by Aristophanes
MEAN MAN: Can’t find anywhere, eh? Think positive,
you may have to wait a jot
but they will take all this stuff you’ve left behind.
NEIGHBOR: What’s that prove?
MEAN MAN: Just that these people like to jump to a conclusion,
then do a somersault and reverse their decision.
NEIGHBOR: I think, buddy, they’ll hand it all in.
MEAN MAN: Say they don’t?
NEIGHBOR: They will. It’s not worth a thought.
MEAN MAN: But say they won’t?
NEIGHBOR: We’ll fight.
MEAN MAN: What if there’re more of them than you?
NEIGHBOR: I’ll turn my back and leave them to it.
MEAN MAN: Leave them to sell your things?
NEIGHBOR: Damn you, man . . . scatter!
MEAN MAN: And if I do scatter?
NEIGHBOR: It would be a blessing.
MEAN MAN: Are you sure you want to surrender everything?
NEIGHBOR: I am. And I see that that’s exactly what my neighbors are
doing.
MEAN MAN: Of course, someone like Antisthenes—he’d add his bit,920
though a month of enemas would do him more good.
NEIGHBOR: Oh, come off it!
MEAN MAN: And Callimachus the chorus master, would he
contribute?921
NEIGHBOR: More than Callias could.922
MEAN MAN: The silly fellow’s gone and lost all he had.
NEIGHBOR: Isn’t that being a little hard?
MEAN MAN: What’s so hard? Wacky decisions are the order of the day. Think of that tax on salt.
NEIGHBOR: You’re right.
MEAN MAN: Or when we voted for copper coins, remember?
NEIGHBOR: That got me into a mint of trouble,
for after selling my grapes I hightailed it to the agora,
chockful of coppers, to buy some barley meal,
but when I produced my lolly,
the superintendant called out: “Sorry,
we’re into silver now, not copper.”923
MEAN MAN: And not long ago, didn’t we all swear
that the two-and-a-half percent tax proposed by Heurippides924
would yield the state five hundred talents? And immediately
wasn’t Heurippides our darling golden boy,
till we looked into the matter more closely
and saw that the whole thing was a damn fantasy,
impossible to realize? And then, if you please,
poor Heurippides became everybody’s whipping boy.
NEIGHBOR: I know, my friend, but we were in control then. Now it’s the women.
MEAN MAN: I mean to keep them well in focus
and not let them piss all over me.
NEIGHBOR: I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. . . . Hey, boy, up with the bags.
[A female REPORTER enters.]
REPORTER: Citizens, all of you—aye, there ain’t no exceptions now. Make your way at once to our Commanderess for the comin’ dinner. Each man must find ’is place. The tables is groanin’ under every kind of delicacy. Them pallets is strewn with cushions and quilts. The booze is being mixed in the kitchens, the scent girls ’overing around. The fish fillets is sizzling, the ’ares is on the spits. The buns is in the ovens, the garlands is plaited and ready. Them titbits are grilling, and the daintiest little lasses is simmering lentil soup. And Simoeus is nearby925 in ’is cavalry duds, polishing with ’is tongue all the women’s dishes. Geron is there as well, all spruced up an’ shod926 in the nattiest of pumps, laughing with another lad as if ’e ’ad dumped ’is cheap loafers an’ ’is tattered jacket, So come along. Yer all invited: that’s the ticket. . . . Barley loaves is being offered. Just open yer mouths.
[REPORTER leaves.]
MEAN MAN: Right, I’m off. Why hang about
when the city has extended an invitation?
NEIGHBOR: Hey, where are you off to? You’ve not handed in your stuff.
MEAN MAN: To dinner.
NEIGHBOR: No, you’re not: not till you’ve made that contribution. The women won’t feed you anyway—unless they’re completely daft.
MEAN MAN: Not to worry. I’ll do it later.
NEIGHBOR: When?
MEAN MAN: Look, chum, it won’t be me that holds things up.
NEIGHBOR: What d’you mean?
MEAN MAN: There’ll be lots of others even later than me.
NEIGHBOR: So you’re going to go to the dinner willy-nilly?
MEAN MAN: Naturally. I’ve got to go. All sensible people have to support the city as far as they can.
NEIGHBOR: Say they don’t let you in?
MEAN MAN: I’ll butt my way through.
NEIGHBOR: What if they beat you?
MEAN MAN: I’ll issue a writ.
NEIGHBOR: And if they laugh at that?
MEAN MAN: I’ll stand in the threshold and . . . and . . .
NEIGHBOR: And what?
MEAN MAN: . . . grab the grub as it passes by.
NEIGHBOR: Then better go in behind me. You there, Sicon and Parmenon, up with my belongings.
MEAN MAN: Let me carry them for you.
NEIGHBOR: I’d rather not. I don’t want you presenting my chattels to the lady boss as if they’re yours.
[NEIGHBOR leaves with his two SERVANTS.]
MEAN MAN: I’ve got to find a way of keeping my gear and at the same time being eligible for dinner.
[He pauses and thinks.]
Ha ha, I’ve got it. And it’s immediate.
Let’s call it “bon appétit.”
[MEAN MAN hurries off and there is a short interlude of dance and song, of which the words are not recorded. There is also a GIRL PIPER who will accompany much of the conversations that follow. Meanwhile, FIRST CRONE loiters in the doorway of her house closely watched from a window by the GIRL next door.]
FIRST CRONE: Why aren’t the men here? They should have arrived
ages ago.
I’m all painted and tarted up,
humming and waiting in my party array,
all to snare some fellow on his way.
Come, holy Muse, put spice on my lips
for a juicy and loose Ionian lay.927
GIRL: So, you old spot of mildew,
you stole a march on me for once, did you?
You thought you’d strip a vineyard bare
when there was no one there
and lure some strapping stud your way
with the urgency of your song.
Just you try. I can outsing you any day
and prove you’re wrong.
The audience may think this boring
but perhaps it’ll get them laughing.
FIRST CRONE: [wagging her rear at GIRL] Up yours! [turning to the GIRL PIPER] And you, my sweet little piper, pick up your pipes and pipe some airs.
[FIRST CRONE breaks into sprightly song.]
FIRST CRONE: If anyone wants to have some fun,
It’s best to get into bed with me.
You won’t find savoir faire with a young
Girl as you would with a ripe old one,
Like me, who’s itching to be nice
To the boy she has and no one else.
GIRL: Don’t belittle the charm of girls.
Smooth and tender are their thighs
And there the softest glory lies,
While from their bosoms flowers rise.
But you’re a hag all pinched and furled:
A body that beds with Death and dies.
FIRST CRONE: I hope one day you come unstuck
When your pussy wants to fuck
And your couch falls through the flags—
Or when, one day, you want to shag
And feel the lovely inside ache
But find you’re shagging with a snake.
GIRL: What am I to do? I’m sad.
My young fellow hasn’t come
And all alone here I am.
For Mum’s gone
out. She’s not at home.
The next best thing that can be had
(Oh, Nanny dear, it’s not so bad):
Call Mr. Fixit928 in. He can
Put one at ease. Oh, Nanny, please!
FIRST CRONE: Too bad! Is there a hitch?
And does your twat acquire an itch
For the Ionian tool,929 but want as well
The real thing—as in L—
The thing that makes those Lesbians drool?930
GIRL: In any case, you’ll never grab
My boy’s balls or ever have
An opportunity to despoil
Me of my youth with your gall.
FIRST CRONE: You can sing your guts out and peer through the dark
just like a cat but no red-blooded male
is going to get to you before he gets to me.
GIRL: No doubt at your funeral
when he comes to lay you out . . . I say,
I think that was rather smart.
FIRST CRONE: What a remark!
GIRL: Can anyone say something fresh to an old frump?
FIRST CRONE: It isn’t my age that’ll get you unstuck.
GIRL: What then? Your white lead and rouge?
FIRST CRONE: Why bother to enlarge?
GIRL: Why bother to peer and poke?
FIRST CRONE: Me? I’m just humming a ditty for my beloved Epigenes.
GIRL: So you have a beloved? He must be decrepit.
FIRST CRONE: You’ll see for yourself. He’s on his way.
GIRL: Not to see you, you cracked old shard.
FIRST CRONE: Of course to see me, you bloodless wisp.
GIRL: He’ll soon put paid to that. . . . But I must go.
FIRST CRONE: I’m off, too,
and soon you’ll see how much nearer the truth I am than you.
[GIRL leaves the window, and FIRST CRONE goes into the house as EPIGENES enters singing. Garlanded and a bit drunk, he flourishes a torch.]
EPIGENES: Damn it, I’m pining. How much I wish To sleep with that girl Without having first to jab a hag. That’s not the style Of a lusty male.
[FIRST CRONE reappears.]
FIRST CRONE: Ah, my boy, you’ll soon discover The time is over for a carte blanche lover. We’re living in a democracy And must do our loving legally.
[She goes back into the house.]
EPIGENES: Gods above, would that I could catch This adorable peach for which I itch, Catch her alone, for sozzled though I am She’s the one for me and she’s my aim.
GIRL: [at her window] I’ve hoodwinked that accursed old crone,
who thinks I’m safely stuffed away inside the house,
and here’s the boy we wrangled about.
STROPHE
Come to me, come to me,
Come to me, come to me, darling;
Come to my bed and be
My stallion for the night.
An ineluctable passion has me whirling
For the curls of your head, you darling.
I’m clamped in a vise
To some inescapable yearning.
Eros, oh, why don’t you let me go,
Or make this boy come to my bed tonight?
Please, oh please!
EPIGENES: [looking up at the window]
ANTISTROPHE
Come to me, come to me,
You, too, my darling.
Run and open the door for me
As wide, as wide as you can,
Or I’ll fall flat on my face on the step.
I’d rather fall flat on your lap
Exchanging caresses and fun.
Aphrodite, why
Must I go bonkers over this girl? Yes, I.
Free me, Eros, and make this girl abide
Tonight in my bed.
STROPHE
How far my words lag behind
The passion that I would express,
It is a force beyond recourse.
So now I beg you, dearest one,
Open to me and let me in.
This aching for you is a wound.
ANTISTROPHE
Golden bud of Aphrodite,
So exquisitely designed:
You Muses’ honeybee, you child
Of the Graces, you supreme delight,
Open . . . Let your joy be wild.
This aching for you is a wound.
[FIRST CRONE emerges from her front door.]
FIRST CRONE: You there, why are you knocking on my door? Are you sure it’s me you want?
EPIGENES: You’re joking.
FIRST CRONE: Well, you were battering on my door.
EPIGENES: I’d rather be dead.
FIRST CRONE: With that torch and everything? Isn’t that odd?
EPIGENES: I’m looking for Mr. Fuck You.
FIRST CRONE: There are two.
EPIGENES: I don’t want Mr. Screw Yourself. He’s for you.
FIRST CRONE: [grabbing him] And by Aphrodite,
whether you like it or not, you’re for me.
EPIGENES: [shaking her off] Hang on a minute. Affairs with the over sixties are out of court and won’t be entered for the present. We have to enter the under twenties first.
FIRST CRONE: That used to be the rule, dearie,
under the old regime, but now I’ve got to be entered first.
EPIGENES: It’s a question of appetite, not of law.
FIRST CRONE: And weren’t you ruled by your appetite for dinner?
EPIGENES: I don’t know what you are getting at. . . .
I simply have to knock on this door.
FIRST CRONE: I’m the door you have to knock on first.
EPIGENES: I don’t think so. I’m not a knocker.
FIRST CRONE: [coming close and wheedling] I know you love me. It was just a bit of a shocker, your finding me here outside. . . . Give me your lips—come.
EPIGENES: I’m scared of your lover, ma’am.
FIRST CRONE: Who may he be?
EPIGENES: The universal artist.
FIRST CRONE: Who’s that?
EPIGENES: The one who paints the funeral urns.931 You’d better beat it before he sees you by the door.
FIRST CRONE: I’m well aware what you’re after—well aware.
EPIGENES: And by God, so am I of you in turn.
FIRST CRONE: Aphrodite gave me you as prize,
so you’re hardly something I would readily lose.
EPIGENES: You’re out of your head, you old bag.
FIRST CRONE: Far from it. I’m taking you to bed.
EPIGENES: We waste money buying hooks for buckets, when we
could use a hag.
We could let one down the well to use as a hook to haul things up.
FIRST CRONE: Now, now, young man, enough’s enough.
Just come along with me.
EPIGENES: I don’t have to,
not unless you’ve paid the city’s tax on me at five percent.
FIRST CRONE: By Aphrodite, I’m afraid you do. . . . Oh, I so love sleeping with young boys like you!
EPIGENES: And I so hate sleeping with old hags like you. I’ll never consent.
FIRST CRONE: [unrolling a scroll] By God, this will make you.
EPIGENES: What’s that?
FIRST CRONE: An order compelling you to come to my house.
EPIGENES: Read what it says.
FIRST CRONE: Very well, I shall. [She reads.]
“We women have decreed that if a young man
becomes enamored with a young woman,
he may not hump her until first he’s humped an old ’un;
and if in his urge to screw the young woman
he refuses the preliminary screwing of the not-so-young,
she has every right to drag the young man away by his prong.”
EPIGENES: Shit! This first fucking
makes me a Procrustes—a stretcher case.932
FIRST CRONE: Our laws have to be obeyed, nonetheless.
EPIGENES: But say one of my friends or neighbors offe
rs bail?
FIRST CRONE: A man’s? Men’s credit today is not worth a bushel.
EPIGENES: Can’t I get out of it by an oath?
FIRST CRONE: No, you can’t wriggle out of this by bluff.
EPIGENES: Surely I can as a businessman.
FIRST CRONE: You’ll be sorry.
EPIGENES: So what shall I do?
FIRST CRONE: Just pop along with me.
EPIGENES: Is that really necessary?
FIRST CRONE: A Diomedian necessity.933
EPIGENES: [with bitter sarcasm]
Then sprinkle dittany on the bed,
upholster it with sprigs of vine,
embellish it with ribbons, and
place the pitchers by the side,
and by the doorstep, have water in a can.
FIRST CRONE: And in the end I wouldn’t be surprised
if you even bought me a wedding garland.
EPIGENES: Of course, and I’ll try to find one made of wax934
because I don’t think you’re going to last very long.
[GIRL enters.]
GIRL: Where are you trying to drag him?
FIRST CRONE: He’s mine and I’m taking him home.
GIRL: It doesn’t make sense. It sucks
to sleep with you. He’s far too young.
You’re more like his mother than his lover,
and if you women enforce this law,
you’ll fill the land with Oedipus Wrecks.
FIRST CRONE: You vicious little whore,
sheer envy made you come out with that.
Be sure of this. I’ll pay you back.
[FIRST CRONE hurries inside.]
EPIGENES: By Zeus the Savior,
what a colossal blessing you’ve just done me,
oh, you sweet, sweet thing,
saving me from that awful hag!
Just wait till evening
and I’ll slip you a thick and whopping
testimony of my thanks.
[SECOND CRONE enters and accosts the GIRL.]
