by Aristophanes
PEISETAIRUS: And while he’s sailing here
you’re whipping back over there
to snaffle his property—the bleeding lot.
INFORMER: That’s the ticket: like a whipping top.
PEISETAIRUS: [feeling in his cloak]
As a matter of fact I’ve got a top right here
and—great Zeus be praised—
a pair of wings, a perfect fit, they’re from Corcyra.567
[pulling out a leather strap]
INFORMER: But that’s a whip.
PEISETAIRUS: [lashing out]
No, just wings and I’m going to use them now to make you whiz
just like a top.
INFORMER: [running] What the hell!
PEISETAIRUS: [shouting after him]
Wing it away from here, you shyster parasite,
and get what serves you well—jolly well right.
[INFORMER disappears and PEISETAIRUS turns to his SERVANTS.]
Come, let’s bundle up the wings and go.
[They all leave.]
STROPHE
CHORUS: Many a marvel have we scanned Many a wonder have we seen Flying high above the land: A tree for instance weirdly strange A miracle tree without a heart And the name of the tree is Cleonymus,568 A useless tree without a part, Sallow and voluminous. When the winter turns to spring It blooms with every kind of writ But in winter all it does Is drop its silly shield of leaves.
ANTISTROPHE
There is a country far away
On the rim of total night:
Savannas where it’s never day
Where the natives have the habit
Of meeting heroes when they eat
To talk with them, but not at dusk
That’s not a goodly time to meet
And if you do it’s full of risk.
Say, for instance, any mortal
Met Orestes, it’d be fatal:
He’d be stripped and paralyzed
All along his righthand side.
[Enter PROMETHEUS, muffled up under an umbrella, and PEISETAIRUS.]
PROMETHEUS: Shoot! I’m really nervous Zeus’ll see me.
PEISETAIRUS: Ye gods! Why the camouflage?
PROMETHEUS: Do you espy any diety at large?
PEISETAIRUS: Of course not! But who are you?
PROMETHEUS: Tell me, please, the time of day.
PEISETAIRUS: The time of day? Just past noon, but who are you?
PROMETHEUS: Is it closing time or after?
PEISETAIRUS: For God’s sake, knock it off.
PROMETHEUS: What’s Zeus up to: mustering clouds or making them
scatter?
PEISETAIRUS: Get lost, you great stiff!
PROMETHEUS: In that case I’ll unmuffle.
PEISETAIRUS: Oh it’s you, Prometheus, my dear pal.
PROMETHEUS: Sh! Sh! Not so loud!
PEISETAIRUS: Why, what’s going on?
PROMETHEUS: Quiet! Don’t speak my name or I’ll be dead.
Zeus mustn’t see me here, so listen:
I’ll tell you of all the shenanigans in heaven,
but shield me with this parasol;
no god above must see me here.
PEISETAIRUS: You wily old Promethean soul! Duck under it; feel free to tell.
PROMETHEUS: Listen, then.
PEISETAIRUS: I’m listening. Go on.
PROMETHEUS: It’s all over with Zeus.
PEISETAIRUS: All over? Since when?
PROMETHEUS: Since the very second you colonized the air.
Not a single person sacrifices anymore to us.
Not the flimsiest sniff of roasting chine ascends to heaven.
We might as well be fasting at the Thesmophoria.569
The barbarians are ravenous and mightily vociferous,
screaming like the natives of Illyria
that they mean to mobilize and pounce on Zeus unless
the traffic ports are opened up again, and the ban
on sacrificial steaks and cutlets is undone.
PEISETAIRUS: Oh, so there are other gods in the uplands,
barbarian ones?
PROMETHEUS: Well, we can’t do without barbarians,
seeing that Execestides has one in his pedigree.570
PEISETAIRUS: And these barbarian gods—what is their name?
PROMETHEUS: They’re called Triballions.571
PEISETAIRUS: I see. So that’s where the word “Three-balled-ones”
comes from.
PROMETHEUS: Probably . . . but what’s certain is this:
envoys will be arriving from Zeus and the Triballions
to sue for peace, but don’t you grant it unless
Zeus restores the scepter to the birds and lets you marry
the Princess.
PEISETAIRUS: And who, pray, is the Princess?
PROMETHEUS: A most beautiful young woman
who takes care of Zeus’s thunderbolts
and other paraphernalia such as
foreign affairs, law and order, harbor dues, the shipping plan,
paymasters, jury fees, and vituperating dolts.
PEISETAIRUS: She takes care of pretty well everything then?
PROMETHEUS: You’ve said it. Get her and you’ve got the lot.
That’s the reason I hurried here, to put you in the know.
I always was a friend to man.
PEISETAIRUS: Indeed, you are. Without you, we couldn’t even
barbecue.572
PROMETHEUS: And I loathe all the gods, as well you know.
PEISETAIRUS: I certainly do. To all the gods you’re a foe
as fierce as Timon.573
PROMETHEUS: But now I’d better go,
so hand me my parasol;
then if Zeus sees me he’ll
think I’m a cheer girl on parade.
PEISETAIRUS: [handing him the chamber pot] Better have this as well. It’s what she’ll need.
[PROMETHEUS and PEISETAIRUS go their different ways.]
STROPHE574
CHORUS: Far below in the land of shades
Is a marsh where Socrateses meet,
Call up spooks, and do not wash.
Even Pisander575 once went there
Hoping to see his spirit again
That flitted from his earthly life.
He brought a camel to sacrifice,
A baby camel, and cut its throat;
Then, like Odysseus, thought it best576
To scuttle off, when from below,
Summoned by the camel’s gore,
Up rose Chaerephon the vampire.577
[Enter three gods: POSEIDON, HERACLES, and TRIBALLUS.]
POSEIDON: Behold the kingdom of Cloudcuckooland,
to which we are ambassadors.
[He turns impatiently to TRIBALLUS.]
Good heavens, man, what d’you mean
wearing your cloak like that?
It’s not supposed to hang from left to right.
Hang it from right to left, if you don’t mind.
Do you have to be a meathead one deplores
like that spastic Laespodias?578
Democracy! Democracy! You’ll be the end of us
if this is the kind of bum the gods dispatch as ambassadors.
[stooping to rectify TRIBALLUS’ cloak]
Darn you, keep still!
You’re the damnedest divine ruffian I’ve ever come across. . . .
Heracles, old man, what’s our role?
HERACLES: You know very well: I want to throttle the jerk who’s been so caddish as to blockade us deities.
POSEIDON: I know, comrade, but we’ve come here to negotiate.
HERACLES: All the more reason to throttle him, I rate.
[PEISETAIRUS enters with SERVANTS carrying cooking utensils and provender.]
PEISETAIRUS: The cheese grater, someone, and hand me the horse-radish,579
oh, and the cheese. Now poke the fire.
POSEIDON: A greeting to you, my man. We�
�re a threesome of gods.
PEISETAIRUS: I’m grating horseradish.
HERACLES: [greedily] Is it meat? What’s the fare?‡
PEISETAIRUS: It’s a bevy of birds.
They were caught trying to undermine the bird democracy.
HERACLES: So you’re going to grate horseradish over them?
PEISETAIRUS: [noticing HERACLES for the first time]
Hey, Heracles, old man, what’s going on?
POSEIDON: We’re envoys from the gods, you see. We’re hoping to get everybody to disarm.
PEISETAIRUS: Oil, please. This jar has none.
HERACLES: And bird flesh should positively gleam.
POSEIDON: You see, war does nothing for us,
but being friendly with the gods does a lot for you:
gets you rain to fill your ponds,
and halcyon days the year long.
All these matters we’re here to discuss,
with hopefully a truce in view.
PEISETAIRUS: It wasn’t us who started a war with you
and we’re quite prepared to make peace
on one condition, that late though it is,
you’re ready to do the right thing by us.
Which comes to this:
that the scepter be restored to us, the Birds, by Zeus.
If we can agree on this single issue,
I invite the ambassadors to lunch with us.
HERACLES: Seems fine to me. I vote yes.
POSEIDON: What, you damned fathead and greedy guts:
ready to rob your father of his sovereignty?
PEISETAIRUS: How so?
Wouldn’t it double the power of you gods
if the birds had sovereignty down below?
As things stand, mortals can skulk behind the clouds
and solemnly take your names in vain:
swearing by Zeus, swearing by the Raven.
But if you and the birds were at one,
you can bet your boots the Raven would be along
and pounce on the perjurer before he could realize
what was going on and peck out his eyes.
POSEIDON: Holy Poseidon, a good point!
HERACLES: Hear! Hear!
PEISETAIRUS: [turning to TRIBALLUS] What about you?
TRIBALLUS: Ga-ga-ga.
HERACLES: See, he agrees.
PEISETAIRUS: And here’s another point for you to consider:
if a man promises a god a sacrifice and then reneges and says
“Ah, well, the gods are long-suffering after all,”
we’ll make him pay up for being so mean.
POSEIDON: How exactly, pray?
PEISETAIRUS: When the fellow’s counting his cash or sitting in his
bath
a kite’ll swoop down and make him pay
in money or sheep or both.
[The three gods go into a huddle.]
HERACLES: I vote again for giving them back the scepter.
POSEIDON: And Triballus?
HERACLES: [raising a club to threaten him] Watch out, Triballus, or expect a—
TRIBALLUS: No hit him bottom hard wit bat.
HERACLES: There, he says I’m absolutely right.
POSEIDON: Then I’ll vote along with both of you.
HERACLES: Hey, Peisetairus,
we’ve voted to agree with you about the scepter.
PEISETAIRUS: There’s one further clause
that I think I made quite clear.
After letting Zeus keep Hera,
I claim as my bride the girl Princess.
POSEIDON: Then you’re not out for peace.
[to the other gods]
Let’s go home at once.
PEISETAIRUS: It’s all the same to me. . . .
Chef, make sure you sweeten the sauce.
HERACLES: Poseidon, my good fellow, what’s the hurry?
Are we going to go to war over a single woman?
POSEIDON: So what do we do then?
HERACLES: Go ahead with the treaty.
POSEIDON: Muttonhead, don’t you realize
you’ve been led by the nose all along—
with you yourself abetting it?
If Zeus surrenders to these birds his sovereignty
you’ll be penniless when he dies;
but as things stand, at his decease
you get the lot.
PEISETAIRUS: Lord above, he’s out to bamboozle you.
Come here a minute—a word in your ear.
Your uncle’s trying to cheat you
of your father’s estate. You wouldn’t get a cent.
That’s the law.
You see, poor boy, you’re illegitimate, a bastard.
HERACLES: Me, a bastard? What absolute rot!
PEISETAIRUS: But you are—begotten in adultery by your mother.580
Say Athena had a legitimate brother.
She couldn’t be called an heiress, could she?
But she is.
HERACLES: But when my father dies,
couldn’t he leave me something even as a bastard?
PEISETAIRUS: Not according to the law. And Poseidon here
would be the first to claim your share,
insisting that he was the legitimate brother.
Let me quote you what Solon’s581 law has said:
“A bastard cannot claim equality with a legitimate son
if there be legitimate children; and if there are none
the property goes to the next of kin.”
HERACLES: You mean to tell me I have no claim at all to my father’s estate?
PEISETAIRUS: None whatsoever . . . And in any case the question is,
did your father ever have you entered in the register?
HERACLES: I’m afraid not, and it always made me wonder.
PEISETAIRUS: What are you glaring at with such hate
when all you have to do is join up with us?
I’ll appoint you governor
and give you birds’ milk by the pint.
HERACLES: [reconciled at last] About the girl:
I was convinced from the beginning that you should have her,
so that’s what I’m voting still.
POSEIDON: My vote is no.
PEISETAIRUS: Which gives Triballus the casting vote.
Triballus, what d’you say?
TRIBALLUS: Pretty missy big Princessy give to birdy.
HERACLES: Hand her over, he says.
POSEIDON: He says nothing of the kind. He’s just twittering like a swallow.
HERACLES: Which is exactly what he has in mind:
hand her over to the swallows.
POSEIDON: All right, you two arrange the contract. I’ll keep out of it.
HERACLES: [to PEISETAIRUS] We’ve decided to agree to everything that you suggest, so come up to heaven with us to fetch Princess and all things else.
PEISETAIRUS: Those rebel birds have been filleted just in time
for my wedding feast.
HERACLES: If you don’t mind I’ll stay behind
and fry the giblets while you go on.
POSEIDON: You? Fry the giblets? You mean,
guzzle them. . . . Better come with us.
HERACLES: Your loss. I’d have done it first-class.
[All leave.]
ANTISTROPHE582
CHORUS: Away in the land where snoopers thrive Under the water clock that times583 The evil of their greedy tongues Which sow and reap the crop of lies That the twisted tongue can realize: There they live their disgusting lives,
The Philippus and Gorgias tribes;584
And from this talking breed
Of wagging tongues their spoils proceed
And whatever’s left to cull.
In Attica what should be done?
In sacrifice cut out the tongue.
[Enter SECOND HERALD.]
SECOND HERALD: Hear ye this:
ye triumphal achievers who have gone beyond
all mortal success;
ye thrice-blessed tribe of wingèd beings,
welcome your lord to his glorious palace.
Behold, he comes
more radiant than a shooting star
flashing its diamond path along—
yea, even than the flames
of the lancing sun’s scintillating rays. . . .
So your master comes, conducting here
a bride beautiful beyond compare
and wielding the wingèd thunderbolt of Zeus.
A perfume without name
floats up through the fathoms of the air, profuse,
and breezes waft the weaving smoke of incense
in a wondrous way.
[PEISETAIRUS enters leading PRINCESS with one hand and clutching a batch of thunderbolts with the other.]
But here he comes, the man himself, so may
the divine Muse open her lips in a propitious lay.
[SECOND HERALD leaves.]
CHORUS: Up with you, down with you, now form fours. Fly past this happy man blessed with luck. Just look at her beauty, look at her youth. His gift to the city—the happiest wedding.
LEADER: Great is the fortune, great is the blessing For the birdly strain Because of this man, because of this wedding. So welcome him now with bridal song, Him and his Princess.
STROPHE
CHORUS: Hera of Olympus once Was wed to the powerful lord Of the highest throne of the gods With just such a wedding song: A match that the Fates had hatched. Hymen O! Hymenaeus O!585 Hymen O! Hymenaeus O!
ANTISTROPHE
Eros the golden, aglow
With gilded wings, held the reins,
Straining and straining to go
As best man at the wedding
Of Zeus and beautiful Hera.
Hymen O! Hymenaeus Oh!
Hymen O! Hymenaeus Oh!
PEISETAIRUS: I’m in love with your chants, in love with your songs
