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what a wretched brute! how entirely he looks the rogue!
He thinks to deceive me by keeping his jaws closed. Where is the
plaintiff, the dog of Cydathenea?

DOG. Bow wow! bow wow!

BDELYCLEON. Here he is.

PHILOCLEON. Why, 'tis a second Labes, a great barker and a licker of
dishes.

SOSIAS (_Herald_). Silence! Keep your seats! (_To Xanthias. _) And you, up
on your feet and accuse him.

PHILOCLEON. Go on, and I will help myself and eat these lentils.

XANTHIAS. Men of the jury, listen to this indictment I have drawn up. He
has committed the blackest of crimes, both against me and the
seamen. [101] He sought refuge in a dark corner to glutton on a big
Sicilian cheese, with which he sated his hunger.

PHILOCLEON. Why, the crime is clear; the foul brute this very moment
belched forth a horrible odour of cheese right under my nose.

XANTHIAS. And he refused to share with me. And yet can anyone style
himself your benefactor, when he does not cast a morsel to your poor dog?

PHILOCLEON. Then he has not shared?

XANTHIAS. Not with me, his comrade.

PHILOCLEON. Then his madness is as hot as my lentils.

BDELYCLEON. In the name of the gods, father! No hurried verdict without
hearing the other side!

PHILOCLEON. But the evidence is plain; the fact speaks for itself.

XANTHIAS. Then beware of acquitting the most selfish of canine gluttons,
who has devoured the whole cheese, rind and all, prowling round the
platter.

PHILOCLEON. There is not even enough left for me to fill up the chinks in
my pitcher.

XANTHIAS. Besides, you _must_ punish him, because the same house cannot
keep two thieves. Let me not have barked in vain, else I shall never bark
again.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! the black deeds he has just denounced! What a shameless
thief! Say, cock, is not that your opinion too? Ha, ha! He thinks as I
do. Here, Thesmothetes! [102] where are you? Hand me the vessel.

SOSIAS (_Thesmothetes_). Take it yourself. I go to call the witnesses;
these are a plate, a pestle, a cheese knife, a brazier, a stew-pot and
other half-burnt utensils. (_To Philocleon. _) But you have not finished?
you are piddling away still! Have done and be seated.

PHILOCLEON. Ha, ha! I reckon I know somebody who will shit himself with
fright today.

BDELYCLEON. Will you never cease showing yourself hard and intractable,
and especially to the accused? You tear them to pieces tooth and nail.

PHILOCLEON. Come forward and defend yourself. What means this silence?
Answer.

SOSIAS. No doubt he has nothing to say.

BDELYCLEON. Not so, but I think he has got what happened once to
Thucydides, when accused;[103] his jaws suddenly set fast. Get away! I
will undertake your defence. --Gentlemen of the jury, 'tis a difficult
thing to speak for a dog who has been calumniated, but nevertheless I
will try. 'Tis a good dog, and he chivies the wolves finely.

PHILOCLEON. He! that thief and conspirator!

BDELYCLEON. But 'tis the best of all our dogs; he is capable of guarding
a whole flock.

PHILOCLEON. And what good is that, if he eats the cheese?

BDELYCLEON. What? he fights for you, he guards your door; 'tis an
excellent dog in every respect. Forgive him his larceny; he is wretchedly
ignorant, he cannot play the lyre.

PHILOCLEON. I wish he did not know how to write either; then the rascal
would not have drawn up his pleadings.

BDELYCLEON. Witnesses, I pray you, listen. Come forward, grafting-knife,
and speak up; answer me clearly. You were paymaster at the time. Did you
grate out to the soldiers what was given you? --He says he did so.

PHILOCLEON. But, by Zeus! he lies.

BDELYCLEON. Oh! have patience. Take pity on the unfortunate. Labes feeds
only on fish-bones and fishes' heads and has not an instant of peace. The
other is good only to guard the house; he never moves from here, but
demands his share of all that is brought in and bites those who refuse.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! Heaven! have I fallen ill? I feel my anger cooling! Woe
to me! I am softening!

BDELYCLEON. Have pity, father, pity, I adjure you; you would not have him
dead. Where are his puppies? Come, poor little beasties, yap, up on your
haunches, beg and whine!

PHILOCLEON. Descend, descend, descend, descend! [104]

BDELYCLEON. I will descend, although that word, "descend," has too often
raised false hope. None the less, I will descend.

PHILOCLEON. Plague seize it! Have I then done wrong to eat! What! I to be
crying! Ah! I certainly should not be weeping, if I were not blown out
with lentils.

BDELYCLEON. Then he is acquitted?

PHILOCLEON. I did not say so.

BDELYCLEON. Ah! my dear father, be good! be humane! Take this voting
pebble and rush with your eyes closed to that second urn[105] and,
father, acquit him.

PHILOCLEON. No, I know no more how to acquit than to play the lyre.

BDELYCLEON. Come quickly, I will show you the way.

PHILOCLEON. Is this the first urn?

BDELYCLEON. Yes.

PHILOCLEON. Then I have voted.

BDELYCLEON (_aside_). I have fooled him and he has acquitted in spite of
himself.

PHILOCLEON. Come, I will turn out the urns. What is the result?

BDELYCLEON. We shall see. --Labes, you stand acquitted. --Eh! father,
what's the matter, what is it?

PHILOCLEON. Ah me! ah me! water! water!

BDELYCLEON. Pull yourself together, sir!

PHILOCLEON. Tell me! Is he really acquitted?

BDELYCLEON. Yes, certainly.

PHILOCLEON. Then it's all over with me!

BDELYCLEON. Courage, dear father, don't let this afflict you so terribly.

PHILOCLEON. And so I have charged my conscience with the acquittal of an
accused being! What will become of me? Sacred gods! forgive me. I did it
despite myself; it is not in my character.

BDELYCLEON. Do not vex yourself, father; I will feed you well, will take
you everywhere to eat and drink with me; you shall go to every feast;
henceforth your life shall be nothing but pleasure, and Hyperbolus shall
no longer have you for a tool. But come, let us go in.

PHILOCLEON. So be it; if you will, let us go in.

CHORUS (_Parabasis_). Go where it pleases you and may your happiness be
great. You meanwhile, oh! countless myriads, listen to the sound counsels
I am going to give you and take care they are not lost upon you. 'Twould
be the fate of vulgar spectators, not that of such an audience. Hence,
people, lend me your ear, if you love frank speaking. The poet has a
reproach to make against his audience; he says you have ill-treated him
in return for the many services he has rendered you. At first he kept
himself in the background and lent help secretly to other poets,[106] and
like the prophetic Genius, who hid himself in the belly of Eurycles,[107]
slipped within the spirit of another and whispered to him many a comic
hit. Later he ran the risks of the theatre on his own account, with his
face uncovered, and dared to guide his Muse unaided. Though overladen
with success and honours more than any of your poets, indeed despite all
his glory, he does not yet believe he has attained his goal; his heart is
not swollen with pride and he does not seek to seduce the young folk in
the wrestling school. [108] If any lover runs up to him to complain
because he is furious at seeing the object of his passion derided on the
stage, he takes no heed of such reproaches, for he is only inspired with
honest motives and his Muse is no go-between. From the very outset of his
dramatic career he has disdained to assail those who were men, but with a
courage worthy of Heracles himself he attacked the most formidable
monsters, and at the beginning went straight for that beast[109] with the
sharp teeth, with the terrible eyes that flashed lambent fire like those
of Cynna,[110] surrounded by a hundred lewd flatterers who spittle-licked
him to his heart's content; it had a voice like a roaring torrent, the
stench of a seal, a foul Lamia's testicles,[111] and the rump of a camel.
Our poet did not tremble at the sight of this horrible monster, nor did
he dream of gaining him over; and again this very day he is fighting for
your good.
Last year besides, he attacked those pale, shivering and
feverish beings[112] who strangled your fathers in the dark, throttled
your grandfathers,[113] and who, lying in the beds of the most
inoffensive, piled up against them lawsuits, summonses and witnesses to
such an extent, that many of them flew in terror to the Polemarch for
refuge. [114] Such is the champion you have found to purify your country
of all its evil, and last year you betrayed him,[115] when he sowed the
most novel ideas, which, however, did not strike root, because you did
not understand their value; notwithstanding this, he swears by Bacchus,
the while offering him libations, that none ever heard better comic
verses. 'Tis a disgrace to you not to have caught their drift at once; as
for the poet, he is none the less appreciated by the enlightened judges.
He shivered his oars in rushing boldly forward to board his foe. [116] But
in future, my dear fellow-citizens, love and honour more those of your
poets who seek to imagine and express some new thought. Make their ideas
your own, keep them in your caskets like sweet-scented fruit. [117] If you
do, your clothing will emit an odour of wisdom the whole year through.

Formerly we were untiring, especially in _other_ exercises,[118] but 'tis
over now; our brow is crowned with hair whiter than the swan. We must,
however, rekindle a youthful ardour in these remnants of what was, and
for myself, I prefer my old age to the curly hair and the finery of all
these lewd striplings.

Should any among you spectators look upon me with wonder, because of this
wasp waist, or not know the meaning of this sting, I will soon dispel his
ignorance. We, who wear this appendage, are the true Attic men, who alone
are noble and native to the soil, the bravest of all people. 'Tis we who,
weapon in hand, have done so much for the country, when the Barbarian
shed torrents of fire and smoke over our city in his relentless desire to
seize our nests by force. At once we ran up, armed with lance and
buckler, and, drunk with the bitter wine of anger, we gave them battle,
man standing to man and rage distorting our lips. [119] A hail of arrows
hid the sky. However, by the help of the gods, we drove off the foe
towards evening. Before the battle an owl had flown over our army. [120]
Then we pursued them with our lance point in their loins as one hunts the
tunny-fish; they fled and we stung them in the jaw and in the eyes, so
that even now the barbarians tell each other that there is nothing in the
world more to be feared than the Attic wasp.

Oh! at that time I was terrible, I feared nothing; forth on my galleys I
went in search of my foe and subjected him. [121] Then we never thought of
rounding fine phrases, we never dreamt of calumny; 'twas who should prove
the strongest rower. And thus we took many a town from the Medes,[122]
and 'tis to us that Athens owes the tributes that our young men thieve
to-day.

Look well at us, and you will see that we have all the character and
habits of the wasp. Firstly, if roused, no beings are more irascible,
more relentless than we are. In all other things, too, we act like wasps.
We collect in swarms, in a kind of nests,[123] and some go a-judging with
the Archon,[124] some with the Eleven,[125] others at the Odeon;[126]
there are yet others, who hardly move at all, like the grubs in the
cells, but remain glued to the walls[127] and bent double to the ground.
We also pay full attention to the discovery of all sorts of means of
existing and sting the first who comes, so as to live at his expense.
Finally, we have among us drones,[128] who have no sting and who, without
giving themselves the least trouble, seize on our revenues as they flow
past them and devour them. 'Tis this that grieves us most of all, to see
men who have never served or held either lance or oar in defence of their
country, enriching themselves at our expense without ever raising a
blister on their hands. In short, I give it as my deliberate opinion that
in future every citizen not possessed of a sting shall not receive the
triobolus.

PHILOCLEON. As long as I live, I will never give up this cloak; 'tis the
one I wore in that battle[129] when Boreas delivered us from such fierce
attacks,

BDELYCLEON. You do not know what is good for you.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! I know not how to use fine clothing! T'other day, when
cramming myself with fried fish, I dropped so many grease spots that I
had to pay three obols to the cleaner.

BDELYCLEON. At least have a try, since you have once for all handed the
care for your well-being over to me.

PHILOCLEON. Very well then! what must I do?

BDELYCLEON. Take off your cloak, and put on this tunic in its stead.

PHILOCLEON. 'Twas well worth while to beget and bring up children, so
that this one should now wish to choke me.

BDELYCLEON. Come, take this tunic and put it on without so much talk.

PHILOCLEON. Great gods! what sort of a cursed garment is this?

BDELYCLEON. Some call it a pelisse, others a Persian cloak. [130]

PHILOCLEON. Ah! I thought it was a wraprascal like those made at
Thymaetia. [131]

BDELYCLEON. Pray, how should you know such garments? 'Tis only at Sardis
you could have seen them, and you have never been there.

PHILOCLEON. I' faith, no! but it seems to me exactly like the mantle
Morychus[132] sports.

BDELYCLEON. Not at all; I tell you they are woven at Ecbatana.

PHILOCLEON. What! are there woollen ox-guts[133] then at Ecbatana?

BDELYCLEON. Whatever are you talking about? These are woven by the
Barbarians at great cost. I am certain this pelisse has consumed more
than a talent of wool. [134]

PHILOCLEON. It should be called wool-waster then instead of pelisse.

BDELYCLEON. Come, father, just hold still for a moment and put it on.

PHILOCLEON. Oh! horrors! what a waft of heat the hussy wafts up my nose!

BDELYCLEON. Will you have done with this fooling?

PHILOCLEON. No, by Zeus! if need be, I prefer you should put me in the
oven.

BDELYCLEON. Come! I will put it round you. There!

PHILOCLEON. At all events, bring out a crook.

BDELYCLEON. Why, whatever for?

PHILOCLEON. To drag me out of it before I am quite melted.

BDELYCLEON. Now take off those wretched clogs and put on these nice
Laconian slippers.

PHILOCLEON. I put on odious slippers made by our foes! Never!

BDELYCLEON. Come! put your foot in and push hard. Quick!

PHILOCLEON. 'Tis ill done of you. You want me to put my foot on Laconian
ground.

BDELYCLEON. Now the other.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! no, not that one; one of its toes holds the Laconians in
horror.

BDELYCLEON. Positively you must.

PHILOCLEON. Alas! alas! Then I shall have no chilblains in my old
age. [135]

BDELYCLEON. Now, hurry up and get them on; and now imitate the easy
effeminate gait of the rich. See, like this.

PHILOCLEON. There! . . . Look at my get-up and tell me which rich man I most
resemble in my walk.

BDELYCLEON. Why, you look like a garlic plaster on a boil.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! I am longing to swagger and sway my rump about.

BDELYCLEON. Now, will you know how to talk gravely with well-informed men
of good class?

PHILOCLEON. Undoubtedly.

BDELYCLEON. What will you say to them?

PHILOCLEON. Oh, lots of things. First of all I shall say, that
Lamia,[136] seeing herself caught, let fly a fart; then, that Cardopion
and her mother. . . .

BDELYCLEON. Come, no fabulous tales, pray! talk of realities, of domestic
facts, as is usually done.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! I know something that is indeed most domestic. Once upon
a time there was a rat and a cat. . . .

BDELYCLEON. "Oh, you ignorant fool," as Theagenes said[137] to the
scavenger in a rage. Are you going to talk of cats and rats among
high-class people?

PHILOCLEON. Then what should I talk about?

BDELYCLEON. Tell some dignified story. Relate how you were sent on a
solemn mission with Androcles and Clisthenes.

PHILOCLEON. On a mission! never in my life, except once to Paros,[138] a
job which brought me in two obols a day.

BDELYCLEON. At least say, that you have just seen Ephudion making good
play in the pancratium[139] with Ascondas and, that despite his age and
his white hair, he is still robust in loin and arm and flank and that his
chest is a very breastplate.

PHILOCLEON. Stop! stop! what nonsense! Who ever contested at the
pancratium with a breast-plate on?

BDELYCLEON. That is how well-behaved folk like to talk. But another
thing. When at wine, it would be fitting to relate some good story of
your youthful days. What is your most brilliant feat?

PHILOCLEON. My best feat? Ah! 'twas when I stole Ergasion's vine-props.

BDELYCLEON. You and your vine-props! you'll be the death of me! Tell of
one of your boar-hunts or of when you coursed the hare. Talk about some
torch-race you were in; tell of some deed of daring.

PHILOCLEON. Ah! my most daring deed was when, quite a young man still, I
prosecuted Phayllus, the runner, for defamation, and he was condemned by
a majority of two votes.

BDELYCLEON. Enough of that! Now recline there, and practise the bearing
that is fitting at table in society.

PHILOCLEON. How must I recline? Tell me quick!

BDELYCLEON. In an elegant style.

PHILOCLEON. Like this?

BDELYCLEON. Not at all.

PHILOCLEON. How then?