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DUBLIN    UNIVERSITY    PRESS    SERIES 


THE 


iCHAMIANS'OF  ARISTOPHANES 


TRANSLATED   INTO 


ENGLISH   VERSE 


BY 


ROBERT  YELVERTON  TYRRELL 

M  A  Dublin    D  Lit  Q  Univ 


CLLOW  OF  TRINITY  COLLEGE  DUBLIN  AND  REGIU 


DUBLIN :   HODGES  FIGGIS  &  CO.  GRAFTON- STREET 
ONDON:   LONGMANS  GREEN  &  CO.  PATERNOSTER-ROW 

1883 


DUBLIN  : 

PRINTED   AT    THE    UNIVERSITY    PRESS, 

BY  PONSONBY  AND  WELDRICK. 


PREFACE.  ((TJNIVERSIT 

IT  will  be  asked,  why  should  there  be  another  trans- 
lation of  the  Ac karnians  ?    Have  we  not  versions 
by  Mitchell,  Frere,  Walsh  ?     And  what  improvement 
does  the  translator  think  he  can  make  on  their  efforts  ? 
I  answer,  I  have  not  essayed  the  same  task  as  these 
learned  and  ingenious  gentlemen.     I  have  not  aimed 
at  the   same   mark.      I   have   sought   to   produce    a 
metrical   version   of  the  Acharnians  which  shall   be 
practically  as  literal  as  a  prose  version.     Lecturing 
during  last  Trinity  Term  (1882)  on  the  Acharnians  I 
found  that  explanation   was   so   closely  intertwined 
with  translation  that  it  was  expedient  to  write  out  a 
version  of  the  play  to  be  used  with  my  class.    I  found 
that  it  was  nearly  as  easy  to  metrify  the  unrhymed 
portions  as  to  translate  them  into  prose  which  should 
at  all  adequately  represent  the  manner  of  the  origi- 
nal.    Unrhymed  lyric  metres  are,  I  think,  unsuited  to 
comedy,  whatever  view  may  be  held  about  their  fit- 
ness to  convey  to  English  readers  a  due  impression 
of  the  effect  of  a  tragic  choral  ode.     I  was,  therefore, 
bound  to  essay  rhyme.     In  the  rhymed  parts  the  ver- 

A  2 


PREFACE. 


sion  will,  of  course,  be  found  not  to  be  so  literal  as  in 
the  unrhymed.  But  even  with  the  shackles  of  rhyme 
my  version  will  be  seen  to  be  very  much  closer  to  the 
original  than  those  of  Mitchell,  Frere,  or  Walsh,  who 
sometimes  appear  to  me  to  make  the  Greek  little 
more  than  a  peg  on  which  to  hang  poems  of  their 
own.  I  have  tried  never  to  omit  a  thought  con- 
tained in  the  Greek  (except  in  the  interests  of  that 
reticence  on  certain  topics  which  modern  refinement 
demands),  and  I  have  never  imported  a  new  thought 
to  obtain  a  rhyme,  or  for  any  purpose  except  to  eluci- 
date the  sense. 

If,  in  thus  literally  presenting  the  play  in  an 
English  garb,  I  have  given  some  help  to  learners, 
then  I  have  succeeded  to  some  extent.  But  if  I  have, 
in  so  doing,  lost  the  life  and  spirit  of  the  original, 
then  I  have  signally  failed.  I  hope  my  translation 
is  less  unsuggestive  of  Aristophanes  than  the  ver- 
sions above  mentioned.  The  versifier,  however  accom- 
plished, who  allows  his  fancy  to  stray  from  the  text 
before  him,  may  show  much  cleverness,  and  achieve 
many  excellent  effects  ;  but  he  often  fails  to  achieve 
that  effect  which  is  most  of  all  desirable,  the  repro- 
duction of  something  like  the  tone  and  manner  of  his 
original.  My  version,  as  I  have  said,  was  undertaken 
with  the  practical  design  of  making  it  serve  as  a  run- 
ning commentary  on  the  text.  But  I  have  not  tried 
to  enable  the  student  to  dispense  with  an  annotated 
edition  of  the  play.  I  could  have  hardly  done  that 
without  reprinting  the  Greek  text.     Moreover,  there 


PREFACE. 


are  cheap  and  excellent  editions  of  the  Acharnians 
(for  instance,  Mr.  Paley's,  Cambridge,  Deighton, 
Bell  &  Co.,  1876)  which  completely  explain  the  allu- 
sions and  elucidate  the  syntax.  My  notes  are  very 
few,  occurring  only  when  my  own  version  needs 
explanation,  or  when  I  have  translated  a  reading 
not  to  be  found  in  the  ordinary  texts. 

The  puns  I  have  usually  indicated  by  italics.  Most 
of  the  renderings  of  these  are  traditional.  When  I 
have  consciously  borrowed  some  translator's  equi- 
voque, I  have  acknowledged  my  debt  in  a  note.  But 
in  what  I  call  the  traditional  renderings  I  have  not 
thought  it  necessary  to  investigate  who  first  devised 
each,  and  to  express  my  acknowledgment  to  him. 
The  translation  is  designed  mainly  to  meet  the  needs 
of  students,  who  will  be  glad  to  find  suggested  to  them 
a  method  of  reproducing  a  play  on  words,  but  do  not 
care  who  originated  it.  I  do  not  claim  any  of  them 
as  my  own,  though,  perhaps,  some  of  them  are. 

In  those  whimsical  substitutions  of  one  word  for 
another  in  which  Aristophanes  is  far  more  laughter- 
moving  than  in  his  plays  on  words — in  cases  of  napa 
irpoadoiciav,  as  the  Scholiasts  call  them — I  think  the 
best  way  to  make  the  same  effect  in  English  is  to 
introduce  the  two  words,  the  expected  and  the  un- 
expected, in  the  form  of  a  correction.  Thus,  when 
Aristophanes  says  of  Chaeris  in  the  sixteenth  verse 
of  this  play, 

#T6  S^  7rape/cirt//e  Xcupis  £irl  rbv  vpdtov, 

the  expression  expected  was  napriXOt.     To  bring  out 


PREFACE. 


this  point  I  have  rendered,  at  the  risk  of  being 
charged  with  undue  expansion, 

When  Chaeris  in  the  Orthian  song  appeared, 
Or  rather  peered  out  from  behind  the  scene. 

So  again  in  verse  1026,  Dercetes  of  Phyle  in  be- 
wailing the  steers  which  he  has  lost,  says, 

Kal  ravra  fiivroi  v)}  AC  fairep  fi  irpe<p€TT)v 
iv  iraai  fioAirois. 

Now  some  such  word  as  ayaOotg  is  here  the  expected 
term  instead  of  (3o\'itoiq.  But  the  same  effect  is  not 
secured  in  English,  as  I  think,  unless  both  the  ex- 
pected and  the  unexpected  word  are  employed, 

That  kept  me  too,  God  knows,  in  every  muck, 
No — luck,  I  mean. 

This  play  abounds  in  admirable  travesties,  for  the 
most  part  of  Euripides,  and  especially  of  one  of  his 
plays,  the  Telephus.  These  I  have  indicated  by  "double 
inverted  commas,"  reserving  the  *  single  inverted  com- 
mas' for  other  cases  in  which  that  typographical  de- 
vice is  needed.  When  Aristophanes  uses  a  phrase 
or  verse  intended  to  suggest  a  phrase  or  verse  of 
Euripides,  I  have  rendered  it,  when  I  could,  by  a 
quotation  from  Shakspeare  or  some  other  English 
poet.  Thus  best,  perhaps,  is  produced  in  English  the 
effect  of  the  Greek,  a  sense  of  incongruity  between 
the  tragic  passage  and  the  comic  context. 


PREFACE. 


In  places  which  conflict  with  our  notions  of  deli- 
cacy, I  have  assumed  some  latitude,  sometimes  even 
introducing  a  different  thought.  This  will  be  noticed 
in  my  rendering  of  the  Phallic  Hymn,  the  antistrophe 
of  the  choral  ode  beginning  at  verse  987,  and  the  clos- 
ing lyrical  scene  between  Dicaeopolis  and  Lamachus. 
Twenty-nine  verses,  775-804,  I  have  omitted,  as  not 
being  susceptible  of  such  a  treatment  as  I  have  ap- 
plied to  these  passages. 

In  the  lyrical  parts  of  the  play  I  have  used  the 
metres  which  seemed  to  me  most  analogous  to  the 
Greek.  Sometimes  it  was  possible  to  employ  the 
very  same  metre  as  the  original.  I  have  accordingly 
used  for  the  trochaic  septenarius  the  measure  of 
Locksley  Hall,1  save  where  the  same  is  mixed  with 
other  metres,  in  which  case  I  thought  it  better  to 
make  the  versification  uniform  in  English.  For  cretics, 
which  abound  in  the  choral  odes,  I  have  used  mostly 
a  dactylic  rhythm  with  triple  rhymes.  The  dochmiacs 
I  have  endeavoured  to  reproduce  by  the  stanza  which 
Mr.  Swinburne  has  consecrated  in  Alalanta,  and  Bret 
Harte  has  profaned  in  the  Heathen  Chinee.  There  is 
a   lightness    combined   with   impressiveness   in   this 

1  Mr.  Tennyson's  usually  perfect  ear  for  rhythm  has  played  him  false 
twice  in  this  noble  poem.  The  diaeresis  after  the  fifth  foot  is  quite  alien 
to  the  trochaic  rhythm.     It  occurs  twice  in  Locksley  Hall,  in 

Many  a  night  from  yonder  ivied  casement,  |  ere  I  went  to  rest, 
and  in 

Breadths  of  tropic  shade  and  palms  in  cluster,  |  knots  of  Paradise. 


PREFACE. 


rhythm   which   seems   to   me  to  suggest  it  as  a  fit 
vehicle  for  the  Greek  dochmiac. 

Mr.  Billson's  clever  and  spirited  translation  of  the 
Acharnians1  reached  my  hands  last  midsummer,  after 
my  own  version  had  been  completed.  His  design  is 
altogether  different  from  mine;  and  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  the  attempt  to  render  the  iambic  tri- 
meters as  well  as  the  lyrical  measures  in  rhyme 
imposes  on  the  translator,  however  ingenious,  in- 
superable difficulties.  It  is  at  all  events  quite  incon- 
sistent with  my  aim,  which  is  to  make  a  literal 
translation.  Moreover,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  rhyme 
in  the  parts  of  the  play  which  are  written  in  iambic 
trimeters  actually  injures  the  effect,  and  suggests 
rather  a  pantomime  or  a  burlesque  than  a  polished 
composition. 

I  find  that  my  emendation  of  verse  1093  has  been 
in  part  anticipated  in  Bergk's  new  edition  of  the 
Greek  lyric  poets,  which  I  have  just  seen.  But  his 
conjecture  presupposes  a  much  greater  corruption  of 
the  MSS.  than  mine. 

1  London  :  Kegan  Paul,  Trench  &  Co.,  1882. 


INTRODUCTION. 


A  PLAY  of  Aristophanes  is,  as  a  whole,  like  nothing 
*  ■*-  else  in  ancient  or  modern  literature.  In  fact,  we  have 
no  name  for  it.  To  speak  of  it  as  a  comedy  is  to  call  up  a 
multitude  of  associations  absolutely  alien  to  Aristophanes — 
intrigue,  repartee,  character-painting,  social  vignettes — and 
to  suggest  a  number  of  names  which  have  little  more  in 
common  with  him  than  Aeschylus  has — Terence,  Moliere, 
Congreve,  Sheridan.  Yet  farces,  extravaganzas,  burlesques, 
they  were  not.  Such  forms  of  dramatic  effort  do  not  deal  in 
delicate  literary  criticism  and  unrivalled  parody.  Indeed, 
the  farcical  element  in  the  plays  of  Aristophanes  is,  to  us  at 
least,  their  weakest  part.  The  puns  of  Aristophanes  are  per- 
haps worse  than  the  puns  of  Plautus.  Germany  calls  certain 
forms  of  dramatic  art  Lustspiele ;  but  is  this  felt  to  be 
quite  adequate,  when  we  come  on  a  burst  of  lyric  melody 
as  sweet  as  Shelley  and  as  simple  as  Catullus  ?  In  seeking 
for  something  to  which  to  liken  Aristophanes,  we  can  only 
say  that  had  the  'Tempest'  and  the  'Midsummer  Night's 
Dream'  never  been  written,  his  work  would  have  been  even 


INTRODUCTION. 


more  literally  incomparable  than  it  is.  Ariel  and  Oberon 
might  have  breathed  the  air  which  Aristophanes  filled  with 
the  'sweet  jargoning'  of  his  Birds.  His  works  are  not 
only  plays  of  fancy;  they  are  (as  Mr.  Symonds  vigorously 
writes)  '  debauches  of  the  reason  and  imagination ';  each  is 
1  a  sacrifice  on  the  thymele"  of  that  Bacchus  who  was  sire,  by 
Aphrodite,  of  Priapus.'  It  is  a  pity  that  the  term  rpvyioSta, 
which  he  often  uses  himself  to  describe  his  dramas,1  has 
not  found  its  way  into  our  tongue.  It  is  a  word  which  in 
itself  suggests  the  Bacchic  worship,  to  which  we  owe  Greek 
Tragedy  and  Comedy  alike,  and  is  free  from  the  associations 
which  the  name  Comedy  has  taken  on. 

The  Achamians  is  the  oldest  of  the  extant  plays  of 
Aristophanes.  We  meet  in  it  the  earliest  specimen  of  Greek 
literary  criticism.  Moreover,  it  contains  one  of  the  old 
Phallic  hymns.  Thus,  curiously,  the  oldest  comedy  extant 
preserves  the  very  nucleus  from  which  comedy  took  her 
rudest  beginnings.  It  gained  the  first  prize,  Cratinus  being 
second,  and  Eupolis  third.  This  would  seem  to  show  that 
literary  excellence  alone  could  secure  success  for  a  play  in 
the  time  of  Aristophanes.  For  surely  the  teaching  of 
Dicaeopolis  cannot  have  been  popular  at  Athens  in  the 
year  425. 

J.  H.  Frere,  in  a  review  of  Mitchell's  'Aristophanes,'  pub- 
lished in  the  Quarterly  Review,  vol.  xxiii.,  p.  474,    gives    a 


1  For  instance,  in  verses  499,  500,  628  of  this  play. 


& 


INTRODUCTION.  1 1 

very  clever  sketch  of  the  possible  genesis  of  these  strange 
creations  of  the  genius  of  the  Athenian  poet : — 

In  this  species  of  composition  the  utter  extravagance  and  impossibility 
of  the  supposed  action  is  an  indispensable  requisite  ;  the  portion  of  truth 
and  reality  which  is  admitted  as  a  counterpoise,  consists  wholly  in  the 
character  and  language.  It  is  a  grave,  humorous,  impossible,  great 
lie,  related  with  an  accurate  mimicry  of  the  language  and  manner  of  the 
persons  introduced,  and  great  exactness  of  circumstance  in  the  inferior 
details.  In  its  simple  state  it  appears  to  be  one  of  the  commonest  and 
most  spontaneous  products  of  the  human  mind,  and  usually  arises  in 
some  strong  expression  which,  a  moment  after,  is  taken  literally,  con- 
verted into  a  reality,  and  invested  with  all  the  circumstances  of  action  and 
dialogue.  We  shall  show  that  the  plays  now  before  us  are  capable  of 
being  traced  to  the  kind  of  conversation  out  of  which,  in  all  probability, 
they  did  originate. 

In  pursuance  of  his  ingenious  theory  he  thus  traces  the" 
origin  of  the  Acharnians: — 

Let  us  suppose  an  honest,   warm-tempered  man,   obliged   (as  many- 
were  at  the  time),,  like  Dicaeopolis  in  this  play,  to  abandon  his  landed- 
property  to  destruction,  and  to  take  refuge  in  the  town.    We  may  suppose 
he  would  be  likely  to  express  his  feelings  nearly  in  this  way : — 

'  If  our  great  politicians,  and  your  leading  people  here  in  Athens, . 
choose  to  waste  the  public  treasure  in  embassies  and  expeditions,  that  is 
their  own  affair ;  but  I  do  not  see  what  right  they  have  to  bring, 
down  a  Peloponnesian  army  to  drive  me  out  of  my  farm — there  is  no  . 
quarrel  that  we,  country  people,  ever  had  with  them  to  my  knowledge — 
we  should  all  be  glad  enough  to  let-alone  for  let-alone — for  my  part,  if 
these  enemies  of  our' s  (as  they  call  them)  would  allow  me  to  live  on  my 
farm,  and  buy  and  sell  as  I  used  to  do,  I'd  give  'em  up  all  the  money  I'm 
worth,  and  thank  'em  into  the  bargain — and  I'd  go  there  to-morrow ; — but 
as  for  our  statesmen,  I'm  persuaded  if  a  Deity  were  to  come  down  from 
heaven  on  purpose  to  propose  a  Peace  to  them,  they  would  never  listen  to 
him.' 


INTRODUCTION. 


We  have  here  a  natural  and  passionate  form  of  expression  which, 
uttered  in  the  hearing  of  a  poet  such  as  Aristophanes,  was  sufficient  to 
suggest  the  plot  of  the  Acharnians  and  the  scene  of  the  Demigod 
Amphitheiis ;  the  rest  of  the  play,  with  all  its  wild  and  fanciful  circum- 
stances, being  in  fact  nothing  more  than  a  whimsical  exemplification 
of  the  first  supposition :  namely,  that  a  private  citizen  had  succeeded  in 
concluding  and  maintaining  a  separate  peace. 

The  reader  can  now  follow  the  details  of  the  plot, 
which  certainly  seems  to  lend  itself  to  some  such  theory 
of  its  evolution. 

Dicaeopolis,  the  typical  Honest  Man — as  opposed  to  the 
place-hunters,  envoys,  generals,  and  commissioners,  who 
found  their  account  in  the  continuance  of  the  war — has  been 
obliged  to  leave  his  farm,  and  to  come  up  to  town.  But  the 
town  is  hateful  to  him,  and  he  is  home-sick  for  his  farm. 
However,  he  has  risen  early  to  secure  a  good  place  in  the 
Agora,  whence  he  may  bawl  down  all  the  speakers  who  are 
not  for  peace.  The  Prytanes  are  late,  as  usual.  When 
they  arrive  at  high  noontide,  lo  !  the  hyberbole  of 
Dicaeopolis  bids  fair  to  be  made  a  reality.  A  Demigod 
presents  himself  before  the  Agora  ;  but,  even  as  his  cynical 
musing  had  warned  the  honest  farmer,  the  Demigod  Amphi- 
theiis is  flouted,  and  narrowly  escapes  arrest.  Then  enter 
characters  more  congenial  to  the  Agora,  and  altogether  hate- 
ful to  Dicaeopolis.  These  are  Commissioners  from  the  court 
of  Persia,  who  tell  the  delighted  mob  how  they  had  spent 
many  years  and  much  gold  in  dancing  attendance  on  the 
Great  King,  and  how  they  have  brought  back  with  them  an 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

emissary  accredited  from  the  Persian  Shah,  Pseudartabas,  or 
the  Sham  of  Persia.  This  officer,  the  King's  Eye  by  title, 
cannot  speak  Greek ;  but  the  Commissioners  interpret  his 
jargon  as  promises  of  money  from  Persia.  Dicaeopolis  in 
vain  seeks  to  expose  the  imposture.  The  King's  Eye  is 
invited  to  a  public  banquet.  Dicaeopolis  is  now  driven  to 
desperation.  He  calls  Amphitheus,  and  giving  him  eight 
drachmas,  bids  him  go  at  once  to  Sparta,  and  conclude  a 
private  peace  for  himself,  his  family,  and  good  woman. 

During  the  absence  of  Amphitheus,  Dicaeopolis  is  fur- 
ther incensed  by  the  arrival  of  an  Envoy  from  the  King  of 
Thrace,  whose  auxiliary  cohort  of  Odomantians  steal  the 
farmer's  luncheon.  Dicaeopolis  dissolves  the  assembly  by 
announcing  unfavourable  omens  in  the  sky.  Amphitheus 
comes  back  to  him  with  various  samples  of  Peace,  and  the 
sample  labelled  'Thirty  years  by  land  and  sea'  is  accepted 
with  much  satisfaction.  Amphitheus  retires,  fearing  lest  he 
should  again  encounter  the  doughty  burghers  of  Acharnae, 
who  had  pursued  him  in  wrath  for  daring  to  carry  samples 
of  Peace  with  hated  Sparta. 

These  Acharnians  (who  compose  the  Chorus)  now  come 
on  the  stage,  hot  with  running  and  with  indignation.  They 
are  at  first  for  stoning  Dicaeopolis,  the  peace-buyer  ;  but  he 
at  last  persuades  them  to  let  him  plead  his  cause ;  and,  after 
a  visit  to  Euripides,  from  whom  he  borrows  a  select  assort- 
ment of  the  rags  used  in  his  principal  tragedies,  wherewith 
to  excite  the  compassion  of  the  Chorus,   he  makes  such  a 


1 4  INTRODUC  TION. 

clever  defence  of  the  Spartans  (for  whom,  however,  he  pro- 
fesses hearty  abhorrence)  that  he  enlists  the  sympathies  of 
half  the  Chorus  in  his  favour.  The  rest  invoke  the  warlike 
Lamachus.  But  Dicaeopolis  withstands  him  to  the  face,  and 
proclaims  free  trade  with  Peloponnesus. 

After  the  Chorus  have  sung  the  Parabasis,  the  effects  of 
the  act  of  Dicaeopolis  begin  to  appear.  A  Megarian  enters, 
who  is  very  glad  to  dispose  of  his  two  daughters  (whom  he 
has  disguised  as  sows,  thus  giving  an  occasion  for  much 
clever  but  coarse  banter)  for  a  hank  of  onions  and  a  peck 
of  salt.  But  the  delight  of  the  Megarian  at  having  disposed 
of  his  family  so  profitably  is  rudely  checked  by  an  Informer, 
who  threatens  to  denounce  him  for  importing  contraband 
goods.  Dicaeopolis  expels  the  Informer  by  means  of  his 
Market  Clerks,  three  Stout  Thongs  from  Flayborough,  and 
the  Chorus  congratulate  him  on  the  comforts  which  he  is 
enjoying.  Then  enters  a  Boeotian  with  wares  of  various 
kinds,  chiefly  poultry,  for  sale.  He  agrees  finally  to  ex- 
change his  goods  for  some  peculiarly  Attic  produce.  Just 
then  appears  Nicarchus,  an  Informer.  This  is  most  oppor- 
tune. What  more  peculiarly  Attic  product  than  an  Infor- 
mer ?  Nicarchus  is  at  once  seized  and  packed  like  crockery 
on  the  shoulders  of  the  Boeotian.  He  conveys  away  the 
Informer,  who  is  pursued  by  the  jeers  of  Dicaeopolis  and 
the  Chorus. 

The  Chorus  sing  a  pretty  ode  in  denunciation  of  War 
and  in  praise  of  Peace,  whom  the  Coryphaeus  woos  in  song 


INTRODUCTION. 


as  the  bride  of  his  hopes.  The  rest  of  the  play  is  devoted  to 
the  painting  of  scenes  in  which  the  comforts  and  pleasures 
of  Dicaeopolis  are  sharply  contrasted  with  the  sufferings  of 
Lamachus  and  other  victims  of  the  War ;  while  the  Chorus, 
now  altogether  converted  to  sympathy  with  Dicaeopolis, 
are  eager  to  congratulate  the  happy  possessor  of  eight 
drachmas'-worth  of  Peace,  and  to  celebrate  his  attainment 
of  the  prize  wineskin,  which  he  bears  in  triumph  from  the 
stage. 


Characters  in  tlje  Pag* 

Dicaeopolis,  an  Athenian  Farmer. 

Herald. 

Amphitheus. 

Commissioner,  returned  from  Persia. 

Pseudartabas,  or  The  Sham  of  Persia. 

Envoy,  returned  from  Thrace. 

Chorus  of  Old  Acharnians. 

Cephisophon. 

Euripides. 

Lamachus. 

A  Megarian. 

Two  Daughters  of  the  Megarian. 

An  Informer. 

A  Boeotian. 

Nicarchus,  an  Informer. 

Servant  of  Lamachus. 

Peasant. 

Bridesman. 

Messenger. 


THE    ACHARNIANS 


OF 


ARISTOPHANES 


Scene—  The  Pnyx  at  Athens. 

Dicaeopolis,  alone. 

[Moralises  on  his  theatrical  experiences .~\ 

Die.  How  oft  have  I  been  vex'd  to  the  very  soul ! 
How  seldom  had  a  treat !     A  brace,  perhaps ; 
Two  brace,  at  most — and  then  my  disappointments- 
Oh,  they  were  millions,  billions — sea-sand-illions. 
Come  then  :  What  did  I  really  enjoy  ?    . 
Yes  :  one  sight  fill'd  my  soul  with  delectation, 
Cleon  disgorging  those  five  talents.     Ah, 
How  I  enjoy' d  it !     How  I  love  the  Knights 
Still  for  that  deed,  '*  one  worthy  Hellas'  thanks." 
But  then,  per  contra  stands  that  stage  surprise 
Most  shocking,  when  I  sat  with  mouth  agape 
Waiting  for  Aeschylus,  and  the  crier  call'd — 
'  Theognis,  bring  your  chorus  on '  ;  just  fancy 
The  shock  it  gave  me.     Well,  my  second  treat 
Was  when  Dexitheiis,  after  Moschus,  came 
To  sing  '  Boeotia.'     Then  this  very  year 

B 


1 8  ARISTOPHANES.  [15-42 

I  nearly  died,  and  got  a  squint  withal, 

When  Chaeris  in  the  Orthian  song  appeared, 

Or  rather  peered  out  from  behind  the  scene. 

But  never  did  I  feel  so  keen  a  smart — 

Not  from  the  time  when  I  began  to  wash, 

And  feel  the  soapsuds  in  mine  eyes — as  now, 

To  find  the  Pnyx  deserted  on  the  day, 

The  regular  day,  fix'd  for  a  morning  meeting. 

There  are  the  people  in  the  Agora 

Chatting  in  knots,  and  running  here  and  there, 

To  shun  the  ruddled  rope ;  the  Prytanes 

Not  yet  arrived  :  they  soon  will  pour  in  late, 

Pushing  and  jostling  for  the  highest  step, 

Down  the  steep  bank  in  crowds — you'd  scarce  believe  it. 

Yet  for  the  Peace  they  care  not — "  O  my  country  ! " — 

But  as  for  me,  I  take  my  constant  way 

The  very  first  to  the  Pnyx,  and  take  my  seat ; 

And  finding  no  one  there,  I  grunt  and  gape, 

And  stretch  myself,  and  wonder  what  I'll  do — 

Make  notes,  and  pull  my  whiskers,  and  do  sums, 

And  turn  my  eyes  to  the  fields  most  wistfully ; 

In  love  with  Peace,  disgusted  with  the  town, 

Homesick  for  my  own  ward,  which  ne'er  would  say — 

1  Go  buy  your  charcoal,  dinner-wine,  or  oil.' 

It  knew  not  '  buy '  :  bore  everything  itself : 

And  that  most  grating  buy-word  was  unheard. 

So  now  I'm  here  to-day,  downright  resolved 

To  shout,  and  bawl,  and  rail  at  every  speech 

That  touches  any  question  but  the  Peace. 

Here  come  the  Prytanes,  at  high  noontide ! 

Said  I  not  so  ?     The  very  thing  I  told  you  ! — 

Pushing  and  jostling  for  the  foremost  place  ! 


43-6 1  ]  A  CHA  RNIANS.  1 9 


Enter  Prytanes,  Herald,  Amphitheus,  and  Citizens. 

Herald.  Pass  on  to  the  front ;  pass  on,  and  be  within 
The  sacred  circle. 

Amph.  Is  the  question  put  ? 

Herald.  Has  anyone  a  motion  ? 

Amph.  I  have. 

Herald.  Who? 

Amph.  Amphitheus  ! 

Herald.  What !  No  son  of  man  ? 

Amph.  {parodying  the  genealogical  Prologues  of  Euripides) 

No,  no. 
I  am  a  god.     "  Son  of  Triptolemus 
And  Ceres  was  Amphitheus  ;  and  his  son 
Was  Celeiis,  mate  of  Phaenarete 
My  grandam ;  thence  Lycinus,  and  from  him 
Am  I,  a  god:"  and  charter'd  by  the  gods 
Alone  to  make  a  truce  with  Lacedaemon. 
But,  tho'  a  god,  no  travelling-allowance 
Have  I  ;  the  authorities  wont  give  the  order. 

Herald.  Police! 

Amph.    {as  he  is  being  dragged  away).     Triptolemus  and 
Celeiis, 
Ye  will  not  see  me  wrong'd. 

Die.  Right  Honourables, 

Ye  wrong  this  House  in  seeking  to  arrest 
My  friend  for  striving  to  make  peace,  and  so 
"  Hang  up  your  bruised  shields  for  monuments." 

Herald.  Silence !     Sit  down  ! 

Die.  No,  by  my  fay,  unless 

You  put  forthwith  the  question  of  the  Peace. 

Herald.  The  Envoys  from  the  Shah  ! 

B2 


20  ARISTOPHANES.  [62-83 

Die.  The  Shah,  indeed  ! " 

I'm  sick  of  Envoys,  peacocks,  and  such  humbug. 

Herald.  Silence  ! 

Die.  Hullo  !     My — Susa,  what  a  figure  ! 

Commissioner.  You  sent  us,  gentlemen,  to  Persia's  King 
(Drawing  two  drachmas  as  our  pay  per  diem), 
Euthymenes  being  Archon. 

Die.  Ah,  those  drachmas  ! 

Com.  And  we  did  suffer  on  our  journey  thro' 
Cayster's  plains — in  curtain' d  palanquins, 
Luxuriously  bestow'd  on  cushions  soft — 
Poor  wretches  that  we  were  ! 

Die.  And  I,  of  course, 

Was  blest  beyond  compare — bestow'd  on  straw 
Hard  by  the  rampart. 

Com.  Then,  as  we  were  guests, 

We  had  to  drink,  neat  too,  from  gold  and  crystal, 
Their  excellent  wines. 

Die.  O  city  '  stern  and  wild,' 

What  game  these  High  Commissioners  make  of  you  ! 

Com.  Yes,  Orientals  estimate  their  heroes 
By  their  capacity  for  food  and  drink. 

Die.  And  we  by  other-guess  sorts  of  aptitudes  ! 

Com.  So  in  four  years  we  reach'd  the  royal  palace  ; 
But  found  the  King  had  gone  to  keep  an  easement. 
And  then  he  was  engaged  on  the  Hills  of  Gold 
Eight  months. 

Die.  And  in  what  time  did  he  despatch 

His  business  ? 

1  62.  This  is  not  to  be  translated,  'what  king.'  The  absence  of  the 
article  shows  that  the  king  of  Persia  is  meant.  Cf.  for  use  of  iroTos,  109, 
157,  76i. 


84-105]  ACHARNIANS.  21 

Com.  On  the  day  of  the  full  moon. 

Then  he  return'd  ;  then  entertain'd  his  guests, 
And  served  us  up  baked  beef:  yes,  beeves  baked  whole. 

Die.  Who  ever  heard  of  beeves  baked  whole;  what  rubbish  ! 

Com.  Yes,  and  a  chicken  thrice  as  big  as  that 
Great  chicken,  Cleonym.     'Twas  called — a  gull. 

Die.  Thus  did  you  gull  us  out  of  those  two  drachmas. 

Com.  And  now  we've  brought  with  us  a  Persian — sham, 
The  Eye  of  the  Shah. 


Enter  Pseudartabas,  the  Sham  of  Persia,  with  a  mask 
representing  one  great  eye. 

Die.  .  I  would  a  crow  would  peck 

That  same  eye  out ;  ay,  and  yours,  too,  Sir  Envoy. 

Herald.  The  Eye  of  the  Shah  ! 

Die.  O  good  Lord  Heracles, 

In  Heaven's  name,  friend,  is  your  eye  a  porthole  ? 
Or  do  you  keep  a  lookout  for  the  dockyard, 
Rounding  the  point  ?     Is' that  a  porthole  flap 
That  hangs  below  it  ?     {Pointing  to  his  beard.) 

Com.  Come  then,  Persian  Sham. 

And  tell  the  message  of  the  Shah  to  Athens. 

Ps.  iartaman  exarxas  apissonasatra. 

Com.  You  catch  his  meaning,  friends. 

Die.  Not  I,  i' faith. 

Com.  He  says  the  Shah  intends  to  send  you  gold  ; 
Speak  up  and  let  them  clearly  hear  you — gold. 

Ps.  None  money,  Greeky  bahnchoot,  no  get  gold. 

Die.  Ah,  me  !     It's  all  too,plain. 

Com.  What  does  he  say  ? 


22  ARISTOPHANES.  [106-129 

Die.  '  What,'  do  you  ask  ?     He  says  we'll  '  no  get  gold.' 
We're  fools  to  look  for  money  from  the  East. 

Com.  No,  no.     The  word  was  nuggets,  gold  in  nuggets. 

Die.  Nuggets  ?     Well,  you're  a  diplomate.     Meantime, 
Withdraw.     I  would  cross-question  him  apart. 
Now,  sir — and  keep  your  eye  upon  this  strap — 
Tell  me  the  truth,  or  else  I'll  dye  you  red 
As  dye  of  Sardis — did  the  Shah  send  gold  ? 

[He  shakes  his  head. 
Then  we  have  been  just  hoodwink'd  by  our  envoys  ? 

\He  nods  assent. 
These  fellows  nod  Greek,  tho'  they  know  it  not, 
They  're  of  this  very  town,  I'm  sure.     That  Eunuch 
Is  Cleisthenes,  son  of  Sibyrtias. 
"  O  thou,  confess'd  of  most  aspiring" — stern,1 
Is  it  with  such  a  beard  thou  com'st  before  us, 
Dress'd  as  an  Eunuch  ?     Who's  the  other  one  ? 
Doubtless  the  beardless  Straton. 

Herald.  Silence  ;  seats  ! 

The  Senate  summoneth  the  Great  King's  Eye 
To  the  town  mess. 

Die.  Ah,  this  is  worse  than  hanging. 

Here  I  must  cool  my  heels,  while  every  door 
Flies  open  to  receive  the  diplomates. 
Well !  I  will  do  a  deed  of  dreadful  note  : 
Where  is  Amphitheus  ? 

Amph.  Here. 

1  119.  I  read  i^evpTj/mepe  with  the  MSS.  The  conj.  H-vprifxeve  is  'from 
the  purpose '  of  criticism.  The  Schol.  tell  us  that  airXayxvov  was  the 
word  which  stood  in  the  verse  of  Eur.  here  parodied.  It  was  governed 
no  doubt  by  some  such  word  as  *xuv>  expressed  or  understood. 


130-153]  ACHARNIANS.  23 

Die.  Take  these  eight  drachmas 

And  make  a  Peace  with  Sparta  for  me  only, 
My  family  and  good  woman. 

( To  the  Prytanes)      You,  the  rest 
Stick  to  diplomacy  like  gaping  fools. 

Herald.  Stand  forth,  Theorus,  envoy  from  Sitalces. 

\_The  Envoy  stands  forth. 

Die.  Another  humbug  's  being  usher'd  in. 

Env.  Our  stay  in  Thrace  would  not  have  been  so  long — 

Die.  But  that  the  purse  that  paid  you  was  so  long. 

Env.  But  that  the  whole  of  Thrace  was  under  snow 
And  all  the  rivers  frozen. 

Die.  Just  the  time 

Theognis  with  his  frigid  platitudes 
Was  freezing  Athens. 

Env.  During  that  cold  season 

I  with  Sitalces  was  discussing — well — 
Some  wines  of  his.     Now,  there's  a  man  that's  madly 
In  love  with  Athens.     Why,  he  dotes  on  you  ; 
He  even  used  to  scribble  on  the  walls, 
1  My  darling  Athens.'     Well,  his  son,  the  late 
Adopted  child  of  Athens,  poor  wee  chap, 
Wanted  to  eat  an  Attic  sausage  at 
The  enrolment  of  the  infant  citizens  ; 
So  begg'd  papa  to  give  his  aid  to  Athens. 
Whereon  he  made  libation,  and  made  oath 
To  send  such  hosts,  that  everyone  should  say 
At  Athens  '  Wheugh,  a  very  plague  of  locusts.' 

Die.  Hang  me  if  I  believe  a  word  you  say 
Save  as  regards  the  locusts. 

Env.  Whereupon 

He's  sent  us  the  most  warlike  tribe  in  Thrace. 


24  ARISTOPHANES.  [154-179 

Die.  So  it  appears  ! 

Env.  Stand  forward,  Thracian  troops, 

Brought  by  the  Envoy.  {Enter  the  Thracians. 

Die.  What  the  deuce  is  this  ? 

Env.  A  corps  of  Odomantians. 

Die.  Who  ?     What's  this  ? 

Who's  stripped  them  of  their  Odomantian — fig-leaves  ? 

Env.  These  will  swashbuckler  all  Boeotia 
For  drachmas  twain  per  diem. 

Die.  '  Drachmas  twain  ' 

To  these  uncircumcised  dogs.     I'  faith, 
Honest  Jack  Tar,  our  country's  wooden  wall, 
Would  curse  and  swear  !     Ah,  what  is  this  ?     Stop  thief, 
They  have  robb'd  my  leeks,  this  Odomantian  corps. 

Env.  {to  the  Od.)  Come,  drop  those  leeks  !  {to  Die.)  You'd 
better  keep  your  distance, 
They've  got  their  garlic-courage  like  the  game-cocks. 

Die.  And  could  you  look  at  me,  Right  Honourables, 
A  native,  so  abused  by  foreigners  ? 
Here  !  I  demand  the  adjournment  of  the  house  ; 
The  heavens  frown,  I  feel  a  drop  of  rain. 

Herald.  The  Thracians  now  will  go,  and  come  again 
Tomorrow's  morrow.     The  debate's  adjourn'd. 

Die.  Ah  me,  I've  lost  my  little  bit  of  lunch. 
But  here's  Amphitheus  come  back  from  Sparta ; 
Good  day,  Amphitheus  ! 

Amph.  No  good  day  for  me 

'Till  I  make  good  my  flight  from  these  coal-heavers. 

Die.  Why,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Amph.  I  was  hastening  home 

Bearing  these  samples  in  my  hands  ;  at  once 
Some  old  Acharnians  got  scent  of  them, 


180-203]  ACHARNIANS.  25 

Close-grained,  as  hard  as  nails,  old  hearts  of  oak 

And  maple,  veterans  of  Marathon. 

Forthwith  they  raised  a  cry,  "  O  beast  most  foul, 

What  mean  those  samples,  and  our  vines  cut  down  ?  " 

So  they  began  to  fill  their  pokes  with  stones, 

And  I  to  run,  and  they  to  give  me  chase 

All  in  full  cry. 

Die.  Well,  let  them  bawl  away  : 

Have  you  the  samples  ? 

Amph.  Yes,  faith  ;  three  of 'em, 

This  is  the  brand  '  quinquennial.' 

Die.  Faugh ! 

Amph.  Well  ? 

Die.  Bad! 

It  smells  of  turpentine  and  galley-rigging. 

Amph.  Try  the  *  decennial '  brand. 

Die.  Dont  like  the  bouquet, 

It  smacks  too  strongly  of  diplomacy 
And  shilly-shallying  of  our  allies. 

Amph.  Well  here's  the  sample  labell'd,  '  Thirty  years, 
By  land  and  sea.' 

Die.  O  feast  of  Dionysus ! 

There's  a  bouquet !  of  nectar  and  ambrosia 
And  never-getting-ready-three-days'-rations  ! 
The  sample  on  my  palate  cries  aloud, 
1  Go  where  you  will ' ;  this  I  accept ;  of  this 
I  make  libation  ;  e'en  the  last  drop  of  it 
I'll  drain,  and  send  Acharnae  to  the  deuce : 
While  I  from  war  and  trouble  free  will  keep 
The  feast  of  Dionysus-in-the-fields. 

Amph.   /'ll  run  away  from  these  old  carbonari. 


26  ARISTOPHANES.  [204-226 


Enter  the  Chorus  of  Acharnians  in  pursuit  of  Dicaeopolis, 
who  has  left  the  stage. 

Strophe. 

This  way,  this,  my  friends,  pursue  him ;  ask  of  every  passer-by 
Have  they  seen  him.  We  must  seize  him.  'Tis  a  duty  you  and  I, 
Every  townsman,  owes  his  country.  Tell  me,  tell  me,  I  demand, 
Where  on  earth  the  fellow's  vanish'd  with  the  samples  in  his 
hand. 
He  is  off!     He  has  gone  !     He  has  fled  us  ! 

Ah,  heavily  age  on  us  leans. 
He  would  not  have  easily  led  us 
When  I  was  a  lad  in  my  teens, 
When  I  ran  a  dead  heat  with  Phayllus, 

With  my  great  bag  of  coal  on  my  back  ; 
Ah,  we  knew  not  the  pace  that  could  kill  us 
In  our  teens  when  we  shoulder'd  the  sack. 

Antistrophe. 

But  the  fellow  has  escaped  us,  now  that  poor  old  Frosty-face 
Feels  his  legs  so  stiff  and  heavy,  far  too  heavy  for  a  race. 
But  we'll  chase  him ;  never  shall  he  laugh  to  find  our  efforts 

slack ; 
Ne'er  escape,  with  old  Acharnae's  doughty  burghers  on  his 

track. 
He  has  dared — O  ye  Gods ! — with  the  foemen 

To  parley,  tho'  "  grimvisag'd  strife" 
'Twixt  them  and  Acharnae's  old  yeomen 

For  our  hearths  and  our  homesteads  is  rife. 


227-253]  ACHARNIANS.  27 

But  like  a  sharp  stake1  in  their  inwards, 

Or  a  rush  driven  home  to  the  hilt, 
I'll  stick,  ere  the  blood  of  my  vineyards 
'Neath  the  foot  of  the  foeman  be  spilt. 
Come,  I  feel  like  Stony  Batter \%  found  he  shall  be;  and  I  will 
Batter  him  with  stones,  the  ruffian ;  pelt  him  till  I've  had  my  fill. 
Die.  Silence ! 

Cho.  Silence  all !  ye  heard  him  ;  there's  the  man 

we  seek ;  despite 
All  our  ire,  we  must  be  patient  till  he's  done  the  solemn  rite. 

{The  Chorus  retire. 

Die.  Silence,  silence, 
Let  the  Maund-bearer  come  a  little  space 
To  the  front.    Let  Xanthias  set  the  phallus  up  : 
Put  down  the  maund.     Let  the  first  rite  begin. 

Girl.  O  mother,  hand  me  up  the  ladle  here  : 
I  want  to  pour  the  sauce  upon  the  cake. 

Die.  There,  that  will  do.     O  father  Dionysus, 
Be  our  approach  to  thee  acceptable ; 
And  our  household's  oblations  ;  may  thy  feast 
Held  in  the  fields,  and  far  from  war's  array, 
Bring  blessing  to  us  all ;  and  blest  to  me 
Be  thou  my  Peace  called  '  Thirty-years.'     Come,  child, 
Meetly  and  duly  take  the  basket  up 

1  231.  I  read  koX  <tk6xo^  oi-vs,  68vvr)p6s,  i-KiKwiros,  %vat  which  corre- 
sponds to  the  strophic  verse  216.  The  first  cretic  is  resolved  in  the 
strophe,  and  is  not  resolved  in  the  antistrophe.  The  same  phenomenon  is 
to  be  observed  in  the  next  verse,  where  in  the  last  foot  but  one  the  cretic 
is  pure  in  the  antistrophe  and  resolved  in  the  strophe. 

2  234.  Stony  Batter  is  the  name  of  a  rather  disreputable  district  in  the 
northern  part  of  Dublin. 


28  ARISTOPHANES.  [254-277 

With  face  as  prim  as  prunes.     How  blest  the  man 
Who  thee  shall  wed,  and  get  upon  thee — weasels 
As  piquant  as  thyself  at  blush  of  dawn. 
Move  on,  and  in  the  crowd  look  out  your  sharpest 
That  no  one  get  a  nibble  at  your  trinkets. 
You,  Xanthias,  must  hold  the  phallus  up, 
You  and  your  boy,  behind  the  maund-bearer, 
And  I'll  come  next  and  sing  the  phallic  song  ; 
You,  wife,  do  audience1  from  the  wall.     Now,  on  ! 

{The  wife  retires.  Dicaeopolis,  his  Maidservant,  and  his 
Daughter  march  in  procession  round  the  stage,  while 
Dicaeopolis  sings  the  Phallic  hymn.'] 

0  Phales,  thou  whom  Bacchus  chose 
To  roam  with  him,  where'er  he  goes, 
Mid  routs  and  revels,  belles  and  beaux, 

Wherever  beauty  charms, 
At  last  I  greet  thee.     Six  years  now 
Have  fled  ;  and  with  a  cheerful  brow 

1  greet  my  homestead,  safe  enow, 

From  arms  and  war's  alarms. 
'Tis  sweeter  far,  sweet  Phales,  to  my  mind 
The  buxom  Thracian  wench  to  filching  find, 
With  brushwood-laden  head — and  find  her  not  unkind. 

How  sweet  to  clasp  her  shapely  waist ! 

How  sweet  her  honey' d  lip  to  taste  ! 

Phales,  come  and  drink  with  me, 

Such  a  cup  I  have  for  thee  !^ 

1  262.  Perhaps  for  6ew  we  should  read  dtiov.  It  seems  unnatural  that 
he  should  ask  his  wife  to  'look  on,'  whereas  fumigation  was  an  essential 
part  of  most  Greek  religious  rites. 


ERRATUM. 

Paof.  28— Note,  line  1,  for$eiov  readdeiov. 


28  ARISTOPHANES.  l>54-*77 

With  face  as  prim  as  prunes.     How  blest  the  man 
Who  thee  shall  wed,  and  get  upon  thee — weasels 
As  piquant  as  thyself  at  blush  of  dawn. 
Move  on,  and  in  the  crowd  look  out  your  sharpest 
That  no  one  get  a  nibble  at  your  trinkets. 
You,  Xanthias,  must  hold  the  phallus  up, 
You  and  your  boy,  behind  the  maund-bearer, 
And  I'll  come  next  and  sing  the  phallic  song  ; 
You,  wife,  do  audience1  from  the  wall.     Now,  on  ! 

\_The  wife  retires.  Dicaeopolis,  his  Maidservant,  and  his 
Daughter  march  in  procession  round  the  stage,  while 
Dicaeopolis  sings  the  Phallic  hymn.'] 

0  Phales,  thou  whom  Bacchus  chose 
To  roam  with  him,  where'er  he  goes, 
Mid  routs  and  revels,  belles  and  beaux, 

Wherever  beauty  charms, 
At  last  I  greet  thee.     Six  years  now 
Have  fled  ;  and  with  a  cheerful  brow 

1  greet  my  homestead,  safe  enow, 

From  arms  and  war's  alarms. 
'Tis  sweeter  far,  sweet  Phales,  to  my  mind 
The  buxom  Thracian  wench  to  filching  find, 
With  brushwood-laden  head — and  find  her  not  unkind. 

How  sweet  to  clasp  her  shapely  waist ! 

How  sweet  her  honey'd  lip  to  taste  ! 

Phales,  come  and  drink  with  me, 

Such  a  cup  I  have  for  thee  \ 


278-312]  ACHARNIANS.  29 

Rich  with  the  joys  that  Peace  can  yield, 

'Twill  cure  thee  when  with  wine  thy  brain  hath  reel'd, 

And  'mid  the  chimney's  sparks  shall  hang  the  useless  shield. 

Chorus  {catching  sight  a/Dicaeopolis). 

There  he  is  :  the  very  man  : 
Pelt  him  all  who  pelt  him  can. 

Die.  Good  gods  what's  the  matter,  you'll  break  the  tureen. 

Chorus.  Nay,  it 's  you  we  are  stoning:  to  kill  you  we  mean. 

Die.  Acharnian  Aldermen,  what  have  I  done  ? 

Chor.  Done  ?     Every  villainy  under  the  Sun  ! 
Made  a  peace  with  the  foemen  ;  your  country  betray' d  ; 
Yet  to  look  in  our  faces  you  are  not  afraid. 

Die.  You  don't  know  why  I  made  it :  just  listen  awhile. 

Chor.  Never ;  soon  shall  these  stones  be  your  sepulchre's 
pile. 

Die.  Just  wait  till  you  hear  me  :  have  patience,  my  friends. 

Chor.  No,  never ;  no  words  can  for  deeds  make  amends. 
Worse  than  Cleon !  whom  soon  for  his  cavalier  foes 
I  will  cut  up  as  small  as  the  shoetops  he  sews. 
No  !  I'll  hear  no  more  speeches  about  the  transaction  : 
You've  made  peace  with  Laconia;  I'll  have  satisfaction. 

Die.   Good  my  friends,  the  Laconians  just  put  on  one  side, 
And  then  on  my  Peace  and  its  blessings  decide. 

Chor.  Its  blessings !  With  Spartans  ?  The  thing  is  absurd  ; 
They've  no  care  for  their  honour,  their  shrines,  or  their  word. 

Die.  We're  hard  on  the  Spartans,  I  know  :  all  the  same, 
They  are  not  for  all  of  our  troubles  to  blame. 

Chor.  Not  for  all  of  our  troubles  ?     You  villain,  how  dare 


you 


Say  this  to  my  face  ?     And  you  "fancy  I'll  spare  you  ? 


ancy 


30  ARISTOPHANES.  13^3-33^ 

Die.  Not  for  all.     All  along,  from  the  very  beginning, 
I  could  show  them  more  sinn'd  against  sometimes  than  sin- 
ning. 

Chor.  Sinn'd  against !  It's  enough  a  man  frantic  to  send. 
So  you  venture  the  foes  of  your  land  to  defend. 

Die.  And  to  prove  that  I  fancy  I  speak  common  sense, 
With  my  head  on  this  block  I  will  make  my  defence. 

Chor.  But  come,  my  friends,  why  are  we  sparing  the  varlet ; 
Come,  pelt  him  until  every  inch  of  him 's  scarlet. 

Die.  How  this  old  charcoal  log  has  flared  up  into  flame  ! 
Consider,  now,  really  am  I  to  blame  ? 

Chor.  Never,  never. 

Die.  That's  hard. 

Chor.  S'death,  I'll  listen  no  more. 

Die.  Don't  say  so,  good  friends,  now. 

Chor.  Your  death's  at  the  door. 

Die.  Well,  it's  worse  for  your  loved  ones.  The  biter  is  bit. 
I  have  hostages  from  you  ;  their  weasands  I'll  slit. 

Chor.  Why, what  is  hethreat'ning?  What  makes  him  so  bold  ? 
Has  he  got  in  his  clutches  some  lambs  of  our  fold  ? 

Die.  Pelt  away,  as  you  please.  Then  I'll  slaughter  this  Creel, 
To  see  if  for  coal-kind  you  sympathy  feel. 

Chor.  Death  and  ruin  !     The  Coal-creel,  my  fellow  pa- 
rishioner, 
Oh,  spare  him,  nor  ruin  your  humble  petitioner. 

Die.  I  tell  you  I'll  kill  him ;  bawl  on,  I  won't  hear. 

Chor.  You  kill  me  in  killing  the  Creel  I  hold  dear.1 

1  336.  It  does  not  seem  to  have  been  observed  that  284—301  corre- 
sponds antistrophically  with  335-346.  The  following  slight  corrections 
then  become  requisite:    Verses  338,  339,  should  run: — 

aWa  vvv\  Key    «t  ffoi  So/ce?,  r6v  re  Aoks- 
8at/j.6i>iov  avrhv  '6,  ri  t<$  rp6ir(p  ffov  <pi\ov. 

And  in  verse  345  rh  should  be  omitted  before  &c\os. 


337-3501  ACHARNIANS.  31 

Die.  You  would  not  hear  me — not  five  minutes  ago. 
Chor.  Well,  now  we  will  hear ;  if  you  like,  you  can  show 
What's  the  ground  of  your  liking  for  Sparta  ;  speak  freely. 
I'll  never  be  false  to  my  little  Coal-creelie. 
Die.  You  must  throw  down  those  stones  ere  I  utter  a  word. 
Chor.  There  they  are  on  the  ground ;  and  now  down  with 

your  sword. 
Die.  But  take  care  you've  got  none  in  your  cloak's  ample 

fold. 
Chor.  No.     I've  shaken  it  out;  you  can  see  it  unroll'd. 
But  a  truce  to  palaver.     Your  sword  to  the  ground. 
Why,  we'll  throw  out  the  stones  as  we  trip  it  around. 

\_The   Chorus  dance  round,  shaking  out  the  stones  from 
their  cloaks. 
Die.  I  thought  you'd  all  give  o'er  your  caterwauling.1 
And,  let  me  tell  you,  never  nearer  came 
Death  to  brave  souls  of  Parnes — coals,  I  mean — 
All  through  these  dense  parishioners  of  theirs. 
The  Creel 's  in  such  a  funk,  it  voided  on  me 

1  347.  I  have  translated  the  conjectural  reading  tofoi*  rvs  fays.  The 
MSS.  give  avaffdeiv  froifv,  which  may  be  explained  as  a  iraph  irpoffSoiclav  for 
dvacreUiv  x*pas,  which  was  a  form  of  asking  for  quarter :  with  this  reading 
and  explanation  I  would  render : 

I  thought  you'd  soon  throw  up  the  sponge — or  rather, 

Give  up  your  bawling.     Never  nearer  came  &c. 
Or  else,  perhaps,   the  allusion  is  to  the  foregoing  words,  (Ko-faeiorai 
a€i6/x€vov,  atio-rSs.     It  should  then  be  rendered  : 

So,  with  all  your  shaking,  you  felt  bound  to  shake 

Before  my  eyes  this  empty  show  of  clamour. 
Or  simply  : 

So  you  were  bound  to  make  a  great  to-do. 
Tlapvrjdioi  is  certainly  the  right  reading  for  Uapvdaaiot. 


32  ARISTOPHANES.  [351-380 

A  lot  of  coal-dust,1  like  a  cuttle-fish. 
'Tis  strange,  that  in  the  milk  of  human  kindness 
Should  be  so  sour  a  drop,  that  men  should  pelt 
And  hoot  a  man,  and  never  let  him  plead 
His  cause,  tho'  temper'd  fair  as  e'er  was  wine-cup. 
See  !  I  will  state  the  whole  of  Sparta's  case, 
My  head  upon  the  block  ;  and  yet  I  love 
My  life  as  well  as  you  or  any  man. 
Chor.  The  block  then  produce, 

And  your  stand  by  it  take, 
And  show  us  what  use 
Is  the  case  you  can  make. 
For  I'm  really  anxious  to  know  what  you  can  find  to  say  for 

their  sake. 
Therefore,  since  you  invite  the  penalty 
Yourself,  bring  forth  the  block,  and  make  your  plea. 

Die.  Look  here :  you  see  the  block ;  the  man  stands  here 
Who  is  to  speak ;  there  is  not  much  of  him. 
Trust  me,  I  will  not  "do  my  harness  on," 
But  I  will  say  what  I  believe  for  Sparta. 
And  yet  I'm  very  nervous,  for  I  know 
The  boors  become  ecstatic  if  some  rogue 
Praise  them,  and  laud  their  city  up  and  down, 
And  that  is  how  they're  humbugg'd  unawares. 
Our  worthy  elders,  too,  I  know  them  well ; 
They  care  for  nothing  but  their  stinging  verdicts. 
I  can't  forget  how  I  was  served  by  Cleon 
For  last  year's  play  :  he  forced  me  into  court, 

350.  Perhaps  we  should  read  ttjs  fiapiXris  tV  ovxvhv.     Cp.  rrjs  yjjs 
T7}p  7roAAV>  Cobet's  correction  of  tV  yrjv  t^v  iroW^v  in  Thuc.  ii.  48. 


380-401]  ACHARNIANS.  33 

And  slander' d  and  beslobber'd  me  with  lies, 

And  splutter' d  like  Cycloborus,  and  slang'd  me, 

So  that  I  really  felt  myself  half  dead, 

Being  dragg'd,  all  draggled,  thro'  that  case's  mire. 

So  let  me  now,  before  I  make  my  speech, 

Get  myself  up  in  guise  most  pitiable. 

Chor.  What's  the  reason  or  rhyme 

Of  your  tricks  and  your  traps. 
Go  to  Hieronyme — 

When  you  find  him,  perhaps, 
You'll  get  one  of  his  "heavy-plumed,  shaggy-hair'd, invisibility 

caps." 
So  broach  the  arts  of  Sisyphus  straightway : 
This  is  a  case  that  will  not  brook  delay. 

Die.  Now  I  must  summon  up  a  heart  of  grace, 
And  go  and  see  Euripides.     Hullo  ! 

\He  knocks  at  a  door,  which  Cephisophon  opens. 

Ceph.  Who's  there. 

Die.  Pray,  is  Euripides  at  home  ? 

Ceph.  "  He  is,  yet  is  not."     Catchest  thou  the  thought  ? 

Die.  *  At  home,  and  not  at  home  V     How's  that  ? 

Ceph.  Even  so. 

His  soul's  abroad  collecting  versicles  ; 
His  bodily  presence  here  play-mongering 
In  a  garret. 

Die.  Happy,  happy,  happy  poet ! 

Whose  slave  can  logic-chop  so  learnedly  : 
Summon  him. 

Ceph.  But  I  could  not. 

c 


34  ARISTOPHANES.  [402-424 

Die.  But  you  must. 

I  will  not  go  away  :  I'll  keep  on  knocking. 
Euripides,  my  sweet  Euripides  ! 
Open  to  me,  if  ever  you  admitted 
A  mortal  man.     I'm  Dicaeopolis 
Of  Chollid  ward. 

Eur.  This  is  no  holiday. 

Die.  Well,  bid  them  turn  the  house-front  and  display 
TV  interior. 

Eur.  But  I  could  not. 

Die.  But  you  must. 

Eur.  I'll  do,  then,  as  you  ask ;  but  won't  come  down. 

Die.  Euripides  ! 

Eur.  What  screamest  ? 

Die.  Why  not  write 

Down  here,  instead  of  perching  in  that  cockloft  ? 
That's  why  your  characters  go  lame  before 
They  come  to  us.     And  what's  the  use  of  all 
These  sorry  weeds  and  stage  rags  ?    That  is  why 
You  put  so  many  beggars  on  the  stage. 
But  I  beseech  you,  for  sweet  pity's  sake, 
Give  me  some  rag  from  some  old  worn-out  play ; 
For  to  the  Chorus  I  am  bound  to  make 
A  speech  ;  and  if  I  fail,  'twill  cost  my  life. 

Eur.  Rags,  and  what  rags  ?     Those  in  which  Oeneus"  here 
Erst  played,  that  "very  feeble  fond  old  man"  ? 

Die.  Not  Oeneus,  no.     There  was  a  worse  than  that. 

Eur.  Phoenix,  blind  Phoenix  ? 

Die.  No,  not  his  ;  there  was 

A  character  more  ragged  still  than  Phoenix. 

jEwr.What  "thing  of  shreds  and  patches"  would' st  thou  have? 
Is  it  the  beggar  Philoctetes'  rags  ? 


425-452]  ACHARNIANS. 


^V       OP  THV         $ 

UWIVERSIT 


Die.  No.     Something  far  more  beggarly  than  hT§? 

Eur.  What,  then  ?    The  squalid  tatters  of  the  lame 
Bellerophon  ? 

Die.  No,  lame  he  was  indeed, 

And  used  to  beg,  and  well  could  wag  his  tongue. 

Eur.  I  know  the  one  you  think  of :  Telephus, 
The  Mysian  king. 

Die.  The  very  man. 

Eur.  Here,  boy! 

Bring  me  the  tattered  garb  of  Telephus  ; 
It  lies  upon  the  Thyestean  rags, 
'Twixt  them  and  Ino's.    Take  them;  there  they  are. 

Die.  O  Zeus,  that  lookest  down  on  every  thing, 
And  seest  through  them  all,  may  I  succeed 
In  garbing  me  in  guise  most  miserable. 
And  since  you've  been  so  kind,  Euripides, 
Lend  me  the  other  properties  that  go 
Along  with  these  :  I  mean  the  Mysian  cap  ; 
"  For  I  this  day  must  play  the  beggar  here — 
Be  what  I  am,  but  other  far  appear." 
The  house  must  recognise  me  as  myself — 
The  Chorus  standing  by  like  fools,  that  I 
At  the  old  cocks  may  poke  my  quiddities. 

Eur.  Here.  "Thy  device  is  shrewd,  and  right  thy  rede." 

Die.  Oh,  blessings  on  you  ;  "  and  on  Telephus — 
What's  in  my  thoughts."     Bravo,  I'm  getting  full 
Of  quibbles.     But  I  want  a  beggar's  staff. 

Eur.  Take,  then,  the  staff,  and  leave  the  "marble  halls." 

Die.  My  soul,  thou  seest  how  I'm  driven  forth, 
Though  many  properties  I  lack.     But  thou 
Be  in  thy  begging  whine  importunate. 

c  2 


36  ARISTOPHANES.  T453-4/6 

{To  Euripides)  Lend  me  a  basket  that  the  lamp  has  burn'd 
A  hole  in. 

Eur.  Of  this  wicker  thing,  poor  wretch, 

What  need  hast  thou  ? 

Die.  Need  have  I  none,  but  want  it. 

Eur.  I  tell  you,  you  annoy  me,  and  must  go. 

Die.  Ah  !  may  God  bless  you — like  your  blessed  mother. 

Eur.  Now  pray  be  off. 

Die.  Well,  give  me  just  one  thing — 

A  little  cup  with  broken  rim. 

Eur.  Oh,  take  it. 

A  murrain  with  it !    You're  a  bore,  I  tell  you. 

Die.  Thou  knowest  not  yet  what  mischief  thou  art  doing. 
But,  sweet  Euripides,  just  one  thing  more. 
A  pipkin  with  a  hole  in't,  plugg'd  with  sponge. 

Eur.  You're  robbing  me  of  all  my  tragic  art. 
Take  it  and  go. 

Die.  I  will.     And  yet,  how  can  I  ? 

One  thing  I  need,  and  if  I  get  it  not 
I'm  ruin'd.     Listen,  dear  Euripides  ; 
If  I  get  this  I'll  go  and  come  not  back  : — 
Some  refuse  cabbage  leaves  to  fill  my  basket. 

Eur.  You'll  ruin  me  :   there  ! — now  you've  taken  all 
My  tragic  genius. 

Die.  Well,  I'll  ask  no  more. 

Indeed  I  am  too  troublesome  :  and  I 
"  Bethought  me  not  that  I  misliked  the  Lords." 
Ah,  me  !  I'm  ruin'd  :  I  forgot  the  thing 
On  which  depends  the  whole  of  my  success. 
Darling  Euripides,  upon  my  life, 
I'll  never  ask  you  for  another  gift, 


477-501]  ACHARNIANS.  37 

I'll  ask  this  only  ;  only  this  one  loan  : 

Do  borrow  me  a  chervil  from  your  mother. 

Eur.  He's  insolent.     Ho!  "close  the  portalice." 
Die.  My  soul,  we  must  proceed  without  our  chervil. 

Knowest  thou  what  a  deed  of  high  emprise 

Thou  takest  up  in  pleading  for  the  Spartans  ? 

Forward,  my  soul;  this  is  the  starting-post. 

Dost  hesitate  ?     Advance  ;  for  thou  hast  had 

An  adult's  dose  of  thy  Euripides — 

My  soul  declines  with  thanks  :  come  then,  my  heart, 

'  My  breaking  heart,'  step  forth,  and  lay  thine  head 

Upon  the  block :  when  thou  hast  said  thy  say 

Fear  nothing.     Forward  !  March  !  Bravo,  my  heart  ! 

Chor.  How  will  it  all  end  ? 

You're  as  stout  as  a  stock, 
I  tell  you,  my  friend, 
And  as  firm  as  a  rock, 
To  venture  in  sight  of  your  country  to  lay  down  your  head  on 
the  block, 

To  meet  the  conviction 

Of  everyone  here 
With  flat  contradiction ! 
The  man  has  no  fear ! 
Very  well,  since  you  will  have  it  so,  say  on,  my  fine  fellow 
I'll  hear. 

Die.  Gentles,  I  pray  you,  be  not  wroth  with  me — 
If  I,  a  beggarman,  amongst  Athenians 
Talk  politics  in  this  my  comedy. 
1  Fair  's  fair '  as  even  comedy  will  own, 
And  I  will  say  words  fair,  though  far  from  smooth. 


38  ARISTOPHANES.  [502-529 

Now  Cleon  cannot  bring  his  slanderous  charge 

That  I  defame  the  state,  with  strangers  present ; 

For  we  are  by  ourselves  ;  the  festival 

The  wine-press  feast ;  and  so  the  foreigners 

Are  not  here  yet,  with  tributes  and  contingents ; 

But  we  are  by  ourselves — grain  husk'd  and  shell'd1 — 

(The  Aliens  being  the  chaff  that's  with  the  grain). 

Now  I  abhor  the  Spartans  heartily. 

I  would  the  God  that  rules  o'er  Taenarus 

Would  hurl  their  houses  down  upon  them  all 

With  earthquakes.     My  vines,  too,  have  felt  their  knives  ; 

And  yet,  my  friends  (for  we  are  all  friends  here), 

Why  should  we  on  the  Spartans  lay  the  blame  ? 

Certain  of  us — I  do  not  say  the  state — 

Bear  that  in  mind — some  pettifogging  rascals, 

Vile  raps,  ill-stamp'd,  base,  clipp'd,  and  counterfeit, 

Vexatious  informations  laid  against 

Poor  Megara's  little  trade  in  woollen  cloaks ; 

And  if  they  chanced  to  see  a  water  melon, 

Lev'ret,  or  sucking  pig,  or  head  of  garlic, 

Or  lump  of  salt,  at  once  'twas  'contraband, 

Megarian  goods,'  and  confiscated  straight. 

All  this,  I  will  allow,  was  no  great  thing — 

The  custom  of  the  country.     Then  some  youths, 

Rising  from  wine  and  Kottabos  half  mad, 

A  girl  of  Megara,  Simaetha  hight, 

Feloniously  abducted  ;  smarting,  then, 

As  'twere  with  blister  of  their  native  leek, 

The  men  of  Megara  in  reprisal  stole 

Two  of  Aspasia's  girls  ;  thus  war  broke  out 

1  The  \ivoi  would  be  the  straw. 


530-553]  ACHARNIANS.  39 

Over  all  Hellas  through  three  bona  robas. 
Then  the  Olympian  Pericles,  in  wrath, 
Fulmined  o'er  Greece,  and  set  her  in  a  broil 
With  statutes  worded  like  a  drinking  catch  : 

No  Megarian  on  land 

Nor  in  market  shall  stand 

Nor  sail  on  the  sea,  nor  set  foot  on  the  strand.1 
Then  the  Megarians,  as  they  starved  by  inches, 
Begg'd  Sparta  to  induce  us  to  rescind 
The  statute  made  anent  the  bona  robas  ; 
But,  spite  of  Sparta's  asking,  we  refused  ; 
Then  Sparta's  shields  came  rattling  from  their  pegs. 
u  Then  were  they  wrong,"  you'll  say  with  Telephus: 
But  tell  me  what  they  should  have  done.     Suppose 
A  Spartan  took  a  boat,  and  publicly 
Sold,  after  information  duly  laid, 
A  puppy  of  Seriphus,  would  ye  then 
Have  "  sat  at  home  at  ease"  ?    Far  from  it :  no, 
Ye  would  have  straightway  launch'd  three  hundred  galleys  : 
The  town  had  been  one  scene  of  shouting  tars, 
Din  round  the  paymaster,  and  noisy  issue 
Of  the  men's  pay,  gilding  of  statuettes 
Of  Pallas,  rations  measured  out,  piazzas 
Groaning  'neath  struggling  crowds,  and   everywhere 
Wineskins,  oar-loops,  and  purchasers  of  jars  ; 
Nothing  but  garlic,  olives,  nets  of  leeks, 
Garlands,  sprats,  figurantes,  and  black  eyes ; 
And  what  a  sight  the  dockyard  would  have  been, 
Spars  getting  shaped  to  blades,  the  wooden  thud 
Of  driven  pegs,  the  rowlocking  of  oars, 

1  I  have  borrowed  Mr.  Paley's  clever  rendering  here. 


40  ARISTOPHANES.  [554-577 

The  boatswain's  whistle,  flourishes  and  calls : — 
This  you'd  have  done.     "  And  think  we  Telephus 
Would  not.     Then  is  our  wisdom  foolishness." 

Semi-Chor.    i°.    What,   O  most  foul  of  knaves,    is't  thus, 
a  beggar, 
You  speak  to  us,  and  twit  us  with  the  chance 
That  here  and  there  there  might  have  been  informers. 

Semi-Chor.  2°.  Yes,  and  in  everything  he  says,  perdv, 
He  says  what's  fair,  and  not  a  lie  in  it. 

Semi-Chor.  i°.  And  is  that  any  reason  he  should  say  it  ? 
But  he  will  find  his  boldness  cost  him  dear. 

Semi-Chor.  2°.  Whither  away?  Nay,  stop.  For  if  you  strike 
The  man,  you'll  find  you'll  soon  be  hoist  yourself. 

\_A  struggle  begins  between  the  two  Semi-Choruses. 
Semi-Chorus  i°  being  worsted,  invokes  the  aid  of 
Lamachus. 

Semi-Chor.  i°.  Lamachus,  of  lightning  glance, 
Hero  of  the  Gorgon  crest, 
Friend  and  tribesman,  come,  advance, 
Turn  thine  ear  to  our  behest. 

Any  man  of  war  that's  near 

Promptly  to  my  succour  haste — 

Captain,  colonel,  engineer — 

For  they've  gripp'd  me  round  the  waist. 

Lam.  Whence  comes  the  martial  summons  to  the  rescue  ? 
Where  must  I  lend  my  aid,  and  panic  spread  ? 
Who's  roused  the  Gorgon  from  my  buckler's  case  ? 

Die.  Ye  Gods  !  What  plumes  and  what  a  plump  of  spears  ! 

Semi-Chor.  2°.  'Tis  he  has  roused  the  Gorgon,  Lamachus, 
Our  city  he's  been  sland'ring  all  the  day. 


578-60 1 J  ACHARNIANS.  41 

Lam.  Ha !  waggest  thou  thy  tongue  so  boldly,  beggar  ? 

Die.  0  martial  Lamachus,  have  mercy  on  me, 
For  that,  a  beggar  born,  I  wagg'd  my  tongue. 

Lam.  What  said'st  thou  of  us  ?     Say. 

Die.  I  can't  remember  ; 

Your  dreadful  armour  makes  me  giddy ;  pray, 
Pray  put  away  that  awful — bugaboo.     {Pointing  to  his  shield.) 

Lam.  There. 

Die.  And  now  set  it  upside  down  for  me. 

Lam.  'Tis  done. 

Die.  Now  take  the  plume  from  out  the  casque. 

Lam.  There  is  a  feather  of  it. 

Die.  Now,  then,  hold 

My  head  :    I'm  sick  :    the  crest  has  raised  my  gorge. 

Lam.  What  ?     Puttest  thou  the  plume  to  such  base  use  ? 

Die.  Plume?     Pray  what  bird's.     Is  it  a  puffinstrutter's  ? 

Lam.  Thou'lt  die  the  death. 

Die.  Say  not  so,  Lamachus  ; 

I  am  not  worthy  of  thy  steel ;  thou'rt  strong  ; 
Canst  do  thy  pleasure,  being  well  equipp'd. 

Lam.  Speakest  thou  thus,  thou  beggar,  to  thy  captain  ? 

Die.  Am  I  a  beggar  ? 

Lam.  Well,  what  art  thou  ? 

Die.  What  ? 

An  honest  man,  no  Mr.  Placehunter, 
And  since  the  war  broke  out,  plain  Private  Trudge ; 
But  you,  Sir  Fullpay  Generalissimo. 

Lam.  I  was  elected. 

Die.  By  a  couple  o'  cuckoos : 

And  that  is  why  I  made  the  peace,  being  sick 
Of  seeing  grey-hair'd  veterans  in  the  ranks, 
And  lads  like  you  promoted  to  the — shirking  ; 


42  ARISTOPHANES.  [602-622 

Some  off  to  Thrace,  drawing  three  drachmas  pay, 
Dissolute-aliens,1  Ruffian-swashbucklers ; 
Some  off  with  General  Favour;    some  in — Sodom, 
Geres  and  Theodore  and  Co.,  those  rogues 
Of  Diomaea's  ward  ;   to  Camarina 
Some,  or  to  Gela,  or  to — Jericho. 

Lam.  They  were  elected. 

Die.  Yes,  but  what's  the  reason 

Why  you  are  somehow  always  under  pay, 
And  none  of  these  men  here  ?     Pray,  Master  Colley, 
Wert  ever  on  a  diplomatic  corps, 

Tho'  grey  long  since  ?  2    You  see,  he  shakes  his  head. 
And  yet  he's  sober  and  industrious. 
Pray  Messrs.  Cole,3  and  Carrier,  and  Oakheart, 
Have  any  of  you  seen  Ecbatana, 
Or  yet  Chaonia  ?     No  !  .'Tis  Lamachus 
Goes,  and  the  scion  of  rich  Coesyra, 
Who  only  yesterday  were  so  involved 
In  club-money  and  debts,  that  finally 
'  Out  of  the  way  '  was  all  their  friends'  advice, 
Just  as  one  cries  gare  Veau  when  emptying  slops. 

Lam.  There  is  Democracy !  Must  this  be  borne  ? 

Die.  No  :  unless  Lamachus  is  under  pay. 

Lam.  Well,  then,  on  Pelops'  isle  I  war  proclaim, 
And  everywhere  I'll  harass  it  every  way 
By  sea  and  land,  with  all  my  might  and  main. 

1  These  are  types  .of  Athenian  character  of  which  we  know  nothing  ex- 
cept what  the  Scholiasts  tell  us.  I  have  embodied  in  my  version  the  views 
of  the  Scholiasts. 

2  610.  I  read  tvy  =  'last  year ' ;  &v  is  the  imperfect  participle. 

3  612.  For  ri  Sal  ApdicvWos  I  read  ri  8'  ' AvOpaKvWos  with  Reiske.  All 
the  names  should  have  reference  to  the  charcoal-burning  trade. 


623-637]  ACHARNIANS.  43 


Die.  I  to  the  whole  of  Pelops'  isle  proclaim 
To  Megara  and  all  Boeotia 
Free  trade  with  me — but  not  with  Lamachus. 

[Chorus  come  forward  and  sing  the  Parabasis. 

Anapaests  or  Parabasis  proper. 

He's  right  about  making  the  Peace,  and  he's  bringing  the 

populace  round. 
And  now  for  a  fling  at  our  Anapaests.    Cast  we  our  cloaks  on 

the  ground. 
From  the  time  when  our  poet  first  made  in  the  playwright's 

profession  a  start, 
He  never  was  used  to  come  forward  to  boast  of  his  marvellous 

art; 
But  now  that  malicious   detractors  are  trying  a  notion   to 

raise 
That  he  slanders  his  country,  and  runs  the  Democracy  down 

in  his  plays, 
He  thinks  it  is  best  to  put  in  his  demurrer  at  once,  as  he 

finds 
That  you're  equally  ready  to  change,  and  hasty  to  make  up, 

your  minds. 
He  says  that  he's  made  you  his  debtors  by  teaching  you  not 

to  be  gull'd 
By  the  soft  words  that  foreigners  give  you,  nor  into  security 

lull'd 
jgy  swallowing  doses  of  bunkum.     Time  was  when  the  whole 

of  the  town 
Was  led  by  the  nose  if  one  spouted  the  praise  of  her  '  violet 

crown,' 


44  ARISTOPHANES.  [638-653 

And  the  moment  a  diplomate  air'd  that  expression  of  mystical 

might, 
'  The   crown '    did  the  business :    you  scarcely  could  sit  on 

your  seats  for  delight. 
If  some  flatterer  said  *  land  of  oil '  there  was  nought  you'd 

refuse  him,  I  ween, 
Tho'  he  gave  you  a  title  more  fit  for  the  praise  of  a  potted 

sardine. 
And  that's  how  he's  made  you  his  debtors — by  turning  the 

eyes  of  your  mind 
To  the  rights  and  the  wrongs  of  your  subjects.    And  that  is 

the  reason,  you'll  find, 
Why  the  envoys  that  come  with  the  tribute  so  long  to  behold 

the  brave  poet 
Who  dared  to  tell  Athens  the  truth  when  he  thought  it  was 

right  she  should  know  it. 
You  may  judge  that  the  fame  of  his  boldness  has  pretty  well 

gone  round  the  globe 
By  the  two   questions    put    by  the    Shah,  when   he    sought 

Lacedaemon  to  probe  ; 
For  he  first  asked,,  which  side  of  the  two  the  sea  with  iier 

navy  could  hold, 
And  then  he  ask'd  which  had  the  bard  who  was    given  so 

freely  to  scold  ; 
For  the  state  that  had  such  an  adviser,  he  said,  would   be 

stronger  by  far, 
And  would  certainly  bring  by  his  aid  to  a  glorious  issue  the 

war. 
And  that  is  why  Sparta  so  gladly  conditions  of  peace  would 

afford, 
And    not   be    so    hard   about   terms,    if  Aegina   were    only 

restored. 


654-670]  ACHARNIANS.  45 

And  it's  not  that  they  care  for  the  isle  ;  but  the  poet  they're 

ea^ger  to  rob  of  it ; 
But  let  him  go  on  with  his  work ;  you'll  find  that  he'll  make 

a  good  job  of  it. 
He  says  he'll  ensure  your  success,  and  declares  that,  whate'er 

is  the  matter,  he 
Will   give  you  the   best   of  advice   without   any  favour   or 

flattery ; 
And  never  the  words  of  deceit  will  you  hear,  or  appeals  to 

venality, 
Or  gush  of  unprincipled  praise,  but  the  highest  and  best  of 

morality. 

Macron  or  Pnigos. 
{Pronounced  by  the  actor  in  one  breath). 

Then  may  Cleon  let  fly 

All  his  malice,  and  try 
Every  art  that  he  knows  :  all  his  arts  I  defy : 

'  For  the  right '  is  my  cry. 

Never,  never  shall  I 
Like  that  lecherous  coward1  my  country  deny. 

Strophe. 

Muse  of  Acharnae,  a  glowing  song  bring  to  me. 
O  that  thy  voice  were  as  fire,»and  could  spring  to  me ! 
E'en  as  a  flame,  when  the  heart  of  it  sickeneth, 
Leaps  from  the  embers  of  oak  the  fan  quickeneth— 
Leaps  round  the  sprats  that  lie  ready  for  frying  there. 
While  the  slaves  all  are  in  energy  vieing  there  ; 

1  Cleon. 


46  ARISTOPHANES.  [671-689 

Stirring  the  pickle  with  oil-bubbles  beading  up, 
"Rich-crown'd"  like  Mem' ry,1  and  wheaten  rolls  kneading  up  : 
Come  with  a  strain  that  will  suit  your  petitioner, 
Lusty  but  plain,  to  your  fellow-parishioner. 

Epirrhema. 

We  old  fogies  have  a  quarrel  with  our  country ;  and  it's  this : 
That  we  do  not  get  the  treatment  which  we  earn'd  at  Salamis. 
We,  the  men  that  won  your  battles,  deem  that'in  our  dotage  still 
We've  a  right  to  your  attention ;  yet  you  treat  us  very  ill. 
Into  public  suits  you  drag  us,  poor  old  grey-beards  that  we 

are, 
Laughing  when  we're  chaff  d  by  every  callow  fledgeling  at  the 

Bar. 
We  who,  deaf  and  dumb  and  bother'd,  simply  old  play'd-out 

riff-raff, 
Might  as  well  be  in  an  earthquake  if  we  hadn't  got  our  staff. 
Mumbling  o'er   some  maund'ring  nonsense  at  the  dock  we 

take  our  place, 
Able  scarce  to  see  the  foggy  outlines  of  the  misty  case ; 
But  the  plaintiff,  making  sure  his  Bar  is  vigorous  and  young, 
Raps  us  smartly  o'er  the  knuckles,  phrases  rolling  off  his 

tongue ; 
Has  us  up  to  cross-examine,  setting  word-traps  in  our  way, 
Hackling,  vexing,  and  perplexing  wretched  old  Methuselah. 
So  the  verdict  goes  against  him^  and  the  dotard  leaves  the 

court, 
Mumbling,  sighing,  grumbling,  crying,  in  his  feeble  senile 

sort. 

1  Pindar  had  applied  the  epithet  \nrapd/inrvZ  to  Memory. 


690-705]  ACHARNIANS.  47 

As  he  goes  he  meets,  his  crony,  and  complains  with  piteous 

whine — 
'What  I'd  saved  to  buy  a  coffin  I  must  spend  to  pay  my  fine.' 

Antistrophe. 

How  can  you  justify  Athens,  when  daily  ye 

Here  before  justice's  paraphernalia 

Ruin  some  greyheaded  old  fellow-labourer, 

Haply  some  veteran  Marathon  sabrer, 

Who  in  the  battlefield  often  was  set  by  you, 

Wiped  from  his  manly  brow  toil's  honest  sweat  by  you. 

Once  for  the  city  we  charged  and  protected  her  ; 

Now  we  are  charged  by  those  spies  who  've  infected  her. 

When  the  Court  casts  us,  a  fine  we  've  to  pay  to  it. 

This  is  my  case  :  what  will  Marpsias 1  say  to  it  ? 

Antepirrhema. 

There's  Thucydides2  bent  double  :  is  it  right  that  such  as  he 
Should  in  body-grips   be   struggling   with   that — steppe   of 

Tartary, 
With  the  glib  Cephisodemus,  that  forensic  waterspout  ? 
Yet  my  aged  friend  I've  witnessed  by  that  Tartar  pull'd  about; 

1  A  young  Athenian  advocate. 

2  Thucydides,  son  of  Melesias,  was  an  opponent  of  Pericles,  by  whose 
influence  he  was  banished,  B.C.  445.  The  father  of  Cephisodemus  had 
been  a  ro^6rris,  or  constable,  in  Athens.  These  to£6tcu  were  slaves 
bought  by  the  State  mainly  from  Scythia.  Hence  they  are  often  called 
2/cu0ai  by  Aristophanes.  And  hence  Thucydides  is  here  said  to  be  grappled 
by  a  Scythian,  who,  by  a  very  bold  figure,  is  called  a  '  Scythian  wilderness,' 
or  '  steppe  of  Tartary,'  as  I  have  rendered  the  phrase. 


48  ARISTOPHANES.  [706-726 

And  I  dash'd  aside  a  tear  of  pity,  and  my  heart  was  sore 

For  the  man  that  is  no  longer,  the  Thucydides  of  yore. 

Then  no  words  from  any  rascal  constable  in  all  the  land, 

Nor  from  Ceres'  self,  by  Ceres,  our  Thucydides  would  stand. 

No,  his  yery  first  crossbuttock  ten  Evathli  would  have  floor'd, 

And  three  thousand  Tartar  bowmen  he'd  have  easily — out- 
roar' d. 

Constable  Cephisodemus  !     He  would  not  have  cared  a  pin ; 

He'd  out-constable  the  household,  son  and  father,  kith  and  kin. 

No  !  since  you're  resolved  the  old  boys  sometimes  from  their 
doze  should  start, 

Keep  the  suits  in  re  the  elders  and  in  re  the  young  apart. 

Let  the  aged  and  the  toothless  charge  the  aged  ;  for  the 
young — 

Let  the  fast  and  flippant  charge  them — like  the  brat  from 
Cleinias  sprung. 

Be  it  fine,  or  be  it  exile,  ever  should  this  statute  hold, 

That  the  young  should  sue  the  young  ones,  and  the  old 
should  sue  the  old. 

Die.  Thus  do  I  set  my  market's  boundaries  : 
Here  all  the  states  of  Pelops'  isle  may  trade — 
Megarians  and  Boeotians,  if  they  sell 
Their  goods  to  me,  but  not  to  Lamachus. 
Clerks  of  the  market  these  I  constitute, 
Chosen  by  lot — three  thongs  from  Flayborough ; 
Within  these  bounds  let  no  informer  come, 
Nor  any  other  Water-tell-tail !  wight. 

1  If  the  play  is  on  <p6.<ris,  '  an  information  against  contraband  goods,' 
and  Phasis  the  river,  one  might  render — 

Or  any  other  wight  from  banks  o'  Spy. 
If  it  is  on  <pd(ris  and  <pao-iav6s,  'a  pheasant,'  the  play  may  be  reproduced  as 


727-747]  ACHARNIANS.  49 

F  the  market-place,  in  view  of  all,  I'll  set 
The  column  with  our  contract  graved  on  it. 

A  Megarian  enters.     He  speaks  in  the  Scotch  dialect. 

Meg.  Gude  luck  to  Athens'  chepe,  that's  lo'ed  so  weel 
By  Megara.     I've  greetit  for  ye  sair, 
Sae  help  me  God  o'  Freends,  as  ye  had  been 
My  mither ;  puir  bairns  o'  a  puirer  feyther, 
Come  up  to  get  yer  bannock,  an'  ye  may. 
So  tak  my  rede  into  your — empty  wames  ; 
Wad  ye  be  selt,  or  stairve  ? 

Daughters.  Selt,  selt. 

Meg.  Just  sae ; 

But  wha  sae  daft  as  buy  ye  ?    Ye  wad  be 
Naething  but  downricht  loss.     But  I've  a  plan, 
A  guid  Megarian  plan.     I'se  gar  ye  baith 
Dress  up  as  pigs,  and  say  I'm  hawkin'  pigs. 
Pit  an  thae  petitoes,  and  play  the  part 
O'  bein'  a  braw  soo's  farrow.     O'  ma  conscience, 
An'  ye  gae  hame  again  ye' 11  hunger  sair.1 
Pit  an  these  snouts,  and  get  into  the  poke, 
An'  mind  ye  grunt,  and  '  ugh,'  and  make  the  soun' 
O'  haly  pigs  used  for  the  Mysteries. 

in  the  text.     If  it  is  merely  a  comic  coinage,  containing  an  allusion  to 
(pdais,  one  might  translate — 

Or  any  other  base  Gaugerian  wight. 

1  But  ra  itpara  .  .  .  ras  \i/xa>  can  hardly  mean  'the  extremes  of  hunger.' 
Ahrens  ingeniously  conjectures — 

etirep  i^e7r    ofaaliis 
HwpaTa,  ircipd<r€<r9e    K.T.e. 

D 


5o  ARISTOPHANES.  [748-767 

An'  now  I'se  ca'  this  Dicaeopolis, 

An'  speer  whaur  is  he.     Wad  ye  buy  some  soos  ? 

Die.  What,  a  Megarian  ? 

Meg.  We've  come  to  trade. 

Die.  How  goes  it  with  you  there  ? 

Meg.  We  sit  a'  day 

By  th'  inglenook,  an'  fast  wi'  ane  anither. 

Die.  And  feast  with  one  another  ?     Come,  that's  good, 
If  you've  a  piper.     Well,  what  else  besides  ? 

Meg.  Sae,  sae.     When  I  left  hame  a  gran'  committee 
Were  takin'  counsel  for  the  toun  to  find 
The  best  and  quickest  gate  to  gang  to  the  deil.1 

Die.  Thy  woes  will  soon  be  over  then. 

Meg.  Ou  ay. 

Die.  What  else  at  Megara  ?     How  is  grain  sold  there  ? 

Meg.  Wi'  us  it's  unco  dear.     Dear  God's  nae  dearer. 

Die.  Salt,  then  ? 

Meg.  Ye're  maisters  o'  the  saut  works,  too. 

Die.  Well,  garlic  ? 

Meg.  Garlic  ?     When  ye  mak  a  raid 

Into  our  fields,  like  mice,  frae  time  to  time, 
Ye  howk  up  a'  the  roots  o't  wi'  a  preen.1 

Die.  What  have  you,  then  ? 

Meg.  Soos  for  the  Mysteries. 

Die.  'Tis  well.     Let's  see  them. 

Meg.  Hoot,  mon,  but  they 're  gran'. 

Feel  this  ane,  sin  ye're  fain.     She's  fat  and  braw. 

Die.  What  thing  is  this  ? 

Meg.  A  soo. 


1 1  have  here  adopted  the  excellent  version  of  Walsh,  whose  knowledge 
of  the  Scotch  dialect  often  leaves  the  translator  no  choice  but  to  follow  him. 


768-820]  ACHARNIANS.  51 

Die.  What  say  you,  you  there  ? 

What  breed  ? 

Meg.  Megarian.     Isn't  she  a  soo  ? 

Die.  Not  to  my  eyes. 

Meg.  Weel,  weel !     Look  at  her,  mon. 

The  Infidel !  He  swears  she  is  no  soo. 
Weel,  an  ye  list,  I'se  bet  a  peck  o'  saut 
She's  ca'd  a  soo  in  Greece. 

[775-804  are  omitted. ~\ 

Die.  Figs  for  the  pigs  ! 

\Here  figs  are  distributed  among  the  audience. 
Now  will  they  eat  them  ?     Wheugh  !     There's  gobbling  for 

you. 
Where  were  they  bred  ?     I'm  sure  'twas  Munchester. 
But,  see,  they  haven't  eaten  all  the  figs. 

Meg.  Na,  na ;  for  I  was  fain  to  tak'  up  ane. 

Die.  I'faith,  a  very  pretty  pair  of  beasts. 
How  much  for  the  pigs  ? 

Meg.  For  ane,  a  hank  o'  leeks  ; 

For  t'other,  gin  ye  list,  a  peck  o'  saut. 

Die.  Done  !     Wait  you  here. 

Meg,  Just  sae.    O  god  o'  bargains, 

Gie  me  the  luck  at  this  same  price  to  sell 
My  ain  guid  wife  and  my  ain  mither,  too  ! 

Enter  an  Informer. 

Inf.  Your  country  ? 

Meg.  Megara.     I'm  of  that  ilk, 

A  pig-dealer. 

Inf.  Well,  I'll  denounce  you  both, 

You  and  your  pigs,  as  contraband  and  foes. 

d  2 


52  ARISTOPHANES.  L821"8^ 

Meg.  Ah,  there  it  is  !     There  is  the  source  of  a' 

That  gars  us  greet. 

Inf.  Your  burr  will  cost  you  dear. 

Come,  drop  the  poke. 

Meg.  (to  Dicaeopolis.)  My  friend,  I  am  denounced. 

Die.  By  whom  ?     He  thinks  he'll  throw  a  light,  I  guess, 
On  the  subject !     Turn  him  out,  my  market  clerks. 
Where  is  your  candle  if  you  want  to  throw 
A  light  on  things  ? 

Inf.  It's  only  on  the  foe. 

Die.  You'll  rue  it,  if  you  don't  get  out  of  this. 

Meg.  They  're  a  sair  scauld  at  Athens,  thae  informers. 

Die.  Don't  be  afraid,  my  friend.     Here,  take  the  leeks 
And  salt,  your  bonnifs'  price.     And  now,  farewell. 

Meg.  Fareweel  ?     Na,  na  ;  we've  nae  guid  fare  at  hame. 

Die.  Well,  may  my  wish  on  my  own  head  recoil 
If  I  was  hasty. 

Meg.  Now,  ma  wee  boneens, 

Wi'out  your  feyther  ye  maun  try  to  eat, 
Wi'  a  grain  o'  saut,  your  bannocks — gin  ye  get  'em. 


Chorus  (to  the  Coryphaeus). 

How  fortunate  the  fellow  is !     You  see  his  exultation, 
And  soon  he'll  reap  a  harvest  from  his  novel  proclamation. 

While  he  sits  in  the  market-place, 

If  Ctesias  should  show  his  face, 

Or  any  rascally  informer, 

He'll  leave  the  place  a  trifle  warmer. 


(Turning  to  Dicaeopolis.) 


842-861]  ACHARNIANS.  53 

You'll  have  no  fear  lest  someone  else  in  marketing  should 

best  you, 
Or  by  his  filthy  presence  bawdy  Prepis  should  molest  you. 
Cleonymus  won't  jostle  you. 
You'll  keep  your  mantle  clean  and  new. 
Hyperbolus  won't  stand  before  you, 
With  sheafs  of  dirty  writs  to  bore  you. 
The  razor'd  young  Cratinus,  too,  that  idle,  feckless  callant, 
Won't  meet  you  in  the   market,  with  his  hair  dress'd  a  la 
gallant- 
That  Artemon,1  who's  always  dozing, 
And  hurries  only  when  composing, 
From  whose  foul  stink  might  be  inferr'd 
His  origin  from  St.  Goatherd.2 
No  more  will  Pauson  vex  you  with  his  impudent  grimaces, 
Nor  the  lecherous  Lysistratus,  his  parish  who  disgraces ; 
Who  starves  and  shivers  constantly, 
Steep'd  to  the  lips  in  misery, 
For  thrice  three  days,  the  wretched  loon, 
Ay,  and  more,  too,  in  every  moon. 

A  Boeotian  enters,who  speaks  in  the  dialect  of  the  stage  Irishman. 

Boeot.  Bedad,  it's  mighty  gall'd  me  shouldher  is. 
Ismenias,  lay  down  the  pennyroy'l. 

1  850.  Artemon  was  an  engineer  who  was  in  the  habit  of  being  carried 
about  in  a  carriage  to  inspect  his  works,  hence  he  was  called  b  irepi<p6pr)Tos 
'AprefjLcov.  This  Cratinus,  being  as  lazy  as  Artemon,  and  a  very  bad  cha- 
racter, is  called,  by  a  slight  change  in  the  phrase,  not  irepi<p6pr]ros,  but 
Trepnr6v7]pos. 

2  Walsh's  rendering  of  the  pun  is  here  borrowed.  For  another  pun  on 
the  same  word,  see  808. 


54  ARISTOPHANES.  [862-890 

Go  aisy  now ;  and  you,  the  Thaban  pipers, 
Take  up  yer  pipes  and  play — the  very  divil. 

Die.  Stop,  with  a  murrain.     Off  from  the  door,  ye  wasps. 
Whence  did  they  hither  wing  their  cursed  way, 
These  whoreson  bumble-piping  cubs  of  Chaeris  ? 

Boeot.  Be  the  hole  i'  me  coat,  I  wish  them  all  wor  hang'd. 
Sure  they  were  blowin'  all  the  way  from  Thabes, 
Till  they  blew  down  the  blossoms  off  me  flowers. 
But  you'll  be  buyin'  somethin',  if  you  plase — ■ 
Me  chickens,  or  me  four-wing'd  locustses  ? 

Die.  'Tis  well,  my  scone-fed  friend.   What  have  you  there  ? 

Boeot.  Sure  I've  the  pick  of  all  the  place  intirely  : 
Marjoram,  pennyroyal,  mats,  wicks,  ducks, 
Jackdaws  and  woodcocks,  coots,  wrens,  divers 

Die.  Wheugh  ! 

You're  like  the  winter  wind,  that  brings  the  birds 
Of  passage  to  our  markets. 

Boeot.  Ay,  and  geese, 

Hares,  foxes,  hedgehogs,  weasels,  rabbits,  cats, 
Otters,  Copaic  eels. 

Die.  O  blessed  one, 

Thou  that  to  mortals  bear'st  their  best  bonne  bouche, 
Let  me  address  the  eels. 

Boeot.  "  Of  fifty  nymphs 

Of  Lake  Copais,  thou  the  eldest  born  " — 
Come  ou'  o'  this,  now,  and  oblige  his  honour. 

Die.  Hast  come  to  me,  my  dearest  heart's  delight, 
After  long  years— dream  of  the  Green  Room,  and 
Idol  of  Morychus  the  Gastronome  ? 
What,  ho  !  bring  in  the  brazier  and  the  bellows. 
Look,  minions,  at  this  best  of  eels  that  now 
Blesseth  my  sight — and  after  six  long  years. 


891-916]  ACHARNTANS.  55 

I  will  bring  coals  to  greet  our  lady-guest. 
Speak  to  her :  lead  her  in  :  "  not  e'en  in  death 
May  I  be  parted  from  thee" — stew'd  in  beet. 

Boeot.  But  where  '11  I  get  the  money  for  her,  sur  ? 

Die.  I'll  take  her  as  a  market-toll.     What  else 
Hast  got  to  sell  ? 

Boeot.  The  whole  o'  them. 

Die.  Your  price  ? 

Or  will  you  take  our  produce  back  with  you  ? 

Boeot.  Ay,  somethin'  that's  in  Athens,  not  in  Thabes. 

Die.  You'll  buy  our  sardines,  then,  or  crockery  ? 

Boeot.  Sure  we've  got  them  at  home.     No  ;  but  I  want 
Somethin'  we've  not,  and  you  have  plinty  of. 

Die.  I  know :  the  very  thing  for  exportation  : 
Pack  an  informer  up  like  crockery. 

Boeot.  By  this  an'  that,  an'  I  might  make  me  fortune, 
By  showin'  him  for  a  mischievous  ape. 

Die.  And  here's  Nicarchus  coming  to  inform. 

Boeot.  What !  that  spalpeen  ? 

Die.  But  all  there  is  of  him 

Is — bad. 

Nic.  Who  owns  the  goods  ? 

Boeot.  They  're  mine,  bedad, 

From  Thabes. 

Nic.  Well  I  declare  them  contraband. 

Boeot.  Why  what's  possessed  you,  that  you  pick  a  quarr'l, 
And  rise  a  ruction  wid  me  chickabiddies  ? 

Nic.  I'll  charge  you  too. 

Boeot.  What  did  I  do  on  you  ? 

Nic.  Well,  I'll  explain  for  these  bystanders'  sakes : 
You  are  importing  wicks  from  hostile  states. 


56  ARISTOPHANES.  [917-932 

Die.  You've  got  a  wick  to  throw  a  light  upon 
A  dark  transaction. 

Nic.  It  might  set  the  docks 

In  flames. 

Die.         One  wick  to  set  the  docks  in  flames  ! 

Nic.  Certainly. 

Die.  How  ? 

Nic.  Thus  :  some  Boeotian  wight 

Might  stick  the  wick  into  a  water-beetle, 
Light  it,  and  send  it  thro'  a  gutter  down 
Into  the  docks,  biding  his  time  until 
The  wind  was  high.     Then,  if  a  spark  once  caught 
The  fleet,  'twere  straightway  in  a  blaze. 

Die.  O  villain, 

All  through  a  little  wick  and  water-beetle. 

(Dicaeopolis  beats  the  Informer.) 

Nic.  I  call  you  all  to  witness. 

Die.  Gag  the  knave. 

Give  me  some  straw.  I'll  pack  him  up  like  delft, 
To  keep  him  from  being  broken  in  the  transit. 

Strophe. 

Chor.    Yes,  pack  him  up,  like  glass,  with  care, 
On  our  friend's1  shoulders  bind  him  fair ; 
The  bargain's  his.     He  must  beware 
Lest  on  the  way  he  break  it. 

1  The  Boeotian  who  has  taken  the  Informer,  as  a  specimen  of  Attic 
produce,  in  exchange  for  his  wares. 


933-95  0  ACHARNIANS.  57 

Die.  I'll  watch.     {Beating  him)  The  crock  rings  crack'd 
and  thin  : 
As  full  of  flaws  without,  within, 

As  God  and  man  could  make  it. 
Chor.  What  use  ? 

Die.  Oh,  every  use.     A  cup 

Of  woes — a  mortar  to  bray  up 

All  sorts  of  litigation — 
A  lamp  to  throw  official  glare 
On  pow'r — a  mixer  to  prepare 
Official  botheration. 

Antistrophe. 

Chor.  In  using  it,  I'm  very  sure, 

A  man  could  never  feel  secure, 
Nor  ever  in  his  house  endure 
Its  broken,  jangling  clatter. 
Die.  You'll  find  it  strong.     Just  hang  the  loun, 

Like  empty  wine-jar,  upside  down. 
That  crock  you'll  never  shatter. 
Chor.  [to  Boeotian). 

My  friend,  your  bargain's  now  secure. 
Boeot.       Well,  now  I  think  I'll  make  for  sure 

His  price,  and  something  over. 
Chor.       Then  take  him  off,  and  fling  the  cur 
On  some  dungheap,1  or — filthier — 
On  some  accurs'd  Approver. 

1  A  phrase  for  getting  rid  of  a  worthless  thing.  I  have  followed  the 
explanation  of  the  Scholiast,  who  says  that  (rvKo<pdvTriv  is  used  unex- 
pectedly for  <rwp6v.     To  throw  a  thing  on  any  heap  was  a  phrase  which 


58  ARISTOPHANES.  [952-970 

Die.  'Twas  a  hard  job  to  pack  the  rascal  tight. 
Now  take  your  crockery  and  go  your  way. 

Boeot.  Ismenias,  you  spalpeen,  stoop  your  shouldher. 

Die.  Be  sure  you  carry  him  securely  home. 
You'll  have  a  rotten  burden ;  but  no  matter. 
And  if  you  sell  him  well,  your  fortune's  made: 
So  far  as  the  supply  of  them's  concern'd. 


Enter  Servant  0/"  Lamachus. 

Serv.  (to  Die.)  Good  sir  ! 

Die.  What  is  it  ?     Are  you  calling  me  ? 

Serv.  *  What '  ?     Lamachus  desires  you'll  let  him  have 
A  drachma's  worth  of  thrushes  for  ■  The  Flasks,' 
And  for  three  drachmas  a  Copaic  eel. 

Die.  Who  is  this  Lamachus  that  wants  the  eel  ? 

Serv.  Why,  Lamachus  the  dread,  the  staunch  :  of  shield 
Grogonean,  and  three  nodding,  shaggy  plumes. 

Die.  Not  I,  by  Heaven — not  for  the  shield  of  him  : 
Nod  he  his  plumes  over  the  canteen  bloaters. 
If  he  gives  tongue,  I'll  call  the  market  clerks. 
So  I'll  take  up  my  goods  and  go  within, 
"  To  the  music  of  my  poultry's  fluttering  wings." 


meant  '  to  get  rid  of  a  useless  article  in  the  quickest  way  one  could.'  But 
<rvK6<pavrt]v  is  put  irapa  irpoffSoiclav  for  <ru>p6v,  as  being  fouler  than  any  dust- 
heap.  This  passage  has  often  been  explained  wrongly.  The  Scholiasts 
appear  to  have  read — 

a\\y  3>  \*vu>v  fieAriffTe  <Tv 

rovrov  \a$uv  Trpoff&aW'  'Siroi,  k.t.c. 


971-994]  ACHARNIANS.  59 


Chorus. 
Strophe. 

There 's  a  philosopher !     That's  what  is  sensible  ! 

See  what  a  number  of  good  things  he's  got : 
Some  to  a  household  complete  indispensable, 

Others  delicious  to  serve  hot  and  hot. 
All  without  trouble.     Ah,  war  is  most  odious, 

Ne'er  in  my  home  may  I  have  such  a  pest; 
Hateful  were  e'en  the  brave  strain  of  Harmodius, 

Were  I  beside  such  unmannerly  guest. 
Yes,  he's  unmannerly  ;  how  he  broke  in  on  us, 

Blest  with  prosperity's  plenteous  increase ; 
Battle  he  brought,  and  confusion,  and  din  on  us, 

Turn'd  a  deaf  ear  to  our  offers  of  peace. 
'  Sit  you,'  we  said,  *  and  to  rest  awhile  deign  with  us. 

Yet  of  his  fires  was  our  trellis  the  food  ; 
1  Sit  you  beside  us,  the  loving-cup  drain  with  us.' 

Spilt  of  our  vines  was  the  costliest  blood. 


Antistrophe. 

Saw  ye  how  proud  he  was  ?     Now  he's  for  jollity — 

Witness  those  feathers,  how  choice  is  his  fare  ! 
Beautiful  playmate  of  Love  and  Frivolity, 

Little  we  knew,  Peace,  how  lovely  you  were. 
O  that  some  Love-god  would  but  bring  me  facing  you, 

Love  in  the  picture,  with  buds  round  his  brows ! 
Old  as  I  am,  I  should  ne'er  stop  embracing  you, 

Ne'er  tire  of  kissing  so  buxom  a  spouse. 


6o  ARISTOPHANES.  [995-1017 

Then  would  I  plant,  for  my  mistress's  pleasuring,1 

Many  a  sweet  little  vine-sprout  a-row, 
Rearing  beside  them,  for  motherly  treasuring, 

Shoots  of  the  fig-tree  that  tenderest  blow. 
Old  as  I  am,  yet  no  sprout  should  want  cherishing ; 

Olivebranch-laden  our  farm  should  abound. 
We  should  not  dream  of  our  cruise  of  oil  perishing. 

We  'd  have  enough  for  us  all  the  year  round. 

The  Herald  enters. 

Her.  O  yes,  O  yes  !     Duly  at  sound  of  trump 
Drink ;  and  whoever  first  has  drained  his  flask 
Shall  get  a  skin  as  big  as  Ctesiphon's. 

Die.  What  are  ye  doing,  lads  and  wenches  all  ? 
Did  ye  not  hear  the  crier  ?     Braise,  roast,  turn, 
Take  the  hare  off  the  spit ;  string  on  the  wreaths  ; 
Hand  me  those  skewers  to  truss  the  thrushes  on. 

Chor.  For  your  good  sense  I  envy  you, 

Still  more  for  this  first-rate  menu, 
Of  which  you're  boasting. 
Die.  You  soon  may  say  so,  when  you  view 

My  ducklings  roasting. 
Chor.       I  think  you're  right. 
Die.  Rake  out  the  grate. 

Chor.       Saw  you  with  what  an  air  of  state 
(Or  were  you  looking), 
Like  some  great  chef,  or  gourmet,  mate, 
He  does  his  cooking  ? 

1   The  Coryphaeus  figures  Peace  as  his  mistress.     The  result  of  their 
union— their  children — would  be  rural  plenty,  and  all  the  arts  of  peace. 


018-1039]  ACHARNIANS.     '(UK 


Peasant  (entering).  Ah,  wretched  me  !         ^^ 

Die.  Gods,  who  is  this  ? 

Peas.  A  man 

In  piteous  case. 

Die.  Then  keep  it  to  yourself. 

Peas.  0  sir,  you've  got  the  Peace  ;  measure  me  out 
A  little  drop,  if  only  for  five  years. 

Die.  What  ails  you  ? 

Peas.  I'm  a  ruin'd  man  :  I've  lost 

Both  of  my  oxen. 

Die.  Whence  ? 

Peas.  From  Phyle,  sir, 

Boeotians  took  them — 

Die.  Yet  you're  dressed  in  white. 

Peas.  That  kept  me,  too,  God  knows,  in  every  muck, 
No — luck,  I  mean. 

Die.  Well,  then,  what  want  you  now  ? 

Peas.  I've  cried  my  eyes  out  for  those  steers  of  mine. 
So  if  you  pity  D£rcetes  of  Phyle, 
Anoint  my  eyelids  with  a  drop  of  Peace. 

Die.  But,  my  poor  friend,  I'm  not  the  public  leech. 

Peas.  Do,  pray ;  perhaps  I  might  get  back  my  oxen. 

Die.  No,  go  to  Pittalus'  dispensary, 
And  blubber  there. 

Peas.  Just  squeeze  one  drop  into 

This  reed. 

Die.  No,  not  a  cheep  or  twitter  of  it. 

Go  and  be  hang'd. 

Peas.  Alas,  my  pair  of  steers  ! 

Chor.    He's  found  the  sweets  the  treaty  brings, 
Our  friend  ;  and  feels  no  generous  stings 
To  share  and  spoil  them. 


62  ARISTOPHANES.  [i  040-1 068 


Die.    Pour  honey  o'er  those  chitterlings  ; 
Those  cuttles,  broil  them. 

Chor.  You  hear  his  loud  directions. 

Die.  Fry 

Those  eels. 

Chor.  You'll  kill  the  passers-by 

And  me  ;  you'll  crush  us 
Beneath  that  steam  so  savoury, 
Those  words  so  luscious. 

Die.  Now,  roast  them  well,  and  brown  them  carefully. 

Bridesman  {entering).  Ho,  Dicaeopolis. 

Die.  Who's  there  ? 

Brid.  This  meat 

The  bridegroom  sends  you  from  his  wedding  feast. 

Die.  And  very  kind  of  him,  whoe'er  he  is. 

Brid.  And  in  return  he  wanted  you  to  pour 
A  gill  of  peace  into  this  gallipot, 
So  that  he  may  not  serve  but  stay  at  home. 

Die.  Away  with  it.     Offer  me  not  the  meat. 
I  would  not  give  it  for  a  thousand  drachmas. 
But  who  is  this  ? 

Brid.  The  bridesmaid  with  a  message 

Sent  by  the  bride,  and  only  for  your  ears. 

Die.  Well,  what  havej/ou  to  say? — Absurd,  i'faith, 
This  bride's  request,  and  urged  most  earnestly, 
That  she  may  keep  at  home  her  lord's — affections. 
Bring  me  the  Peace  ;  I'll  give  to  her  alone  : 
For  she's  a  woman,  nor  deserves  to  taste 
War's  horrors.     Here,  hold  out  your  ointment-box, 
And  tell  the  bride  that,  when  the  lists  are  filling, 
Her  lord  at  night  must  use  this  embrocation. 
Take  back  the  Peace.     Bring  me  the  ladle  here, 
I  want  to  pour  the  wine  into  the  flasks. 


1 069-1093]  ACHARNIANS.  63 

Chor.  And  who  is  this  that,  with  wide  eyes  of  fear, 
Strides  in,  as  with  some  fearful  tidings  charged  ? 

Messenger.  O  general  Lamachus  and  lamentation. 

Lam.  Who  round  my  brazen-bastion'd  castle  brawls  ? 

Mess.  The  generals  bid  you  make  a  rapid  move 
This  day,  with  all  your  plumes  and  plumps  of  spears  ; 
And  then  to  watch  the  passes  in  the  snow. 
They've  information  that,  about  the  feast 
Of  Flasks  and  Pots,  Boeotian  freebooters 
Will  make  a  raid  on  us. 

Lam.  O  generals 

More  numerous  than  kind,  is  it  not  hard  : 
I  am  not  suffer' d  e'en  to  keep  the  Feast  ? 

Die.  Warlike  Achaeo-Lamachean  host ! 

Lam.  Alas,  you  have  the  laugh  against  me  now. 

Die.  What?    Would'st  thou  fight  with  four-wing'd  Geryon  ' 

Lam.  Alack,  what  tidings  he  has  brought  to  me  ! 

Die.  Hah  !  now  what  message  brings  this  knave  to  me  ? 

Mess.  Ho,  Dicaeopolis. 

Die.  What  is't  ? 

Mess.  To  dinner — 

Quick,  quick  ;  and  bring  your  sweetmeat-case  and  flask. 
The  priest  of  Dionysus  summons  you, 
So  now  make  haste :  you  stay  the  banqueters  : 
There's  nothing  wanting  but  your  company. 
Couches  and  tables,  cushions,  coverlets, 
Garlands,  and  scent,  and  bonbons,  wenches,  too, 
And  sponge-cakes,  cheese-cakes,  seed-cakes,  honey-cakes ; 
And  dancing  girls l  that  sing  Harmodius's  strain 
Charmingly.     But  make  haste. 

1   1093.  I  read  opxyvrplSes  4s  rb  '  (piKrad'   'Ap/nSSi'  ov'>  Ka\ai,   'dancing 


64  ARISTOPHANES.  [  1 094-1 1 1 3 

Lam.  Ah,  luckless  me  ! 

Die.  Well,  but  you  chose  your  patroness,  the  dire 
Gorgon  ;  shut  up  the  house ;  put  in  the  viands. 

Lam.  Boy,  bring  me  out  the  knapsack  with  my  rations. 
Die.  And  bring  me  my  confectionery-box. 
Lam.  Get  me  my  thymy  salt,  and  onions,  boy. 
Die.  My  salmon-cutlets  !     Onions  make  me  sick. 
Lam.  Get  me  my  sandwich  made  of  bloaters  stale. 
Die.  Get  me  my  bonne  bouche.     I  will  cook  it  here. 
Lam.  Bring  hither,  boy,  the  feathers  from  my  casque. 
Die.  And  me  the  wood-pigeons  and  thrushes  bring. 
Lam.  Lovely  and  white  this  ostrich  feather  is. 
Die.  Lovely  and  brown  is  this  wood-pigeon's  flesh. 
Lam.  Cease,  fellow,  making  merry  with  my  armour. 
Die.  Pray,  fellow,  do  not  eye  my  thrushes  so. 
Lam.  Bring  out  the  case  that  holds  my  triple  plume. 
Die.  And  hand  to  me  the  dish  that  holds  the  hare. 
Lam.  Have,  then,  the  moths  been  nibbling  at  my  crest  ? 
Die.  Shall  I  begin  my  dinner  with  hare-pate*  ? 
Lam.  Fellow,  you  '11  not  address  me,  if  you  please. 

girls  famous  for  the  Harmodius  song,'  which  is  here  designated  by  its  first 
line,  which  ran — 

<pi\raB'1  'hpfxSdC  ov  rl  irco  redvrjKas. 

These  dancing  girls,  no  doubt,  sang  as  they  danced,  this  popular  Athenian 
<tko\i6v,  to  which  allusion  is  made,  sup.  980.  The  Scholiast  there  tells  us 
that  the  allusion  is  to  the  song  of  Harmodius,  but  such  an  allusion  cannot 
here  be  attained  without  changing  the  text.  To  explain  '  pretty  dancing 
girls,  the  favourites  of  Harmodius,'  is  absurd.  There  is  no  reason  to  sup- 
pose that  Harmodius  was  an  admirer  of  dancing  girls,  and  ret  <pi\rad' 
'Ap/uodiov  could  not  mean  •  such  as  H.  would  have  loved/  The  song  is 
designated  by  a  few  words  of  its  first  line,  just  as  we  would  say,  'The  heart 
bow'd  down,'  or,  'The  Harp  that  once,'  or,  'Believe  me,  if  all.'     So 


i  if  4-1 1 29]  A  CHARNIANS.  65 

Die.  No  ; — but  we've  been  this  long  time  arguing, 
The  slave  and  I.     {To  the  Slave)  Come,  will  you  make  a 

bet? 
And  Lamachus,  as  umpire,  will  decide : 
Locusts  or  thrushes — which  the  sweeter  fare  ? 

Lam.  You  mock  me,  sir. 

Die.  Locusts,  he  says,  by  far. 

Lam.  Take  down  my  spear,  and  bring  it  hither,  boy. 

Die.  Take  off  the  chitterlings  and  bring  them,  boy. 

Lam.  Come,  let  me  take  the  spear-case  off  my  spear. 
Take  hold,  boy. 

Die.  And  you,  boy,  take  hold  of  this. 

Lam.  Bring  me  the  trestles  that  sustain  my  buckler. 

Die.  And  me  the  biscuits  that  sustain  my  stomach. 

Lam.  Bring  me  my  buckler's  dread-encircled  round. 

Die.  And  me  my  path's  cheese-encircled  round. 

Lam.  Flat  insolence  is  this  for  men  to  hear. 

Die.  And  excellent  this  cake  for  men  to  taste. 

Lam.  Pour  oil,  boy,  on  the  shield.     In  it  I  see 
An  old  man  who'll  be  tried  for  shirking  service. 

Persius  calls  the  Aeneid  Arma  virum  ;  and  Cicero  calls  even  his  prose 
treatises  by  the  first  words,  referring  to  the  De  Senectute  under  the  name 
O  Tite.  As  many  words  of  the  (tko\i6v  as  will  fit  into  the  metre  are  used 
to  designate  the  song.  Cicero,  in  a  letter,  thinks  Granius  autem  enough 
to  indicate  the  maxim  put  into  the  mouth  of  Granius  by  Lucilius  : — 

Granius  autem, 
Non  contemnere  se  et  reges  odisse  superbos. 

For  KctXbs  4s,  *  good  at  a  thing,'  see  L.  S.  under  ko\6s  II.  The  words 
<piXrad'  'Apfx68t'  oii  n  iru  redurjKas  were  the  beginning  of  the  <jkoXi6v.  See 
Schol.  on  977  :  4v  reus  rwv  it6tcou  ffvu68ois  y56v  n  fxe\os  'Ap/xodlou  koAow- 
/xevov,  ov  7)  apxht  <piXrare  'Ap/j.6$ie  oii  ri  iro)  TtQpT\Kas.  Cp.  Ach.  1058, 
Vesp.  1226;  Lys.  633  ;  Pelarg.  Fr.  3. 

E 


66  ARISTOPHANES.  [1130-1150 

Die.  Pour  honey  on  the  cake.     I  see  him  here, 
Telling  Gorgasean  Lamachus,  go  be  hang'd. 

Lam.  Boy,  bring  me  out  my  breastplate  for  the  fray. 

Die.  And  bring  me  out  my  night-cap — that's  the  bowl. 

Lam.  With  this  I'll  fortify  me  'gainst  the  foe. 

Die.  With  this  I'll  fortify  me  for  the  fun. 

Lam.  Boy,  bind  my  kit  securely  to  my  shield. 

Die.  Boy,  bind  the  viands  safely  on  the  tray. 

Lam.  I'll  take  my  knapsack  up,  and  bear  it  off. 

Die.  And  I  will  take  my  mantle  up,  and  go. 

Lam.  Take  up  my  buckler,  boy,  and  march  therewith. 
It  snows.     Beshrew  me  !     'Tis  a  wintry  scene. 

Die.  Take  up  the  viands.     'Tis  a  festive  scene. 

Chorus. 

{To  Lamachus  and  Attendants). 
Away  then  with  joy  to  the  field  and  the  foe. 

{To  Dicaeopolis  and  Lamachus.) 
On  what  very  dissimilar  errands  you  go. 
One  to  drink  deep  amid  garlands  of  roses, 
Stretch'd  on  the  couch  where  young  Beauty  reposes. 

{To  Lamachus.) 
But  you,  a  far  different  choice  you  have  made, 
To  shiver  in  trenches  and  keep  your  parade. 

Strophe. 

Send,  Zeus,  on  that  blatant  verse-mongering1  Splutterer, 
On  Antimachus  send  the  worse  curse  man  could  utter  or 

1  For  £u77 pa<pr),  which  violates  the  metre,  I  suggest  faypcuprj,  'voluminous,' 
a  word  not  found,  but  formed  on  the  analogy  of  (acpheyfis,  Carpels.  The 
Scholiast  tell  us  there  was  another  Antimachus,  who  was  a  prose  writer. 
Hence  arose  the  corrupt  ^vyy  pa<prj. 


1151-1*7*]  ACHARNIANS,  67 

Think  of.     'Twas  he,  that  most  niggardly  beast, 
When  we  won  with  the  Feasters  ne'er  gave  us  our  feast. 
May  I  gloat  upon  him  starving 

For  a  plate  of  cuttle  fish  ; 
May  he  see  it  fit  for  carving, 

Cook'd  and  hissing  on  the  dish 
1  By  the  salt ; '  l  and  then  as  up  he 

Takes  it,  on  his  plate  to  land, 
May  some  little  thievish  puppy 
Snatch  it  from  his  very  hand. 

Antistrophe. 

And  be  this  my  first  curse.      And  the  next  may  Night  bring 

on  him, 
As  he's  trudging  home,  sick  of  parade,  may  there  spring  on 

him 
Some  tipsy  rough,  mad  as  Orestes  of  yore, 
And  fracture  his  skull  ere  he  reaches  his  door. 
Stooping  then  a  stone  to  snatch  up, 

Wherewithal  to  lay  him  flat, 
In  the  darkness  may  he  catch  up 
Something  not  so  hard  as  that. 
With  this  weapon  arm'd  completely, 

May  he  rush  upon  the  foe, 
Miss  his  man,  and,  missing,  featly 
Lay  the  daft  Cratinus  low. 

[Enter  Servant  a/Lamachus. 

1  The  Athenians'  trireme,  the  Paralus,  was  always  kept  ready  for  sailing. 
Hence  it  was  always  ■  by  the  salt  sea.'  The  cuttle  fish,  when  dished  for 
dinner,  would  also  be  '  by  the  salt,'  which  would  stand  beside  the  plate  for 
use. 


68  ARISTOPHANES.  [i  173-1209 

Serv.  Ye  vassals  in  the  halls  of  Lamachus, 
Heat  ye,  0  heat  ye  water  in  a  pot. 
Make  ready  lint  and  salve,  and  greasy  wool, 
Charpie,  and  splint  for  dislocated  bone. 
For  with  a  stake,  in  leaping  o'er  a  trench, 
Our  hero's  put  his  ankle  out  of  joint, 
And  falling  fractured  on  a  stone  his  skull, 
And  has  awaked  the  Gorgon  from  his  shield. 
And  as  the  mighty  puffinstrutter's  plume 
Fell  on  the  crags,  it  shrill'd  a  grisly  cry, 
"  Hail,  glorious  orb  :  farewell :  I'm  leaving  now 
What  was  my  Dayspring,  and  I  am  no  more." 
Thus  having  said,  he  falls  into  a  gutter, 
Rises,  and,  rallying  his  runaways, 
Smites  the  marauding  ruffians  hip  and  thigh. 

Lam.  Ah  me  !  for  the  spear 

Struck  a  terrible  blow ; 
But  worse  is  the  fear 
That  vexes  me  so, 

Lest  that  wretch  Dicaeopolis  see  me,  and  laugh  o'er  my  pitiful 
woe. 

Die.  Dear  me,  but  her  breast 

Is  as  firm  as  a  quince! 
Come,  kiss  me  your  best, 
O  my  sweet  jewels,  since 

It  was  I  drain'd  the  flask  first  and  foremost,  with  never  a  wink 
or  a  wince. 

Lam.  Alas,  for  all  my  miserable  woes, 

And  for  my  wound's  sharp  throes. 


i2io-i23r]  ACHARNIANS.  69 

Die.  Good  morrow  to  you,  Lamachus,  old  chappie. 
Lam.  Alack,  my  fate  unhappy. 

^G  &&•  {speaking  to  the  girl  on  his  knee).  Wilt  never  to  an  end 
thy  kisses  bring  ? 
Lam,  I  am  a  cursed  thing. 

Die.     Nor  quench  with  fond  caress  thy  hot  desire  ? 
Lam.  Alas  that  charge  so  dire  ! 

Die.     Show  me  the  man  that  made  a  charge,  I  pray, 

On  the  Flasks'  gala  day. 
Lam.  O  Paean,  healing  god,  on  thee  I  call. 
Die.  'Tis  not  his  festival. 

Lam.  Take  hold,  take  hold,  my  gentle  friends,  I  beg, 

And  firmly  grasp  my  leg. 
Die.     And  around  me,  sweet  girls,  your  soft  arms  fling, 

And,  closely  kissing,  cling. 
Lam.  My  head  is  dizzy  with  its  grievous  pain, 

And  reels  my  weary  brain. 
Die.     My  thoughts  run  wild  on  love's  luxurious  bed, 

And  paths  of  dalliance  tread. 
Lam.  Lend  healing  hands  and  bear  me,  I  beseech, 

To  Pittalus,  the  leech. 
Die.     Off  to  the  judges  :  is  the  King  within  ? 

Yield  me  the  victor's  skin. 


Lam.  This  horrid  spear  is  piercing  me ;   thro'   flesh  and 

bone  it's  driven. 
Die.     Huzza  !  I've  emptied  it.     Huzza  !  my  cheers  shall 

rend  the  Heaven. 
Chor.    Huzza,    then,     since    you    challenge    me  ;     your 

victory  is  glorious. 


7o  ACHARNIANS.  [1232-1234 

Die.     I  fill'd  a  bumper  neat,  and  then  without  a  wink  I 

drain'd  it. 
Chor.  Huzza,  my  hearty.     Now  take  off  the  wineskin,  for 

you've  gain'd  it. 
Die.     Sing   ■  Lo    the    conquering    hero   comes.'     Huzza, 

I  am   victorious  ! 
Chor.  Well,  we'll  attend  you  to  your  door, 

And  tell  your  triumph's  story ; 

And  shout  hip,  hip,  hurrah  before 
We  leave  you  with  your  glory. 


THE  END. 


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