Delphi Complete Works of Aristophanes (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics)

by Aristophanes

  TRYGAEUS. Oh, no! don’t shout, I beg you, dear little Hermes…. And what are you doing, comrades? You stand there as though you were stocks and stones. Wretched men, speak, entreat him at once; otherwise he will be shouting.

  CHORUS. Oh! mighty Hermes! don’t do it; no, don’t do it! If ever you have eaten some young pig, sacrificed by us on your altars, with pleasure, may this offering not be without value in your sight to-day.

  TRYGAEUS. Do you not hear them wheedling you, mighty god?

  CHORUS. Be not pitiless toward our prayers; permit us to deliver the goddess. Oh! the most human, the most generous of the gods, be favourable toward us, if it be true that you detest the haughty crests and proud brows of Pisander; we shall never cease, oh master, offering you sacred victims and solemn prayers.

  TRYGAEUS. Have mercy, mercy, let yourself be touched by their words; never was your worship so dear to them as to-day.

  HERMES. I’ truth, never have you been greater thieves.

  TRYGAEUS. I will reveal a great, a terrible conspiracy against the gods to you.

  HERMES. Hah! speak and perchance I shall let myself be softened.

  TRYGAEUS. Know then, that the Moon and that infamous Sun are plotting against you, and want to deliver Greece into the hands of the Barbarians.

  HERMES. What for?

  TRYGAEUS. Because it is to you that we sacrifice, whereas the barbarians worship them; hence they would like to see you destroyed, that they alone might receive the offerings.

  HERMES. ’Tis then for this reason that these untrustworthy charioteers have for so long been defrauding us, one of them robbing us of daylight and the other nibbling away at the other’s disk.

  TRYGAEUS. Yes, certainly. So therefore, Hermes, my friend, help us with your whole heart to find and deliver the captive and we will celebrate the great Panathenaea in your honour as well as all the festivals of the other gods; for Hermes shall be the Mysteries, the Dipolia, the Adonia; everywhere the towns, freed from their miseries, will sacrifice to Hermes, the Liberator; you will be loaded with benefits of every kind, and to start with, I offer you this cup for libations as your first present.

  HERMES. Ah! how golden cups do influence me! Come, friends, get to work.

  To the pit quickly, pick in hand and drag away the stones.

  CHORUS. We go, but you, the cleverest of all the gods, supervise our labours; tell us, good workman as you are, what we must do; we shall obey your orders with alacrity.

  TRYGAEUS. Quick, reach me your cup, and let us preface our work by addressing prayers to the gods.

  HERMES. Oh! sacred, sacred libations! Keep silence, oh! ye people! keep silence!

  TRYGAEUS. Let us offer our libations and our prayers, so that this day may begin an era of unalloyed happiness for Greece and that he who has bravely pulled at the rope with us may never resume his buckler.

  CHORUS. Aye, may we pass our lives in peace, caressing our mistresses and poking the fire.

  TRYGAEUS. May he who would prefer the war, oh Dionysus, be ever drawing barbed arrows out of his elbows.

  CHORUS. If there be a citizen, greedy for military rank and honours, who refuses, oh, divine Peace! to restore you to daylight, may he behave as cowardly as Cleonymus on the battlefield.

  TRYGAEUS. If a lance-maker or a dealer in shields desires war for the sake of better trade, may he be taken by pirates and eat nothing but barley.

  CHORUS. If some ambitious man does not help us, because he wants to become a General, or if a slave is plotting to pass over to the enemy, let his limbs be broken on the wheel, may he be beaten to death with rods! As for us, may Fortune favour us! Io! Paean, Io!

  TRYGAEUS. Don’t say Paean, but simply, Io.

  CHORUS. Very well, then! Io! Io! I’ll simply say, Io!

  TRYGAEUS. To Hermes, the Graces, Hora, Aphrodité, Eros!

  CHORUS. And not to Ares?

  TRYGAEUS. No.

  CHORUS. Nor doubtless to Enyalius?

  TRYGAEUS. No.

  CHORUS. Come, all strain at the ropes to tear away the stones. Pull!

  HERMES. Heave away, heave, heave, oh!

  CHORUS. Come, pull harder, harder.

  HERMES. Heave away, heave, heave, oh!

  CHORUS. Still harder, harder still.

  HERMES. Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave, heave, oh!

  TRYGAEUS. Come, come, there is no working together. Come! all pull at the same instant! you Boeotians are only pretending. Beware!

  HERMES. Come, heave away, heave!

  CHORUS. Hi! you two pull as well.

  TRYGAEUS. Why, I am pulling, I am hanging on to the rope and straining till I am almost off my feet; I am working with all my might.

  HERMES. Why does not the work advance then?

  TRYGAEUS. Lamachus, this is too bad! You are in the way, sitting there.

  We have no use for your Medusa’s head, friend.

  HERMES. But hold, the Argives have not pulled the least bit; they have done nothing but laugh at us for our pains while they were getting gain with both hands.

  TRYGAEUS. Ah! my dear sir, the Laconians at all events pull with vigour.

  CHORUS. But look! only those among them who generally hold the plough-tail show any zeal, while the armourers impede them in their efforts.

  HERMES. And the Megarians too are doing nothing, yet look how they are pulling and showing their teeth like famished curs; the poor wretches are dying of hunger!

  TRYGAEUS. This won’t do, friends. Come! all together! Everyone to the work and with a good heart for the business.

  HERMES. Heave away, heave!

  TRYGAEUS. Harder!

  HERMES. Heave away, heave!

  TRYGAEUS. Come on then, by heaven.

  HERMES. Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave!

  CHORUS. This will never do.

  TRYGAEUS. Is it not a shame? some pull one way and others another. You,

  Argives there, beware of a thrashing!

  HERMES. Come, put your strength into it.

  TRYGAEUS. Heave away, heave!

  CHORUS. There are many ill-disposed folk among us.

  TRYGAEUS. Do you at least, who long for peace, pull heartily.

  CHORUS. But there are some who prevent us.

  HERMES. Off to the Devil with you, Megarians! The goddess hates you. She recollects that you were the first to rub her the wrong way. Athenians, you are not well placed for pulling. There you are too busy with law-suits; if you really want to free the goddess, get down a little towards the sea.

  CHORUS. Come, friends, none but husbandmen on the rope.

  HERMES. Ah! that will do ever so much better.

  CHORUS. He says the thing is going well. Come, all of you, together and with a will.

  TRYGAEUS. ’Tis the husbandmen who are doing all the work.

  CHORUS. Come then, come, and all together! Hah! hah! at last there is some unanimity in the work. Don’t let us give up, let us redouble our efforts. There! now we have it! Come then, all together! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! All together! (Peace is drawn out of the pit.)

  TRYGAEUS. Oh! venerated goddess, who givest us our grapes, where am I to find the ten-thousand-gallon words wherewith to greet thee? I have none such at home. Oh! hail to thee, Opora, and thou, Theoria! How beautiful is thy face! How sweet thy breath! What gentle fragrance comes from thy bosom, gentle as freedom from military duty, as the most dainty perfumes!

  HERMES. Is it then a smell like a soldier’s knapsack?

  CHORUS. Oh! hateful soldier! your hideous satchel makes me sick! it stinks like the belching of onions, whereas this lovable deity has the odour of sweet fruits, of festivals, of the Dionysia, of the harmony of flutes, of the comic poets, of the verses of Sophocles, of the phrases of Euripides…

  TRYGAEUS. That’s a foul calumny, you wretch! She detests that framer of subtleties and quibbles.

  CHORUS. … of ivy, of straining-bags for wine, of bleating ewes, of provision-l
aden women hastening to the kitchen, of the tipsy servant wench, of the upturned wine-jar, and of a whole heap of other good things.

  HERMES. Then look how the reconciled towns chat pleasantly together, how they laugh; and yet they are all cruelly mishandled; their wounds are bleeding still.

  TRYGAEUS. But let us also scan the mien of the spectators; we shall thus find out the trade of each.

  HERMES. Ah! good gods! look at that poor crest-maker, tearing at his hair, and at that pike-maker, who has just broken wind in yon sword-cutler’s face.

  TRYGAEUS. And do you see with what pleasure this sickle-maker is making long noses at the spear-maker?

  HERMES. Now ask the husbandmen to be off.

  TRYGAEUS. Listen, good folk! Let the husbandmen take their farming tools and return to their fields as quick as possible, but without either sword, spear or javelin. All is as quiet as if Peace had been reigning for a century. Come, let everyone go till the earth, singing the Paean.

  CHORUS. Oh, thou, whom men of standing desired and who art good to husbandmen, I have gazed upon thee with delight; and now I go to greet my vines, to caress after so long an absence the fig trees I planted in my youth.

  TRYGAEUS. Friends, let us first adore the goddess, who has delivered us from crests and Gorgons; then let us hurry to our farms, having first bought a nice little piece of salt fish to eat in the fields.

  HERMES. By Posidon! what a fine crew they make and dense as the crust of a cake; they are as nimble as guests on their way to a feast.

  TRYGAEUS. See, how their iron spades glitter and how beautifully their three-pronged mattocks glisten in the sun! How regularly they will align the plants! I also burn myself to go into the country and to turn over the earth I have so long neglected. — Friends, do you remember the happy life that peace afforded us formerly; can you recall the splendid baskets of figs, both fresh and dried, the myrtles, the sweet wine, the violets blooming near the spring, and the olives, for which we have wept so much? Worship, adore the goddess for restoring you so many blessings.

  CHORUS. Hail! hail! thou beloved divinity! thy return overwhelms us with joy. When far from thee, my ardent wish to see my fields again made me pine with regret. From thee came all blessings. Oh! much desired Peace! thou art the sole support of those who spend their lives tilling the earth. Under thy rule we had a thousand delicious enjoyments at our beck; thou wert the husbandman’s wheaten cake and his safeguard. So that our vineyards, our young fig-tree woods and all our plantations hail thee with delight and smile at thy coming. But where was she then, I wonder, all the long time she spent away from us? Hermes, thou benevolent god, tell us!

  HERMES. Wise husbandmen, hearken to my words, if you want to know why she was lost to you. The start of our misfortunes was the exile of Phidias; Pericles feared he might share his ill-luck, he mistrusted your peevish nature and, to prevent all danger to himself, he threw out that little spark, the Megarian decree, set the city aflame, and blew up the conflagration with a hurricane of war, so that the smoke drew tears from all Greeks both here and over there. At the very outset of this fire our vines were a-crackle, our casks knocked together; it was beyond the power of any man to stop the disaster, and Peace disappeared.

  TRYGAEUS. That, by Apollo! is what no one ever told me; I could not think what connection there could be between Phidias and Peace.

  CHORUS. Nor I; I know it now. This accounts for her beauty, if she is related to him. There are so many things that escape us.

  HERMES. Then, when the towns subject to you saw that you were angered one against the other and were showing each other your teeth like dogs, they hatched a thousand plots to pay you no more dues and gained over the chief citizens of Sparta at the price of gold. They, being as shamelessly greedy as they were faithless in diplomacy, chased off Peace with ignominy to let loose War. Though this was profitable to them, ’twas the ruin of the husbandmen, who were innocent of all blame; for, in revenge, your galleys went out to devour their figs.

  TRYGAEUS. And ’twas with justice too; did they not break down my black fig tree, which I had planted and dunged with my own hands?

  CHORUS. Yes, by Zeus! yes, ’twas well done; the wretches broke a chest for me with stones, which held six medimni of corn.

  HERMES. Then the rural labourers flocked into the city and let themselves be bought over like the others. Not having even a grape-stone to munch and longing after their figs, they looked towards the orators. These well knew that the poor were driven to extremity and lacked even bread; but they nevertheless drove away the Goddess each time she reappeared in answer to the wish of the country with their loud shrieks, that were as sharp as pitchforks; furthermore, they attacked the well-filled purses of the richest among our allies on the pretence that they belonged to Brasidas’ party. And then you would tear the poor accused wretch to pieces with your teeth; for the city, all pale with hunger and cowed with terror, gladly snapped up any calumny that was thrown it to devour. So the strangers, seeing what terrible blows the informers dealt, sealed their lips with gold. They grew rich, while you, alas! you could only see that Greece was going to ruin. ’Twas the tanner who was the author of all this woe.

  TRYGAEUS. Enough said, Hermes, leave that man in Hades, whither he has gone; he no longer belongs to us, but rather to yourself. That he was a cheat, a braggart, a calumniator when alive, why, nothing could be truer; but anything you might say now would be an insult to one of your own folk. Oh! venerated Goddess! why art thou silent?

  HERMES. And how could she speak to the spectators? She is too angry at all that they have made her suffer.

  TRYGAEUS. At least let her speak a little to you, Hermes.

  HERMES. Tell me, my dear, what are your feelings with regard to them? Come, you relentless foe of all bucklers, speak; I am listening to you. (Peace whispers into Hermes’ ear.) Is that your grievance against them? Yes, yes, I understand. Hearken, you folk, this is her complaint. She says, that after the affair of Pylos she came to you unbidden to bring you a basket full of truces and that you thrice repulsed her by your votes in the assembly.

  TRYGAEUS. Yes, we did wrong, but forgive us, for our mind was then entirely absorbed in leather.

  HERMES. Listen again to what she has just asked me. Who was her greatest foe here? and furthermore, had she a friend who exerted himself to put an end to the fighting?

  TRYGAEUS. Her most devoted friend was Cleonymus; it is undisputed.

  HERMES. How then did Cleonymus behave in fights?

  TRYGAEUS. Oh! the bravest of warriors! Only he was not born of the father he claims; he showed it quick enough in the army by throwing away his weapons.

  HERMES. There is yet another question she has just put to me. Who rules now in the rostrum?

  TRYGAEUS. ’Tis Hyperbolus, who now holds empire on the Pnyx. (To

  Peace.) What now? you turn away your head!

  HERMES. She is vexed, that the people should give themselves a wretch of that kind for their chief.

  TRYGAEUS Oh! we shall not employ him again; but the people, seeing themselves without a leader, took him haphazard, just as a man, who is naked, springs upon the first cloak he sees.

  HERMES. She asks, what will be the result of such a choice of the city?

  TRYGAEUS. We shall be more far-seeing in consequence.

  HERMES. And why?

  TRYGAEUS. Because he is a lamp-maker. Formerly we only directed our business by groping in the dark; now we shall only deliberate by lamplight.

  HERMES. Oh! oh! what questions she does order me to put to you!

  TRYGAEUS. What are they?

  HERMES. She wants to have news of a whole heap of old-fashioned things she left here. First of all, how is Sophocles?

  TRYGAEUS. Very well; but something very strange has happened to him.

  HERMES. What then?

  TRYGAEUS. He has turned from Sophocles into Simonides.

  HERMES. Into Simonides? How so?

  TRYGAEUS. Because, though old and broken-down as he
is, he would put to sea on a hurdle to gain an obolus.

  HERMES. And wise Cratinus, is he still alive?

  TRYGAEUS. He died about the time of the Laconian invasion.

  HERMES. How?

  TRYGAEUS. Of a swoon. He could not bear the shock of seeing one of his casks full of wine broken. Ah! what a number of other misfortunes our city has suffered! So, dearest mistress, nothing can now separate us from thee.

  HERMES. If that be so, receive Opora here for a wife; take her to the country, live with her, and grow fine grapes together.

  TRYGAEUS. Come, my dear friend, come and accept my kisses. Tell me, Hermes, my master, do you think it would hurt me to fuck her a little, after so long an abstinence?

  HERMES. No, not if you swallow a potion of penny-royal afterwards. But hasten to lead Theoria to the Senate; ’twas there she lodged before.

  TRYGAEUS. Oh! fortunate Senate! Thanks to Theoria, what soups you will swallow for the space of three days! how you will devour meats and cooked tripe! Come, farewell, friend Hermes!

  HERMES. And to you also, my dear sir, may you have much happiness, and don’t forget me.

  TRYGAEUS. Come, beetle, home, home, and let us fly on a swift wing.

  HERMES. Oh! he is no longer here.

  TRYGAEUS. Where has he gone to then?

  HERMES. He is harnessed to the chariot of Zeus and bears the thunderbolts.

  TRYGAEUS. But where will the poor wretch get his food?

  HERMES. He will eat Ganymede’s ambrosia.

  TRYGAEUS. Very well then, but how am I going to descend?

  HERMES. Oh! never fear, there is nothing simpler; place yourself beside the goddess.

  TRYGAEUS. Come, my pretty maidens, follow me quickly; there are plenty of folk awaiting you with standing tools.

  CHORUS. Farewell and good luck be yours! Let us begin by handing over all this gear to the care of our servants, for no place is less safe than a theatre; there is always a crowd of thieves prowling around it, seeking to find some mischief to do. Come, keep a good watch over all this. As for ourselves, let us explain to the spectators what we have in our minds, the purpose of our play.

  Undoubtedly the comic poet who mounted the stage to praise himself in the parabasis would deserve to be handed over to the sticks of the beadles. Nevertheless, oh Muse, if it be right to esteem the most honest and illustrious of our comic writers at his proper value, permit our poet to say that he thinks he has deserved a glorious renown. First of all, ’tis he who has compelled his rivals no longer to scoff at rags or to war with lice; and as for those Heracles, always chewing and ever hungry, those poltroons and cheats who allow themselves to be beaten at will, he was the first to cover them with ridicule and to chase them from the stage; he has also dismissed that slave, whom one never failed to set a-weeping before you, so that his comrade might have the chance of jeering at his stripes and might ask, “Wretch, what has happened to your hide? Has the lash rained an army of its thongs on you and laid your back waste?” After having delivered us from all these wearisome ineptitudes and these low buffooneries, he has built up for us a great art, like a palace with high towers, constructed of fine phrases, great thoughts and of jokes not common on the streets. Moreover ’tis not obscure private persons or women that he stages in his comedies; but, bold as Heracles, ’tis the very greatest whom he attacks, undeterred by the fetid stink of leather or the threats of hearts of mud. He has the right to say, “I am the first ever dared to go straight for that beast with the sharp teeth and the terrible eyes that flashed lambent fire like those of Cynna, surrounded by a hundred lewd flatterers, who spittle-licked him to his heart’s content; it had a voice like a roaring torrent, the stench of a seal, a foul Lamia’s testicles and the rump of a camel.”