by Aristophanes
LOVECLEON: Oh, I’ll yodel!
HATECLEON: Let’s see. . . . Say I’m Cleon
and have launched into the Harmodius ditty
and you join in with:
“Never in Athens was born the equal . . . ”
LOVECLEON: “To such a brazen rascal.”
HATECLEON: You’ll do that? You’ll be shouted to death.
He’ll swear your destruction, disruption, expulsion.
LOVECLEON: Zeus almighty! If he threatens me,
I’ll sing another verse:
“Hey, you, crazy for tyranny:
You’ll topple the city—
It’s leaning already.”
HATECLEON: What if Theorus lies at your feet
with his hand in Cleon’s and begins to sing:
“Take Admetus as your model358
And learn to love superior people.”
What will you follow that with?
LOVECLEON: Something with a tune, like: “Don’t play the fox And try to fix A mix Of pro and con.”
HATECLEON: Next comes Aeschines,359 Sellus’ son,
a clever and cultivated person,
and off he chirrups:
“Money for Clitagora360 and me
Among the men of Thessaly . . . ”
LOVECLEON: Oh yes, we were full of swagger.
HATECLEON: Something you are rather good at . . . However, it’s time we set off to Philoctemon’s361 for dinner.
[There is an interval during which a ditty is played on the flute while LOVECLEON and HATECLEON make their way to the house of Philoctemon.]
HATECLEON: [calling into the house]
Hey, Chrysus, dinner for two,
and we’ll be ready for drinks.
LOVECLEON: No, we’ll not. Drink is taboo.
The wages of wine are break-ins and bawling,
battery, damages, hangovers.
HATECLEON: Not if you’re in the company of the good and the true.
For either they’ll talk you out of trouble,
(they’re good at stalling),
or you yourself will think of something witty and amusing:
an Aesop’s fable, say, or about the Sybarites,‡
something you picked up at parties,
so the whole thing becomes a joke and off you go scot-free.
LOVECLEON: Then I’d better learn a lot of stories
in case I get mixed up in any fights
and stung with damages.
[SERVANT comes out of the house with two picnic hampers.]
On then, to the attack—let nothing hold us back.
[Exit LOVECLEON, HATECLEON, and SERVANT.]
CHORUS: Often have I presumed I was
Born an intelligent man
Not once or ever unwise,
But now Aeschines, son of Sellus,
He with the topknot of hair,
Is cleverer by far.
I saw him once at dinner
With Leogoras362—and ravenous:
(Instead of his usual fare
of apple and pomegranate . . . )
As ravenous as Antiphon.363
He went to Pharsalus364 on a mission
And hung out with Thessalian
Louts there man to man
Being himself a lout
Second to none.
Fortunate Automenes,§
we think you blessed by fortune:
Each of the children you’ve begotten
is mightily ambidextrous.
First that well-loved flexuous
player on the lyre365
Whom the Muse helps to inspire;
then there’s the actor,∥
So devilishly clever;
Next comes Ariphrades,366
inherently a genius,
Who never needed referees,
so his father swore,
When it came to using his tongue
with imagination
In a whorehouse on a whore.
Some mistakenly think
that I made peace with Cleon
After that time he tried
to flense me alive
And stung me with invective
while I was being flayed
And he was bawling his head off
and the crowd was laughing hard,
Not a whit concerned for me:
all they wanted to see
Was whether I’d manage to bring off
a joke or two from it.
The joke’s on the other foot.
The vine props in this duel
Have made the vine a fool.
[XANTHIAS comes running out.]
XANTHIAS: Tortoises, how blessed you are and how clever
to invest your backs with shell!
And clever three times over
to encase your ribs with tile.
I’ve just been struck
almost to my death by a stick.
LEADER: What’s the matter, boy?
And I call anyone boy, even if he’s senile,
who gets a licking.
XANTHIAS: You won’t believe it!
That old man turned out to be
the most drunk and disorderly of the party
bar none: not even Hippylus, Antiphon,
Lysistratus, Theophrastus, and the Phrynichus gang.
He outdid the lot in letting fling.
Hardly had he settled down
with a plateful of excellent grub
when up he jumps and begins to bob
around farting and larking
like a diminutive donkey
that’s on a barley-guzzle high.
He gave me a hell of a trouncing,
all the time shouting, “Boy! Boy!”
Lysistratus gaped at him and came out with the simile:
“You’re like a nouveau riche yobbo, old man,
or an ass that’s got into the bran.”
And he yelled back
with a simile of his own:
“Lysistratus, you’re like
a grasshopper with its wings shorn,
or like Sthenelus367 without his props.”
Then everybody claps
except Theophrastus,368 who puts on a prim,
superior look,
and the old man says to him:
“Theophrastus, what makes you so superior
when everyone knows you are an arse licker and a clown?”
That’s how he insulted them all, one by one,
jeering at them like a country bumpkin
and telling embarrassing stories.
And now, fuddled to the brim,
he’s making for home,
whacking anyone who gets in his way.
Look, here he comes,
reeling and full of swill.
I’m scattering before I become a punch bowl.
[LOVECLEON arrives, staggering. He holds a torch in one hand and a nude flute girl, DARDANIS, in the other. A crowd of angry VICTIMS follows.]
LOVECLEON: Out of my way! Clear off!
Some of you hooligans following me
Are going to come to grief.
Rascals, scram, the lot of you—
Or I’ll scorch you with my torch.
VICTIM: You’ll certainly have to answer for this tomorrow,
Dashing young prodigy though you think you are.
We’ll all be in court with summonses—and sorrow.
LOVECLEON: To hell with summonses!
How prehistoric can you be?
Talk of lawsuits makes me sick.
You know what I’d like?
To smash the voting urns.
Is that a judge I see?
Give me a stick.
[As the VICTIMS scatter, LOVECLEON ascends the steps of the house, then addresses DARDANIS.]
LOVECLEON: Step up this way, my little cock chafer.
[He offers her his pseudophallus.]
Take this rope into your hand:
somewhat frayed perhaps, but hold on.
It’s not averse to being rubbed; and understand
how cleverly I hid you from the others
just when the time for sucking them began.
For that you’re indebted to my prick
but I know you won’t repay it and’ll refuse to come.
I know you’ll play it a dirty trick and stick
your tongue out at it the way you’ve always done
to many another man.
If only you’d refrain from acting like a tart
I’d buy your freedom if I saw my son depart
this life and have you as my lover,
my little suckling pig, but as things are
nothing’s in my keeping:
I’m a juvenile and closely watched;
my little son
is peevish-seedy-splitting-cheesy-scraping-starched:369
one
who worries I’ll be spoiled, though I’m his only father.
Look, here he comes on the double after you and me.
Take my torch and quietly
stand and watch me play the fool with him—
as he did with me at the prom
of my Eleusinian Mystery.370
[Enter HATECLEON.]
HATECLEON: You there, you randy old pussy stuffer,
are you just aching for a brand-new coffin?
You won’t get away with this—
no, by Apollo, you won’t.
LOVECLEON: And you’re just aching for a good pickled court case.
HATECLEON: Don’t joke with me. You have the gall
to snatch from our visitors this flute girl
and sneak off with her.
LOVECLEON: What piper girl? You’re out of your mind,
like a man raving to bid adieu to humankind.
HATECLEON: I declare: that is Dardanis you’ve got there.
LOVECLEON: On the contrary,
it’s a torch in full flame for the gods of the Agora.
HATECLEON: [inspecting DARDANIS closely]371
Is this a torch?
LOVECLEON: A torch indeed! Don’t you detect the light touch?
HATECLEON: But what’s this at the center, this darker patch?
LOVECLEON: Oh, warmth does that. It’s just a spot of pitch.
HATECLEON: And this at the back? Surely it’s an arsehole?
LOVECLEON: No, just a knot in the wood of the torch.
HATECLEON: A knot, my foot! Come here, girl.
LOVECLEON: Ah ah! What is your intent?
HATECLEON: I’m abducting her away from you because I’m certain
you’re impotent and altogether spent.
LOVECLEON: Now listen to me.
When I was at Olympia on a mission
I saw Euphudion fight Ascondas;
and though he was an old man,
in that duel of fists,
it was the older one who knocked the younger down . . .
like this.
[He knocks HATECLEON to the ground.]
Let that be a lesson.
And if you’re wise it’ll save you from black eyes.
[DARDANIS runs off as HATECLEON slowly gets up.]
HATECLEON: By God, that was indeed a lesson you learned at
Olympia!
[Enter MYRTIA, the bread girl, with CHAEREPHON. She carries an empty tray.]
MYRTIA: [to CHAEREPHON, pointing at LOVECLEON]
For the sake of the gods, keep near me, please.
That’s the man who battered me with a torch and almost
killed me.
And he upset ten obols’ worth of rolls from my tray,
not to mention four loaves.
HATECLEON: See what you’ve gone and done?
Now we’re going to have headaches and lawsuits
all because of your drinking.
LOVECLEON: Not at all!
A few juicy tales will settle everything.
I’ll be rather good at settling with this girl.
MYRTIA: By the twin goddesses,372 you won’t.
You’ll not get round Myrtia, the daughter
of Ancylion and Sistrate—
not after demolishing my capital.
LOVECLEON: Listen, mademoiselle,
I’ll tell you a delightful tale.
MYRTIA: Absolutely not, pal!
LOVECLEON: One evening after dinner Aesop was walking home
and an impudent tipsy bitch of a dog
began to bark at him.
“Bitch, bitch,” says he to the cur.
“I think you’d be much smarter
to trade that wicked tongue of yours
for a spot of flour. . . .”
MYRTIA: Mocking me, as well?
I summon you to appear
before the supervisors of the Agora.
Chaerephon’s my witness here.
LOVECLEON: My word! Listen to this for subtlety:
Lasus and Simonides were competing poets,373
and Lasus remarked: “It means little to me.”
MYRTIA: Is that so?
[MYRTIA and CHAEREPHON saunter away as LOVECLEON shouts after them.]
LOVECLEON: Are you testifying for a woman, Chaerephon?
You’ll be like pallid Ino clawing at Euripides’ toes.374
HATECLEON: Look, here’s someone else
come to summon with a tale of woes
and with a witness.
[Enter ACCUSER, with bandaged head, and WITNESS.]
ACCUSER: It was a blow!
I summon you for assault, old man.
LOVECLEON: Assault? That’s not at all nice.
HATECLEON: I’ll make good whatever’s necessary:
whatever sum you need of mine;
and you’ll have my thanks as well.
LOVECLEON: No, I’m quite happy to settle.
I confess to assault and battery.
[to ACCUSER]
Come here, sir.
Now do you want me to decide in this matter
what the compensation should be,
and we be friends forever,
or do you yourself have something to suggest?
ACCUSER: I leave it to you. I don’t want the nuisance of a court case.
LOVECLEON: A man from Sybaris once fell out of his chaise
(he wasn’t much of a horseman, I guess),
and he managed to get himself a nasty bang on the head.
A friend of his stood over him and said:
“A man should stick to what he knows best. . . .
You’d better go to Dr. Pittalus and get it dressed.”
HATECLEON: Typical of you—like all the rest!
ACCUSER: Does that mean you always know his answer?
LOVECLEON: Don’t go. Listen to this.
A Sybarite woman once broke a pitcher—
ACCUSER: Witness, are you a listener?
LOVECLEON: So the pitcher asked a fellow pitcher
to act as witness, and the Sybarite woman
spoke out good and plain:
“Forget about witnesses.
Just go and get a piece of string
and bind the damn thing up again.
That’s much more the thing.”
ACCUSER: Go on making fun of me till the magistrate calls your case.
HATECLEON: [to LOVECLEON] I swear by Demeter,
you’ve loitered here long enough.
I’m going to hoist you on my shoulder
and remove you to some other place.
[HATECLEON carries LOVECLEON into the house.]
CHORUS: I’m quite envious of the old man,
The transformation he’s undergone:
The way he’s changed his life and habits
And learned a lot, and now he’ll add it
To a life of luxury and ease.
But perhaps that will not please
Him. It’s difficult to change
One’s whole character and range,
Though often a change of fortune
Has led to chan
ge of thought or tune.
And Lovecleon’s son I must applaud,
Whom anyone with sense must laud
For all the things that he has done
With filiality and love.
So amiable a man I have
Never come across before
Or been so melted to the core.
In all his altercations he
Put his points so skillfully
With no other thought in mind
Than to steer his father to a kind
Of life both pleasant and adorned.
[XANTHIAS comes out of the house.]
XANTHIAS: I say,
a topsy-turvy spirit has got into the house—
by Dionysus, it has.
The old man is making up for
all those drinks he never had,
and the sound of pipes he never heard.
He’s ecstatic and has danced the night away
in those long-ago dances of yore
of Thespis’ day375 in poetic competition.
He boasts that presently he’ll take on
the tragic dancers of today’s chorus
and show them up as out of date as Cronus.
[LOVECLEON appears at the door.]
LOVECLEON: [in the exaggerated accents of high tragedy]
Who doth by the outer portals linger?
XANTHIAS: Ah ah, here comes Mr. Difficult!
LOVECLEON: Let the gates be opened wide and let us conjure
how the first steps go. . . .
XANTHIAS: First steps to insanity, I’d say.
LOVECLEON: [jigging]
The body bends with a frisky thrust,
The nostrils flare, the snout puffs. . . .
XANTHIAS: Go, dose yourself with hellebore.376
LOVECLEON: Phrynichus377 is a squatting cock. . . .
XANTHIAS: In a minute you’re going to get a rock.
LOVECLEON: He splits his arse and kicks the air.
XANTHIAS: Take care!
LOVECLEON: [dancing a jig]
All because my pelvis rolls a bit
