EUELPIDES. You were Tereus, and what are you now? a bird or a peacock?
EPOPS. I am a bird.
EUELPIDES. Then where are your feathers? For I don’t see them.
EPOPS. They have fallen off.
EUELPIDES. Through illness.
EPOPS. No. All birds moult their feathers, you know, every winter, and others grow in their place. But tell me, who are you?
EUELPIDES. We? We are mortals.
EPOPS. From what country?
EUELPIDES. From the land of the beautiful galleys.
EPOPS. Are you dicasts?
EUELPIDES. No, if anything, we are anti-dicasts.
EPOPS. Is that kind of seed sown among you?
EUELPIDES. You have to look hard to find even a little in our fields.
EPOPS. What brings you here?
EUELPIDES. We wish to pay you a visit.
EPOPS. What for?
EUELPIDES. Because you formerly were a man, like we are, formerly you had debts, as we have, formerly you did not want to pay them, like ourselves; furthermore, being turned into a bird, you have when flying seen all lands and seas. Thus you have all human knowledge as well as that of birds. And hence we have come to you to beg you to direct us to some cosy town, in which one can repose as if on thick coverlets.
EPOPS. And are you looking for a greater city than Athens?
EUELPIDES. No, not a greater, but one more pleasant to dwell in.
EPOPS. Then you are looking for an aristocratic country.
EUELPIDES. I? Not at all! I hold the son of Scellias in horror.
EPOPS. But, after all, what sort of city would please you best?
EUELPIDES. A place where the following would be the most important business transacted. — Some friend would come knocking at the door quite early in the morning saying, “By Olympian Zeus, be at my house early, as soon as you have bathed, and bring your children too. I am giving a nuptial feast, so don’t fail, or else don’t cross my threshold when I am in distress.”
EPOPS. Ah! that’s what may be called being fond of hardships. And what say you?
PISTHETAERUS. My tastes are similar.
EPOPS. And they are?
PISTHETAERUS. I want a town where the father of a handsome lad will stop in the street and say to me reproachfully as if I had failed him, “Ah! Is this well done, Stilbonides! You met my son coming from the bath after the gymnasium and you neither spoke to him, nor embraced him, nor took him with you, nor ever once twitched his testicles. Would anyone call you an old friend of mine?”
EPOPS. Ah! wag, I see you are fond of suffering. But there is a city of delights, such as you want. ’Tis on the Red Sea.
EUELPIDES. Oh, no. Not a sea-port, where some fine morning the Salaminian galley can appear, bringing a writ-server along. Have you no Greek town you can propose to us?
EPOPS. Why not choose Lepreum in Elis for your settlement?
EUELPIDES. By Zeus! I could not look at Lepreum without disgust, because of Melanthius.
EPOPS. Then, again, there is the Opuntian, where you could live.
EUELPIDES. I would not be Opuntian for a talent. But come, what is it like to live with the birds? You should know pretty well.
EPOPS. Why, ’tis not a disagreeable life. In the first place, one has no purse.
EUELPIDES. That does away with much roguery.
EPOPS. For food the gardens yield us white sesame, myrtle-berries, poppies and mint.
EUELPIDES. Why, ’tis the life of the newly-wed indeed.
PISTHETAERUS. Ha! I am beginning to see a great plan, which will transfer the supreme power to the birds, if you will but take my advice.
EPOPS. Take your advice? In what way?
PISTHETAERUS. In what way? Well, firstly, do not fly in all directions with open beak; it is not dignified. Among us, when we see a thoughtless man, we ask, “What sort of bird is this?” and Teleas answers, “’Tis a man who has no brain, a bird that has lost his head, a creature you cannot catch, for it never remains in any one place.”
EPOPS. By Zeus himself! your jest hits the mark. What then is to be done?
PISTHETAERUS. Found a city.
EPOPS. We birds? But what sort of city should we build?
PISTHETAERUS. Oh, really, really! ’tis spoken like a fool! Look down.
EPOPS. I am looking.
PISTHETAERUS. Now look upwards.
EPOPS. I am looking.
PISTHETAERUS. Turn your head round.
EPOPS. Ah! ‘twill be pleasant for me, if I end in twisting my neck!
PISTHETAERUS. What have you seen?
EPOPS. The clouds and the sky.
PISTHETAERUS. Very well! is not this the pole of the birds then?
EPOPS. How their pole?
PISTHETAERUS. Or, if you like it, the land. And since it turns and passes through the whole universe, it is called, ‘pole.’ If you build and fortify it, you will turn your pole into a fortified city. In this way you will reign over mankind as you do over the grasshoppers and cause the gods to die of rabid hunger.
EPOPS. How so?
PISTHETAERUS. The air is ‘twixt earth and heaven. When we want to go to Delphi, we ask the Boeotians for leave of passage; in the same way, when men sacrifice to the gods, unless the latter pay you tribute, you exercise the right of every nation towards strangers and don’t allow the smoke of the sacrifices to pass through your city and territory.
EPOPS. By earth! by snares! by network! I never heard of anything more cleverly conceived; and, if the other birds approve, I am going to build the city along with you.
PISTHETAERUS. Who will explain the matter to them?
EPOPS. You must yourself. Before I came they were quite ignorant, but since I have lived with them I have taught them to speak.
PISTHETAERUS. But how can they be gathered together?
EPOPS. Easily. I will hasten down to the coppice to waken my dear Procné; as soon as they hear our voices, they will come to us hot wing.
PISTHETAERUS. My dear bird, lose no time, I beg. Fly at once into the coppice and awaken Procné.
EPOPS. Chase off drowsy sleep, dear companion. Let the sacred hymn gush from thy divine throat in melodious strains; roll forth in soft cadence your refreshing melodies to bewail the fate of Itys, which has been the cause of so many tears to us both. Your pure notes rise through the thick leaves of the yew-tree right up to the throne of Zeus, where Phoebus listens to you, Phoebus with his golden hair. And his ivory lyre responds to your plaintive accents; he gathers the choir of the gods and from their immortal lips rushes a sacred chant of blessed voices. (The flute is played behind the scene.)
PISTHETAERUS. Oh! by Zeus! what a throat that little bird possesses. He has filled the whole coppice with honey-sweet melody!
EUELPIDES. Hush!
PISTHETAERUS. What’s the matter?
EUELPIDES. Will you keep silence?
PISTHETAERUS. What for?
EUELPIDES. Epops is going to sing again.
EPOPS (in the coppice). Epopoi, poi, popoi, epopoi, popoi, here, here, quick, quick, quick, my comrades in the air; all you, who pillage the fertile lands of the husbandmen, the numberless tribes who gather and devour the barley seeds, the swift flying race who sing so sweetly. And you whose gentle twitter resounds through the fields with the little cry of tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio; and you who hop about the branches of the ivy in the gardens; the mountain birds, who feed on the wild olive berries or the arbutus, hurry to come at my call, trioto, trioto, totobrix; you also, who snap up the sharp-stinging gnats in the marshy vales, and you who dwell in the fine plain of Marathon, all damp with dew, and you, the francolin with speckled wings; you too, the halcyons, who flit over the swelling waves of the sea, come hither to hear the tidings; let all the tribes of long-necked birds assemble here; know that a clever old man has come to us, bringing an entirely new idea and proposing great reforms. Let all come to the debate here, here, here, here. Torotorotorotorotix, kikkobau, kikkobau, torotorotoro
torolililix.
PISTHETAERUS. Can you see any bird?
EUELPIDES. By Phoebus, no! and yet I am straining my eyesight to scan the sky.
PISTHETAERUS. ’Twas really not worth Epops’ while to go and bury himself in the thicket like a plover when a-hatching.
PHOENICOPTERUS. Torotina, torotina.
PISTHETAERUS. Hold, friend, here is another bird.
EUELPIDES. I’ faith, yes! ’tis a bird, but of what kind? Isn’t it a peacock?
PISTHETAERUS. Epops will tell us. What is this bird?
EPOPS. ’Tis not one of those you are used to seeing; ’tis a bird from the marshes.
PISTHETAERUS. Oh! oh! but he is very handsome with his wings as crimson as flame.
EPOPS. Undoubtedly; indeed he is called flamingo.
EUELPIDES. Hi! I say! You!
PISTHETAERUS. What are you shouting for?
EUELPIDES. Why, here’s another bird.
PISTHETAERUS. Aye, indeed; ’tis a foreign bird too. What is this bird from beyond the mountains with a look as solemn as it is stupid?
EPOPS. He is called the Mede.
PISTHETAERUS. The Mede! But, by Heracles! how, if a Mede, has he flown here without a camel?
EUELPIDES. Here’s another bird with a crest.
PISTHETAERUS. Ah! that’s curious. I say, Epops, you are not the only one of your kind then?
EPOPS. This bird is the son of Philocles, who is the son of Epops; so that, you see, I am his grandfather; just as one might say, Hipponicus, the son of Callias, who is the son of Hipponicus.
PISTHETAERUS. Then this bird is Callias! Why, what a lot of his feathers he has lost!
EPOPS. That’s because he is honest; so the informers set upon him and the women too pluck out his feathers.
PISTHETAERUS. By Posidon, do you see that many-coloured bird? What is his name?
EPOPS. This one? ’Tis the glutton.
PISTHETAERUS. Is there another glutton besides Cleonymus? But why, if he is Cleonymus, has he not thrown away his crest? But what is the meaning of all these crests? Have these birds come to contend for the double stadium prize?
EPOPS. They are like the Carians, who cling to the crests of their mountains for greater safety.
PISTHETAERUS. Oh, Posidon! do you see what swarms of birds are gathering here?
EUELPIDES. By Phoebus! what a cloud! The entrance to the stage is no longer visible, so closely do they fly together.
PISTHETAERUS. Here is the partridge.
EUELPIDES. Faith! there is the francolin.
PISTHETAERUS. There is the poachard.
EUELPIDES. Here is the kingfisher. And over yonder?
EPOPS. ’Tis the barber.
EUELPIDES. What? a bird a barber?
PISTHETAERUS. Why, Sporgilus is one. Here comes the owl.
EUELPIDES. And who is it brings an owl to Athens?
PISTHETAERUS. Here is the magpie, the turtle-dove, the swallow, the horned owl, the buzzard, the pigeon, the falcon, the ring-dove, the cuckoo, the red-foot, the red-cap, the purple-cap, the kestrel, the diver, the ousel, the osprey, the wood-pecker.
EUELPIDES. Oh! oh! what a lot of birds! what a quantity of blackbirds! how they scold, how they come rushing up! What a noise! what a noise! Can they be bearing us ill-will? Oh! there! there! they are opening their beaks and staring at us.
PISTHETAERUS. Why, so they are.
CHORUS. Popopopopopopopoi. Where is he who called me? Where am I to find him?
EPOPS. I have been waiting for you this long while; I never fail in my word to my friends.
CHORUS. Titititititititi. What good thing have you to tell me?
EPOPS. Something that concerns our common safety, and that is just as pleasant as it is to the purpose. Two men, who are subtle reasoners, have come here to seek me.
CHORUS. Where? What? What are you saying?
EPOPS. I say, two old men have come from the abode of men to propose a vast and splendid scheme to us.
CHORUS. Oh! ’tis a horrible, unheard-of crime! What are you saying?
EPOPS. Nay! never let my words scare you.
CHORUS. What have you done then?
EPOPS. I have welcomed two men, who wish to live with us.
CHORUS. And you have dared to do that!
EPOPS. Aye, and am delighted at having done so.
CHORUS. Where are they?
EPOPS. In your midst, as I am.
CHORUS. Ah! ah! we are betrayed; ’tis sacrilege! Our friend, he who picked up corn-seeds in the same plains as ourselves, has violated our ancient laws; he has broken the oaths that bind all birds; he has laid a snare for me, he has handed us over to the attacks of that impious race which, throughout all time, has never ceased to war against us. As for this traitorous bird, we will decide his case later, but the two old men shall be punished forthwith; we are going to tear them to pieces.
PISTHETAERUS. ’Tis all over with us.
EUELPIDES. You are the sole cause of all our trouble. Why did you bring me from down yonder?
PISTHETAERUS. To have you with me.
EUELPIDES. Say rather to have me melt into tears.
PISTHETAERUS. Go to! you are talking nonsense.
EUELPIDES. How so?
PISTHETAERUS. How will you be able to cry when once your eyes are pecked out?
CHORUS. Io! io! forward to the attack, throw yourselves upon the foe, spill his blood; take to your wings and surround them on all sides. Woe to them! let us get to work with our beaks, let us devour them. Nothing can save them from our wrath, neither the mountain forests, nor the clouds that float in the sky, nor the foaming deep. Come, peck, tear to ribbons. Where is the chief of the cohort? Let him engage the right wing.
EUELPIDES. This is the fatal moment. Where shall I fly to, unfortunate wretch that I am?
PISTHETAERUS. Stay! stop here!
EUELPIDES. That they may tear me to pieces?
PISTHETAERUS. And how do you think to escape them?
EUELPIDES. I don’t know at all.
PISTHETAERUS. Come, I will tell you. We must stop and fight them. Let us arm ourselves with these stew-pots.
EUELPIDES. Why with the stew-pots?
PISTHETAERUS. The owl will not attack us.
EUELPIDES. But do you see all those hooked claws?
PISTHETAERUS. Seize the spit and pierce the foe on your side.
EUELPIDES. And how about my eyes?
PISTHETAERUS. Protect them with this dish or this vinegar-pot.
EUELPIDES. Oh! what cleverness! what inventive genius! You are a great general, even greater than Nicias, where stratagem is concerned.
CHORUS. Forward, forward, charge with your beaks! Come, no delay. Tear, pluck, strike, flay them, and first of all smash the stew-pot.
EPOPS. Oh, most cruel of all animals, why tear these two men to pieces, why kill them? What have they done to you? They belong to the same tribe, to the same family as my wife.
CHORUS. Are wolves to be spared? Are they not our most mortal foes? So let us punish them.
EPOPS. If they are your foes by nature, they are your friends in heart, and they come here to give you useful advice.
CHORUS. Advice or a useful word from their lips, from them, the enemies of my forbears!
EPOPS. The wise can often profit by the lessons of a foe, for caution is the mother of safety. ’Tis just such a thing as one will not learn from a friend and which an enemy compels you to know. To begin with, ’tis the foe and not the friend that taught cities to build high walls, to equip long vessels of war; and ’tis this knowledge that protects our children, our slaves and our wealth.
CHORUS. Well then, I agree, let us first hear them, for ’tis best; one can even learn something in an enemy’s school.
PISTHETAERUS. Their wrath seems to cool. Draw back a little.
EPOPS. ’Tis only justice, and you will thank me later.
CHORUS. Never have we opposed your advice up to now.
PISTHETAERUS. They are in a more peaceful mood;
put down your stew-pot and your two dishes; spit in hand, doing duty for a spear, let us mount guard inside the camp close to the pot and watch in our arsenal closely; for we must not fly.
EUELPIDES. You are right. But where shall we be buried, if we die?
PISTHETAERUS. In the Ceramicus; for, to get a public funeral, we shall tell the Strategi that we fell at Orneae, fighting the country’s foes.
CHORUS. Return to your ranks and lay down your courage beside your wrath as the Hoplites do. Then let us ask these men who they are, whence they come, and with what intent. Here, Epops, answer me.
EPOPS. Are you calling me? What do you want of me?
CHORUS. Who are they? From what country?
EPOPS. Strangers, who have come from Greece, the land of the wise.
CHORUS. And what fate has led them hither to the land of the birds?
EPOPS. Their love for you and their wish to share your kind of life; to dwell and remain with you always.
CHORUS. Indeed, and what are their plans?
EPOPS. They are wonderful, incredible, unheard of.
CHORUS. Why, do they think to see some advantage that determines them to settle here? Are they hoping with our help to triumph over their foes or to be useful to their friends?
EPOPS. They speak of benefits so great it is impossible either to describe or conceive them; all shall be yours, all that we see here, there, above and below us; this they vouch for.
CHORUS. Are they mad?
EPOPS. They are the sanest people in the world.
CHORUS. Clever men?
EPOPS. The slyest of foxes, cleverness its very self, men of the world, cunning, the cream of knowing folk.
CHORUS. Tell them to speak and speak quickly; why, as I listen to you, I am beside myself with delight.
EPOPS. Here, you there, take all these weapons and hang them up inside close to the fire, near the figure of the god who presides there and under his protection; as for you, address the birds, tell them why I have gathered them together.
PISTHETAERUS. Not I, by Apollo, unless they agree with me as the little ape of an armourer agreed with his wife, not to bite me, nor pull me by the testicles, nor shove things up my….
CHORUS. You mean the…. (Puts finger to bottom.) Oh! be quite at ease.
PISTHETAERUS. No, I mean my eyes.
Masters of the Theatre Page 11
