No More Learning

SERVANT. Then who is that star I see over yonder?

TRYGAEUS. That is Ion of Chios,[341] the author of an ode beginning
"Morning"; as soon as ever he got to heaven, they called him "the Morning
Star. "

SERVANT. And those stars like sparks, that plough up the air as they dart
across the sky? [342]

TRYGAEUS. They are the rich leaving the feast with a lantern and a light
inside it. But hurry up, show this young girl into my house, clean out
the bath, heat some water and prepare the nuptial couch for herself and
me. When 'tis done, come back here; meanwhile I am off to present this
one to the Senate.

SERVANT. But where then did you get these pretty chattels?

TRYGAEUS. Where? why in heaven.

SERVANT. I would not give more than an obolus for gods who have got to
keeping brothels like us mere mortals.

TRYGAEUS. They are not all so, but there are some up there too who live
by this trade.

SERVANT. Come, that's rich! But I bethink me, shall I give her something
to eat?

TRYGAEUS. No, for she would neither touch bread nor cake; she is used to
licking ambrosia at the table of the gods.

SERVANT. Well, we can give her something to lick down here too. [343]

CHORUS. Here is a truly happy old man, as far as I can judge.

TRYGAEUS. Ah! but what shall I be, when you see me presently dressed for
the wedding?

CHORUS. Made young again by love and scented with perfumes, your lot will
be one we all shall envy.

TRYGAEUS. And when I lie beside her and caress her bosoms?

CHORUS. Oh! then you will be happier than those spinning-tops who call
Carcinus their father. [344]

TRYGAEUS. And I well deserve it; have I not bestridden a beetle to save
the Greeks, who now, thanks to me, can make love at their ease and sleep
peacefully on their farms?

SERVANT. The girl has quitted the bath; she is charming from head to
foot, both belly and buttocks; the cake is baked and they are kneading
the sesame-biscuit;[345] nothing is lacking but the bridegroom's penis.

TRYGAEUS. Let us first hasten to lodge Theoria in the hands of the
Senate.

SERVANT. But tell me, who is this woman?

TRYGAEUS. Why, 'tis Theoria, with whom we used formerly to go to
Brauron,[346] to get tipsy and frolic. I had the greatest trouble to get
hold of her.

SERVANT. Ah! you charmer! what pleasure your pretty bottom will afford me
every four years!

TRYGAEUS. Let us see, who of you is steady enough to be trusted by the
Senate with the care of this charming wench? Hi! you, friend! what are
you drawing there?

SERVANT. I am drawing the plan of the tent I wish to erect for myself on
the isthmus. [347]

TRYGAEUS. Come, who wishes to take the charge of her? No one? Come,
Theoria, I am going to lead you into the midst of the spectators and
confide you to their care.

SERVANT. Ah! there is one who makes a sign to you.

TRYGAEUS. Who is it?

SERVANT. 'Tis Ariphrades. He wishes to take her home at once.

TRYGAEUS. No, I'm sure he shan't. He would soon have her done for,
licking up all her life juice. [348] Come, Theoria, put down all this
gear. [349]--Senate, Prytanes, look upon Theoria and see what precious
blessings I place in your hands. [350] Hasten to raise its limbs and to
immolate the victim. Admire the fine chimney,[351] it is quite black with
smoke, for 'twas here that the Senate did their cooking before the War.
Now that you have found Theoria again, you can start the most charming
games from to-morrow, wrestling with her on the ground, either on your
hands and feet, or you can lay her on her side, or stand before her with
bent knees, or, well rubbed with oil, you can boldly enter the lists, as
in the Pancratium, belabouring your foe with blows from your fist or
otherwise. [352] The next day you will celebrate equestrian games, in
which the riders will ride side by side, or else the chariot teams,
thrown one on top of another, panting and whinnying, will roll and knock
against each other on the ground, while other rivals, thrown out of their
seats, will fall before reaching the goal, utterly exhausted by their
efforts. --Come, Prytanes, take Theoria. Oh! look how graciously yonder
fellow has received her; you would not have been in such a hurry to
introduce her to the Senate, if nothing were coming to you through
it;[353] you would not have failed to plead some holiday as an excuse.

CHORUS. Such a man as you assures the happiness of all his
fellow-citizens.

TRYGAEUS. When you are gathering your vintages you will prize me even
better.

CHORUS. E'en from to-day we hail you as the deliverer of mankind.

TRYGAEUS. Wait until you have drunk a beaker of new wine, before you
appraise my true merits.

CHORUS. Excepting the gods, there is none greater than yourself, and that
will ever be our opinion.

TRYGAEUS. Yea, Trygaeus of Athmonia has deserved well of you, he has
freed both husbandman and craftsman from the most cruel ills; he has
vanquished Hyperbolus.

CHORUS. Well then, what must we do now?

TRYGAEUS. You must offer pots of green-stuff to the goddess to consecrate
her altars.

CHORUS. Pots of green-stuff[354] as we do to poor Hermes--and even he
thinks the fare but mean?

TRYGAEUS. What will you offer then? A fatted bull?

CHORUS. Oh, no! I don't want to start bellowing the battle-cry. [355]

TRYGAEUS. A great fat swine then?

CHORUS. No, no.

TRYGAEUS. Why not?

CHORUS. We don't want any of the swinishness of Theagenes. [356]

TRYGAEUS. What other victim do you prefer then?

CHORUS. A sheep.

TRYGAEUS. A sheep?

CHORUS. Yes.

TRYGAEUS. But you must give the word the Ionic form.

CHORUS. Purposely. So that if anyone in the assembly says, "We must go to
war," all may start bleating in alarm, "O? , o? . "[357]

TRYGAEUS. A brilliant idea.

CHORUS. And we shall all be lambs one toward the other, yea, and milder
still toward the allies.

TRYGAEUS. Then go for the sheep and haste to bring it back with you; I
will prepare the altar for the sacrifice.

CHORUS. How everything succeeds to our wish, when the gods are willing
and Fortune favours us! how opportunely everything falls out.

TRYGAEUS. Nothing could be truer, for look! here stands the altar all
ready at my door.

CHORUS. Hurry, hurry, for the winds are fickle; make haste, while the
divine will is set on stopping this cruel war and is showering on us the
most striking benefits.

TRYGAEUS. Here is the basket of barley-seed mingled with salt, the
chaplet and the sacred knife; and there is the fire; so we are only
waiting for the sheep.

CHORUS. Hasten, hasten, for, if Chaeris sees you, he will come without
bidding, he and his flute; and when you see him puffing and panting and
out of breath, you will have to give him something.

TRYGAEUS. Come, seize the basket and take the lustral water and hurry to
circle round the altar to the right.

SERVANT. There! 'tis done. What is your next bidding?

TRYGAEUS. Hold! I take this fire-brand first and plunge it into the
water.

SERVANT. Be quick! be quick! Sprinkle the altar.

TRYGAEUS. Give me some barley-seed, purify yourself and hand me the
basin; then scatter the rest of the barley among the audience.

SERVANT. 'Tis done.

TRYGAEUS. You have thrown it?

SERVANT. Yes, by Hermes! and all the spectators have had their share.

TRYGAEUS. But not the women?

SERVANT. Oh! their husbands will give it them this evening. [358]

TRYGAEUS. Let us pray! Who is here? Are there any good men? [359]

SERVANT. Come, give, so that I may sprinkle these. Faith! they are indeed
good, brave men.

TRYGAEUS. You believe so?

SERVANT. I am sure, and the proof of it is that we have flooded them with
lustral water and they have not budged an inch. [360]

TRYGAEUS. Come then, to prayers; to prayers, quick! --Oh! Peace, mighty
queen, venerated goddess, thou, who presidest over choruses and at
nuptials, deign to accept the sacrifices we offer thee.

SERVANT. Receive it, greatly honoured mistress, and behave not like the
coquettes, who half open the door to entice the gallants, draw back when
they are stared at, to return once more if a man passes on. But do not
act like this to us.

TRYGAEUS. No, but like an honest woman, show thyself to thy worshippers,
who are worn with regretting thee all these thirteen years. Hush the
noise of battle, be a true Lysimacha to us. [361] Put an end to this
tittle-tattle, to this idle babble, that set us defying one another.
Cause the Greeks once more to taste the pleasant beverage of friendship
and temper all hearts with the gentle feeling of forgiveness.
Make
excellent commodities flow to our markets, fine heads of garlic, early
cucumbers, apples, pomegranates and nice little cloaks for the slaves;
make them bring geese, ducks, pigeons and larks from Boeotia and baskets
of eels from Lake Copa? s; we shall all rush to buy them, disputing their
possession with Morychus, Teleas, Glaucetes and every other glutton.
Melanthius[362] will arrive on the market last of all; 'twill be, "no
more eels, all sold! " and then he'll start a-groaning and exclaiming as
in his monologue of Medea,[363] "I am dying, I am dying! Alas! I have let
those hidden in the beet escape me! "[364] And won't we laugh? These are
the wishes, mighty goddess, which we pray thee to grant.

SERVANT. Take the knife and slaughter the sheep like a finished cook.

TRYGAEUS. No, the goddess does not wish it. [365]

SERVANT. And why not?

TRYGAEUS. Blood cannot please Peace, so let us spill none upon her altar.
Therefore go and sacrifice the sheep in the house, cut off the legs and
bring them here; thus the carcase will be saved for the choragus.

CHORUS. You, who remain here, get chopped wood and everything needed for
the sacrifice ready.

TRYGAEUS. Don't I look like a diviner preparing his mystic fire?

CHORUS. Undoubtedly. Will anything that it behoves a wise man to know
escape you? Don't you know all that a man should know, who is
distinguished for his wisdom and inventive daring?

TRYGAEUS. There! the wood catches. Its smoke blinds poor Stilbides. [366]
I am now going to bring the table and thus be my own slave.

CHORUS. You have braved a thousand dangers to save your sacred town. All
honour to you! your glory will be ever envied.

SERVANT. Hold! here are the legs, place them upon the altar. For myself,
I mean to go back to the entrails and the cakes.

TRYGAEUS. I'll see to those; I want you here.

SERVANT. Well then, here I am. Do you think I have been long?

TRYGAEUS. Just get this roasted. Ah! who is this man, crowned with
laurel, who is coming to me?

SERVANT. He has a self-important look; is he some diviner?

TRYGAEUS. No, i' faith! 'tis Hierocles.

SERVANT. Ah! that oracle-monger from Oreus. [367] What is he going to tell
us?

TRYGAEUS. Evidently he is coming to oppose the peace.

SERVANT. No, 'tis the odour of the fat that attracts him.

TRYGAEUS. Let us appear not to see him.

SERVANT. Very well.

HIEROCLES. What sacrifice is this? to what god are you offering it?

TRYGAEUS (_to the servant_). Silence! --(_Aloud. _) Look after the roasting
and keep your hands off the meat.

HIEROCLES. To whom are you sacrificing? Answer me. Ah! the tail[368] is
showing favourable omens.

SERVANT. Aye, very favourable, oh, loved and mighty Peace!

HIEROCLES. Come, cut off the first offering[369] and make the oblation.

TRYGAEUS. 'Tis not roasted enough.

HIEROCLES. Yea, truly, 'tis done to a turn.

TRYGAEUS. Mind your own business, friend! (_To the servant. _) Cut away.
Where is the table? Bring the libations.

HIEROCLES. The tongue is cut separately.

TRYGAEUS. We know all that. But just listen to one piece of advice.

HIEROCLES. And that is?

TRYGAEUS. Don't talk, for 'tis divine Peace to whom we are sacrificing.

HIEROCLES. Oh! wretched mortals, oh, you idiots!

TRYGAEUS. Keep such ugly terms for yourself.

HIEROCLES. What! you are so ignorant you don't understand the will of the
gods and you make a treaty, you, who are men, with apes, who are full of
malice! [370]

TRYGAEUS. Ha, ha, ha!

HIEROCLES. What are you laughing at?

TRYGAEUS. Ha, ha! your apes amuse me!

HIEROCLES. You simple pigeons, you trust yourselves to foxes, who are all
craft, both in mind and heart.

TRYGAEUS. Oh, you trouble-maker! may your lungs get as hot as this meat!

HIEROCLES. Nay, nay! if only the Nymphs had not fooled Bacis, and Bacis
mortal men; and if the Nymphs had not tricked Bacis a second
time[371]. . . .

TRYGAEUS. May the plague seize you, if you won't stop wearying us with
your Bacis!

HIEROCLES. . . . it would not have been written in the book of Fate that
the bonds of Peace must be broken; but first. . . .

TRYGAEUS. The meat must be dusted with salt.

HIEROCLES. . . . it does not please the blessed gods that we should stop
the War until the wolf uniteth with the sheep.

TRYGAEUS. How, you cursed animal, could the wolf ever unite with the
sheep?

HIEROCLES. As long as the wood-bug gives off a fetid odour, when it
flies; as long as the noisy bitch is forced by nature to litter blind
pups, so long shall peace be forbidden.

TRYGAEUS. Then what should be done? Not to stop the War would be to leave
it to the decision of chance which of the two people should suffer the
most, whereas by uniting under a treaty, we share the empire of Greece.

HIEROCLES. You will never make the crab walk straight.

TRYGAEUS. You shall no longer be fed at the Prytaneum; the war done,
oracles are not wanted.

HIEROCLES. You will never smooth the rough spikes of the hedgehog.

TRYGAEUS. Will you never stop fooling the Athenians?

HIEROCLES. What oracle ordered you to burn these joints of mutton in
honour of the gods?

TRYGAEUS. This grand oracle of Homer's: "Thus vanished the dark
war-clouds and we offered a sacrifice to new-born Peace. When the flame
had consumed the thighs of the victim and its inwards had appeased our
hunger, we poured out the libations of wine. " 'Twas I who arranged the
sacred rites, but none offered the shining cup to the diviner. [372]

HIEROCLES. I care little for that. 'Tis not the Sibyl who spoke it. [373]

TRYGAEUS. Wise Homer has also said: "He who delights in the horrors of
civil war has neither country nor laws nor home. " What noble words!

HIEROCLES. Beware lest the kite turn your brain and rob. . . .

TRYGAEUS. Look out, slave! This oracle threatens our meat. Quick, pour
the libation, and give me some of the inwards.

HIEROCLES. I too will help myself to a bit, if you like.

TRYGAEUS. The libation! the libation!

HIEROCLES. Pour out also for me and give me some of this meat.

TRYGAEUS. No, the blessed gods won't allow it yet; let us drink; and as
for you, get you gone, for 'tis their will. Mighty Peace! stay ever in
our midst.

HIEROCLES. Bring the tongue hither.

TRYGAEUS. Relieve us of your own.

HIEROCLES. The libation.

TRYGAEUS. Here! and this into the bargain (_strikes him_).

HIEROCLES. You will not give me any meat?

TRYGAEUS.