The Frogs

Introduction

Like The Birds this play rather avoids politics than otherwise, its leading motif, over and above the pure fun and farce for their own sake of the burlesque descent into the infernal regions, being a literary one, an onslaught on Euripides the Tragedian and all his works and ways.

It was produced in the year 405 B.C., the year after The Birds, and only one year before the Peloponnesian War ended disastrously for the Athenian cause in the capture of the city by Lysander. First brought out at the Lenæan festival in January, it was played a second time at the Dionysia in March of the same year—a far from common honour. The drama was not staged in the Author’s own name, we do not know for what reasons, but it won the first prize, Phrynichus’ Muses being second.

The plot is as follows. The God Dionysus, patron of the Drama, is dissatisfied with the condition of the Art of Tragedy at Athens, and resolves to descend to Hades in order to bring back again to earth one of the old tragedians—Euripides, he thinks, for choice. Dressing himself up, lion’s skin and club complete, as Heracles, who has performed the same perilous journey before, and accompanied by his slave Xanthias (a sort of classical Sancho Panza) with the baggage, he starts on the fearful expedition.

Coming to the shores of Acheron, he is ferried over in Charon’s boat—Xanthias has to walk round—the First Chorus of Marsh Frogs (from which the play takes its title) greeting him with prolonged croakings. Approaching Pluto’s Palace in fear and trembling, he knocks timidly at the gate. Being presently admitted, he finds a contest on the point of being held before the King of Hades and the Initiates of the Eleusinian Mysteries, who form the Second Chorus, between Æschylus, the present occupant of the throne of tragic excellence in hell, and the pushing, self-satisfied, upstart Euripides, who is for ousting him from his pride of place.

Each poet quotes in turn from his Dramas, and the indignant Æschylus makes fine fun of his rival’s verses, and shows him up in the usual Aristophanic style as a corrupter of morals, a contemptible casuist, and a professor of the dangerous new learning of the Sophists, so justly held in suspicion by true-blue Athenian Conservatives. Eventually a pair of scales is brought in, and verses alternately spouted by the two candidates are weighed against each other, the mighty lines of the Father of Tragedy making his flippant, finickin little rival’s scale kick the beam every time.

Dionysus becomes a convert to the superior merits of the old school of tragedy, and contemptuously dismisses Euripides, to take Æschylus back with him to the upper world instead, leaving Sophocles meantime in occupation of the coveted throne of tragedy in the nether regions.

Needless to say, the various scenes of the journey to Hades, the crossing of Acheron, the Frogs’ choric songs, and the trial before Pluto, afford opportunities for much excellent fooling in our Author’s very finest vein of drollery, and “seem to have supplied the original idea for those modern burlesques upon the Olympian and Tartarian deities which were at one time so popular.”

Dramatis Personæ

Dionysus

Xanthias his servant

Heracles

A Dead Man

Charon

Æacus

Female Attendant of Persephoné

Innkeepers’ Wives

Euripides

Æschylus

Pluto

Chorus of Frogs

Chorus of Initiates

The Play

Scene: In front of the temple of Heracles, and on the banks of Acheron in the Infernal Regions.

Xanthias

Now am I to make one of those jokes that have the knack of always making the spectators laugh?

Dionysus

Aye, certainly, any one you like, excepting “I am worn out.” Take care you don’t say that, for it gets on my nerves.

Xanthias

Do you want some other drollery?

Dionysus

Yes, only not, “I am quite broken up.”

Xanthias

Then what witty thing shall I say?

Dionysus

Come, take courage; only …

Xanthias

Only what?

Dionysus

… don’t start saying as you shift your package from shoulder to shoulder, “Ah! that’s a relief!”

Xanthias

May I not at least say, that unless I am relieved of this cursed load I shall let wind?

Dionysus

Oh! for pity’s sake, no! you don’t want to make me spew.

Xanthias

What need then had I to take this luggage, if I must not copy the porters that Phrynichus, Lycis and Amipsias never fail to put on the stage?

Dionysus

Do nothing of the kind. Whenever I chance to see one of these stage tricks, I always leave the theatre feeling a good year older.

Xanthias

Oh! my poor back! you are broken and I am not allowed to make a single joke.

Dionysus

Just mark the insolence of this Sybarite! I, Dionysus, the son of a … wine-jar, I walk, I tire myself, and I set yonder rascal upon an ass, that he may not have the burden of carrying his load.

Xanthias

But am I not carrying it?

Dionysus

No, since you are on your beast.

Xanthias

Nevertheless I am carrying this….

Dionysus

What?

Xanthias

… and it is very heavy.

Dionysus

But this burden you carry is borne by the ass.

Xanthias

What I have here, ‘tis certainly I who bear it, and not the ass, no, by all the gods, most certainly not!

Dionysus

How can you claim to be carrying it, when you are carried?

Xanthias

That I can’t say; but this shoulder is broken, anyhow.

Dionysus

Well then, since you say that the ass is no good to you, pick her up in your turn and carry her.

Xanthias

What a pity I did not fight at sea; I would baste your ribs for that joke.

Dionysus

Dismount, you clown! Here is a door, at which I want to make my first stop. Hi! slave! hi! hi! slave!

Heracles (from inside the Temple)

Do you want to beat in the door? He knocks like a Centaur. Why, what’s the matter?

Dionysus

Xanthias!

Xanthias

Well?

Dionysus

Did you notice?

Xanthias

What?

Dionysus

How I frightened him?

Xanthias

Bah! you’re mad!

Heracles

Ho, by Demeter! I cannot help laughing; it’s no use biting my lips, I must laugh.

Dionysus

Come out, friend; I have need of you.

Heracles

Oh! ‘tis enough to make a fellow hold his sides to see this lion’s-skin over a saffron robe! What does this mean? Buskins and a bludgeon! What connection have they? Where are you off to in this rig?

Dionysus

When I went aboard Clisthenes….

Heracles

Did you fight?

Dionysus

We sank twelve or thirteen ships of the enemy.

Heracles

You?

Dionysus

Aye, by Apollo!

Heracles

You have dreamt it.

Dionysus

As I was reading the Andromeda on the ship, I suddenly felt my heart afire with a wish so violent….

Heracles

A wish! of what nature?

Dionysus

Oh, quite small, like Molon.

Heracles

You wished for a woman?

Dionysus

No.

Heracles

A young boy, then?

Dionysus

Nothing of the kind.

Heracles

A man?

Dionysus

Faugh!

Heracles

Might you then have had dealings with Clisthenes?

Dionysus

Have mercy, brother; no mockery! I am quite ill, so greatly does my desire torment me!

Heracles

And what desire is it, little brother?

Dionysus

I cannot disclose it, but I will convey it to you by hints. Have you ever been suddenly seized with a desire for pea-soup?

Heracles

For pea-soup! oh! oh! yes, a thousand times in my life.

Dionysus

Do you take me or shall I explain myself in some other way?

Heracles

Oh! as far as the pea-soup is concerned, I understand marvellously well.

Dionysus

So great is the desire, which devours me, for Euripides.

Heracles

But he is dead.

Dionysus

There is no human power can prevent my going to him.

Heracles

To the bottom of Hades?

Dionysus

Aye, and further than the bottom, an it need.

Heracles

And what do you want with him?

Dionysus

I want a master poet; “some are dead and gone, and others are good for nothing.”

Heracles

Is Iophon dead then?

Dionysus

He is the only good one left me, and even of him I don’t know quite what to think.

Heracles

Then there’s Sophocles, who is greater than Euripides; if you must absolutely bring someone back from Hades, why not make him live again?

Dionysus

No, not until I have taken Iophon by himself and tested him for what he is worth. Besides, Euripides is very artful and won’t leave a stone unturned to get away with me, whereas Sophocles is as easy-going with Pluto as he was when on earth.

Heracles

And Agathon? Where is he?

Dionysus

He has left me; ‘twas a good poet and his friends regret him.

Heracles

And whither has the poor fellow gone?

Dionysus

To the banquet of the blest.

Heracles

And Xenocles?

Dionysus

May the plague seize him!

Heracles

And Pythangelus?

Xanthias

They don’t say ever a word of poor me, whose shoulder is quite shattered.

Heracles

Is there not a crowd of other little lads, who produce tragedies by the thousand and are a thousand times more loquacious than Euripides?

Dionysus

They are little sapless twigs, chatterboxes, who twitter like the swallows, destroyers of the art, whose aptitude is withered with a single piece and who sputter forth all their talent to the tragic Muse at their first attempt. But look where you will, you will not find a creative poet who gives vent to a noble thought.

Heracles

How creative?

Dionysus

Aye, creative, who dares to risk “the ethereal dwellings of Zeus,” or “the wing of Time,” or “a heart that is above swearing by the sacred emblems,” and “a tongue that takes an oath, while yet the soul is unpledged.”

Heracles

Is that the kind of thing that pleases you?

Dionysus

I’m more than madly fond of it.

Heracles

But such things are simply idiotic, you feel it yourself.

Dionysus

“Don’t come trespassing on my mind; you have a brain of your own to keep thoughts in.”

Heracles

But nothing could be more detestable.

Dionysus

Where cookery is concerned, you can be my master.

Xanthias

They don’t say a thing about me!

Dionysus

If I have decked myself out according to your pattern, ‘tis that you may tell me, in case I should need them, all about the hosts who received you, when you journeyed to Cerberus; tell me of them as well as of the harbours, the bakeries, the brothels, the drinking-shops, the fountains, the roads, the eating-houses and of the hostels where there are the fewest bugs.

Xanthias

They never speak of me.

Heracles

Go down to hell? Will you be ready to dare that, you madman?

Dionysus

Enough of that; but tell me the shortest road, that is neither too hot nor too cold, to get down to Pluto.

Heracles

Let me see, what is the best road to show you? Aye, which? Ah! there’s the road of the gibbet and the rope. Go and hang yourself.

Dionysus

Be silent! your road is choking me.

Heracles

There is another path, both very short and well-trodden; the one that goes through the mortar.

Dionysus

‘Tis hemlock you mean to say.

Heracles

Precisely so.

Dionysus

That road is both cold and icy. Your legs get frozen at once.

Heracles

Do you want me to tell you a very steep road, one that descends very quickly?

Dionysus

Ah! with all my heart; I don’t like long walks.

Heracles

Go to the Ceramicus.

Dionysus

And then?

Heracles

Mount to the top of the highest tower …

Dionysus

To do what?

Heracles

… and there keep your eye on the torch, which is to be the signal. When the spectators demand it to be flung, fling yourself …

Dionysus

Where?

Heracles

… down.

Dionysus

But I should break the two hemispheres of my brain. Thanks for your road, but I don’t want it.

Heracles

But which one then?

Dionysus

The one you once travelled yourself.

Heracles

Ah! that’s a long journey. First you will reach the edge of the vast, deep mere of Acheron.

Dionysus

And how is that to be crossed?

Heracles

There is an ancient ferryman, Charon by name, who will pass you over in his little boat for a diobolus.

Dionysus

Oh! what might the diobolus has everywhere! But however has it got as far as that?

Heracles

‘Twas Theseus who introduced its vogue. After that you will see snakes and all sorts of fearful monsters …

Dionysus

Oh! don’t try to frighten me and make me afraid, for I am quite decided.

Heracles

… then a great slough with an eternal stench, a veritable cesspool, into which those are plunged who have wronged a guest, cheated a young boy out of the fee for his complaisance, beaten their mother, boxed their father’s ears, taken a false oath or transcribed some tirade of Morsimus.

Dionysus

For mercy’s sake, add likewise—or learnt the Pyrrhic dance of Cinesias.

Heracles

Further on ‘twill be a gentle concert of flutes on every side, a brilliant light, just as there is here, myrtle groves, bands of happy men and women and noisy plaudits.

Dionysus

Who are these happy folk?

Heracles

The initiate.

Xanthias

And I am the ass that carries the Mysteries; but I’ve had enough of it.

Heracles

They will give you all the information you will need, for they live close to Pluto’s palace, indeed on the road that leads to it. Farewell, brother, and an agreeable journey to you. (He returns into his Temple.)

Dionysus

And you, good health. Slave! take up your load again.

Xanthias

Before having laid it down?

Dionysus

And be quick about it too.

Xanthias

Oh, no, I adjure you! Rather hire one of the dead, who is going to Hades.

Dionysus

And should I not find one….

Xanthias

Then you can take me.

Dionysus

You talk sense. Ah! here they are just bringing a dead man along. Hi! man, ‘tis you I’m addressing, you, dead fellow there! Will you carry a package to Pluto for me?

Dead Man

Is’t very heavy?

Dionysus

This. (He shows him the baggage, which Xanthias has laid on the ground.)

Dead Man

You will pay me two drachmæ.

Dionysus

Oh! that’s too dear.

Dead Man

Well then, bearers, move on.

Dionysus

Stay, friend, so that I may bargain with you.

Dead Man

Give me two drachmæ, or it’s no deal.

Dionysus

Hold! here are nine obols.

Dead Man

I would sooner go back to earth again.

Xanthias

Is that cursed rascal putting on airs? Come, then, I’ll go.

Dionysus

You’re a good and noble fellow. Let us make the best of our way to the boat.

Charon

Ahoy, ahoy! put ashore.

Xanthias

What’s that?

Dionysus

Why, by Zeus, ‘tis the mere of which Heracles spoke, and I see the boat.

Xanthias

Ah! there’s Charon.

Dionysus

Hail! Charon.

Dead Man

Hail! Charon.

Charon

Who comes hither from the home of cares and misfortunes to rest on the banks of Lethé? Who comes to the ass’s fleece, who is for the land of the Cerberians, or the crows, or Tænarus?

Dionysus

I am.

Charon

Get aboard quick then.

Dionysus

Where will you ferry me to? Where are you going to land me?

Charon

In hell, if you wish. But step in, do.

Dionysus

Come here, slave.

Charon

I carry no slave, unless he has fought at sea to save his skin.

Xanthias

But I could not, for my eyes were bad.

Charon

Well then! be off and walk round the mere.

Xanthias

Where shall I come to a halt?

Charon

At the stone of Auænus, near the drinking-shop.

Dionysus

Do you understand?

Xanthias

Perfectly. Oh! unhappy wretch that I am, surely, surely I must have met something of evil omen as I came out of the house?

Charon

Come, sit to your oar. If there be anyone else who wants to cross, let him hurry. Hullo! what are you doing?

Dionysus

What am I doing? I am sitting on the oar as you told me.

Charon

Will you please have the goodness to place yourself there, pot-belly?

Dionysus

There.

Charon

Put out your hands, stretch your arms.

Dionysus

There.

Charon

No tomfoolery! row hard, and put some heart into the work!

Dionysus

Row! and how can I? I, who have never set foot on a ship?

Charon

There’s nothing easier; and once you’re at work, you will hear some enchanting singers.

Dionysus

Who are they?

Charon

Frogs with the voices of swans; ‘tis most delightful.

Dionysus

Come, set the stroke.

Charon

Yo ho! yo ho!

Frogs

Brekekekex, coax, coax, brekekekekex, coax. Slimy offspring of the marshland, let our harmonious voices mingle with the sounds of the flute, coax, coax! let us repeat the songs that we sing in honour of the Nysæan Dionysus on the day of the feast of pots, when the drunken throng reels towards our temple in the Limnæ. Brekekekex, coax, coax.

Dionysus

I am beginning to feel my bottom getting very sore, my dear little coax, coax.

Frogs

Brekekekex, coax, coax.

Dionysus

But doubtless you don’t care.

Frogs

Brekekekex, coax, coax.

Dionysus

May you perish with your coax, your endless coax!

Frogs

And why change it, you great fool? I am beloved by the Muses with the melodious lyre, by the goat-footed Pan, who draws soft tones out of his reed; I am the delight of Apollo, the god of the lyre, because I make the rushes, which are used for the bridge of the lyre, grow in my marshes. Brekekekex, coax, coax.

Dionysus

I have got blisters and my behind is all of a sweat; by dint of constant movement, it will soon be saying….

Frogs

Brekekekex, coax, coax.

Dionysus

Come, race of croakers, be quiet.

Frogs

Not we; we shall only cry the louder. On fine sunny days, it pleases us to hop through galingale and sedge and to sing while we swim; and when Zeus is pouring down his rain, we join our lively voices to the rustle of the drops. Brekekekex, coax,coax.

Dionysus

I forbid you to do it.

Frogs

Oh! that would be too hard!

Dionysus

And is it not harder for me to wear myself out with rowing?

Frogs

Brekekekex, coax, coax.

Dionysus

May you perish! I don’t care.

Frogs

And from morning till night we will shriek with the whole width of our gullets, “Brekekekex, coax, coax.”

Dionysus

I will cry louder than you all.

Frogs

Oh! don’t do that!

Dionysus

Oh, yes, I will. I shall cry the whole day, if necessary, until I no longer hear your coax. (He begins to cry against the frogs, who finally stop.) Ah! I knew I would soon put an end to your coax.

Charon

Enough, enough, a last pull, ship oars, step ashore and pay your passage money.

Dionysus

Look! here are my two obols…. Xanthias! where is Xanthias? Hi! Xanthias!

XANTHIAS (from a distance)

Hullo!

Dionysus

Come here.

Xanthias

I greet you, master.

Dionysus

What is there that way?

Xanthias

Darkness and mud!

Dionysus

Did you see the parricides and the perjured he told us of?

Xanthias

Did you?

Dionysus

Ha! by Posidon! I see some of them now. Well, what are we going to do?

Xanthias

The best is to go on, for ‘tis here that the horrible monsters are, Heracles told us of.

Dionysus

Ah! the wag! He spun yarns to frighten me, but I am a brave fellow and he is jealous of me. There exists no greater braggart than Heracles. Ah! I wish I might meet some monster, so as to distinguish myself by some deed of daring worthy of my daring journey.

Xanthias

Ah! hark! I hear a noise.

Dionysus (all of a tremble)

Where then, where?

Xanthias

Behind you.

Dionysus

Place yourself behind me.

Xanthias

Ah! ‘tis in front now.

Dionysus

Then pass to the front.

Xanthias

Oh! what a monster I can see!

Dionysus

What’s it like?

Xanthias

Dreadful, terrible! it assumes every shape; now ‘tis a bull, then a mule; again it is a most beautiful woman.

Dionysus

Where is she that I may run toward her?

Xanthias

The monster is no longer a woman; ‘tis now a dog.

Dionysus

Then it is the Empusa.

Xanthias

Its whole face is ablaze.

Dionysus

And it has a brazen leg?

Xanthias

Aye, i’ faith! and the other is an ass’s leg, rest well assured of that.

Dionysus

Where shall I fly to?

Xanthias

And I?

Dionysus

Priest, save me, that I may drink with you.

Xanthias

Oh! mighty Heracles! we are dead men.

Dionysus

Silence! I adjure you. Don’t utter that name.

Xanthias

Well then, we are dead men, Dionysus!

Dionysus

That still less than the other.

Xanthias

Keep straight on, master, here, here, this way.

Dionysus

Well?

Xanthias

Be at ease, all goes well and we can say with Hegelochus, “After the storm, I see the return of the cat.” The Empusa has gone.

Dionysus

Swear it to me.

Xanthias

By Zeus!

Dionysus

Swear it again.

Xanthias

By Zeus!

Dionysus

Once more.

Xanthias

By Zeus!

Dionysus

Oh! my god! how white I went at the sight of the Empusa! But yonder fellow got red instead, so horribly afraid was he! Alas! to whom do I owe this terrible meeting? What god shall I accuse of having sought my death? Might it be “the Æther, the dwelling of Zeus,” or “the wing of Time”?

Xanthias

Hist!

Dionysus

What’s the matter?

Xanthias

Don’t you hear?

Dionysus

What then?

Xanthias

The sound of flutes.

Dionysus

Aye, certainly, and the wind wafts a smell of torches hither, which bespeaks the Mysteries a league away. But make no noise; let us hide ourselves and listen.

Chorus

Iacchus, oh! Iacchus! Iacchus, oh! Iacchus!

Xanthias

Master, these are the initiates, of whom Heracles spoke and who are here at their sports; they are incessantly singing of Iacchus, just like Diagoras. 

Dionysus

I believe you are right, but ‘tis best to keep ourselves quiet till we get better information.

Chorus

Iacchus, venerated god, hasten at our call. Iacchus, oh! Iacchus! come into this meadow, thy favourite resting-place; come to direct the sacred choirs of the Initiate; may a thick crown of fruit-laden myrtle branches rest on thy head and may thy bold foot step this free and joyful dance, taught us by the Graces—this pure, religious measure, that our sacred choirs rehearse.

Xanthias

Oh! thou daughter of Demeter, both mighty and revered, what a delicious odour of pork!

Dionysus

Cannot you keep still then, fellow, once you get a whiff of a bit of tripe?

Chorus

Brandish the flaming torches and so revive their brilliancy. Iacchus, oh! Iacchus! bright luminary of our nocturnal Mysteries. The meadow sparkles with a thousand fires; the aged shake off the weight of cares and years; they have once more found limbs of steel, wherewith to take part in thy sacred measures; and do thou, blessed deity, lead the dances of youth upon this dewy carpet of flowers with a torch in thine hand.

Silence, make way for our choirs, you profane and impure souls, who have neither been present at the festivals of the noble Muses, nor ever footed a dance in their honour, and who are not initiated into the mysterious language of the dithyrambs of the voracious Cratinus; away from here he who applauds misplaced buffoonery. Away from here the bad citizen, who for his private ends fans and nurses the flame of sedition, the chief who sells himself, when his country is weathering the storms, and surrenders either fortresses or ships; who, like Thorycion, the wretched collector of tolls, sends prohibited goods from Ægina to Epidaurus, such as oar-leathers, sailcloth and pitch, and who secures a subsidy for a hostile fleet, or soils the statues of Hecaté, while he is humming some dithyramb. Away from here, the orator who nibbles at the salary of the poets, because he has been scouted in the ancient solemnities of Dionysus; to all such I say, and I repeat, and I say it again for the third time, “Make way for the choruses of the Initiate.” But you, raise you your voice anew; resume your nocturnal hymns as it is meet to do at this festival.

Let each one advance boldly into the retreats of our flowery meads, let him mingle in our dances, let him give vent to jesting, to wit and to satire. Enough of junketing, lead forward! let our voices praise the divine protectress with ardent love, yea! praise her, who promises to assure the welfare of this country for ever, in spite of Thorycion.

Let our hymns now be addressed to Demeter, the Queen of Harvest, the goddess crowned with ears of corn; to her be dedicated the strains of our divine concerts. Oh! Demeter, who presidest over the pure mysteries, help us and protect thy choruses; far from all danger, may I continually yield myself to sports and dancing, mingle laughter with seriousness, as is fitting at thy festivals, and as the reward for my biting sarcasms may I wreathe my head with the triumphal fillets. And now let our songs summon hither the lovable goddess, who so often joins in our dances.

Oh, venerated Dionysus, who hast created such soft melodies for this festival, come to accompany us to the goddess, show that you can traverse a long journey without wearying. Dionysus, the king of the dance, guide my steps. ‘Tis thou who, to raise a laugh and for the sake of economy, hast torn our sandals and our garments; let us bound, let us dance at our pleasure, for we have nothing to spoil. Dionysus, king of the dance, guide my steps. Just now I saw through a corner of my eye a ravishing young girl, the companion of our sports; I saw the nipple of her bosom peeping through a rent in her tunic. Dionysus, king of the dance, guide my steps.

Dionysus

Aye, I like to mingle with these choruses; I would fain dance and sport with that young girl.

Xanthias

And I too.

Chorus

Would you like us to mock together at Archidemus? He is still awaiting his seven-year teeth to have himself entered as a citizen; but he is none the less a chief of the people among the Athenians and the greatest rascal of ‘em all. I am told that Clisthenes is tearing the hair out of his rump and lacerating his cheeks on the tomb of Sebinus, the Anaphlystian; with his forehead against the ground, he is beating his bosom and groaning and calling him by name. As for Callias, the illustrious son of Hippobinus, the new Heracles, he is fighting a terrible battle of love on his galleys; dressed up in a lion’s skin, he fights a fierce naval battle—with the girls’ cunts.

Dionysus

Could you tell us where Pluto dwells? We are strangers and have just arrived.

Chorus

Go no farther, and know without further question that you are at his gates.

Dionysus

Slave, pick up your baggage.

Xanthias

This wretched baggage, ‘tis like Corinth, the daughter of Zeus, for it’s always in his mouth.

Chorus

And now do ye, who take part in this religious festival, dance a gladsome round in the flowery grove in honour of the goddess.

Dionysus

As for myself, I will go with the young girls and the women into the enclosure, where the nocturnal ceremonies are held; ‘tis I will bear the sacred torch.

Chorus

Let us go into the meadows, that are sprinkled with roses, to form, according to our rites, the graceful choirs, over which the blessed Fates preside. ‘Tis for us alone that the sun doth shine; his glorious rays illumine the Initiate, who have led the pious life, that is equally dear to strangers and citizens.

Dionysus

Come now! how should we knock at this door? How do the dwellers in these parts knock?

Xanthias

Lose no time and attack the door with vigour, if you have the courage of Heracles as well as his costume.

Dionysus

Ho! there! Slave!

Æacus

Who’s there?

Dionysus

Heracles, the bold.

Æacus

Ah! wretched, impudent, shameless, threefold rascal, the most rascally of rascals. Ah! ‘tis you who hunted out our dog Cerberus, whose keeper I was! But I have got you to-day; and the black stones of Styx, the rocks of Acheron, from which the blood is dripping, and the roaming dogs of Cocytus shall account to me for you; the hundred-headed Hydra shall tear your sides to pieces; the Tartessian Muræna shall fasten itself on your lungs and the Tithrasian Gorgons shall tear your kidneys and your gory entrails to shreds; I will go and fetch them as quickly as possible.

Xanthias

Eh! what are you doing there?

‘DIONYSUS (stooping down)

I have just shit myself! Invoke the god.

Xanthias

Get up at once. How a stranger would laugh, if he saw you.

Dionysus

Ah! I’m fainting. Place a sponge on my heart.

Xanthias

Here, take it.

Dionysus

Place it yourself.

Xanthias

But where? Good gods, where is your heart?

Dionysus

It has sunk into my shoes with fear. (Takes his slave’s hand holding the sponge, and applies it to his bottom.)

Xanthias

Oh! you most cowardly of gods and men!

Dionysus

What! I cowardly? I, who have asked you for a sponge! ‘Tis what no one else would have done.

Xanthias

How so?

Dionysus

A poltroon would have fallen backwards, being overcome with the fumes; as for me, I got up and moreover I wiped myself clean.

Xanthias

Ah! by Posidon! a wonderful feat of intrepidity!

Dionysus

Aye, certainly. And you did not tremble at the sound of his threatening words?

Xanthias

They never troubled me.

Dionysus

Well then, since you are so brave and fearless, become what I am, take this bludgeon and this lion’s hide, you, whose heart has no knowledge of fear; I, in return, will carry the baggage.

Xanthias

Here, take it, take it quick! ‘this my duty to obey you, and behold, Heracles-Xanthias! Do I look like a coward of your kidney?

Dionysus

No. You are the exact image of the god of Melité, dressed up as a rascal. Come, I will take the baggage.

Female Attendant of Persephoné

Ah! is it you then, beloved Heracles? Come in. As soon as ever the goddess, my mistress Persephoné, knew of your arrival, she quickly had the bread into the oven and clapped two or three pots of bruised peas upon the fire; she has had a whole bullock roasted and both cakes and rolled backed. Come in quick!

Xanthias

No, thank you.

Attendant

Oh! by Apollo! I shall not let you off. She has also had poultry boiled for you, sweetmeats makes, and has prepared you some delicious wine. Come then, enter with me.

Xanthias

I am much obliged.

Attendant

Are you mad? I will not let you go. There is likewise and enchanted flute-girl specially for you, and two or three dancing wenches.

Xanthias

What do you say? Dancing wenches?

Attendant

In the prime of their life and all freshly depilated. Come, enter, for the cook was going to take the fish off the fire and the table was being spread.

Xanthias

Very well then! Run in quickly and tell the dancing-girls I am coming. Slave! pick up the baggage and follow me.

Dionysus

Not so fast! Oh! indeed! I disguise you as Heracles for a joke and you take the thing seriously! None of your nonsense, Xanthias! Take back the baggage.

Xanthias

What? You are not thinking of taking back what you gave me yourself?

Dionysus

No, I don’t think about it; I do it. Off with that skin!

Xanthias

Witness how i am treated, ye great dogs, and be my judges!

Dionysus

What gods? Are you so stupid, such a fool? How can you, a slave and a mortal, be the son of Alcmena?

Xanthias

Come then! ‘tis well! take them. But perhaps you will be needing me one day, an it please the gods.

Chorus

‘Tis the act of a wise and sensible man, who has done much sailing, always to trim his sail towards the quarter whence the fair wind wafts, rather than stand stiff and motionless like a god Terminus. To change your part to serve your own interest is to act like a clever man, a true Theramenes. 

Dionysus

Faith! ‘twould be funny indeed if Xanthias, a slave, were indolently stretched out on purple cushions and fucking the dancing-girl; if he were then to ask me for a pot, while I, looking on, would be rubbing my tool, and this master rogue, on seeing it, were to know out my front teeth with a blow of his fist.

First Inkeeper’s Wife

Here! Plathané, Plathané! do come! here is the rascal who once came into our shop and ate up sixteen loaves for us.

Second Inkeeper’s Wife

Aye, truly, ‘tis he himself!

Xanthias

This is turning out rough for somebody.

First Wife

And besides that, twenty pieces of boiled meat at half an obolus a piece.

Xanthias

There’s someone going to get punished.

First Wife

And I don’t know how many cloves of garlic.

Dionysus

You are rambling, my dear, you don’t know what you are saying.

First Wife

Hah! you thought I should not know you, because of your buskins! And then all the salt fish, I had forgotten that!

Second Wife

And then, alas! the fresh cheese that he devoured, osier baskets and all! Ten, when I asked for my money, he started to roar and shoot terrible looks at me.

Xanthias

As! I recognize him well by that token; ‘tis just his way.

Second Wife

And he drew out his sword like a madman.

First Wife

By the gods, yes.

Second Wife

Terrified to death, we clambered up to the upper storey, and he fled at top speed, carrying off our baskets with him.

Xanthias

Ah! this is again his style! But you ought to take action.

First Wife

Run quick and call Cleon, my patron.

Second Wife

And you, should you run against Hyperbolus, bring him to me; we will knock the life out of our robber.

First Wife

Oh! you miserable glutton! how I should delight in breaking those grinders of yours, which devoured my goods!

Second Wife

And I in hurling you into the malefactor’s pit.

First Wife

And I in slitting with one stroke of the sickle that gullet that bolted down the tripe. But I am going to fetch Cleon; he shall summon you before the court this very day and force you to disgorge.

Dionysus

May I die, if Xanthias is not my dearest friend.

Xanthias

Can I be the son of Alcmena, I, a slave and a mortal?

Dionysus

I know, I know, that you are in a fury and you have the right to be; you can even beat me and I will not reply. But if I ever take this costume from you again, may I die of the most fearful torture—I, my wife, my children, all those who belong to me, down to the very last, and blear-eyed Archidemus into the bargain.

Xanthias

I accept your oath, and on those terms I agree.

Chorus

‘Tis now your cue, since you have resumed the dress, to act the brave and to throw terror into your glance, thus recalling the god whom you represent. But if you play your part badly, if you yield to any weakness, you will again have to load your shoulders with the baggage.

Xanthias

Friends, your advice is good, but I was thinking the same myself; if there is any good to be got, my master will again want to despoil me of this costume, of that I am quite certain. Ne’ertheless, I am going to show a fearless heart and shoot forth ferocious looks. And lo! the time for it has come, for I hear a noise at the door.

Æacus (to his slaves)

Bind me this dog-thief, that he may be punished. Hurry yourselves, hurry!

Dionysus

This is going to turn out badly for someone.

Xanthias

Look to yourselves and don’t come near me.

Æacus

Hah! you would show fight! Ditylas, Sceblyas, Pardocas, come here and have at him!

Dionysus

Ah! you would strike him because he has stolen!

Xanthias

‘Tis horrible!

Dionysus

‘Tis a revolting cruelty!

Xanthias

By Zeus! may I die, if I ever came here or stole from you the value of a pin! But I will act nobly; take this slave, put him to the question, and if you obtain the proof of my guilt, put me to death.

Æacus

In what manner shall I put him to the question?

Xanthias

In every manner; you may lash him to the wooden horse, hang him, cut him open with scourging, flay him, twist his limbs, pour vinegar down his nostrils, load him with bricks, anything you like; only don’t beat him with leeks or fresh garlic.

Æacus

‘Tis well conceived; but if the blows maim your slave, you will be claiming damages from me.

Xanthias

No, certainly not! set about putting him to the question.

Æacus

It shall be done here, for I wish him to speak in your presence. Come, put down your pack, and be careful not to lie.

Dionysus

I forbid you to torture me, for I am immortal; if you dare it, woe to you!

Æacus

What say you?

Dionysus

I say that I am an immortal, Dionysus, the son of Zeus, and that this fellow is only a slave.

Æacus (to Xanthias)

D’you hear him?

Xanthias

Yes. ‘Tis all the better reason for beating him with rods, for, if he is a god, he will not feel the blows.

Dionysus (to Xanthias)

But why, pray, since you also claim to be a god, should you not be beaten like myself?

Xanthias (to Æacus)

That’s fair. Very well then, whichever of us two you first see crying and caring for the blows, him believe not to be a god.

Æacus

‘Tis spoken like a brave fellow; you don’t refuse what is right. Strip yourselves.

Xanthias

To do the thing fairly, how do you propose to act?

Æacus

Oh! that’s easy. I shall hit you one after the other.

Xanthias

Well thought of.

Æacus

There! (He strikes Xanthias.)

Xanthias

Watch if you see me flinch.

Æacus

I have already struck you.

Xanthias

No, you haven’t.

Æacus

Why, you have not felt it at all, I think. Now for t’other one.

Dionysus

Be quick about it.

Æacus

But I have struck you.

Dionysus

Ah! I did not even sneeze. How is that?

Æacus

I don’t know; come, I will return to the first one.

Xanthias

Get it over. Oh, oh!

Æacus

What does that “oh, oh!” mean? Did it hurt you?

Xanthias

Oh, no! but I was thinking of the feasts of Heracles, which are being held at Diomeia.

Æacus

Oh! what a pious fellow! I pass on to the other again.

Dionysus

Oh! oh!

Æacus

What’s wrong?

Dionysus

I see some knights.

Æacus

Why are you weeping?

Dionysus

Because I can smell onions.

Æacus

Ha! so you don’t care a fig for the blows?

Dionysus

Not the least bit in the world.

Æacus

Well, let us proceed. Your turn now.

Xanthias

Oh, I say!

Æacus

What’s the matter?

Xanthias

Pull out this thorn.

Æacus

What? Now the other one again.

Dionysus

“Oh, Apollo!… King of Delos and Delphi!”

Xanthias

He felt that. Do you hear?

Dionysus

Why, no! I was quoting an iambic of Hipponax.

Xanthias

‘Tis labour in vain. Come, smite his flanks.

Æacus

No, present your belly.

Dionysus

Oh, Posidon …

Xanthias

Ah! here’s someone who’s feeling it.

Dionysus

… who reignest on the Ægean headland and in the depths of the azure sea. 

Æacus

By Demeter, I cannot find out which of you is the god. But come in; the master and Persephoné will soon tell you, for they are gods themselves.

Dionysus

You are quite right; but you should have thought of that before you beat us.

Chorus

Oh! Muse, take part in our sacred choruses; our songs will enchant you and you shall see a people of wise men, eager for a nobler glory than that of Cleophon, the braggart, the swallow, who deafens us with his hoarse cries, while perched upon a Thracian tree. He whines in his barbarian tongue and repeats the lament of Philomela with good reason, for even if the votes were equally divided, he would have to perish.

[The Leader comes forward and addresses the audience.]

Chorus Leader

The sacred chorus owes the city its opinion and its wise lessons. First I demand that equality be restored among the citizens, so that none may be disquieted. If there be any whom the artifices of Phrynichus have drawn into any error, let us allow them to offer their excuses and let us forget these old mistakes. Furthermore, that there be not a single citizen in Athens who is deprived of his rights; otherwise would it not be shameful to see slaves become masters and treated as honourably as Platæans, because they helped in a single naval fight? Not that I censure this step, for, on the contrary I approve it; ‘tis the sole thing you have done that is sensible. But those citizens, both they and their fathers, have so often fought with you and are allied to you by ties of blood, so ought you not to listen to their prayers and pardon them their single fault? Nature has given you wisdom, therefore let your anger cool and let all those who have fought together on Athenian galleys live in brotherhood and as fellow-citizens, enjoying the same equal rights; to show ourselves proud and intractable about granting the rights of the city, especially at a time when we are riding at the mercy of the waves, is a folly, of which we shall later repent.

If I am adept at reading the destiny or the soul of a man, the fatal hour for little Cleigenes is near, that unbearable ape, the greatest rogue of all the washermen, who use a mixture of ashes and Cimolian earth and call it potash. He knows it; hence he is always armed for war; for he fears, if he ventures forth without his bludgeon, he would be stripped of his clothes when he is drunk.

I have often noticed that there are good and honest citizens in Athens, who are as old gold is to new money. The ancient coins are excellent in point of standard; they are assuredly the best of all moneys; they alone are well struck and give a pure ring; everywhere they obtain currency, both in Greece and in strange lands; yet we make no use of them and prefer those bad copper pieces quite recently issued and so wretchedly struck. Exactly in the same way do we deal with our citizens. If we know them to be well-born, sober, brave, honest, adepts in the exercises of the gymnasium and in the liberal arts, they are the butts of our contumely and we have only a use for the petty rubbish, consisting of strangers, slaves and low-born folk not worth a whit more, mushrooms of yesterday, whom formerly Athens would not have even wanted as scapegoats. Madmen, do change your ways at last; employ the honest men afresh; if you are fortunate through doing this, ‘twill be but right, and if Fate betrays you, the wise will at least praise you for having fallen honourably.

Æacus

By Zeus, the Deliverer! what a brave man your master is.

Xanthias

A brave man! I should think so indeed, for he only knows how to drink and to make love!

Æacus

He has convicted you of lying and did not thrash the impudent rascal who had dared to call himself the master.

Xanthias

Ah! he would have rued it if he had.

Æacus

Well spoken! that’s a reply that does a slave credit; ‘tis thus that I like to act too.

Xanthias

How, pray?

Æacus

I am beside myself with joy, when I can curse my master in secret.

Xanthias

And when you go off grumbling, after having been well thrashed?

Æacus

I am delighted.

Xanthias

And when you make yourself important?

Æacus

I know of nothing sweeter.

Xanthias

Ah! by Zeus! we are brothers. And when you are listening to what your masters are saying?

Æacus

‘Tis a pleasure that drives me to distraction.

Xanthias

And when you repeat it to strangers?

Æacus

Oh! I feel as happy as if I were emitting semen.

Xanthias

By Phoebus Apollo! reach me your hand; come hither, that I may embrace you; and, in the name of Zeus, the Thrashed one, tell me what all this noise means, these shouts, these quarrels, that I can hear going on inside yonder.

Æacus

‘Tis Æschylus and Euripides.

Xanthias

What do you mean?

Æacus

The matter is serious, very serious indeed; all Hades is in commotion.

Xanthias

What’s it all about?

Æacus

We have a law here, according to which, whoever in each of the great sciences and liberal arts beats all his rivals, is fed at the Prytaneum and sits at Pluto’s side …

Xanthias

I know that.

Æacus

… until someone cleverer than he in the same style of thing comes along; then he has to give way to him.

Xanthias

And how has this law disturbed Æschylus?

Æacus

He held the chair for tragedy, as being the greatest in his art.

Xanthias

And who has it now?

Æacus

When Euripides descended here, he started reciting his verses to the cheats, cut-purses, parricides, and brigands, who abound in Hades; his supple and tortuous reasonings filled them with enthusiasm, and they pronounced him the cleverest by far. So Euripides, elated with pride, took possession of the throne on which Æschylus was installed.

Xanthias

And did he not get stoned?

Æacus

No, but the folk demanded loudly that a regular trial should decide to which of the two the highest place belonged.

Xanthias

What folk? this mob of rascals? (Points to the spectators.)

Æacus

Their clamour reached right up to heaven.

Xanthias

And had Æschylus not his friends too?

Æacus

Good people are very scarce here, just the same as on earth.

Xanthias

What does Pluto reckon to do?

Æacus

To open a contest as soon as possible; the two rivals will show their skill, and finally a verdict will be given.

Xanthias

What! has not Sophocles also claimed the chair then?

Æacus

No, no! he embraced Æschylus and shook his hand, when he came down; he could have taken the seat, for Æschylus vacated it for him; but according to Clidemides, he prefers to act as his second; if Æschylus triumphs, he will stay modestly where he is, but if not, he has declared that he will contest the prize with Euripides.

Xanthias

When is the contest to begin?

Æacus

Directly! the battle royal is to take place on this very spot. Poetry is to be weighed in the scales.

Xanthias

What? How can tragedy be weighed?

Æacus

They will bring rulers and compasses to measure the words, and those forms which are used for moulding bricks, also diameter measures and wedges, for Euripides says he wishes to torture every verse of his rival’s tragedies.

Xanthias

If I mistake not, Æschylus must be in a rage.

Æacus

With lowered head he glares fiercely like a bull.

Xanthias

And who will be the judge?

Æacus

The choice was difficult; it was seen that there was a dearth of able men. Æschylus took exception to the Athenians …

Xanthias

No doubt he thought there were too many thieves among them.

Æacus

… and moreover believed them too light-minded to judge of a poet’s merits. Finally they fell back upon your master, because he understands tragic poetry. But let us go in; when the masters are busy, we must look out for blows!

Chorus

Ah! what fearful wrath will be surging in his heart! what a roar there’ll be when he sees the babbler who challenges him sharpening his teeth! how savagely his eyes will roll! What a battle of words like plumed helmets and waving crests hurling themselves against fragile outbursts and wretched parings! We shall see the ingenious architect of style defending himself against immense periods. Then, the close hairs of his thick mane all a-bristle, the giant will knit his terrible brow; he will pull out verses as solidly bolted together as the framework of a ship and will hurl them forth with a roar, while the pretty speaker with the supple and sharpened tongue, who weighs each syllable and submits everything to the lash of his envy, will cut this grand style to mincemeat and reduce to ruins this edifice erected by one good sturdy puff of breath.

Euripides (to Dionysus)

Your advice is in vain, I shall not vacate the chair, for I contend I am superior to him.

Dionysus

Æschylus, why do you keep silent? You understand what he says.

Euripides

He is going to stand on his dignity first; ‘tis a trick he never failed to use in his tragedies.

Dionysus

My dear fellow, a little less arrogance, please.

Euripides

Oh! I know him for many a day. I have long had a thorough hold of his ferocious heroes, for his high-flown language and of the monstrous blustering words which his great, gaping mouth hurls forth thick and close without curb or measure.

Æschylus

It is indeed you, the son of a rustic goddess, who dare to treat me thus, you, who only know how to collect together stupid sayings and to stitch the rags of your beggars? I shall make you rue your insults.

Dionysus

Enough said, Æschylus, calm the wild wrath that is turning your heart into a furnace.

Æschylus

No, not until I have clearly shown the true value of this impudent fellow with his lame men.

Dionysus

A lamb, a black lamb! Slaves, bring it quickly, the storm-cloud is about to burst.

Æschylus

Shame on your Cretan monologues! Shame on the infamous nuptials that you introduce into the tragic art!

Dionysus

Curb yourself, noble Æschylus, and as for you, my poor Euripides, be prudent, protect yourself from this hailstorm, or he may easily in his rage hit you full in the temple with some terrible word, that would let out your Telephus. Come, Æschylus, no flying into a temper! discuss the question coolly; poets must not revile each other like market wenches. Why, you shout at the very outset and burst out like a pine that catches fire in the forest.

Euripides

I am ready for the contest and don’t flinch; let him choose the attack or the defence; let him discuss everything, the dialogue, the choruses, the tragic genius, Peleus,Æolus, Meleager and especially Telephus.

Dionysus

And what do you propose to do, Æschylus? Speak!

Æschylus

I should have wished not to maintain a contest that is not equal or fair.

Dionysus

Why not fair?

Æschylus

Because my poetry has outlived me, whilst his died with him and he can use it against me. However, I submit to your ruling.

Dionysus

Let incense and a brazier be brought, for I want to offer a prayer to the gods. Thanks to their favour, may I be able to decide between these ingenious rivals as a clever expert should! And do you sing a hymn in honour of the Muses.

Chorus

Oh! ye chaste Muses, the daughters of Zeus, you who read the fine and subtle minds of thought-makers when they enter upon a contest of quibbles and tricks, look down on these two powerful athletes; inspire them, one with mighty words and the other with odds and ends of verses. Now the great mind contest is beginning.

Dionysus

And do you likewise make supplication to the gods before entering the lists.

Æschylus

Oh, Demeter! who hast formed my mind, may I be able to prove myself worthy of thy Mysteries!

Dionysus

And you, Euripides, prove yourself meet to sprinkle incense on the brazier.

Euripides

Thanks, but I sacrifice to other gods.

Dionysus

To private gods of your own, which you have made after your own image?

Euripides

Why, certainly!

Dionysus

Well then, invoke your gods.

Euripides

Oh! thou Æther, on which I feed, oh! thou Volubility of Speech, oh! Craftiness, oh! Subtle Scent! enable me to crush the arguments of my opponent.

Chorus

We are curious to see upon what ground these clever tilters are going to measure each other. Their tongue is keen, their wit is ready, their heart is full of audacity. From the one we must expect both elegance and polish of language, whereas the other, armed with his ponderous words, will fall hip and thigh upon his foe and with a single blow tear down and scatter all his vain devices.

Dionysus

Come, be quick and speak and let your words be elegant, but without false imagery or platitude.

Euripides

I shall speak later of my poetry, but I want first to prove that Æschylus is merely a wretched impostor; I shall relate by what means he tricked a coarse audience, trained in the school of Phrynichus. First one saw some seated figure, who was veiled, some Achilles or Niobé, who then strutted about the stage, but neither uncovered their face nor uttered a syllable.

Dionysus

I’ faith! that’s true!

Euripides

Meanwhile, the Chorus would pour forth as many as four tirades one after the other, without stopping, and the characters would still maintain their stony silence.

Dionysus

I liked their silence, and these mutes pleased me no less than those characters that have such a heap to say nowadays.

Euripides

‘Tis because you were a fool, understand that well.

Dionysus

Possibly; but what was his object?

Euripides

‘Twas pure quackery; in this way the spectator would sit motionless, waiting, waiting for Niobé to say something, and the piece would go running on.

Dionysus

Oh! the rogue! how he deceived me! Well, Æschylus, why are you so restless? Why this impatience, eh?

Euripides

‘Tis because he sees himself beaten. Then when he had rambled on well, and got half-way through the piece, he would spout some dozen big, blustering, winged words, tall as mountains, terrible scarers, which the spectator admired without understanding what they meant.

Dionysus

Oh! great gods!

Æschylus

Silence!

Euripides

There was no comprehending one word.

Dionysus (to Æschylus)

Don’t grind your teeth.

Euripides

There were Scamanders, abysses, griffins with eagles’ beaks chiselled upon brazen bucklers, all words with frowning crests and hard, hard to understand.

Dionysus

‘Faith, I was kept awake almost an entire night, trying to think out his yellow bird, half cock and half horse.

Æschylus

Why, fool, ‘tis a device that is painted on the prow of a vessel.

Dionysus

Ah! I actually thought ‘twas Eryxis, the son of Philoxenus.

Euripides

But what did you want with a cock in tragedy?

Æschylus

But you, you foe of the gods, what have you done that is so good?

Euripides

Oh! I have not made horses with cocks’ heads like you, nor goats with deer’s horns, as you may see ‘em on Persian tapestries; but, when I received tragedy from your hands, it was quite bloated with enormous, ponderous words, and I began by lightening it of its heavy baggage and treated it with little verses, with subtle arguments, with the sap of white beet and decoctions of philosophical folly, the whole being well filtered together; then I fed it with monologues, mixing in some Cephisophon; but I did not chatter at random nor mix in any ingredients that first came to hand; from the outset I made my subject clear, and told the origin of the piece.

Æschylus

Well, that was better than telling your own.

Euripides

Then, starting with the very first verse, each character played his part; all spoke, both woman and slave and master, young girl and old hag.

Æschylus

And was not such daring deserving of death?

Euripides

No, by Apollo! ‘twas to please the people.

Dionysus

Oh! leave that alone, do; ‘tis not the best side of your case.

Euripides

Furthermore, I taught the spectators the art of speech …

Æschylus

‘Tis true indeed! Would that you had burst before you did it!

Euripides

… the use of the straight lines and of the corners of language, the science of thinking, of reading, of understanding, plotting, loving deceit, of suspecting evil, of thinking of everything….

Æschylus

Oh! true, true again!

Euripides

I introduced our private life upon the stage, our common habits; and ‘twas bold of me, for everyone was at home with these and could be my critic; I did not burst out into big noisy words to prevent their comprehension; nor did I terrify the audience by showing them Cycni and Memnons on chariots harnessed with steeds and jingling bells. Look at his disciples and look at mine. His are Phormisius and Megænetus of Magnesia, all a-bristle with long beards, spears and trumpets, and grinning with sardonic and ferocious laughter, while my disciples are Clitophon and the graceful Theramenes.

Dionysus

Theramenes? An able man and ready for anything; a man, who in imminent dangers knew well how to get out of the scrape by saying he was from Chios and not from Ceos.

Euripides

‘Tis thus that I taught my audience how to judge, namely, by introducing the art of reasoning and considering into tragedy. Thanks to me, they understand everything, discern all things, conduct their households better and ask themselves, “What is to be thought of this? Where is that? Who has taken the other thing?”

Dionysus

Yes, certainly, and now every Athenian who returns home, bawls to his slaves, “Where is the stew-pot? Who has eaten off the sprat’s head? Where is the clove of garlic that was left over from yesterday? Who has been nibbling at my olives?” Whereas formerly they kept their seats with mouths agape like fools and idiots.

Chorus

You hear him, illustrious Achilles, and what are you going to reply? Only take care that your rage does not lead you astray, for he has handled you brutally. My noble friend, don’t get carried away; furl all your sails, except the top-gallants, so that your ship may only advance slowly, until you feel yourself driven forward by a soft and favourable wind. Come then, you who were the first of the Greeks to construct imposing monuments of words and to raise the old tragedy above childish trifling, open a free course to the torrent of your words.

Æschylus

This contest rouses my gall; my heart is boiling over with wrath. Am I bound to dispute with this fellow? But I will not let him think me unarmed and helpless. So, answer me! what is it in a poet one admires?

Euripides

Wise counsels, which make the citizens better.

Æschylus

And if you have failed in this duty, if out of honest and pure-minded men you have made rogues, what punishment do you think is your meet?

Dionysus

Death. I will reply for him.

Æschylus

Behold then what great and brave men I bequeathed to him! They did not shirk the public burdens; they were not idlers, rogues and cheats, as they are to-day; their very breath was spears, pikes, helmets with white crests, breastplates and greaves; they were gallant souls encased in seven folds of ox-leather.

Euripides

I must beware! he will crush me beneath the sheer weight of his hail of armour.

Dionysus

And how did you teach them this bravery? Speak, Æschylus, and don’t display so much haughty swagger.

Æschylus

By composing a drama full of the spirit of Ares.

Dionysus

Which one?

Æschylus

The Seven Chiefs before Thebes. Every man who had once seen it longed to be marching to battle.

Dionysus

And you did very wrongly; through you the Thebans have become more warlike; for this misdeed you deserve to be well beaten.

Æschylus

You too might have trained yourself, but you were not willing. Then, by producingThe Persæ, I have taught you to conquer all your enemies; ‘twas my greatest work.

Dionysus

Aye, I shook with joy at the announcement of the death of Darius; and the Chorus immediately clapped their hands and shouted, “Triumph!” 

Æschylus

Those are the subjects that poets should use. Note how useful, even from remotest times, the poets of noble thought have been! Orpheus taught us the mystic rites and the horrid nature of murder; Musæus, the healing of ailments and the oracles; Hesiod, the tilling of the soil and the times for delving and harvest. And does not divine Homer owe his immortal glory to his noble teachings? Is it not he who taught the warlike virtues, the art of fighting and of carrying arms?

Dionysus

At all events he has not taught it to Pantacles, the most awkward of all men; t’other day, when he was directing a procession, ‘twas only after he had put on his helmet that he thought of fixing in the crest.

Æschylus

But he has taught a crowd of brave warriors, such as Lamachus, the hero of Athens. ‘Tis from Homer that I borrowed the Patrocli and the lion-hearted Teucers, whom I revived to the citizens, to incite them to show themselves worthy of these illustrious examples when the trumpets sounded. But I showed them neither Sthenoboea nor shameless Phædra; and I don’t remember ever having placed an amorous woman on the stage.

Euripides

No, no, you have never known Aphrodité.

Æschylus

And I am proud of it. Whereas with you and those like you, she appears everywhere and in every shape; so that even you yourself were ruined and undone by her.

Dionysus

That’s true; the crimes you imputed to the wives of others, you suffered from in turn.

Euripides

But, cursed man, what harm have my Sthenoboeas done to Athens?

Æschylus

You are the cause of honest wives of honest citizens drinking hemlock, so greatly have your Bellerophons made them blush.

Euripides

Why, did I invent the story of Phædra?

Æschylus

No, the story is true enough; but the poet should hide what is vile and not produce nor represent it on the stage. The schoolmaster teaches little children and the poet men of riper age. We must only display what is good.

Euripides

And when you talk to us of towering mountains—Lycabettus and of the frowning Parnes —is that teaching us what is good? Why not use human language?

Æschylus

Why, miserable man, the expression must always rise to the height of great maxims and of noble thoughts. Thus as the garment of the demi-gods is more magnificent, so also is their language more sublime. I ennobled the stage, while you have degraded it.

Euripides

And how so, pray?

Æschylus

Firstly you have dressed the kings in rags, so that they might inspire pity.

Euripides

Where’s the harm?

Æschylus

You are the cause why no rich man will now equip the galleys, they dress themselves in tatters, groan and say they are poor.

Dionysus

Aye, by Demeter! and he wears a tunic of fine wool underneath; and when he has deceived us with his lies, he may be seen turning up on the fish-market.

Æschylus

Moreover, you have taught boasting and quibbling; the wrestling schools are deserted and the young fellows have submitted their arses to outrage, in order that they might learn to reel off idle chatter, and the sailors have dared to bandy words with their officers. In my day they only knew how to ask for their ship’s-biscuit and to shout “Yo ho! heave ho!”

Dionysus

… and to let wind under the nose of the rower below them, to befoul their mate with filth and to steal when they went ashore. Nowadays they argue instead of rowing and the ship can travel as slow as she likes.

Æschylus

Of what crimes is he not the author? Has he not shown us procurers, women who get delivered in the temples, have traffic with their brothers, and say that life is not life. ‘Tis thanks to him that our city is full of scribes and buffoons, veritable apes, whose grimaces are incessantly deceiving the people; but there is no one left who knows how to carry a torch, so little is it practised.

Dionysus

I’ faith, that’s true! I almost died of laughter at the last Panathenæa at seeing a slow, fat, pale-faced fellow, who ran well behind all the rest, bent completely double and evidently in horrible pain. At the gate of the Ceramicus the spectators started beating his belly, sides, flanks and thighs; these slaps knocked so much wind out of him that it extinguished his torch and he hurried away.

Chorus

‘Tis a serious issue and an important debate; the fight is proceeding hotly and its decision will be difficult; for, as violently as the one attacks, as cleverly and as subtly does the other reply. But don’t keep always to the same ground; you are not at the end of your specious artifices. Make use of every trick you have, no matter whether it be old or new! Out with everything boldly, blunt though it be; risk anything—that is smart and to the point. Perchance you fear that the audience is too stupid to grasp your subtleties, but be reassured, for that is no longer the case. They are all well-trained folk; each has his book, from which he learns the art of quibbling; such wits as they are happily endowed with have been rendered still keener through study. So have no fear! Attack everything, for you face an enlightened audience.

Euripides

Let’s take your prologues; ‘tis the beginnings of this able poet’s tragedies that I wish to examine at the outset. He was obscure in the description of his subjects.

Dionysus

And which prologue are you going to examine?

Euripides

A lot of them. Give me first of all that of the Orestes.

Dionysus

All keep silent, Æschylus, recite.

Æschylus

“Oh! Hermes of the nether world, whose watchful power executes the paternal bidding, be my deliverer, assist me, I pray thee. I come, I return to this land.”

Dionysus

Is there a single word to condemn in that?

Euripides

More than a dozen.

Dionysus

But there are but three verses in all.

Euripides

And there are twenty faults in each.

Dionysus

Æschylus, I beg you to keep silent; otherwise, besides these three iambics, there will be many more attacked.

Æschylus

What? Keep silent before this fellow?

Dionysus

If you will take my advice.

Euripides

He begins with a fearful blunder. Do you see the stupid thing?

Dionysus

Faith! I don’t care if I don’t.

Æschylus

A blunder? In what way?

Euripides

Repeat the first verse.

Æschylus

“Oh! Hermes of the nether world, whose watchful power executes the paternal bidding.”

Euripides

Is not Orestes speaking in this fashion before his father’s tomb?

Æschylus

Agreed.

Euripides

Does he mean to say that Hermes had watched, only that Agamemnon should perish at the hands of a woman and be the victim of a criminal intrigue?

Æschylus

‘Tis not to the god of trickery, but to Hermes the benevolent, that he gives the name of god of the nether world, and this he proves by adding that Hermes is accomplishing the mission given him by his father.

Euripides

The blunder is even worse than I had thought to make it out; for if he holds his office in the nether world from his father….

Dionysus

It means his father has made him a grave-digger.

Æschylus

Dionysus, your wine is not redolent of perfume.

Dionysus

Continue, Æschylus, and you, Euripides, spy out the faults as he proceeds.

Æschylus

“Be my deliverer, assist me, I pray thee. I come, I return to this land.”

Euripides

Our clever Æschylus says the very same thing twice over.

Æschylus

How twice over?

Euripides

Examine your expressions, for I am going to show you the repetition. “I come, I return to this land.” But I come is the same thing as I return.

Dionysus

Undoubtedly. ‘Tis as though I said to my neighbour, “Lend me either your kneading-trough or your trough to knead in.”

Æschylus

No, you babbler, no, ‘tis not the same thing, and the verse is excellent.

Dionysus

Indeed! then prove it.

Æschylus

To come is the act of a citizen who has suffered no misfortune; but the exile both comes and returns.

Dionysus

Excellent! by Apollo! What do you say to that, Euripides?

Euripides

I say that Orestes did not return to his country, for he came there secretly, without the consent of those in power.

Dionysus

Very good indeed! by Hermes! only I have not a notion what it is you mean.

Euripides

Go on.

Dionysus

Come, be quick, Æschylus, continue; and you look out for the faults.

Æschylus

“At the foot of this tomb I invoke my father and beseech him to hearken to me and to hear.”

Euripides

Again a repetition, to hearken and to hear are obviously the same thing.

Dionysus

Why, wretched man, he’s addressing the dead, whom to call thrice even is not sufficient.

Æschylus

And you, how do you form your prologues?

Euripides

I am going to tell you, and if you find a repetition, an idle word or inappropriate, let me be scouted!

Dionysus

Come, speak; ‘tis my turn to listen. Let us hear the beauty of your prologues,

Euripides

“Oedipus was a fortunate man at first …”

Æschylus

Not at all; he was destined to misfortune before he even existed, since Apollo predicted he would kill his father before ever he was born. How can one say he was fortunate at first?

Euripides

“… and he became the most unfortunate of mortals afterwards.”

Æschylus

No, he did not become so, for he never ceased being so. Look at the facts! First of all, when scarcely born, he is exposed in the middle of winter in an earthenware vessel, for fear he might become the murderer of his father, if brought up; then he came to Polybus with his feet swollen; furthermore, while young, he marries an old woman, who is also his mother, and finally he blinds himself.

Dionysus

‘Faith! I think he could not have done worse to have been a colleague of Erasinidas.[123]

Euripides

You can chatter as you will, my prologues are very fine.

Æschylus

I will take care not to carp at them verse by verse and word for word;[124] but, and it please the gods, a simple little bottle will suffice me for withering every one of your prologues.

Euripides

You will wither my prologues with a little bottle?

Æschylus

With only one. You make verses of such a kind, that one can adapt what one will to your iambics: a little bit of fluff, a little bottle, a little bag. I am going to prove it.

Euripides

You will prove it?

Æschylus

Yes.

Dionysus

Come, recite.

Euripides

“Ægyptus, according to the most widely spread reports, having landed at Argos with his fifty daughters …”

Æschylus

… lost his little bottle.

Euripides

What little bottle? May the plague seize you!

Dionysus

Recite another prologue to him. We shall see.

Euripides

“Dionysus, who leads the choral dance on Parnassus with the thyrsus in his hand and clothed in skins of fawns …”

Æschylus

… lost his little bottle.

Dionysus

There again his little bottle upsets us.

Euripides

He won’t bother us much longer. I have a certain prologue to which he cannot adapt his tag: “There is no perfect happiness; this one is of noble origin, but poor; another of humble birth …”

Æschylus

… lost his little bottle.

Dionysus

Euripides!

Euripides

What’s the matter?

Dionysus

Clue up your sails, for this damned little bottle is going to blow a gale.

Euripides

Little I care, by Demeter! I am going to make it burst in his hands.

Dionysus

Then out with it; recite another prologue, but beware, beware of the little bottle.

Euripides

“Cadmus, the son of Agenor, while leaving the city of Sidon …”

Æschylus

… lost his little bottle.

Dionysus

Oh! my poor friend; buy that bottle, do, for it is going to tear all your prologues to ribbons.

Euripides

What? Am I to buy it of him?

Dionysus

If you take my advice.

Euripides

No, not I, for I have many prologues to which he cannot possibly fit his catchword: “Pelops, the son of Tantalus, having started for Pisa on his swift chariot …”

Æschylus

… lost his little bottle.

Dionysus

D’ye see? Again he has popped in his little bottle. Come, Æschylus, he is going to buy it of you at any price, and you can have a splendid one for an obolus.

Euripides

By Zeus, no, not yet! I have plenty of other prologues. “Œneus in the fields one day …”

Æschylus

… lost his little bottle.

Euripides

Let me first finish the opening verse: “Œneus in the fields one day, having made an abundant harvest and sacrificed the first-fruits to the gods …”

Æschylus

… lost his little bottle.

Dionysus

During the sacrifice? And who was the thief?

Euripides

Allow him to try with this one: “Zeus, as even Truth has said …”

Dionysus (to Euripides)

You have lost again; he is going to say, “lost his little bottle,” for that bottle sticks to your prologues like a ringworm. But, in the name of the gods, turn now to his choruses.

Euripides

I will prove that he knows nothing of lyric poetry, and that he repeats himself incessantly.

Chorus

What’s he going to say now? I am itching to know what criticisms he is going to make on the poet, whose sublime songs so far outclass those of his contemporaries. I cannot imagine with what he is going to reproach the king of the Dionysia, and I tremble for the aggressor.

Euripides

Oh! those wonderful songs! But watch carefully, for I am going to condense them all into a single one.

Dionysus

And I am going to take pebbles to count the fragments.

Euripides

“Oh, Achilles, King of Phthiotis, hearken to the shout of the conquering foe and haste to sustain the assault. We dwellers in the marshes do honour to Hermes, the author of our race. Haste to sustain the assault.”

Dionysus

There, Æschylus, you have already two assaults against you.

Euripides

“Oh, son of Atreus, the most illustrious of the Greeks, thou, who rulest so many nations, hearken to me. Haste to the assault.”

Dionysus

A third assault. Beware, Æschylus.

Euripides

“Keep silent, for the inspired priestesses are opening the temple of Artemis. Haste to sustain the assault. I have the right to proclaim that our warriors are leaving under propitious auspices. Haste to sustain the assault.”

Dionysus

Great gods, what a number of assaults! my kidneys are quite swollen with fatigue; I shall have to go to the bath after all these assaults.

Euripides

Not before you have heard this other song arranged for the music of the cithara.

Dionysus

Come then, continue; but, prithee, no more “assaults.”

Euripides

“What! the two powerful monarchs, who reign over the Grecian youth,phlattothrattophlattothrat, are sending the Sphinx, that terrible harbinger of death,phlattothrattophlattothrat. With his avenging arm bearing a spear,phlattothrattophlattothrat, the impetuous bird delivers those who lean to the side of Ajax, phlattothrattophlattothrat, to the dogs who roam in the clouds,phlattothrattophlattothrat.” 

Dionysus (to Æschylus)

What is this phlattothrat? Does it come from Marathon or have you picked it out of some labourer’s chanty?

Æschylus

I took what was good and improved it still more, so that I might not be accused of gathering the same flowers as Phrynichus in the meadow of the Muse. But this man borrows from everybody, from the suggestions of prostitutes, from the sons of Melitus, from the Carian flute-music, from wailing women, from dancing-girls. I am going to prove it, so let a lyre be brought. But what need of a lyre in his case? Where is the girl with the castanets? Come, thou Muse of Euripides; ‘tis quite thy business to accompany songs of this sort.

Dionysus

This Muse has surely done fellation in her day, like a Lesbian wanton. 

Æschylus

“Ye halcyons, who twitter over the ever-flowing billows of the sea, the damp dew of the waves glistens on your wings; and you spiders, who we-we-we-we-we-weave the long woofs of your webs in the corners of our houses with your nimble feet like the noisy shuttle, there where the dolphin by bounding in the billows, under the influence of the flute, predicts a favourable voyage; thou glorious ornaments of the vine, the slender tendrils that support the grape. Child, throw thine arms about my neck.” Do you note the harmonious rhythm?

Dionysus

Yes.

Æschylus

Do you note it?

Dionysus

Yes, undoubtedly.

Æschylus

And does the author of such rubbish dare to criticize my songs? he, who imitates the twelve postures of Cyrené in his poetry? There you have his lyric melodies, but I still want to give you a sample of his monologues. “Oh! dark shadows of the night! what horrible dream are you sending me from the depths of your sombre abysses! Oh! dream, thou bondsman of Pluto, thou inanimate soul, child of the dark night, thou dread phantom in long black garments, how bloodthirsty, bloodthirsty is thy glance! how sharp are thy claws! Handmaidens, kindle the lamp, draw up the dew of the rivers in your vases and make the water hot; I wish to purify myself of this dream sent me by the gods. Oh! king of the ocean, that’s right, that’s right! Oh! my comrades, behold this wonder. Glycé has robbed me of my cock and has fled. Oh, Nymphs of the mountains! oh! Mania! seize her! How unhappy I am! I was full busy with my work, I was sp-sp-sp-sp-spinning the flax that was on my spindle, I was rounding off the clew that I was to go and sell in the market at dawn; and he flew off, flew off, cleaving the air with his swift wings; he left to me nothing but pain, pain! What tears, tears, poured, poured from my unfortunate eyes! Oh! Cretans, children of Ida, take your bows; help me, haste hither, surround the house. And thou, divine huntress, beautiful Artemis, come with thy hounds and search through the house. And thou also, daughter of Zeus, seize the torches in thy ready hands and go before me to Glycé‘s home, for I propose to go there and rummage everywhere.”

Dionysus

That’s enough of choruses.

Æschylus

Yes, faith, enough indeed! I wish now to see my verses weighed in the scales; ‘tis the only way to end this poetic struggle.

Dionysus

Well then, come, I am going to sell the poet’s genius the same way cheese is sold in the market.

Chorus

Truly clever men are possessed of an inventive mind. Here again is a new idea that is marvellous and strange, and which another would not have thought of; as for myself I would not have believed anyone who had told me of it, I would have treated him as a driveller.

Dionysus

Come, hither to the scales.

Æschylus and Euripides

Here we are.

Dionysus

Let each one hold one of the scales, recite a verse, and not let go until I have cried, “Cuckoo!”

Æschylus and Euripides

We understand.

Dionysus

Well then, recite and keep your hands on the scales.

Euripides

“Would it had pleased the gods that the vessel Argo had never unfurled the wings of her sails!”

Æschylus

“Oh! river Sperchius! oh! meadows, where the oxen graze!”

Dionysus

Cuckoo! let go! Oh! the verse of Æschylus sinks far the lower of the two.

Euripides

And why?

Dionysus

Because, like the wool-merchants, who moisten their wares, he has thrown a river into his verse and has made it quite wet, whereas yours was winged and flew away.

Euripides

Come, another verse! You recite, Æschylus, and you, weigh.

Dionysus

Hold the scales again.

Æschylus and Euripides

Ready.

Dionysus (to Euripides)

You begin.

Euripides

“Eloquence is Persuasion’s only sanctuary.”

Æschylus

“Death is the only god whom gifts cannot bribe.”

Dionysus

Let go! let go! Here again our friend Æschylus’ verse drags down the scale; ‘tis because he has thrown in Death, the weightiest of all ills.

Euripides

And I Persuasion; my verse is excellent.

Dionysus

Persuasion has both little weight and little sense. But hunt again for a big weighty verse and solid withal, that it may assure you the victory.

Euripides

But where am I to find one—where?

Dionysus

I’ll tell you one: “Achilles has thrown two and four.” Come, recite! ‘tis the last trial.

Euripides

“With his arm he seized a mace, studded with iron.”

Æschylus

“Chariot upon chariot and corpse upon corpse.”

Dionysus (to Euripides)

There you’re foiled again.

Euripides

Why?

Dionysus

There are two chariots and two corpses in the verse; why, ‘tis a weight a hundred Egyptians could not lift.

Æschylus

‘Tis no longer verse against verse that I wish to weigh, but let him clamber into the scale himself, he, his children, his wife, Cephisophon and all his works; against all these I will place but two of my verses on the other side.

Dionysus

I will not be their umpire, for they are dear to me and I will not have a foe in either of them; meseems the one is mighty clever, while the other simply delights me.

Pluto

Then you are foiled in the object of your voyage.

Dionysus

And if I do decide?

Pluto

You shall take with you whichever of the twain you declare the victor; thus you will not have come in vain.

Dionysus

That’s all right! Well then, listen; I have come down to find a poet.

Euripides

And with what intent?

Dionysus

So that the city, when once it has escaped the imminent dangers of the war, may have tragedies produced. I have resolved to take back whichever of the two is prepared to give good advice to the citizens. So first of all, what think you of Alcibiades? For the city is in most difficult labour over this question.

Euripides

And what does it think about it?

Dionysus

What does it think? It regrets him, hates him, and yet wishes to have him, all at the same time. But tell me your opinion, both of you.

Euripides

I hate the citizen who is slow to serve his country, quick to involve it in the greatest troubles, ever alert to his own interests, and a bungler where those of the State are at stake.

Dionysus

That’s good, by Posidon! And you, what is your opinion?

Æschylus

A lion’s whelp should not be reared within the city. No doubt that’s best; but if the lion has been reared, one must submit to his ways.

Dionysus

Zeus, the Deliverer! this puzzles me greatly. The one is clever, the other clear and precise. Now each of you tell me your idea of the best way to save the State.

Euripides

If Cinesias were fitted to Cleocritus as a pair of wings, and the wind were to carry the two of them across the waves of the sea …

Dionysus

‘Twould be funny. But what is he driving at?

Euripides

… they could throw vinegar into the eyes of the foe in the event of a sea-fight. But I know something else I want to tell you.

Dionysus

Go on.

Euripides

When we put trust in what we mistrust and mistrust what we trust….

Dionysus

What? I don’t understand. Tell us something less profound, but clearer.

Euripides

If we were to mistrust the citizens, whom we trust, and to employ those whom we to-day neglect, we should be saved. Nothing succeeds with us; very well then, let’s do the opposite thing, and our deliverance will be assured.

Dionysus

Very well spoken. You are the most ingenious of men, a true Palamedes! Is this fine idea your own or is it Cephisophon’s?

Euripides

My very own,—bar the vinegar, which is Cephisophon’s.

Dionysus (to Æschylus)

And you, what have you to say?

Æschylus

Tell me first who the commonwealth employs. Are they the just?

Dionysus

Oh! she holds _them_ in abhorrence.

Æschylus

What, are then the wicked those she loves?

Dionysus

Not at all, but she employs them against her will.

Æschylus

Then what deliverance can there be for a city that will neither have cape nor cloak?

Dionysus

Discover, I adjure you, discover a way to save her from shipwreck.

Æschylus

I will tell you the way on earth, but I won’t here.

Dionysus

No, send her this blessing from here.

Æschylus

They will be saved when they have learnt that the land of the foe is theirs and their own land belongs to the foe; that their vessels are their true wealth, the only one upon which they can rely.

Dionysus

That’s true, but the dicasts devour everything.

Pluto (to Dionysus) Now decide.

Dionysus

‘Tis for you to decide, but I choose him whom my heart prefers.

Euripides

You called the gods to witness that you would bear me through; remember your oath and choose your friends.

Dionysus

Yes, “my tongue has sworn.” … But I choose Æschylus.

Euripides

What have you done, you wretch?

Dionysus

I? I have decided that Æschylus is the victor. What then?

Euripides

And you dare to look me in the face after such a shameful deed?

Dionysus

“Why shameful, if the spectators do not think so?”

Euripides

Cruel wretch, will you leave me pitilessly among the dead?

Dionysus

“Who knows if living be not dying, if breathing be not feasting, if sleep be not a fleece?”

Pluto

Enter my halls. Come, Dionysus.

Dionysus

What shall we do there?

Pluto

I want to entertain my guests before they leave.

Dionysus

Well said, by Zeus; ‘tis the very thing to please me best.

Chorus

Blessed the man who has perfected wisdom! Everything is happiness for him. Behold Æschylus; thanks to the talent, to the cleverness he has shown, he returns to his country; and his fellow-citizens, his relations, his friends will all hail his return with joy. Let us beware of jabbering with Socrates and of disdaining the sublime notes of the tragic Muse. To pass an idle life reeling off grandiloquent speeches and foolish quibbles, is the part of a madman.

Pluto

Farewell, Æschylus! Go back to earth and may your noble precepts both save our city and cure the mad; there are such, a many of them! Carry this rope from me to Cleophon, this one to Myrmex and Nichomachus, the public receivers, and this other one to Archenomous. Bid them come here at once and without delay; if not, by Apollo, I will brand them with the hot iron. I will make one bundle of them and Adimantus, the son of Leucolophus, and despatch the lot into hell with all possible speed.

Æschylus

I will do your bidding, and do you make Sophocles occupy my seat. Let him take and keep it for me, against I should ever return here. In fact I award him the second place among the tragic poets. As for this impostor, watch that he never usurps my throne, even should he be placed there in spite of himself.

Pluto (to the Chorus of the Initiates)

Escort him with your sacred torches, singing to him as you go his own hymns and choruses.

Chorus

Ye deities of the nether world, grant a pleasant journey to the poet who is leaving us to return to the light of day; grant likewise wise and healthy thoughts to our city. Put an end to the fearful calamities that overwhelm us, to the awful clatter of arms. As for Cleophon and the likes of him, let them go, an it please them, and fight in their own land.