! my hands, keep up your courage, for my safety
is at stake. Come, my beautiful tablets, receive the traces of my stylus
and be the messengers of my sorry fate. Oh! oh! this B looks miserable
enough! Where is it running to then? Come, off with you in all
directions, to the right and to the left; and hurry yourselves, for
there's much need indeed!

CHORUS. Let us address ourselves to the spectators to sing our praises,
despite the fact that each one says much ill of women. If the men are to
be believed, we are a plague to them; through us come all their troubles,
quarrels, disputes, sedition, griefs and wars. But if we are truly such a
pest, why marry us? Why forbid us to go out or show ourselves at the
window? You want to keep this pest, and take a thousand cares to do it.
If your wife goes out and you meet her away from the house, you fly into
a fury. Ought you not rather to rejoice and give thanks to the gods? for
if the pest has disappeared, you will no longer find it at home. If we
fall asleep at friends' houses from the fatigue of playing and sporting,
each of you comes prowling round the bed to contemplate the features of
this pest. If we seat ourselves at the window, each one wants to see the
pest, and if we withdraw through modesty, each wants all the more to see
the pest perch herself there again. It is thus clear that we are better
than you, and the proof of this is easy. Let us find out which is worse
of the two sexes. We say, "'Tis you," while you aver, 'tis we. Come, let
us compare them in detail, each individual man with a woman. Charminus is
not equal to Nausimache,[612] that's certain. Cleophon[613] is in every
respect inferior to Salabaccho. [614] 'Tis long now since any of you has
dared to contest the prize with Aristomache, the heroine of Marathon, or
with Stratonice. [615]

Among the last year's Senators, who have just yielded their office to
other citizens, is there one who equals Eubule? [616] Therefore we
maintain that men are greatly our inferiors. You see no woman who has
robbed the State of fifty talents rushing about the city in a magnificent
chariot; our greatest peculations are a measure of corn, which we steal
from our husbands, and even then we return it them the very same day. But
we could name many amongst you who do quite as much, and who are, even
more than ourselves, gluttons, parasites, cheats and kidnappers of
slaves. We know how to keep our property better than you. We still have
our cylinders, our beams,[617] our baskets and our sunshades; whereas
many among you have lost the wood of your spears as well as the iron, and
many others have cast away their bucklers on the battlefield.

There are many reproaches we have the right to bring against men. The
most serious is this, that the woman, who has given birth to a useful
citizen, whether taxiarch or strategus[618] should receive some
distinction; a place of honour should be reserved for her at the Sthenia,
the Scirophoria,[619] and the other festivals that we keep. On the other
hand, she of whom a coward was born or a worthless man, a bad
trierarch[620] or an unskilful pilot, should sit with shaven head, behind
her sister who had borne a brave man. Oh! citizens! is it just, that the
mother of Hyperbolus should sit dressed in white and with loosened
tresses beside that of Lamachus[621] and lend out money on usury? He, who
may have done a deal of this nature with her, so far from paying her
interest, should not even repay the capital, saying, "What, pay you
interest? after you have given us this delightful son? "

MNESILOCHUS. I have contracted quite a squint by looking round for him,
and yet Euripides does not come. Who is keeping him? No doubt he is
ashamed of his cold Palamedes. [622] What will attract him? Let us see! By
which of his pieces does he set most store? Ah! I'll imitate his
Helen,[623] his lastborn. I just happen to have a complete woman's
outfit.

SEVENTH WOMAN. What are you ruminating over now again? Why are you
rolling up your eyes? You'll have no reason to be proud of your Helen, if
you don't keep quiet until one of the Prytanes arrives.

MNESILOCHUS (_as Helen_). "These shores are those of the Nile with the
beautiful nymphs, these waters take the place of heaven's rain and
fertilize the white earth, that produces the black syrmea. "[624]

SEVENTH WOMAN. By bright Hecate, you're a cunning varlet.

MNESILOCHUS. "Glorious Sparta is my country and Tyndareus is my
father. "[625]

SEVENTH WOMAN. He your father, you rascal! Why, 'tis Phrynondas. [626]

MNESILOCHUS. "I was given the name of Helen. "

SEVENTH WOMAN. What! you are again becoming a woman, before we have
punished you for having pretended it a first time!

MNESILOCHUS. "A thousand warriors have died on my account on the banks of
the Scamander. "

SEVENTH WOMAN. Why have you not done the same?

MNESILOCHUS. "And here I am upon these shores; Menelaus, my unhappy
husband, does not yet come. Ah! how life weighs upon me! Oh! ye cruel
crows, who have not devoured my body! But what sweet hope is this that
sets my heart a-throb? Oh, Zeus! grant it may not prove a lying one! "

EURIPIDES (_as Menelaus_). "To what master does this splendid palace
belong? Will he welcome strangers who have been tried on the billows of
the sea by storm and shipwreck? "[627]

MNESILOCHUS. "This is the palace of Proteus. "[628]

EURIPIDES. "Of what Proteus? "

SEVENTH WOMAN. Oh! the thrice cursed rascal! how he lies! By the
goddesses, 'tis ten years since Proteas[629] died.

EURIPIDES. "What is this shore whither the wind has driven our boat? "

MNESILOCHUS. "It's Egypt. "

EURIPIDES. "Alas! how far we are from our own country! "

SEVENTH WOMAN. But don't believe that cursed fool. This is Demeter's
Temple.

EURIPIDES. "Is Proteus in these parts? "

SEVENTH WOMAN.
Ah, now, stranger, it must be sea-sickness that makes you
so distraught! You have been told that Proteas is dead, and yet you ask
if he is in these parts.

EURIPIDES. "He is no more! Oh! woe! where lie his ashes? "

MNESILOCHUS. 'Tis on his tomb you see me sitting.

SEVENTH WOMAN. You call an altar a tomb! Beware of the rope!

EURIPIDES. "And why remain sitting on this tomb, wrapped in this long
veil, oh, stranger lady? "[630]

MNESILOCHUS. "They want to force me to marry a son of Proteus. "

SEVENTH WOMAN. Ah! wretch, why tell such shameful lies? Stranger, this is
a rascal who has slipped in amongst us women to rob us of our trinkets.

MNESILOCHUS (_to Seventh Woman_) "Shout! load me with your insults, for
little care I. "

EURIPIDES. "Who is the old woman who reviles you, stranger lady? "

MNESILOCHUS. "'Tis Theonoe, the daughter of Proteus. "

SEVENTH WOMAN. I! Why, my name's Critylla, the daughter of
Antitheus,[631] of the deme of Gargettus;[632] as for you, you are a
rogue.

MNESILOCHUS. "Your entreaties are vain. Never shall I wed your brother;
never shall I betray the faith I owe my husband Menelaus, who is fighting
before Troy. "

EURIPIDES. "What are you saying? Turn your face towards me. "

MNESILOCHUS. "I dare not; my cheeks show the marks of the insults I have
been forced to suffer. "

EURIPIDES "Oh! great gods! I cannot speak, for very emotion. . . . Ah! what
do I see? Who are you? "

MNESILOCHUS. "And you, what is your name? for my surprise is as great as
yours. "

EURIPIDES. "Are you Grecian or born in this country? "

MNESILOCHUS. "I am Grecian. But now your name, what is it? "

EURIPIDES. "Oh! how you resemble Helen! "

MNESILOCHUS. And you Menelaus, if I can judge by those pot-herbs. [633]

EURIPIDES. "You are not mistaken, 'tis that unfortunate mortal who stands
before you. "

MNESILOCHUS. "Ah! how you have delayed coming to your wife's arms! Press
me to your heart, throw your arms about me, for I wish to cover you with
kisses. Carry me away, carry me away, quick, quick, far, very far from
here. "

SEVENTH WOMAN. By the goddesses, woe to him who would carry you away! I
should thrash him with my torch.

EURIPIDES. "Do you propose to prevent me from taking my wife, the
daughter of Tyndareus, to Sparta? "

SEVENTH WOMAN You seem to me to be a cunning rascal too; you are in
collusion with this man, and 'twas not for nothing that you kept babbling
about Egypt. But the hour for punishment has come; here is the magistrate
come with his archer.

EURIPIDES. This grows awkward. Let me hide myself.

MNESILOCHUS. And what is to become of me, poor unfortunate man?

EURIPIDES. Be at ease. I shall never abandon you, as long as I draw
breath and one of my numberless artifices remains untried.

MNESILOCHUS. The fish has not bitten this time.

THE PRYTANIS. Is this the rascal of whom Clisthenes told us? Why are you
trying to make yourself so small? Archer, arrest him, fasten him to the
post, then take up your position there and keep guard over him. Let none
approach him. A sound lash with your whip for him who attempts to break
the order.

SEVENTH WOMAN. Excellent, for just now a rogue almost took him from me.

MNESILOCHUS. Prytanis, in the name of that hand which you know so well
how to bend, when money is placed in it, grant me a slight favour before
I die.

PRYTANIS. What favour?

MNESILOCHUS. Order the archer to strip me before lashing me to the post;
the crows, when they make their meal on the poor old man, would laugh too
much at this robe and head-dress.

PRYTANIS. 'Tis in that gear that you must be exposed by order of the
Senate, so that your crime may be patent to the passers-by.

MNESILOCHUS. Oh! cursed robe, the cause of all my misfortune! My last
hope is thus destroyed!

CHORUS. Let us now devote ourselves to the sports which the women are
accustomed to celebrate here, when time has again brought round the
mighty Mysteries of the great goddesses, the sacred days which
Pauson[634] himself honours by fasting and would wish feast to succeed
feast, that he might keep them all holy. Spring forward with a light
step, whirling in mazy circles; let your hands interlace, let the eager
and rapid dancers sway to the music and glance on every side as they
move. Let the chorus sing likewise and praise the Olympian gods in their
pious transport.

'Tis wrong to suppose that, because I am a woman and in this Temple, I am
going to speak ill of men; but since we want something fresh, we are
going through the rhythmic steps of the round dance for the first time.

Start off while you sing to the god of the lyre and to the chaste goddess
armed with the bow. Hail! thou god who flingest thy darts so far,[635]
grant us the victory! The homage of our song is also due to Here, the
goddess of marriage, who interests herself in every chorus and guards the
approach to the nuptial couch. I also pray Hermes, the god of the
shepherds, and Pan and the beloved Graces to bestow a benevolent smile
upon our songs.

Let us lead off anew, let us double our zeal during our solemn days, and
especially let us observe a close fast; let us form fresh measures that
keep good time, and may our songs resound to the very heavens. Do thou,
oh divine Bacchus, who art crowned with ivy, direct our chorus; 'tis to
thee that both my hymns and my dances are dedicated; oh, Evius, oh,
Bromius,[636] oh, thou son of Semele, oh, Bacchus, who delightest to
mingle with the dear choruses of the nymphs upon the mountains, and who
repeatest, while dancing with them, the sacred hymn, Evius, Evius, Evoe.
Echo, the nymph of Cithaeron returns thy words, which resound beneath the
dark vaults of the thick foliage and in the midst of the rocks of the
forest; the ivy enlaces thy brow with its tendrils charged with flowers.

SCYTHIAN ARCHER. [637] You shall stay here in the open air to wail.

MNESILOCHUS. Archer, I adjure you.

SCYTHIAN. 'Tis labour lost.

MNESILOCHUS. Loosen the wedge a little. [638]

SCYTHIAN. Aye, certainly.

MNESILOCHUS. Oh! by the gods! why, you are driving it in tighter.

SCYTHIAN. Is that enough?

MNESILOCHUS. Oh! la, la! oh! la, la! May the plague take you!

SCYTHIAN. Silence! you cursed old wretch! I am going to get a mat to lie
upon, so as to watch you close at hand at my ease.

MNESILOCHUS. Ah! what exquisite pleasures Euripides is securing for me!
But, oh, ye gods! oh, Zeus the Deliverer, all is not yet lost! I don't
believe him the man to break his word; I just caught sight of him
appearing in the form of Perseus, and he told me with a mysterious sign
to turn myself into Andromeda. And in truth am I not really bound? 'Tis
certain, then, that he is coming to my rescue; for otherwise he would not
have steered his flight this way. [639]

EURIPIDES (_as Perseus_). Oh Nymphs, ye virgins who are dear to me, how
am I to approach him? how can I escape the sight of this Scythian? And
Echo, thou who reignest in the inmost recesses of the caves, oh! favour
my cause and permit me to approach my spouse.

MNESILOCHUS (_as Andromeda_). [640] A pitiless ruffian has chained up the
most unfortunate of mortal maids. Alas! I had barely escaped the filthy
claws of an old fury, when another mischance overtook me! This Scythian
does not take his eye off me and he has exposed me as food for the crows.
Alas! what is to become of me, alone here and without friends! I am not
seen mingling in the dances nor in the games of my companions, but
heavily loaded with fetters I am given over to the voracity of a
Glaucetes. [641] Sing no bridal hymn for me, oh women, but rather the hymn
of captivity, and in tears. Ah! how I suffer! great gods! how I suffer!
Alas! alas! and through my own relatives too! [642] My misery would make
Tartarus dissolve into tears! Alas! in my terrible distress, I implore
the mortal who first shaved me and depilated me, then dressed me in this
long robe, and then sent me to this Temple into the midst of the women,
to save me. Oh, thou pitiless Fate! I am then accursed, great gods! Ah!
who would not be moved at the sight of the appalling tortures under which
I succumb? Would that the blazing shaft of the lightning would wither. . .
this barbarian for me! (_pointing to the Scythian archer_) for the
immortal light has no further charm for my eyes since I have been
descending the shortest path to the dead, tied up, strangled, and
maddened with pain.

EURIPIDES (as _Echo_). Hail! beloved girl. As for your father, Cepheus,
who has exposed you in this guise, may the gods annihilate him.

MNESILOCHUS (_as Andromeda_). And who are you whom my misfortunes have
moved to pity?

EURIPIDES. I am Echo, the nymph who repeats all she hears. 'Tis I, who
last year lent my help to Euripides in this very place. [643] But, my
child, give yourself up to the sad laments that belong to your pitiful
condition.

MNESILOCHUS. And you will repeat them?

EURIPIDES. I will not fail you. Begin.

MNESILOCHUS. "Oh! thou divine Night!