About this episode
Drama Classics is made possible by:
Get every episode summarized
Each time Drama Classics publishes, we email you a written briefing from the transcript — the topics, who appeared, and any specific claims, with the ad reads skipped.
Email me new episodesFree for 3 shows. No card needed.
Transcript ready
1,802 searchable segments. Every word is indexed and playable.
Full transcript
Drama Classics — Peace-Aristophanes. Machine-transcribed; use the interactive transcript above to jump the player to any line.
McDonald's is putting value back on the menu. Whether you're craving a Big Mac, McNuggets or sausage egg and cheese, McGrittle's, make it a meal and save. Your favorite is now your wallet's favorite, too. Extra-value meals are back. Get a big something extra. With a Big Mac or 10-piece McNuggets, fries and a medium Coke all for just $9. Limited time only, promotion pricing may be lower than meal pricing. Ba-da-ba-ba-ba! With the American Express Platinum Card, you can access over $3,500 in annual value with benefits and eligible purchases across travel entertainment and more. There's nothing like Platinum. Learn more at americanexpress.com slash explore-platinum, enrollment requirements, monthly and other limits in terms of supply. With VerboCare, help is always ready, before, during, and after your stay. We've planned for the plot twists, so support is always available. Because a great trip starts with peace of mind.
A form yard to slaves busy beside a dung heap, afterwards in Olympus. First servant. Quick, quick, bring the dung beetle his cake. Second servant. Coming, coming. First servant. Give it to him and may it kill him. Second servant. May he never eat a better. First servant. Now give him this other one, knead it up with asses dung. Second servant. There, I've done that too. First servant. And where's what you gave him just now? Surely he can't have devoured it yet. Second servant. Indeed he has. He snatched it, rolled it between his feet, and bolted it. First servant. Come, hurry up. Kneed up a lot and knead them stiffly. Second servant. Oh, scavengers, help me in the name of God,
if you do not wish to see me fall down choked. First servant. Come, come, another maid from the stool of a young, straight-graced catamite. To L.B. to the beetles taste. He likes it well-ground. Second servant. And there, I am free at last from suspicion. None will accuse me of tasting what I mix. First servant. Fall. Come, now another. Keep on mixing with all your might. Second servant. In faith, no, I can stand. This awful sass pool stench no longer. So I bring you the whole ill-smelling gear. First servant. Push it down the sewer sooner and yourself with it. Second servant. Maybe one of you can tell me where I can buy a stopped-up nose, for there is no work more disgusting than to mix food for a beetle and to carry it to him. A pig or a dog would at least pounce upon our extraments without
more ado, but this foul-wretch affects the disdainful, the spoiled mistress and won't eat unless I offer him a cake that has been needed for an entire day. But let us open the door a bit, a jar without his seeing it. Has he done eating? Come, pluck up courage. Cram yourself till you burst, the cursed creature. It wallows in its food. It grips it between its claws like a wrestler clutching his opponent. And with head and feet together rolls up its paste like a rope-maker-twisting a hauser. Ah, what an indecent, stinking gluttonous beast. I know not what angry god let this monster loose upon us, but of a certainty it was neither epididy nor the graces. First servant. Who was it then? Second servant. No doubt the thunder resuse. First servant.
But perhaps some spectator, some beardless youth who thinks himself a sage will say, what is this? What does the beetle mean? And then an Ionian city next to him will add, I think it is an illusion to Cleon who so shamelessly feeds on filth all by himself. But now I'm going indoors to fetch the beetle a drink. Second servant. As for me, I will explain the matter to you all. Children, youths, grown-ups and old men. I even to the decrepit dotards. My master is mad. Not as you are, but with another sort of madness. Quite a new kind. The live long day he looks open-mouth towards heaven and never stops the dressing-suse. Ah, Zeus, he cries. What are thy intentions? Lay aside thy beesome.
Do not sweep grease away. Trages. Ah, ah, ah. Second servant. Hush, hush, me thinks I hear his voice. Trages. Oh, Zeus, what are thou going to do for our people? Lost thou not see this, that our cities are soon to be but empty husks. Second servant. As I told you, that is his form of madness. There you have a sample of his follies. When his trouble first began to seize him, he said to himself, by what means could I go straight to Zeus? Then he made himself very slender little letters, and so clambered up towards heaven, but he soon came hurtling down again and broke his head. Yesterday to our misfortune he went out and brought us back this thoroughbred, but from
where I know not this great beetle, whose groom he has forced me to become. He himself caresses it as though it were a horse saying, oh, my little Pegasus, my noble aerial steed, may your wings assume bear me straight to Zeus, but what is my master doing? I must stoop down to look through this hole. Oh, great gods! Hear neighbors, run here quick. Here is my master, flying off, mounted on his beetle as if on horseback. G-E-E-S. Gently, gently, go easy beetle. Don't start off so proudly, or trust that first too greatly to your powers. Wait till you have sweated, till the beating of your wings shall make your limb joints supple. Above all things, don't let off some foul smell. I assure you else I would rather have you stop men the stable altogether.
Second servant. Poor master. Is he crazy? Trageus. Silence, silence! Second servant, too, Trageus. But why start up into the air on chance? Trageus. Tis for the wheel of all the Greeks. I am attempting a daring and novel feat. Second servant. But what is your purpose? What useless folly? Trageus. No words of ill-omen. Give vent to joy, and command all men to keep silent, to close down their drains and privies with new tiles, and to stop up their own vent holes. First servant. No I shall not be silent unless you tell me where you are going. Trageus. Why? Where am I likely to be going across the sky if it be not to visit Zeus?
Trageus. For what purpose? Trageus. I want to ask him what he reckons to do for all the Greeks. Second servant. And if he doesn't tell you? Trageus. I shall pursue him at law as a traitor who sells grease to the meads. Second servant. That sees me if I let you go. Trageus. It is absolutely necessary. Insult servant. Oh laughs, Alyss! Dears little girls, your father is deserting you secretly to go to heaven. Ah, poor orphans. And treat him. Passage him. Little daughter. Father, Father, what is this I hear? Is it true? What? You would leave me? You would vanish into the sky? You would go to the crows? Tis impossible. her father, as you love me."
Pregius. Yes, I am going. You hurt me too sorely, my daughters, when you ask me for bread, calling me your daddy, and there is not the ghost of an obelis in the house. If I succeed and come back, you will have a barley loaf every morning and a punch in the eye for sauce. Little daughter. But how will you make the journey? It is not a ship that will carry you, Dither. Pregius. No, but this wings, Steed will. Little daughter. But what an idea, daddy, to harness a beetle on which to fly to the gods. Pregius. We see from Asop's fables that they alone can fly to the abode of the immortals. Little daughter. Father, father, to the tale nobody can believe that such a stinking creature can have gone to the gods?
Pregius. It went to have vengeance on the eagle and break its eggs. Little daughter. Why not saddle a Pegasus? You would have a more tragic appearance in the eyes of the gods. Pregius. Eh? Don't you see little fool that then twice the food would be wanted? Whereas my beetle devours again as filth what I have eaten myself. Little daughter. And if it fell into the watery depths of the sea, could it escape with its wings? Pregius exposing himself. I am fitted with a rudder in case of need, and my knuck's house beetle will serve me as a boat. Little daughter. And what harbor will you put in it? Pregius. Why is there not the harbor of Canthoros at the Pireas? Little daughter.
Take care not to knock against anything and so fall off into space. Once a cripple you would be a fit subject for you, Rippadise, who would put you into a tragedy. Pregius. I'll see to it. Goodbye. To the Athenians. You for a love of whom I brave these dangers, do ye neither let wind nor go to stool for the space of three days. For if while cleaving the air my steech has sent anything, he would fling me head foremost from the summit of my hopes. Now come, my Pegasus, get a going with uppicked ears and make your golden bridal resound galey. Hey, what are you doing? What are you up to? Do you turn your nose toward the cesspools? Come, pluck up a spirit. Rush upward from the earth, stretch out your speedy wings and make straight for the palace
of Zeus, for once give up foraging in your daily food. Hi, you down there. What are you after now? Oh, my God, to the man emptying his belly in the parry is close to the house where the bad girls are. But it is my death you seek then. My death? Will you not bury that right away and pile a great heap of earth upon it and plant wild time therein and pour perfumes on it? If I were to fall from up here in misfortune happened to me, the town of chills would owe a fine of five talents for my death, all along of your cursed rump. All as, how frightened I am, oh, I have no heart for jests. Ah, machinist, take great care of me. There was already a wind whirling round my navel. Take great care or from sheer fright, I shall form food for my beetle. But I think I am no longer far from the gods.
Hi, that is the dwelling of Zeus I perceive. Hello, hi, where is the doorkeeper? Well, no one open. End of scene one. Scene two of peace by Aristophanes. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Scene two. The scene changes and heaven is presented. Hermes. Me seems I can sniff a man. He perceives Tragius astride his beetle. Why, what plague is this? Tragius. A horse beetle. Hermes. Oh, impudent, shameless rascal. Oh, scoundrel, triple scoundrel. The greatest scoundrel in the world.
How did you come here? Oh, scoundrel of all scoundrels. Your name? Replying? Tragius. Triple scoundrel. Hermes. Your country? Tragius. My father? Triple scoundrel. Hermes. Your father? Tragius. My father? Triple scoundrel. Hermes. By the earth you shall die unless you tell me your name. Tragius. I am Tragius of the ethmonian deem, a good vindresser, little addicted to quibbling and not at all an informer. Hermes. Why do you come? Tragius. I come to bring you this meat. Hermes. Ah, my good friend. Did you have a good journey? Tragius. Glutton be off. I no longer see me, triple scoundrel to you.
Come. Call Zeus. Hermes. Ah, you were a long way from reaching the gods, where they moved yesterday. Tragius. To what part of the earth? Hermes. A of the earth. Did you say? McDonald's is putting value back on the menu. Whether you're craving a Big Mac, McNuggets are sausage egg and cheese, McGrittle's, make it a meal and save. Your favorite is now your wallet's favorite too. Extra value meals are back. Get a big something extra. With a Big Mac or 10 piece McNuggets, fries and a medium coke all for just $9. Limited time only, promotion pricing may be lower than meal pricing. Bada, bada, bada. Whether it's a birthday trip, a family reunion, or just a fun getaway, booking a verbal vacation rental means no worrying about surprises. Verbo care and 24-7 life support have your back if something's off. The love by guest filter helps you find top rated homes and verified reviews mean real
feedback from real verbal guests. So you know exactly what you're booking. Honestly, I just booked my verbal because there was a sweet line for it. Hey, we all have our reasons. Don't walk into a surprise. If you know, youverbo. Terms apply, seeverbo.com slash trust for details. McDonald's is putting value back on the menu. Whether you're craving a Big Mac, McNuggets are sausage egg and cheese, McGrittle's, make it a meal and save. Your favorite is now your wallet's favorite too. Extra value meals are back. Get a big something extra. Get a Big Mac or 10-piece McNuggets, fries, and a medium coke all for just $9. Limited time only, promotion pricing may be lower than meal pricing. Ba da ba ba ba. Tragees. In short, where are they then? Hermes. Very far, very far, right at the furthest end of the dome of heaven. Tragees. But why have they left you all alone here?
Hermes. I am watching what remains of the furniture, the little pots and pans, the bits of chairs and tables, and odd wine jars. Tragees. And why have the gods moved away? Hermes. Because of their wrath against the Greeks, they have located war in the house they occupied themselves and have given him full power to do with you exactly as he pleases. And they went as high as ever they could, so as to see no more of your fights and to hear no more of your prayers. Tragees. What reason have they for treating us so? Hermes. Because they have afforded you an opportunity for peace more than once. But you have always preferred war. If the Lakhanians got the very slightest advantage they would exclaim by the twin brother in the Athenians shall smart for this.
If on the contrary the latter triumphed, and the Lakhanians came with peace proposals, you would say, by demeter they wanted to see us. No, my Zeus, we will not hear a word. They will always be coming as long as we hold Pylos. Tragees. Yes, that is quite the style our folk do talk in. Hermes. So that I don't know whether you will ever see peace again. Tragees. Why? Where is she going to then? Hermes. War has cast her into a deep pit. Tragees. Where? Hermes. Down there at the very bottom. And you see what heaps of stones he has piled over the top so that you should never pull her out again. Tragees. Tell me what is war preparing against us. Hermes.
All I know is that last evening he brought along a huge mortar. Tragees. And what is he going to do with his mortar? Hermes. He wants to pound up all the cities of Greece in it. But I must say goodbye for I think he is coming out. What an uproar he is making. Tragees. Ah, great gods, let us seek safety. Me seems I already hear the noise of this fearful war, mortar. War enters carrying a huge mortar. Oh, mortals, mortals, wretched mortals, how your jaws will snap. Tragees. Oh, divine Apollo. What a prodigious big mortar. Oh, what misery the very sight of war causes me. This then is the foe from whom I fly, who is so cruel, so formidable, so stoward, so
solid on his legs. War. Oh, proceed, a thrice wretched five times. I a thousand times wretched. For thou shall be destroyed this day. Tragees. This does not concern us over much, it is only so much the worst for the Laconians. War. Oh, Maghara. Maghara. How utterly are you going to be ground up? What fine mints meet for you to be made into? Tragees. Alas, what bitter tears there will be among the Magharaians. War. Oh, Sicily, you too must perish. Your wretched town shall be grated like this cheese. Now let us pour some attic honey into the mortar.
Tragees. Oh, I beseech you, you some other honey. This kind is worth four o' balls. Be careful. Oh, be careful of our attic honey. War. Ha, tumult, you slave there. tumult. What do you want? War. Out with you, standing there with folded arms. Take this cover the head for your pains. tumult. Oh, how it stings. Master, have you got garlic in your fist, I wonder? War. Run and fetch me a pistol. tumult. But we haven't got one. It was only yesterday we moved. War. Go and fetch me one from Athens and hurry hurry. tumult. I, I hasten there. If I return without one, I shall have no cause for laughing.
Exit. Tragees. Ha, what is to be come of us, wretched mortals that we are? See the danger that threatens if he returns with the pestle? For war will quietly amuse himself with pounding all the towns of Helus to pieces. Ah, Bacchus caused this herald of evil to perish on his road. War. Well, tumult, who has returned? Well, what? War. You have brought back nothing? tumult. I'll ask. The Athenians have lost their pestle, the Tanner who ground grease to powder. Tragees. Oh, Athenian, venerable mistress, just well for our city he is dead, and before he could serve us with this hash. War. Then go and seek one at Sparta and have done with it.
tumult. I, I, master. War. Be back as quick as ever you can. Tragees to the audience. What is going to happen, friends? Just a critical hour? Ah, if there is some initiate of Samathreys among you, to surely the moment to wish this message or some accident, some sprain or strain. tumult, who returns? Alas, alas, thrice again, alas. War. What is it? Again you come back without it? tumult. These Spartans too have lost their pestle. War. How, volat. tumult. They had lent it to their allies and thrice who had lost it for them. Tragees. Long life to you, thrations. My hopes revive.
Pluck up courage mortals. War. Take all this stuff away. I am going to make a pestle for myself. Tragees. Tis now the time to sing his dot-tis did, as he abused himself at high noon. Oh, pleasure, oh enjoyment, oh delights. Tis now o Greeks, the moment when freed of quarrels and fighting we should rescue sweet peace and draw her out of this pit before some other pestle prevents us. Calm laborers, merchants, workmen, artisan strangers, whether you be domiciled or not, islanders, come here, Greeks of all countries, come harrying here with picks and leveries and ropes. Tis the moment to drain a cup in honor of a good genius. For us.
Calm hither all, quick hasten to the rescue. All peoples of Greece, now is the time or never for you to help each other. You see yourselves freed from battles and all their horrors of bloodshed. The day, hateful to Lemakus, has come. Then what must be done? Give your orders, direct us, for I swear to work this day without ceasing until with the help of our levers and our engines we have drawn back into light the greatest of all goddesses, her to whom the olive is so dear. Tragees. Silence. If war should hear your shouts of joy, he would bound forth from his retreat in fury. Corus. Such a decree overwhelms us with joy, how different to the edict which bade us muster
with provisions for three days. Tragees. Let us beware, lest the cursed cerebus prevent us even from the nethermost hell, from delivering the goddess by his furious howling just as he did with on earth. Corus. Once we have hold of her, none in the world will be able to take her from us. Huzzah! Huzzah! Tragees. You will work my death if you don't subdue your shouts. War will come running out and trample everything beneath his feet. Well, then, let him confound, let him trample, let him overturn everything, we cannot help giving vent to our joy. Tragees. Oh, cruel fate, my friends, in the name of the gods, what possesses you, your dancing will wreck the success of a fine undertaking.
Corus. Tis not I who want to dance, tis my legs that bound with delight. Tragees. Enough, as you love me, cease your gambles. Corus. There, tis over. Tragees. You say so and never the less you go on. Corus. Yet one more figure and tis done. Tragees. Well, just as one, then you must dance no more. Corus, no, no more dancing if we can help you. Tragees. But look, you are not stopping even now. Corus, by Zeus I am only throwing up my right leg, that's all. Tragees. Come, I grant you that, but pray, and I may know you further. Corus. Ah, the left leg too will have its fling.
Well, tis, but it's right. I am so happy, so delighted at not having to carry my buckle or any more. I sing, and I laugh more than if I had cast my old age, as a serpent does its skin. Tragees. No, tis not time for joy yet, for you are not sure of success. But when you have got the goddess, then rejoice, shout and laugh. Then s forward you will be able to sail, or stay at home, to make love, or sleep, to attend festivals and processions, to play at Katovos, live like true civilites and to shout, I-O, I-O. Corus. Ah, God grant we may see thee, blessed day, I have suffered so much, have so oft slept with fermio on hard beds. You will no longer find me an acid angry hard, judge as here to for, but will find me turned
indulgent and grown younger by twenty years through happiness. We have been killing ourselves long enough, tiring ourselves out with going to the lyceum and returning laden with spear and buckleer. But what can we do to please you, come speak, for it is a good fate that has named you our leader, Tragees. How shall we set up out removing these stones? Hermes. Ash retrovate, what do you propose doing? Tragees. Nothing bad, as Silly On said. Hermes, you are undone, you wretch. Tragees. Yes, if the lot had to decide my life, for Hermes would know how to turn the chance. Hermes, you are lost, you are dead.
Tragees. On what day, Hermes, this instant, Tragees. But I have not provided myself with flour and cheese yet to start for death. Hermes, you are needed and ground already I tell you. Tragees. Ha, I have not yet tasted that gentle pleasure. Hermes, don't you know that Zeus has decreed death for him who is surprised, exhuming peace? Tragees. What, must I really and truly die? Hermes, you must. Tragees. Well then, lend me three, Dracme, Dubai a young pig. I wish to have myself initiated before I die. Hermes. Oh Zeus, the thunderer.
Tragees. I adore you in the name of the gods, Master, don't you denounce us? Hermes. I may not, I cannot keep silent. Tragees. In the name of the meats which I brought you so good, naturedly. Hermes. Why, wretched man, Zeus will annihilate me if I do not shout out at the top of my voice to inform him what you are plotting. Tragees. Oh no, don't shout, I beg you dear little Hermes. And what are you doing, comrades? You stand there as though you were stocks and stones. Wretched men speak, entreat him at once, otherwise he will be shouting. Oh mighty Hermes, don't do it, no, don't do it, if ever you have eaten some young pig sacrificed by us on your alters with pleasure.
May this offering not be without value in your sight today? Tragees. Do you not hear them wheelling you mighty God? Be not pitiless toward our prayers, permit us to deliver the goddess, O the most human, the most generous of the gods, be favorable toward us. If it be true that you detest the hotty crusts and proud brows of a piscender, we shall never see so, Master, offering you sacred victims and solemn prayers. Tragees. Have mercy, mercy, let yourself be touched by their words, never was your worship so dear to them as today? Hermes. Entruth, never have you been great with ease. Tragees. I will reveal a great, a terrible conspiracy against the gods to you.
Hermes. Ha, speak in perchance, I shall let myself be softened. Tragees. Know then that the moon and that infamous sun are plotting against you and want to deliver Greece into the hands of the barbarians. Hermes. What for? Tragees. Because it is to you that we sacrifice, whereas the barbarians worship them, hence they would like to see you destroyed that they alone might receive the offerings. Tis then for this reason that these untrustworthy charioteers have for so long been defrauding us, one of them robbing us of daylight and the other nibbling away at the others' disc? Tragees. Yes, certainly, so therefore, Hermes, my friend, help us with your whole heart to find and deliver the captive, and we will celebrate the great pantheon in your honor, as well
as all the festivals of the other gods. For Hermes shall be the mysteries, the dipolia, the Adonia. Everywhere the towns freed from their miseries will sacrifice to Hermes, the liberator, you will be loaded with benefits of every kind, and to start with, I offer you this cup for libations as your first present. Hermes. Ah, how golden cups do influence me? Com friends, get to work, do the pit quickly, pick in hand and drag away the stones. Corus, we go, but you cleverest of all the gods, supervise our labors, tell us good workmen as you are what we must do, we shall obey your orders with aliquity. Tragees. Work, reach me your cup, and let us preface our work by addressing prayers to the gods.
Hermes. Oh sacred, sacred libations, keep silence, O ye people, keep silence. Tragees. Let us offer our libations and our prayers so that this day may begin an era of unalloyed happiness for Greece, and that he who has bravely pulled at the rope with us may never resume his buckler. Corus, I may we pass our lives in peace, caressing our mistresses and poking the fire. Tragees. May he who would prefer the war O Dionysus be ever-drying barbed arrows out of his elbows. Hermes. If there be a citizen greedy for military rank and honors who refuses O divine peace to restore you today, late, may he behave as cowardly as Cleonomus on the battlefield.
Tragees. If a lance-maker or a dealer in shields desires war for the sake of a better trade, may he be taken by pirates and eat nothing but barley. Corus. If some ambitious man does not help us be cause he wants to become a general or if a slave is plotting to pass over to the enemy, let his limbs be broken on the wheel, may he be beaten to death with rods, as for us may fortune favor us. I-O, Pané-A, I-O. Tragees. Don't say Pané-A, but simply I-O. Hermes. Very well then, I-O, I-O, I-O simply say I-O. Tragees. To Hermes the graces horror, affordighted eros. Corus.
Bought not to Aris. Tragees. No. Corus. Nor doubtless to Inelius. Tragees. No. Corus. Come all strained at the ropes to tear away the stones, pull Hermes. Heave away, heave, heave-o. Corus. Come pull harder, harder. Hermes. Heave away, heave, heave-o. Tragees. Come, come, there is no working together. Come all pull at the same instant. You boi-chins are only pretending. Beware. Hermes.
Come, heave away, heave-o. Corus. I-You-to-pull as well. Tragees. Why I am pulling, I am hanging onto the rope and straining till I am almost off my feet, I am working with all my might. Corus. Why does not the work advance then? Tragees. Lamaqueus, this is too bad. You are in the way sitting there. We have no use for your madduces' head, friend. Hermes. But hold, the Argyves have not pulled the least bit. They have done nothing but laugh at us for our pains while they are getting gained with both hands. Tragees. Ah, my dear sir, the Lakhanians at all events pull with vigor. Corus. But look, only those among them who generally hold the plough-tail show in his zeal, while
the armorers impede them in their efforts. Hermes. And the Magarians too are doing nothing. Yet look how they are pulling and showing their teeth like vanished curves. The poor wretches are dying of hunger. Tragees. This won't do, friends. Come all together. Everyone to work and with a good heart for the business. Hermes. Heave away. Heave. Tragees. Harder. Hermes. Heave away. Heave. Tragees. Come on then by heaven. Hermes. Heave away. Heave. Heave away. Heave. Corus. This will never do. Tragees. Is it not a shame? Some pull one way and others another. You are guys there.
Beware of a thrashing. Hermes. Come. Put your strength into it. Tragees. Heave away. Heave. Corus. There are many ill-disposed folk among us. Tragees. Do you at least who long for peace pull heartily? Corus. But there are some who prevent us. Hermes. Off to the devil with you, McGerrians. But goddess hates you. She recollects that you were the first to rub her the wrong way. Athenians, you are not well placed for pulling. There, you are too busy with lawsuits. If you really want to free the goddess, get down a little towards the sea. Corus. Come, friends. None but husband men on the rope. Hermes. Ah, that will do ever so much better.
Corus. He says the thing is going well. Come all of you together and with a will. Tragees. Tis the husband men who are doing all the work. Corus. Come then, come and all together. Ha, ha. At last there is some unanimity in the work. Don't let us give up. Let us redouble our efforts. There. Now we have it. Come then all together. Heave away. Heave. Heave away. Heave. Heave away. Heave. Heave away. Heave. Heave away. Heave all together. Peace is drawn out of the pit. Ender scene two. Scene three of peace by Aristophanes.
This library box recording is in the public domain. Scene three. Tragees. Oh, venerated goddess, who give us us our grapes? Where am I to find the ten thousand gallon word? Wherewith to greet thee? I have none such at home. Oh, hail to thee, opera, and thee, theoria. How beautiful is thy face, how sweet thy breath. What gentle fragrance comes from thy bosom. Little as freedom from military duty as the most dainty perfumes. Hermes. Is it then a smell like a soldier's knapsack? Tragees. Oh, hateful soldier, your hideous satchel makes me sick. It stinks like the belching of onions, whereas this lovable deity has the odor of sweet fruits, of festivals, of the Dionysia, of the harmony of flutes, of the comic poets,
of the verses of Sophocles, of the phrases of Euripides, Hermes. That they foul calamity you wretch. She detests that framer of subtleties and quibbles. Tragees. Of ivy, of straining bags of wine, of bleeding use of provision laden women hastening to the kitchen, of the tipsy servant wench, of the upturned wine jar, and of a whole heap of other good things. Hermes. Then look how the ruckian-siled towns chat pleasantly together, how they laugh, and yet they are all cruelly mishandled, their wounds are bleeding still. Tragees. But let us also scan the mean of the spectators, we shall find out the trade of each. Hermes. Ah, good gods! Look at that poor crust maker, cherry at his hair, and at that pike-maker who has just
broken wind and young sword cutler's face. And do you see with what pleasure this sickle-maker is making long noses at the spear-maker? Hermes. Now, ask the husband-men to be off. Tragees. Listen, good folk, let the husband-men take their farming tools and return to their fields as quick as possible, but without either sword, spear, or javelin. Aeol is as quiet as if peace had been raining for a century. Come, let everyone go till the earth, singing the peon. Corus. O thou whom men of standing desired, and who art good to husband-men, I have gazed upon thee with delight, and now I go to greet my vines, to caress after so long, and absence the fig trees I planted in my youth.
Tragees. Friends, let us first adore the goddess, who has delivered us from crests and gorgons, then let us hurry to our farms, having first bought a nice little piece of saltfish to eat in the fields. Hermes. By Poseidon, what a fine crew they make and dint as the crust of a cake, they are as nimble as guests on their way to a feast. Tragees. See how there are in spades glitter, and how beautifully there three pronged medics glisten in the sun. How regularly they align the plants. I also burn myself to go into the country, and to turn over the earth I have so long neglected. Friends, do you remember the happy life that peace afforded us formally? When you recall the splendid baskets of figs, both fresh and dried, the mercils, the sweet
wine, the violet blooming near the spring, and the olives for which we have wept so much, worship, adore the goddess for restoring you so many blessings. Corus. Hail, hail, vile beloved divinity. Thy return overwhelms us with joy. Even far from thee, my ardent wish to see my fields again, made me pine with regret. From thee came all blessings, oh much desired peace, thou art the soul support of those who spend their lives tilling the earth. Under thy rule we had a thousand delicious enjoyments at our back. Thou art the husbandman's weaten cake and his safeguard, so that our vineyards, our young fig tree woods, and all our plantations, hail thee with delight and smile at thy coming.
But where was she then, I wonder, all the long time she spent away from us? Hermes, thou benevolent God, tell us. Wise husbandman, harken to my words, if you want to know why she was lost to you. The start of our misfortunes was the exile of Phidius. Pericles feared he might share his ill-lock. He mistrusted your peevish nature, and to prevent all danger to himself. Be throughout that little spark, the Macarion decree, set the city aflame and blew up the conflagration with a hurricane of war, so that the smoke drew tears from all Greeks, both here and over there. At the very outset of this fire our vines were a crackle, our casks knocked together,
and was beyond the power of any man to stop the disaster, and peace disappeared. Trageus, flat by a palla, is what no one ever told me, I could not think what connection there could be between Phidius and peace. Corus, nor I, I know it now, this accounts for her beauty if she is related to him. There are so many things that escape us, Hermes. Then when the towns subject to you saw that you were angered one against the other, and were showing each other your teeth like dogs, they hatched a thousand plots to pay you no more dues, and gained over the chief citizens of Sparta at the price of gold. Made, being as shamelessly greedy as they were faithless in diplomacy, chased off peace with ignomity to let loose war.
Though this was profitable to them, towards the ruins of the husbandmen who were innocent of all blame, for in revenge your galleys went out to devour their figs. Trageus, and was with justice too, did they not break down my black fig tree? Which I had planted and dunged with my own hands? Corus, yes, by Zeus, yes was well done. The wretches broke a chest for me with stones which held six many many of corn. Hermes, then the rural laborers flocked into the city and left themselves be bought over like the others, not having even a grape-stone to munch and longing after their figs, they looked toward the orators. These well knew that the poor were driven to extremity and lacked even bread, but they
nevertheless drove away the goddess, each time she reappeared in answer to the wish of the country with their loud shrieks that were as sharp as pitchforks. For the more, they attacked the well-filled purses of the richest among our allies, on the pretense that they belonged to Bracidus' party. And then you would tear the poor accused wretches to pieces with your teeth, for the city all pale with hunger and cowed with terror, gladly snapped up any calumny that was thrown it to devour. So the strangers, seeing what terrible blows the informers dealt, sealed their lips with gold. They drew rich, while you, alas, you could only see that Greece was going to ruin. Twas the Tanner who was the author of all this woe. Trigis?
Unoff said Hermes, leave that man in Hades, whether he has gone. He no longer belongs to us but rather to yourself. That he was a cheat, a braggard, a calumnator when alive, why nothing could be true, but anything you might say now would be an insult to one of your own folk. Oh, venerated goddess, why ork thou silent? Hermes. And how could she speak to the spectators? She is too angry at all that they have made her suffer. Trigis? At least let her speak a little to you, Hermes. Hermes? Tell me, my dear, what are your feelings with regard to them? Come you relentless foe of all bucklers, speak. I am listening to you. Ice whispers into Hermes' ear.
Is that your grievance against them? Yes, yes, I understand. Hagen you folks, this is her complaint. She says that after the affair of Pylos, she came to you unbidden to bring you a basket full of truces, and that you thrice repulster by your votes in the assembly. Trigis? Yes, we did wrong, but forgive us for our mind was then entirely absorbed in leather. Hermes, listen again to what she has just asked me. Who was her greatest foe here, and for the more had she a friend who exerted himself to put an end to the fighting? Trigis. Her most devoted friend was Cleanamus, it is undisputed. Hermes, how then did Cleanamus behave in fights? Trigis. Oh, the bravest of warriors, only he was not born of a father he claims, he showed it quick
enough in the army by throwing away his weapons. Hermes, there is yet another question she has put to me. Who rules now in the rostrum? Trigis. Is hyperbolas, who now holds empire on the pranks? To peace. What now? You turn away your head. Hermes. She is vexed that the people should give themselves a wretch of that kind for their chief. Trigis. Oh, we shall not employ him again, but the people seeing themselves without a leader took him haphazard, just as a man who is naked springs upon the first cloak he sees. Hermes. She asks, what will be the result of such a choice of the city? Trigis. We shall be more foreseeing in consequence. Hermes. And why?
Trigis. Because he is a lampmaker. But formally we only directed our business by groping in the dark. Now we shall only deliberate by lamplight. Hermes. Oh, what question she does order me to put to you. Trigis. What are they? Hermes. She wants to have news of a whole heap of old-fashioned things she left here. First of all, how is suffocates? Trigis. Very well, but something very strange has happened to him. Hermes. What then? Trigis. He has turned from suffocates into Simonides. Hermes. Into Simonides? How so? Trigis. Because though old and broken down as he is, he would put to see on a hurdle to gain an obelis. Hermes.
And why is Crittinus? Is he still alive? Trigis. He died about the time of the Laconian invasion. Hermes. How? Trigis. Of a swoon, he could not bear the shock of seeing one of his casks full of wine broken. Ah, what a number of other misfortunes our city has suffered. So, dearest mistress, nothing can now separate us from the Hermes. If that be so, receive a porra here for a wife. Take her to the country, live with her and grow fine grapes together. Trigis. Come, my dear friend. Come and accept my kisses. Tell me, Hermes, my master, do you think it would hurt me to love her a little after so long an abstinence? Hermes. No, not if you swallow a potion of penny-royal afterwards, but hasten to lead theoria to the
senate, who was there she lodged before. Trigis. Oh, fortunate senate. Thanks to theoria, what soups you will swallow for the space of three days, how you will devour meats and cook to try. Come, farewell friend Hermes. Hermes. Come to you also, my dear sir. May you have much happiness and don't forget me. Trigis. Come, beetle, home, home, and let us fly on a swift wing. Hermes. Oh, he is no longer here. Trigis. Where has he gone to then? Hermes. He is harnessed to the chariot of Zeus and bear as the thunderbolts. Trigis. But where will the poor wretch get his food? Hermes. He will eat Gennemy and Rosia. Trigis. Very well then, but how am I supposed to descend?
Hermes. Oh, never fear, there is nothing simpler. Place yourself beside the goddess. Trigis. Come, my pretty maidens. Follow me quickly. There are plenty of folk awaiting you with ready weapons. Corus. Farewell and good luck be yours. Let us begin by handing over all this gear to the care of our servants, for no place is less safe than a theater. There is always a crowd of thieves prowling around it, seeking to find some mischief to do. Come, keep a good watch over all this. As for ourselves, let us explain to the spectators what we have in our minds the purpose of our play. Undoubtedly the comic poet who mounted the stage to praise himself in the parabasis would deserve to be handed over to the sticks of the beetles. Nevertheless, omews, if it be right to esteem the most honest and illustrious of our comic
writers at his proper value, permit our poet to say that he thinks he has deserved a glorious renown. First of all, to his he who has compelled his rivals no longer to scoff at rags or to war with lice. And as to those heracles, always chewing and ever hungry, those polk trunes and cheats who allow themselves to be beaten at will, he was the first to cover them with ridicule and to chase them from the stage. He has also dismissed that slave whom one never failed to set a weeping before you, so that his comrades might have the chance of jeering at his stripes and might ask, wretch, what has happened to your hide? Has the lash reigned an army of its thongs on you and laid your back waste? After having delivered us from all these weary some ineptitudes and these low buffoonaries,
he has built up for us a great art, like a palace with high towers, constructed of fine phrases, great thoughts, and of jokes not common on the streets. Moreover, does not obscure private persons or women that he stages in his comities but bold as heracles, does the very greatest whom he attacks, undeterred by the fetted stink of leather or the threats of hearts of mud? He has the right to say, I am the first ever dared to go straight for that beast with the sharp teeth and the terrible eyes that flashed lamb at fire like those of Sinah, surrounded by a hundred lured flatters who sped a licked him to his heart's content. It had a voice like a roaring torrent, the stench of a seal, a foul lummy as testicles and the rump of a camel.
I do not recoil in horror at the sight of such a monster, but fought him relentlessly to win your deliverance and that of the islanders. Such are the services which should be graven in your recollection and entitle me to your thanks. Yet, I have not been seen frequenting the wrestling school intoxicated with success and trying to tamper with young boys, but I took all my theatrical gear and returned straight home. I paint folk but little and cause them much amusement. My conscience rebuked me for nothing. Hints both grown men and youth should be on my side, and I likewise invite the bald to give me their votes. For if I triumph everyone will say, both at table and at festivals, carry this to the bald man, give these cakes to the bald one, do not grudge the poet whose talent shines as
brightness's own bare skull this share he deserves. Oh, Muse, drive the war for from our city and come to preside over our dances if you love me. Come and celebrate the nuptials of the gods, the banquets of us mortals and the festivals of the fortunate. These are the themes that inspire thy most poetic songs. And should Croscenus come to beg thee for admission with his sons to thy chorus, refuse all traffic with them. Remember they are but gilded birds, stark necked dancers, mannequins about as tall as a pat of goat dung. In fact, machine-made poets. Contrary to all expectation the father has at last managed to finish a piece, but he owns himself that a catch strangled it one fine evening.
Such are the songs with which the Muse, with the glorious hair, inspires the able poet, and which enchanted thee assembled populous when the spring swallows whitters beneath the foliage. But the gods spare us from the chorus of Marseamus and that of Melanthius. Oh, what a bitter discordancy grated upon my ears that day when the tragic chorus was directed by this same Melanthius and his brother. These two gargons, these two harpies, the plague of the seas, whose gluttonous bellies devour the entire race of fishes, these followers of old women, these goats with their spinking armpits. Oh, Muse, spit upon them abundantly and keep the feast galley with me. End of scene 3
Scene 4 of Peace by Aristophanes This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Scene 4 Tragesse Ah, it is a rough job getting to the gods. My legs are as good as broken through it. How small you were to be sure when seen from heaven. You had all the appearance too of being great wrestles, but seen close you look even worse. Servant Is that you, Master? Tragesse So I've been told, servant, what has happened to you? Tragesse Ah, my legs pain me. It is such a plaggy long journey. Servant Oh, tell me, Tragesse, what? Servant, did you see any other man besides yourself strolling about in heaven? Tragesse No, only the souls of two or three did the rampant poets.
Servant What were they doing up there? Tragesse They were seeking to catch some lyric exordia as they flew by immersed in the billows of the air. Servant Is it true what they tell us that men are turned into stores after death? Tragesse Quite true Servant Then who is that store I see over yonder? Tragesse That is Ion of Chios, the author of an old beginning morning. As soon as ever he got to heaven they called him the morning store. Servant And those stores like sparks that plow up the air as they dart across the sky? Tragesse They are the rich leaving the feast with a lantern and a light inside it. But hurry up, show this young girl into my house, clean out the bath, heat some water and prepare the nuptial couch for herself and me.
When it is done come back here. Meanwhile I am off to present this one to the Senate. Servant But where then did you get these pretty chattels? Tragesse Where? Why in heaven? Servant I would not give more than an obeluce for gods who have got to keeping brothels like us mere mortals. Tragesse They are not all so But there are some up there to who live by this trade. Servant Come, that's rich But I'd be thinking me shall I give her something to eat? Tragesse No, for she would neither touch bread nor cake. She is used to looking at the table of the gods. Servant Well we can give her something to look down here too. Corus Here is a truly happy old man as far as I can judge. Tragesse
Ah, but what shall I be when you see me presently dressed for the wedding? Corus Made young again by love and scented with perfumes, your lot will be one we all shall envy. Tragesse And when I lie beside her in caressor bosoms? Corus Oh, then you will be happier than those spinning tops who called Corsincus their father. Tragesse And I will deserve it, have I not bestridden a beetle to save the Greeks? Who now, thanks to me, can make love at their ease and sleep peacefully on their forms? Servant The girl has quitted the bath. She is charming from head to foot, both belly and buttocks. The cake is baked and they are needing the sesame biscuit. Nothing is lacking but the bride groom's virility. Tragesse Let us first hasten to lodge theorea in the hands of the Senate.
Servant But tell me who is this woman? Tragesse Why does theorea, with whom we used formerly to go to Balran to get tipsy and frolic? I had the greatest trouble to get hold of her. Servant Ah, you charm her. What pleasure you're pretty bottom will afford me every four years. Tragesse Let us see who of you is steady enough to be trusted by the Senate with the care of this charming witch. Hi, you friend. What are you drawing there? Servant I am drawing the plan of the tent I wish to erect for myself on the Ismoth. Tragesse Come, who wishes to take charge of her? No one? Come, theorea, I am going to lead you into the midst of the spectators and confide you to their care. Servant Ah, there is one who makes a sign to you.
Tragesse Who is it? Servant Tis ever afraid ease. He wishes to take her home at once. Tragesse No, I'm sure he shan't. He would soon have her done for, absorbing all her life force. Come, theorea, put down all this gear. Senate Pritanyes look upon theorea and see what precious blessings I place in your hands. Hacen to raise its limbs and to emulate the victim. Admire the fine chimney. It is quite black with smoke. Forch was here that the Senate did their cooking before the war. Now that you have found theorea again, you can start the most charming games from tomorrow, wrestling with her on the ground. Either on your hands and feet, or you can lay her on her side. Or stand before her with bent knees. Or well rubbed with oil you can boldly enter the lists.
As in the pancrottium, belaboring your foe with blows from your fist are otherwise. The next day you will celebrate equestrian games in which the writers will rise side by side, or else the chariot teams thrown one on top of another. Panting and winning will roll and knock against each other on the ground, while other rivals thrown out of their seats will fall before reaching the goal, utterly exhausted by their efforts. Come, Pritanyes, take theorea. Oh, look how graciously Yunder Fellow has received her. You would not have been in such a hurry to introduce her to the Senate if nothing were coming to you through it. You would not have failed to plead some holiday as an excuse. Corus, such a man as you assures the happiness of all his fellow citizens, Drogias. When you are gathering your ventages, you will prize me even better.
Corus, in from today we hail you as the deliverer of mankind. Drogias, wait until you have drunk a beaker of new wine before you appraise my true merits. Corus, accepting the gods there is none greater than yourself, and that will ever be our opinion. Yes, ye Trogias of Ethmonia has deserved well of you. He has freed both husband, men, and craftsmen from the most cruel ills. He has vanquished hyperbolas. Servant, well then what must be done now? Trogias, you must offer pots of green stuff to the goddess to consecrate her alters. Potts of green stuff as we do to poor hermies, and even he thinks the fair but mean Trogias.
What will you offer them? A fatted bull? Servant, oh no, I don't want to start bellowing the battle-cry. Trogias, a great fat swine then. Servant, no, no. Trogias, why not? Servant, we don't want any of the swindishness of the iginez. Trogias, what other victim do you prefer then? Servant, a sheep. Trogias, a sheep? Servant, yes. Trogias, but you must give the word the Ionic form. Servant, purposely, so that if anyone in the assembly says we must go to war, all may start bleeding in alarm. Aye, aye. Trogias, a brilliant idea. Servant, and we shall all be lambs, one toward the other, ye, and milder still toward the
allies. Trogias, then go for the sheep and haste to bring it back with you. I will prepare the altar for the sacrifice. Trogias, how everything succeeds to our wish when the gods are willing and fortune favors us, how opportunity everything falls out. Trogias, nothing could be true for look, here stands the altar, already at my door. Trogias, hurry, hurry for the winds or fickle, make haste while the divine will list that on stopping this cruel war and is showering on us the most striking benefits. Trogias, here is the basket of barley, seed, bingled with salt, the chaplet and the sacred knife, and there is the fire, so we are only waiting for the sheep. Chorus, hasten, hasten, for if Charisus sees you, he will come without bidding, he and his
flute, and when you see him puffing and panting an out of breath you will have to give him something. Trogias, come seize the basket and take the lustrele water and hurry to circle round the altar to the right. Servant, there, tis done, what is your next bidding? Trogias, hold, I take this firebrand first and plunge it into the water. Servant, be quick, be quick, sprinkle the altar. Trogias, give me some barley seed, purify yourself and hand me the basin, then scatter the rest of the barley among the audience. Servant, tis done? Trogias, you have thrown it? Servant, yes by her knees, and all the spectators have had their share. Trogias, but not the women? Servant. Oh, their husbands will give it them this evening.
Trogias, let us pray, who is here? Are there any good men? Servant, come give so that I may sprinkle these. Faith, they are indeed good brave men. Trogias, you believe so? Servant, I am sure, and the proof of it is that we have flooded them with lustrele water and they have not budged an inch. Trogias, come then to prayers, to prayers, quick. Oh, peace, mighty queen, venerated goddess, thou who presided over choruses and at nubtuels, dain to accept the sacrifices we offer the servant. Receive it greatly honored mistress and behave not like the coquets who have opened the door to entice the gallants, draw back when they are stared at, to return once more if a man passes on, but do not act like this to us.
Trogias, no, though like the honest woman, show yourself to thy worshipers, who are warned with regretting the all these thirteen years, hush the noise of battle, be a true, the mock-rot to us, put an in to this titl-tattle, to this idle babble that set us defying one another. Caused the Greeks once more to taste the pleasant beverage of friendship, and temper all hearts with the gentle feeling of forgiveness. Make excellent commodities flow to our markets, fine heads of garlic, early cucumbers, apples, pomegranates, and nice little cloaks for the slaves. Make them bring geese, ducks, pigeons, and larks from bowisha, and baskets of eels from like copace. We shall all rush to buy them, disputing their possession with morocos, tellyus, glauquets and every other glutton.
Philanthus will arrive on the market last of all, tol be no more eels all sold, and then he'll start agroning and exclaiming as in his monologue of media. I am dying, I am dying alas, I have let those hidden in the beat escape me, and won't we laugh. These are the wishes, mighty goddess, which we pray thee to grant. And take the knife and slaughter the sheep like a finished cook. Tregeus, no, the goddess does not wish it. Servant, and why not? Tregeus, lod cannot please peace, so let us spill none upon her altar. Therefore go and sacrifice the sheep in the house, cut off the legs and bring them here, thus the corkus will be saved for the corkus. You who remain here, get chopped wood and everything needed for the sacrifice ready,
Tregeus. Don't I look like a diviner preparing his mystic fire? Chorus, undoubtedly, will anything that it be who's a wise man to know escape you? Don't you know all that a man should know, who is distinguished for his wisdom and inventive daring? Tregeus, there the wood catches, it's smoked blinds poor, still be des, I am now going to bring the table, and thus be my own slave. Chorus, you have braved a thousand dangers to save your sacred town. All honor to you, your glory will be ever invied. Servant. Gold, here are the legs, place them upon the altar. For myself I mean to go back to the intervals and the cakes. Tregeus, I'll see to those I want you here. Servant, well then here I am.
Do you think I have been long? Tregeus, just get this roasted. Ah, who is this man crowned with laurel who is coming to me? Servant. As a self-importance look, is he some diviner? Tregeus, no, in faith to his Heracles. Servant. Ah, that oracle monger from Aureus, what is he going to tell us? Tregeus, evidently he is coming to oppose the peace. Servant, no, to his the order of the fat that attracts him. Tregeus, let us appear not to see him. And very well, here are the keys. What sacrifices this do I God are you offering it? Tregeus to the servant. Silence. Allowed. Look after the roasting and keep your hands off the meat. Here are the keys. To whom are you sacrificing?
Answer me. Ah, the tale is showing favorable moments. Servant. Why, very favorable, oh loved and mighty peace? Heracles. Calm cut off the first offering and make the oblation. Tregeus, just not roasted enough? Heracles. Yes, truly, just done to a turn. Tregeus, mine your own business. Friend, to the servant. Cut away. Where is the table? Bring the libations. Heracles. The tongue is cut separately. Tregeus, we know all that, but just listen to one piece of advice. Heracles. And that is. Tregeus, don't talk for it is divine peace to whom we are sacrificing. Heracles. Oh, wretched mortals, oh you idiots. Tregeus, keep such ugly terms for yourself.
Heracles. What? You are so ignorant. You don't understand the will of the gods, and you make a treaty you who are men with apes who are full of mellus. Tregeus. Ha, ha, ha. Here, heracles. What are you laughing at? Tregeus. Ha, ha, your apes amuse me. Here, heracles. You simple pigeons. You trust yourselves to foxes who are all craft, both in mind and heart. Tregeus. Oh, you troublemaker, may your lungs get as hot as this meat. Here, heracles. No, no. If only the nymphs had not fooled Bashi and Bashi, mortal men, and if the nymphs had not tricked Bashi, a second time. Tregeus. May the plague seize you if you don't stop worrying us with your Bashi.
Here, heracles. It would not have been written in the book of fate that the bends of peace must be broken, but first Tregeus. The meat must be dusted with salt. Here, heracles. It does not please the blessed gods that we should stop the war until the wolf united with the sheep. Tregeus. How, you cursed animal, could the wolf ever unite with the sheep. Here, heracles. As long as the wood bug gives off a fetted odor when it flies. As long as the noisy bitches forced by nature to litter blind pups, so long shall peace be forbidden. Tregeus. Then what should be done? Not to stop war would be to leave it to the decision of chance which of the two people should suffer the most. Whereas by uniting under a treaty, we share the empire of Greece.
Here, heracles. You will never make the crab walk straight. Tregeus. You shall no longer be fed at the perineum. The war done oracles are not wanted. Here, heracles. You will never smooth the rough spikes of the hedgehog. Tregeus. Will you never stop fooling the Athenians? Here, heracles. What oracle ordered you to burn these joints of mutton in order of the gods? Tregeus. This grand oracle of homers. Thus vanished the dark war clouds, and we offered a sacrifice to newborn peace. When the flame had consumed the thighs of the victim and its inwards had appeased our hunger, we poured out the libations of wine. To a sigh who arranged the sacred rites, but none offered the shining cup to the diviner. Here, heracles. I care a little for that.
It is not the civil who spoke it. Tregeus. Wise Homer has also said, he who delights in the horrors of civil war has neither country nor laws nor home. Act noble words. Here, heracles. Beware, luster kite, turn your brain and rob. Tregeus. Look out, slave. This oracle threatens our meat. Quick. Pour the libation and give me some of the inwards. Here, heracles. I too will help myself to abit if you like. Tregeus. The libation, the libation. Here, heracles. Pour out also for me and give me some of this meat. Tregeus. No, the blessed gods won't allow it yet. Let us drink, and as for you get you gone, for it is there will. My TPs stay ever in our midst.
Here, heracles. Bring the tongue hither. Tregeus. Relieve us of your own. Here, heracles. The libation. Tregeus. Here, and this into the bargain strikes him. Here, heracles. You will not give me any meat? Tregeus. We cannot give you any until the wolf unites with the sheep. Here, heracles. I will embrace your knees. Tregeus. Tears lost labor, good fellow. You will never smooth the rough spikes of the hedgehog. Some spectators join us in our feast. Here, heracles. And what am I to do? Tregeus. You go and eat the sibil. Here, heracles. No, by the earth. No, you shall not eat without me. If you do not give, I take, tears common property.
Tregeus, to the servant. Take, strike this bushy, this humbugging suit-sitter. Here, heracles. I take to witness, Tregeus. And I also, that you are a glutton and an imposter. Hold him tight and beat the imposter with a stick. Servant. You look to that. I will snatch the skin from him, which he has stolen from us. Are you going to let go that skin you preached from hell? Do you hear? Oh, what a fine crow has come from orius. Stretch your wings quickly for aluminum. Corus. Oh, joy, joy, no more helmet, no more cheese nor onions. No, I have no passion for battles. What I love is to drink with good comrades in the corner by the fire when good dry wood cut in the height of the summer is crackling. It is to cook peas on the cold and beach-nuts among the embers.
Tis to kiss our pretty thration while my wife is at the bath. Nothing is more pleasing when the rain is sprouting our soings than to chat with some friend saying, tell me, how much it is, what shall we do? I would willingly drink myself while the heavens are watering our fields. Some wife cook three measures of beans, adding to them a little wheat and give us some figs. Syrah. Call Monez off the fields. It is impossible to prune the vine or to align the ridges for the ground is too wet today. Let someone bring me the thrush and those two chaff inches. There were also some curds and four pieces of hair, unless the cats stole them last evening. All I know, not what the infernal noise was that I heard in the house, serve up three of the pieces for me, slave, and give the forth to my father. Go and ask estonadais for some myrtle branches with berries on them, and then, forch, is the
same road, you will invite chorinadais to come and drink with me to the honor of the gods who watch over our crops. In the grasshopper sings his dulcet tune, I love to see the lemmy and vines beginning to ripen. Forch is the earliest plant of all. I love likewise to watch the fig filling out, and when it has reached maturity I eat with appreciation and exclaim, oh, delightful season. Then too I bruise some time and infused it in water. Indeed I grow a great deal fatter passing the summer in this way, and in watching a cursed captain with his three plumes and his military cloak of a startling crimson, he calls it true sordy and purple, which he takes care to die himself with syscus sephron in a battle. Then he is the first to run away, shaking his plumes like a great yellow prancing cock,
while I am left to watch the net. Once back again in Athens, these brave fellows behave abominably. They write down these, they scratch through others, and this backwards and forwards two or three times at random. The departure is set for tomorrow, and some citizen has brought no provisions, because he didn't know he had to go. He stops in front of the statue of Pandion, reads his name, is dumbfounded, and starts away at a run weeping bitter tears. The towns folk are less ill-used, but that is how the husband men are treated by these men of war, the hatred of the gods, and of men who know nothing but how to throw away their shield. For this reason, if it please have an eye proposed to call these rascals to account for they are lions in time of peace, but sneaking foxes when it comes to fighting.
Tregeus. Oh, oh, what a crowd for the nupchou of feast! Here dust the tables with this crest, which is good for nothing else now. Hello, ah, produce the cakes, the thrushes, plenty of good-jugged hair and the little lows. A sickle-maker. Tregeus. Where is Tregeus? I am cooking the thrushes. Sickle-maker. Tregeus, my best of friends, when I find stroke of business you have done for me by bringing back peace. Formerly my sickles would not have sold at an obelisopiece. Today I am being paid fifty-drug may for everyone, and here is a neighbor who is selling his casks for the country at three-drug may each. So come, Tregeus, take as many sickles and casks as you will for nothing, except them for nothing. It is because of our handsome prophets on our sails that we offer you these wedding
presents. Tregeus. Thanks. Put them all down inside there and come along quicker to the banquet. Ah, do you see that armorer younger coming with a rye face? A crest-maker. O la salas, Tregeus, you have ruined me utterly. Tregeus, what? Won't the crests go any more, friend? Crestmaker. You have killed my business, my livelihood, and that of this poor lance-maker too. Tregeus. Come, come, what are you asking for these two crests? Crestmaker. What do you bid for them? Tregeus. What do I bid? Oh, I'm ashamed to say, still, as the clasp is of good workmanship, I would give two, even three measures of dried figs. I could use them for dusting the table.
Crestmaker. All right, tell them to bring me the dried figs, as always, better than nothing. Tregeus. Take them away, be off with your crests, and get you gone. They are molding, they are losing all their hair. I would not give a single fig for them. A breastplate maker. Good gods, what am I going to do with this fine tin minne breastplate, which is so splendidly made? Tregeus. Oh, you will lose nothing over it. Breastplate maker? I will tell it to you at cost price. Tregeus. It would be very useful as a night stool. Breastplate maker. Seize your insults, both to me and my wares. Tregeus. If propped on three stones, look, disamorable. Breastplate maker. But how can you wipe idiot? Tregeus. I can pass one hand through here and the other there, and so.
Breastplate maker. What? Do you wipe with both hands? Tregeus. I, so that I may not be accused of robbing the state by blocking up an ore hole in the galley. Breastplate maker. So you would pay ten minne for a night stool? Tregeus. Undoubtedly you, rascal. Do you think I would sell my rump for a thousand drac-me? Breastplate maker. Come have the money paid over to me. Tregeus. No friend, I find it hurts me to sit on. Take it away, I won't buy it. A trumpet maker. What is to be done with this trumpet for which I gave sixty drac-me the other day? Tregeus. Poor led into the hollow and fit a good long stick to the top, and you will have a balanced codobose. Tregeus. Ha, you would mock me.
Tregeus. Well, here's another notion. Poor in led, as I said, adheres a dish hung on strings, and you will have a balanced for weighing the figs which you give your slaves in the fields. A helmet maker. Cursed fate, I am ruined here, or helmets, for which I gave a minne each what I to do with them who will buy them. Tregeus. Oh, and sell them to the Egyptians, they will do for measuring loosening medicines. A spear maker. Aw, poor helmet maker. Things are indeed in a bad way. Tregeus. That man has no cost for a complaint. Spear maker. But helmets will be no more used. Tregeus. Let him learn to fit a handle to them, and he can sell them for more money. Spear maker. Let us be off, comrade. Tregeus. No, I want to buy these spears.
Spear maker. What will you give? Tregeus. If they could be split in two, I would take them at a drop of per hundred to use as wine props. Spear maker. The insulin dog. Let's go, friend. Tregeus. Ah, here come the guests, children from the table to relieve themselves. I fancy they also want to hum over what they will be singing presently. Hi, child. What do you reckon to sing? Stand there and give me the opening line. The son of Lamakas. Glory to the young warriors. Tregeus. Oh, leave off about your young warriors, you little wretch. You are at peace, and you are an idiot and a rascal. Son of Lamakas. This girmish begins the hollow bucklers clash against each other. Tregeus. Bucklers, leave me in peace with your bucklers. Son of Lamakas.
And then there came groanings and shouts of victory. Tregeus. Groanings. Ha, ha, by buckas. Look out for yourself, you cursed squalor. If you start wearying us again with your groanings and hollow bucklers, son of Lamakas. Then what should I sing? Tell me what pleases you. Tregeus. Tregeus. Tregeus. Tis thus they feasted on the flesh of oxen, or something similar, as, for instance, everything that could tickle the palate was placed on the table. Son of Lamakas. As thus they feasted on the flesh of oxen, and tired of warfare, unharmed their foaming steeds. Tregeus. That's splendid. Tired of warfare, they seeped themselves at table, saying, sing to us how they still go on eating after they are satiated. Son of Lamakas. The meal over, they girded themselves.
Tregeus. With good wine and no doubt. Son of Lamakas. With armor and rushed forth from the towers and a terrible shout arose. Tregeus. Get you gone, you little scapegrace, you in your battles. You sing of nothing but warfare. Who is your father then? Son of Lamakas. My father? Tregeus. Why yes, your father? Son of Lamakas. I am Lamakas's son. Tregeus. Oh, oh, I could indeed have sworn when I was listening to you that you were the son of some warrior who dreams of nothing but wounds and bruises of some bullomakas or plosomakas, go and sing your pliggy songs to the spearmen. Where is the son of Cleanamus? Sing me something before going back to the feast. I am at least certain people not singing of battles, where his father is far too careful
a man. Son of Cleanamus. An inhabitant of sayas is parading with the spotless shield, which I were worth to say I have thrown into a wicked. Tregeus. Tell me you little good for nothing. Are you singing that for your father? Son of Cleanamus. But I saved my life. Tregeus. And dishonored your family. Not let us go in. I am very certain that being the son of such a father, you will never forget this song of the buckler. You who remain to the feast, Tejure, Dutti, to devour dish after dish and not to apply empty jaws. Come, put heart into the work and eat with your mouth full. For believe me, poor friends, white teeth are useless furniture if they chew nothing. For us, never fear, thanks all the same for your good advice.
Tregeus. You who, yesterday, were dying of hunger, calm, stuffed yourselves with this fine hairstyoo, it is not every day that we find cakes lying neglected. Each, each, or I predict you will soon regret it. For us. Silence. Keep silence. Here is the bride about to appear. Take nupchewal torches. Let all rejoice and join in our songs. Then when we have danced, clicked our cups and throne, hyperbolas through the doorway, we will carry back all our forming tools to the fields, and shall pray the gods to give wealth to the Greeks, and to cause us all together in an abundant barley harvest. For a noble vintage, to grant that we may choke with good figs, that our wives may prove fruitful, that in fact we may recover all our lost blessings, and that the sparkling fire may be restored to the hearth.
Tregeus. Come, wife to the fields and seek my beauty, to brighten and in life in my nights. Oh, hymen, oh hymenaeus. Oh, thrice happy man, who so well deserve your good fortune. Tregeus. Oh, hymen, oh hymenaeus. Chorus. Oh, hymen, oh hymenaeus. First semi-chorus. What shall we do to her? Second semi-chorus. What shall we do to her? First semi-chorus. We will gather her kisses. Second semi-chorus. We will gather her kisses. Chorus. Come, comrades. We who are in the first row, let us pick up the bridegroom and carry him in triumph. Oh hymen, oh hymenaeus. Oh hymen, oh hymenaeus.
Tregeus. Oh hymen, oh hymenaeus. Chorus. You shall have a fine house, no cares, and the finest of figs. Oh hymen, oh hymenaeus. Tregeus. Oh hymen, oh hymenaeus. Chorus. The bridegroom's fig is great and thick. The bride's very soft and tender. Tregeus. While eating and drinking deep drafts of wine continue to repeat, oh hymen, oh hymenaeus. Chorus. Oh hymen, oh hymenaeus. Tregeus. Farewell, farewell, my friends. All who come with me shall have cake scullower. End of scene four. End of piece by Aristophanes.
More episodes
