by Aristophanes
they want the poet.
So, listen, I beg you. Don’t let him go,
for he means to continue
Concocting his comedies about what is right.
And he promises never
To stint in giving you goodly advice,
so you’ll be blessed,
And never to flatter you or deceive
you by waving
Phony inducements to bluff and beguile you
and butter you up.
He’ll furnish you always with the best
guidance he can.
Now that this is all in the open
Let Cleon continue his weaving and dealing
And setting his traps, hoping to catch me.
The right and the good will be my champion.
And towards our city, never
Shall I behave the way he does:
The creep of a coward and a howling bugger.
STROPHE
CHORUS:
Come, you Muse, tempered in flame,
Come with the energy of fire—
Acharnian fire that leaps with a beam
From oaken charcoal fanned to a blaze.
And there on the side
Lie the herrings to be fried,
And someone mixes the Thracian sauce
While someone fillets the gleaming fish.
So come shouting a rustic song
Like our folklore fathers sang.
Celebrate with one
Who is a fellow Acharnian.
LEADER:
We old men, we the oldsters must complain:
We have been neglected grossly by the town
In our dotage as if we’d never fought at sea:
We’ve been treated callously:
Old men embroiled in courts of law and all forlorn,
Outsmarted by smart-alecky young men. . . .
Us old dodderers reduced to silence, spent and done,
Supported only by our walking sticks,
Standing in the dock mumbling like some ancient relic,
Seeing through a haze some whippersnapper who
Has wangled the cushy job of dismantling him
With a wrestler’s throw,
Hits him with sophisticated oral vim
And double-talk, to haul him up for questioning
In a third degree of verbal traps till the poor old thing
Struggles and flusters and fumbles, decrepit as Tithonus.62
It’s no use.
He ends
Convicted and weeping and whining and saying to his
friends:
“The money I saved for my funeral
Now goes to the greedy tribunal.”
ANTISTROPHE
CHORUS:
How can it ever be right to wreck
A man because he’s timed by the clock
As an elderly man grizzled and gray,
Who long ago struggled at your side
Mopping the copious
Manly sweat from his brow
When he bravely fought at Marathon
In defense of our city. Yes indeed,
At Marathon we sent them scattering.
But other enemies face us now,
Out to scatter us.
Can anyone deny this thing?
LEADER:
How can it ever be right that a bent old man
of Thucydides’63 age
Should be wiped out by that Scythian scum,64
that creature here,
That waffling litigant, Cephisodemus’ son.‡
I had to brush away a tear
and felt such shame
For a noble veteran being undone
by a bowman.
In the days of Thucydides’ prime,
this I swear,
He would have taken on a champion
like Artachaees§
And terrified three thousand bowmen
with a yell,
And shot down in their tracks whole families
of that mouthpiece,¶
And thrown ten Euathluses. But if you won’t
let us old men
Sleep in peace, allow us please
this at least,
To have our writs made separate from the young.
Let one
Old toothless gaffer sue
a toothless other,
And the young men use that mincing sissy
Cleinias’ son,
Alcibiades;65 and from now on,
when it comes
To fines and exiles, only the old
should ostracize
The old, and young the young.
[DICAEOPOLIS comes out of the house with stakes to mark out boundaries, leather straps, and a small table.]
DICAEOPOLIS:
These are for the boundaries of my trading.
Within them all the people of Peloponnese,
of Megara and Boeotia are free to trade
and to sell to me: all except Lamachus.
These three straps for flogging
I appoint as market officers.
I want no stool pigeon here
or any sycophantic fraud.
Now I’ll go and get the column for my truce
and set it up for all to see in the market square.
[He goes into the house as a MEGARIAN arrives with two small GIRLS aged about eight.]
MEGARIAN:66
Marketplace of Athens, how d’yer do!
By Zeus god of friendship, we be friends of you.
I’ve missed yer like a son his mother.
[turning to the two GIRLS]
And now yer twa miserable lasses of a feeble father,
if you’d like some’at to eat,
go up them steps and see what yer can find there.
[He points to the steps outside DICAEOPOLIS’ front door.]
But ’earken to me and give me yer complete
tummy-rumbling atten-shun.
Would yer rather starve or be put up for sale?
GIRLS: [unanimously] Up for sale! Up for sale!
MEGARIAN:
Yeah, yeah—that’s the deal.
And I ’ave a brain wave—Oh so Megarian!—
I’ll dress ye up as twa wee swine.
So now put on them piggy trotters
and be the piglets of a real swinish mother.
If yer come ’ome unsold, I swear by ’ermes,
ye’ll ken what real famine is.
Now put on them little snouts and get into the sack
and start squealing an’ oinking just like—
just like the piggies at the Eleusinian sacrifice.
I’ll shout for Dicaeopolis. . . . Dicaeopolis!
DICAEOPOLIS: [coming out of the house]
Well I’m damned! A Megarian?
MEGARIAN: We’re ’ere to sell.
DICAEOPOLIS: How are you all doing?
MEGARIAN: Just fine! As I started out
our bigwigs were driving ’emselves silly
trying ter figure out the best and quickest way
of scuttling the State.
DICAEOPOLIS: That’ll be a blessing, won’t it?
MEGARIAN: Man, yer right!
DICAEOPOLIS: Anything else going on in Megara? The price of
grain?
MEGARIAN: Where we are it’s ’igh as ’eaven.
DICAEOPOLIS: What’s in the sack—salt?
MEGARIAN: Salt? That’s what you control.
DICAEOPOLIS: Garlic, then?
MEGARIAN: [shaking his head] Garlic, na, and it’s yor fault.
Ev’ry time ye raid us, yor people
dig it up—more like mice than men!
DICAEOPOLIS: Well, what do you have?
MEGARIAN: Some Mystery piggies. DICAEOPOLIS: Good, let’s see them.
MEGARIAN: [uncovering the sack] Beauties, eh? Like what yer see?
Real plump an’ pretty.
DICAEOPOLIS: [looking into the sack and seeing one of the GIRLS] God in heaven, what is this?
MEGARIAN: A piggy, by Zeus.
DICAEOPOLIS: A piggy? . . . Don’t be dotty!
MEGARIAN: A reel Megarian piggy—no?
DICAEOPOLIS: It doesn’t look like a piggy to me.
MEGARIAN: [to the audience] Can yer beat it? The disbelieving jerk! ’e says this ain’t a little pork. Tell yer what: I bet yer some thyme-scented salt this ’ere’s a real piglet . . . in the Greek sense of the word.
DICAEOPOLIS: Yes, but it takes after a human being.
MEGARIAN: Of course it does—by Diocles!67
It takes after me. . . . ’oo’s d’yer think it is?
Like it to squeal?
DICAEOPOLIS: I certainly would.
MEGARIAN: Piggy sweet, let’s ’ave it right now—a squeal.
[not a sound]
Sod all! You perishing kiddo!
It’s ’ome yer’ll go.
FIRST GIRL: Grunt! Grunt!
MEGARIAN: See—isn’t that a piggy?
DICAEOPOLIS: Seems like a piggy now, but in a while
once grown up it’ll be a cunt.
MEGARIAN: Yer can be sure o’ that. She’ll be just like her mother.
DICAEOPOLIS: This one’s not ripe for sacrifice.
MEGARIAN: What d’ yer mean, not ripe for sacrifice?
DICAEOPOLIS: She hasn’t got a tail.68
MEGARIAN: She’s young yet, but when grown into full piggy’ood
she’ll get ’erself a ruddy great thick ’un.
[displaying the other sack]
’ere’s another nice
piggy for yer to fatten up—if that’s what yer want.
DICAEOPOLIS: Hers is the twin of the other—the cunt.
MEGARIAN: Sure, she ’as the same mother an’ same father.
When she fills out a bit and gets a little bush,
she’ll be a choice piggy for sacrifice to Aphrodite.69
DICAEOPOLIS: Pigs aren’t sacrificed to Aphrodite.
MEGARIAN: Pigs not sacrificed to Aphrodite? Tush! They’re only sacrificed to ’er, and ’ow scrumptious they are spitted on a skewer!
DICAEOPOLIS: Can they eat without their mother?
MEGARIAN: Aye, by Poseidon, and without their father.
DICAEOPOLIS: What do they like most?
MEGARIAN: Whatever yer give ’em. Ask ’em.
DICAEOPOLIS: [addressing FIRST GIRL] Piglet, oh piglet!
FIRST GIRL: Wee wee!
DICAEOPOLIS: Do you like chickpeas?
FIRST GIRL: Wee wee!
DICAEOPOLIS: And figs from Phibalis?‡
FIRST GIRL: Wee wee!
DICAEOPOLIS: [to SECOND GIRL] And you, too?
SECOND GIRL: Wee wee wee!
DICAEOPOLIS: How the word fig makes you squeal—both of you! Hey, someone in the house bring out some figs for the two wee pigs.
[XANTHIAS comes on the double with some dry figs and DICAEOPOLIS tosses some into each sack.]
Do they like figs?
My word, how they guzzle! Holy Heracles,
where are they from, these piggies?
Probably from the Goatland town of Gobbleallia.70
MEGARIAN: They ’aven’t eaten every single fig.
’ere’s one they’ve missed and that’s for me.
DICAEOPOLIS: My God, what entertaining little rogues they are!
How much are you asking for them, please?
MEGARIAN: A rope of garlic for this one ’ere.
For t’other a peck of salt, if yer like.
DICAEOPOLIS: I’ll take them. Wait here.
MEGARIAN: [as DICAEOPOLIS hurries into the house] Done! O ’ermes god of barter, can I sell me wife as well—and what about me mother?
[An INFORMER enters and sidles up to the MEGARIAN.]
INFORMER: Where yer from, fella?
MEGARIAN: Megara—a pig dealer.
INFORMER: [looking into the sacks] That’s it then: I’ll denounce them piglets as illegal—and you as well.
MEGARIAN: ’ere we go again! This is ’ow the ’ole bloody show began.
INFORMER: Megarian lip! You’ll be sorry for it. ’and over that sack.
MEGARIAN: Dicaeopolis! Dicaeopolis! Quick,
we have a rat.
DICAEOPOLIS: [running out of the house and cracking his leather straps
threateningly]
Snooper, denouncer—where?
You damn market police,
aren’t you ever going to keep these informers out?
[staring at the INFORMER insultingly]
Where did you learn to expose yourself without a wick?71
INFORMER: What? Yer mean expose my enemies?
DICAEOPOLIS: You’d better not.
Go and do your exposing somewhere else.
[The INFORMER runs off.]
MEGARIAN: In Athens they’re an absolute curse.
DICAEOPOLIS: Cheer up, Megarian!
Take this garlic and salt
at the price we agreed for the piggies,
and all good luck to you ahead.
MEGARIAN: Luck’s not in our line.
DICAEOPOLIS: Forgive me for meddling, then.
MEGARIAN: [ruefully] Piggies, with no father to ’elp
try to get some salt at least to nibble with yer bread.
[MEGARIAN leaves and DICAEOPOLIS takes the GIRLS into the house.]
CHORUS:
How lucky he is, this man, did you
See how beautifully his plan
Is working out?
In the market see him sit
Amid the fruits of his design.
If Ctesias72 comes sauntering through
Or any other snooping creep
He’ll kick him in the rump; no sneak
Will come annoying you or jump
The queue;
Nor a man like Prepis73 wipe
His smelly bottom off on you;
Nor will you have to bump
Into Cleonymus; you’ll stride
Through your market brightly clad;
And never will you come across
A tiresome Hyperbolus74
Armed with legal summonses;
Nor in your mart will you collide
With a Cratinus75 strolling through
With his noodle neatly cut
On his way to adultery. Note,
You’ll never meet an Artemon76
With his armpits smelling worse
By far even than his verse:
Verily his father’s son
From the land of Billygoat.
And in your market you will not
Be ridiculed by Plaguey Pauson77
Nor by Lysistratus, the awesome
Shame of Cholargus,
Who’s sozzled in self-loathing or
Ravenously shivering for some
Thirty days or more a moon.
[A BOEOTIAN arrives from Thebes with his servant ISMENIAS. They are laden with baskets and sacks bursting with country produce. They are followed by a raucous group of young men playing bagpipes.]
BOEOTIAN:78 ’oly ’eracles! Me shoulders are near raw.
Ismenias, boy, ’andle them chamomiles with care.
And ye piper fellas from Thebes,
blow on them there bones and give us the tune
of “ ’ow’s my doggie’s arse.”
DICAEOPOLIS: [charging out of the house]
Stop that wasp-sting din at once and go to hell!
Whatever got them to my door,
this murderous bunch of Chaeridian79 bumblebees?
BOEOTIAN: By Iolaus,80 ye’ll ’ave done me a good turn there, pal. All the darn way down from Thebes these fellas ’ave followed puffin’ and blowin’ fit to blast the petals off me chamomile. But lookee, ’ow d’yer like to buy some’at the goodies I got . . . or some of them four wingers?81
DICAEOPOLIS: Fine, dear Boeotian of the muffin eaters! So let’s see what you’ve got.
BOEOTIAN:
I got the tops
of what my country ’as—just ab
out the lot:
oregano, chamomile, lamp wicks, doormats,
daws, ducks, cormorants, coots,
plovers, snipe, quail. . . .
DICAEOPOLIS: My word!
You’ve hit the bird market like a fowl-weather squall.
BOEOTIAN: Aye, but I’ve also got
geese, hares, foxes, moles,
hedgehogs, cats, badgers, weasels, Lake Copais eels.82
DICAEOPOLIS: You gastronomic prince of men,
if you have eels, will you deign
to introduce them.
BOEOTIAN: [fishing an eel out of a crate]
O fairest of all Copais’ fifty daughters,
show thyself to this ’ere gent.
DICAEOPOLIS: [in mock grand manner]
Come, darling, you most yearned for of creatures,
here at last, you inspiration for the comic chorus to invent,
come, you paramour of Morychus.83
Servants, on the double,
bring forth the brazier and the bellows.
[A brazier and bellows are fetched and DICAEOPOLIS’ children gather round.]
Behold, children, this splendid eel;
we’ve waited six years for her,
so, children, say how d’you do to the mademoiselle.
Let us honor her with coals,
and let her recline on her divan.
Even in death on a bed of beets
may I be parted from you never.84
BOEOTIAN: ’ey, man, when do I get paid for ’er?
DICAEOPOLIS: Shall we say she’s a substitute for the market tariff?
And you can sell me some of your other stuff, right?
BOEOTIAN: It’s all for sale.
DICAEOPOLIS: Good. How much?
Or would you rather swap for something here?
BOEOTIAN: I would that: something Athens ’as
and us Boeotians ’aven’t.
DICAEOPOLIS: What about sardines from Phalernum?85
Or would you rather pottery?
BOEOTIAN: Mm! Sardines or pottery? It ain’t a match:
we ’ave ’em both back ’ome.
