Aristophanes
THE FROGS
405 BC
Translator’s Note
This translation by Ian Johnston of Malaspina
University-College, Nanaimo, BC, has certain copyright restrictions. For
information please use the following link: Copyright.
For comments or question please contact Ian
Johnston.
This text is
available in the form of a Publisher file for those who would like to print it
off as a small book. There is no charge for these files. For
details, please use the following link: Publisher files. The translation is also available in the
form of a published paperback book from Richer Resources
Publications.
This text
provides links to explanatory notes (indicated by asterisks), but those reading
the entire play might be better served by printing out those pages separately.
The normal
line numbers refer to this text. The ones in square brackets refer to the
Greek text.
The
translator would like to acknowledge the extremely valuable help of W. B.
Stanford’s edition of The Frogs (London: Macmillan, 1963).
For
comments, questions, corrections, suggestions for improvements please contact Ian Johnston.
For Annie
in whom the best spirit of Aristophanes still lives on.
The Frogs
Dramatis Personae
XANTHIAS: a slave
DIONYSUS: the god, appearing in human form as a middle-aged man
HERCULES: the legendary hero
CORPSE: a dead man being carried off to Hades
CHARON: the ferry man transporting the dead to Hades
CHORUS OF FROGS
CHORUS OF INITIATES: worshippers of the gods of the underworld
AEACUS: a gatekeeper in Hades
SERVANT
FIRST HOSTESS (PANDOKEUTRIA)
SECOND HOSTESS (PLATANE)
SERVANT OF PLUTO
EURIPIDES: the playwright
AESCHYLUS: the playwright
PLUTO: king of Hades
VARIOUS ATTENDANTS
[The
play opens on a street leading to Hades, with a door in the centre of the
backstage area. Enter Dionysus, appearing as a middle-aged man with a
noticeable paunch, wearing a yellow tunic and over that a lion skin. He’s
carrying a huge club, one commonly associated with Hercules. On his feet he
wears soft leather lace-up boots. Behind him comes his slave Xanthias riding on
a donkey and carrying a huge amount of luggage. Xanthias notices the audience]
XANTHIAS:
Look, master, an audience! Shouldn’t I say something?
Tell them one of those jokes
they always fall for?
DIONYSUS:
Oh, all right—say what you like. Only no jokes
about how you’re dying to
piss. I can’t stand those—
they’re all so stale.
XANTHIAS:
What about my other jokes?
DIONYSUS:
Go ahead—just nothing about your bladder,
about how it’s going to burst.
XANTHIAS:
What? You mean I can’t tell
that really funny one . . .
DIONYSUS:
I suppose so—
but don’t say anything about
the bit.
XANTHIAS:
What bit?
DIONYSUS:
The bit about how you need to shift your load 10
to take a piss.
XANTHIAS:
Not even this one—
"Here I am transporting
such a load
if I get no relief I may
explode."
[10]
DIONYSUS:
Please, please, don't say that one—
not unless I’m sick and need
to throw up.
XANTHIAS:
Then what’s the point of my being here like this?
Why do I get to carry all the
heavy baggage
if I can’t tell the usual
porter jokes—you know,
the ones Ameipsias and
Phrynichus
and Lycias, too, in all their
comedies
20
provide the slave who carries
all the bags.*
DIONYSUS:
Just don’t. Those jokes are all so feeble—
when I have to watch a play
and hear them
by the time I leave I’ve aged
at least a year.
XANTHIAS
[striking a heroic tragic pose]
Alas, for my neck beneath this
triply damned yoke.
I suffer all this pressure and
can’t tell my
joke.
[20]
DIONYSUS:
It’s an outrage, sheer insolence, that I,
Dionysus, son of Winejar, have
to walk like this,
sweating along so he can ride
at ease
without a care and carrying no
load.
XANTHIAS:
What!?
30
Aren’t I carrying the load?
DIONYSUS:
How can you be?
You’re riding on your ass.
XANTHIAS:
I’m loaded down.
All this stuff . . .
DIONYSUS:
What do you mean by that?
XANTHIAS:
What I just said carries lots of weight.
DIONYSUS:
Isn’t the donkey carrying our load?
XANTHIAS:
No, no way. Not the load I’m holding.
DIONYSUS:
How come?
How can you be carrying
anything at all
when someone else is carrying
you?
XANTHIAS:
I’ve no idea.
But my shoulder’s falling
off.
[30]
DIONYSUS:
All right, then.
Since you claim the donkey’s
useless to
you,
40
why not take your turn and
carry it?
XANTHIAS:
What a wretched life!
I should have gone away to
fight at sea—
then I’d be free and I’d have
told you straight
what you could do with that
ass of yours.*
DIONYSUS:
Get down, you useless idiot! We’re there—
by the door I’m aiming for, my
first stop.
[Dionysus
knocks very aggressively on the door and calls out in a very imperious tone]
Hey, in there! Doorman! I’m summoning you.
[The
door opens and Hercules steps out, wearing a lion’s skin and carrying a club.
He’s amazed that someone is dressed up to resemble him]
HERCULES:
Who’s banging on this door—smashing at it
like some wild centaur. My
god, what’s this?
[Hercules
inspects Dionysus’ outfit and starts to laugh uproariously]
DIONYSUS:
Hey, my boy . . .
XANTHIAS:
What?
DIONYSUS:
Didn’t you see?
XANTHIAS:
See
what?
50
[40]
DIONYSUS:
How scared he was of me?
XANTHIAS:
Yes, by god, he was,
scared you’re nuts.
HERCULES
[doubling up with laughter] By holy Demeter,
I can’t stop laughing. I’ll
try biting my lip.
No, no use. I can’t stop
laughing at him.
DIONYSUS:
Come here, my good man. I need something from you.
HERCULES
[still laughing out of control]
I can’t help myself—he’s
so ridiculous.
Seeing that lion skin above
that yellow dress.
What’s going on? Do people
with large clubs
now walk around in leather
booties?
Where on earth do you think
you’re going?
60
DIONYSUS:
I’ve done naval service under Cleisthenes.*
HERCULES:
At that sea battle?
DIONYSUS:
Yes—and sunk enemy ships,
twelve or thirteen of 'em.
[50]
HERCULES:
Just the two of you?
DIONYSUS:
Yes, by Apollo, we did.
XANTHIAS:
Then I woke up.
DIONYSUS:
I was on board with Euripides' Andromeda,
reading to myself aloud, when
suddenly
a huge urge seized my heart.
You’ve no idea how strong.
HERCULES:
An urge? How big was it?
DIONYSUS:
The size of Molon—tiny.*
HERCULES:
For a woman?
DIONYSUS:
No, no.
HERCULES:
A young lad, then?
DIONYSUS:
Certainly not.
HERCULES:
Well, then, a man?
DIONYSUS:
Ugh! 70
HERCULES:
Did you grab hold of your Cleisthenes?
DIONYSUS:
Don’t mock me, brother.* I’m not doing so well,
tormented by such hot desires.
HERCULES:
Tell me,
my little brother, what’s it
like?
DIONYSUS
I can’t explain.
[60]
But I’ll try to show you by
analogy.
Have you ever had a craving
for some stew?*
HERCULES:
For stew? In my life maybe ten thousand times.
DIONYSUS:
Is that explanation clear enough to you?
Or shall I try some other way?
HERCULES:
Not about
stew!
That I understand
completely.
DIONYSUS:
Well then,
80
that’s how much I’m eaten up
with my desire
for Euripides.
HERCULES:
Even when he’s dead?*
DIONYSUS:
So no one’s going to talk me out of it—
I have to find him.
HERCULES:
Right down in Hell?
DIONYSUS:
Or even lower,
by god, if there’s such a
place.
[70]
HERCULES:
What’s the point of that?
DIONYSUS:
I need a clever poet. There’s none around.
The ones we’ve got are all so
lousy.
HERCULES:
What? Isn’t Iophon still up there?*
DIONYSUS:
He’s the only good one left—if he’s any good.
I’m not really sure if the
case.
90
HERCULES:
If you’ve got to take a playwright back,
why not Sophocles? He’s better
than Euripides.
DIONYSUS:
Not ’til I get Iophon all by himself,
without his father, Sophocles,
so I can test
the metal of his poetry.
Besides, Euripides
is such a rascal he may try to
flee Hades
[80]
and come with me. But
Sophocles was nice—
easy going while on earth and
down here, too.
HERCULES:
What about Agathon? Where’s he?
DIONYSUS:
He’s
left us—
a fine poet lamented by his
friends.
100
HERCULES:
Where’s he gone?
DIONYSUS:
Off to feast with saints.*
HERCULES:
And Xenocles?*
DIONYSUS:
Oh by god, may he drop dead!
HERCULES:
Well then, Pythangelos?
XANTHIAS:
What about ME?
In pain all this time—my
shoulder's sore as hell.
HERCULES:
Surely you've other artsy-fartsy types—
thousands of tragic poets—all
of them
[90]
way more wordy than Euripides?
DIONYSUS:
No, no—
all chatterboxes, twittering
swallows in a music hall,
mere foliage—disgraces to the
artist’s craft.
Once they get a chance to
stage their
plays,
110
to crap all over tragedy, they
disappear.
If you looked you’d never find
one playwright,
someone creative who could
well declaim
a worthy sentiment.
HERCULES:
That word “creative”—
what’s it mean?
DIONYSUS:
Someone poetical enough
to give utterance to something
grand,
something like
[Dionysus
strikes a tragic pose]
“the sky, Zeus’
pied-a-terre,”
“the foot of time,” or this—“a
mind that will not
swear
[100]
on sacred offerings but a
perjured
tongue
that’s false with no sense of
its perfidy.”
120
HERCULES:
You like that stuff?
DIONYSUS:
Like it? I’m crazy about it.
HERCULES:
I swear it’s all bullshit—and you know it.
DIONYSUS:
Now, now, don’t try to tell me what to think,
not with tragedy. You’re no
expert there.
HERCULES:
I still say it sounds like total rubbish.
DIONYSUS:
Why not teach me how to stuff my guts?
XANTHIAS:
What about ME?
DIONYSUS:
That’s the reason I’ve come here
and dressed like you—so you
can fill me in,
in case I need to know, about
this place—
who welcomed you down here,
who'd you meet
130
[110]
that time you went down after
Cerberus.*
Tell me about the harbours,
resting places,
bakeries and brothels, water
fountains,
the cities, highways, all the
detours,
the local customs and the fine
hotels,
the ones with fewest bugs.
XANTHIAS:
Still no word of me.
HERCULES:
Oh you valiant heart! Are you man enough
to venture down below?
DIONYSUS:
Forget my courage.
Show me the highway, the
shortest one there
is,
that takes me directly down to
Hades.
140
Don’t prattle on about the
temperature—
and say it's way too hot or
cold for me.
HERCULES:
Let’s see . . . what should I mention first of all?
Which one? Hmmm. You could try
a stool and rope—
you could just hang yourself.
DIONYSUS:
Stop it right there.
That way gives me a choking
feeling.
HERCULES:
There’s a straight short cut, well traveled, too—
with pestle and mortar . . .
DIONYSUS:
You mean hemlock.*
HERCULES:
That’s it!
DIONYSUS:
Too cold—too much like winter. Right away
the shins get frozen solid.
HERCULES:
All right,
then. 150
You want me to tell you how to
get there fast.
DIONYSUS:
Yes, by god. I’m not one to take a hike.
HERCULES:
How ’bout a stroll to Kerameikos* . . .
DIONYSUS:
Okay, what then?
HERCULES:
Climb up the tower there—
right to the very top . . .
DIONYSUS:
And then what?
[130]
HERCULES:
Take a look at the torch race starting up—
when the spectators all yell
out “They’re off!”
then off you go as well.
DIONYSUS:
Off? Where to?
HERCULES:
Down.
DIONYSUS:
No, I can’t take that road. I’d
pulverize
both rissole wrappers of my
brain.
HERCULES:
What’s left?
160
DIONYSUS:
The road you used.
HERCULES:
Oh, an enormous journey.
At the very start you come to
a vast lake—
immense and bottomless.
DIONYSUS:
How do I get across?
HERCULES:
In a tiny boat—miniscule—like this [indicating the size].
An ancient sailor takes you
for a fee—
two obols.
[140]
DIONYSUS:
Two obols? It’s amazing
what two obols can buy
anywhere.*
How come it’s here in Hades,
too?
HERCULES:
That was Theseus.*
He started it. Once past the
lake you’ll find the snakes.
You’ll see thousands of 'em,
horrific monsters, too. 170
DIONYSUS:
Don’t keep trying to scare me. That won’t work.
There’s no way you’ll get me
to turn back.
HERCULES:
Then a huge sewer, always full of liquid turds—
and lying in it anyone who
harmed a guest
or screwed a lad and then took
back the cash,
or smacked his mother, punched
his father’s jaw,
or swore false oaths, or else
had copied out
[150]
a speech of Morsimus.*
DIONYSUS:
By god, with them in the shit
should lie whoever learned a
war dance by Cinesias.*
HERCULES:
Next the breath of flutes will sound around you. 180
You’ll see the finest light,
just like in Athens,
and myrtle groves, with happy
men and women
gathered there to celebrate
and clap their hands.
DIONYSUS:
So who are they?
HERCULES:
Those are the initiates,
the ones who celebrate the
mysteries.*
XANTHIAS:
Then, by god, in these mysteries I play the ass.
I’ll not stand for this a
moment longer.
[160]
[Xanthias
dismounts and starts to unload the baggage he has been carrying]
HERCULES:
Those ones will tell you all you need to know.
These initiates live closest
to the road
which takes you to the doors
of Pluto’s place.*
190
And so, my brother, I bid you
fond farewell.
DIONYSUS:
Good bye—god keep you healthy, too.
[Hercules
exits back through the door. Dionysus turns to Xanthias, who has just about
finished putting down all the luggage he has been carrying]
You there—take up the baggage once again!
XANTHIAS:
Before I’ve put it down?
DIONYSUS:
Yes, and hurry up.
[Enter
a solemn funeral cortege parrying a dead man towards Hades]
XANTHIAS:
Come on, I’m begging you. Hire one of them—
someone carrying the corpse.
That’s why they’re here.
DIONYSUS:
And if I don’t find anyone?
XANTHIAS:
I’ll do it.
DIONYSUS:
Fair enough. All right, they’re bringing out a
corpse [170]
You there . . . you stiff . .
. I’m talking to you . . . Hallo!
[The
corpse suddenly sits up straight]
You want to take a little luggage down to
hell?
200
CORPSE:
How much?
DIONYSUS:
This stuff here.
CORPSE:
Will you pay two drachmas?
DIONYSUS:
My god, no. Less than that.
CORPSE:
Then go away.
DIONYSUS:
Hang on, my dear fellow. Can’t we haggle?
CORPSE:
If you don’t pay two drachmas, forget it.
DIONYSUS:
How about nine obols?
CORPSE:
No bloody way!
I’d rather you shoved me back
to life again.
[Corpse
lies down and the funeral procession moves away]
DIONYSUS:
What a pompous boor!
XANTHIAS:
To hell with him—
I’ll take the stuff myself.
[Xanthias
starts loading himself with the baggage once again]
DIONYSUS:
That’s my good man—
a loyal and worthy slave.
Let’s get that boat . . . .
[Enter
Charon rowing his small boat across the stage]
CHARON:
Ahoy there! Coming alongside.
[180]
XANTHIAS:
What’s this?
DIONYSUS:
This? 210
By god, it’s the lake Hercules
talked about.
And I see the boat . . .
XANTHIAS:
You’re right. Thanks to Poseidon.
This must be Charon.
DIONYSUS:
Ahoy there, Charon . . .
Greetings, Charon . . .
Charon, halloooo!
CHARON:
Who’s seeks a rest from work and trouble?
Who’s heading for Fields of
Forgetfulness,
Never-never land, the
Cerberians,
the Ravens*
and Tartarus.
DIONYSUS:
That’s me.
CHARON:
Then jump aboard.
DIONYSUS:
Where do you put in?
The Ravens? Is that a stop?
CHARON:
Yes, by god— 220
a special stop just for you.
Get in.
DIONYSUS:
[to Xanthias] All right, my lad, hop in.
CHARON:
I won’t take the slave—
[190]
not unless he fought at sea to
save his skin.
XANTHIAS:
Not me, by god, no way. My eyes were bad.
CHARON:
Then you must make a detour round the lake.
XANTHIAS:
Where do I wait for you?
CHARON:
At Wuthering Rock*—
right by the rest stop.
DIONYSUS:
You got that?
XANTHIAS:
I got that.
[picking
up the bags]
Why am I so unlucky? When we began
I must've really pissed
somebody
off.
CHARON:
[to Dionysus] Sit down there—at that oar.
[Dionysus
sits on one of the oars]
Anyone
else?
230
Hurry up—all aboard! What
are you doing?
DIONYSUS:
What am I doing? I’m sitting on this oar.
That’s what you ordered me to
do.
CHARON:
Come on, fatso—park your butt right here.
DIONYSUS:
[moving off the oar]
There!
[200]
CHARON:
Can you pick up the oar? Stretch your arms.
DIONYSUS:
Like this?
CHARON:
Don’t be such a fool. Set your foot there.
Now pull the oar with all your
force.
DIONYSUS:
How can I?
I’ve had no practice. I’m no
sailor.
And besides, I’m not from
Salamis.*
How'm I supposed to row a
boat?
240
CHARON:
It’s not hard. You’ll hear lovely melodies
once you make the effort.
DIONYSUS:
Songs? Whose songs?
CHARON:
The amazing music of the swan frogs.
DIONYSUS:
All right, then. Get the tempo going.
CHARON:
Yo ho, heave ho. Yo ho heave ho.
[As
the small boat begins to move, the Chorus of Frogs is heard from off stage]*
CHORUS
OF FROGS:
Brekekekex koax koax
Brekekekex koax koax.
Children of the marsh and lake
harmonious song now sweetly
make,
our own enchanting
melodies
250
koax koax
The songs we sang for Nysa’s
lord,
for Dionysus, son of Zeus,
in Limnai at the Feast of Jars*
as people in their drunken
glee
thronged into our sanctuary.
Brekekekex koax koax.
[220]
DIOYSUS:
[still rowing] I’m starting to get a pain in the ass
from all your koax
koax.
CHORUS
OF FROGS: Brekekekex koax koax.
260
DIONYSUS:
Not that you give a damn about it.
CHORUS
OF FROGS: Brekekekex koax koax.
DIONYSUS:
Piss off—and take that koax koax with you.
Nothing but koax koax.
CHORUS
OF FROGS:
Yes, and for us that’s fine
you meddling fool—so asinine.
Music-loving Muses love us too
as does goat-footed Pan
playing music on melodious
pipes.
Apollo as he strums his
lyre
270
loves us and what we sing,
for in the marshy waters here
we grow the reeds that bridge
his string.
Brekekekex koax koax.
DIONYSUS:
[still rowing] Well, I’m getting blisters and a sweaty bum.
Next time I bend down it’s
going to speak . . .
[As
Dionysus leans forward for the next stroke he lifts his rear end up in the air
to fart at the Frog Chorus, but their next line drowns out the sound]
CHORUS
OF FROGS: Brekekekex koax koax.
DIONYSUS:
Stop it, you music-loving tribe!
[240]
CHORUS
OF FROGS:
No, no. We’ll sing on all the
more—
if we’ve ever hopped on
shore
280
on sunny days through weeds
and rushes
rejoicing in our lovely songs
as we dive and dive once more,
or as from Zeus’ rain we flee
to sing our varied harmonies
at the bottom of the marsh,
our bubble-splashing melodies.
DIONYSUS:
Brekekekex koax koax—
[250]
from you I’m catching your
disease!
CHORUS
OF FROGS: If that’s the case, you’ll never please. 290
That’s hard on us.
DIONYSUS:
But worse for me—
I may blow up here as I row.
CHORUS
OF FROGS: Brekekekex koax koax
DIONYSUS:
Go on. Keep croaking. I don’t care.
CHORUS
OF FROGS: We’ll croak on ’til our throats wear out.
We’ll croak all day.
[260]
DIONYSUS:
Brekekekex koax koax
You never beat me in this
play!
CHORUS
OF FROGS: And you’ve no chance to win your way,
not matched with us.
DIONYSUS:
And you’ve no hope outdoing
me. 300
No, no. If I must I’ll yell
all day,
koaxing you to get my way—
Brekekekex koax koax
[Dionysus
listens for a response from the Chorus, but there is none]
You see. Sooner or later I was going to win—
and make you stop your harsh
koaxing din.
CHARON:
Stop it. Ship that oar alongside here.
Get out . . . and pay your
fare.
DIONYSUS:
Two obols? Here.
[270]
[Dionysus
pays Charon, who rows his way off stage. Dionysus starts looking around for
Xanthias]
Xanthias! Hey, Xanthias!
XANTHIAS:
[offstage]
Over here!
DIONYSUS:
[still calling]
Come here!
[Xanthias
appears with the baggage but without the donkey]
XANTHIAS:
Greetings, master.
DIONYSUS:
All right, what have we got?
XANTHIAS:
Nothing but filthy muck—mud and darkness. 310
DIONYSUS:
Did you see the men who beat their fathers—
or perjurers—the ones he
mentioned?
XANTHIAS:
You mean you don’t?
DIONYSUS:
[looking at the audience] By Poseidon, yes I do!
Now I see them. So what do we
do next?
XANTHIAS:
We’d better get away from here.
Hercules mentioned to us it's
the place
where wild beast prowl.
DIONYSUS:
To Hell with him!
He was talking big to make me
scared.
[280]
He saw I was a fighter, and
he’s jealous.
No one’s more full of it than
Hercules.
320
But I’m keen now for some
adventure,
some exploit worthy of this
expedition.
XANTHIAS:
Of course you are. What’s that? I hear a noise.
DIONYSUS:
What? Where is it?
XANTHIAS:
Behind us.
DIONYSUS:
[pushing Xanthias]
Get behind me.
XANTHIAS:
No, it’s up ahead.
DIONYSUS:
[pushing Xanthias again] You get in front.
XANTHIAS:
My god!
Now I see it. Ooooh, a
monstrous beast!
DIONYSUS:
[cowering behind Xanthias] What’s it like?
XANTHIAS:
It's weird—all sorts of shapes.
Now it’s an ox—no, no, a
jackass—
now it’s a woman—what a
gorgeous babe!
[290]
DIONYSUS:
Where is she?
I’ll go say hello.
XANTHIAS:
Hold on a minute! 330
She’s not a woman any more.
Now she’s a bitch!
DIONYSUS:
[terrified] It’s Empusa!!*
XANTHIAS:
Her whole face is on fire!
DIONYSUS:
Her legs—does she have one made of bronze?
XANTHIAS: Yes.
By Poseidon, yes. The other’s
made of cow shit.
And that’s no lie.
DIONYSUS:
Where can I run?
XANTHIAS:
[imitating Dionysus]
Where can I run?
DIONYSUS:
[appealing the audience]
O holy man, save me—so we can
drink together.*
XANTHIAS:
We’re screwed! Oh, lord Hercules!
DIONYSUS:
Don’t call me that!
I’m begging you, my man—don’t
say that name.
XANTHIAS:
Then Dionysus . . .
DIONYSUS:
That’s worse than Hercules.
[300]
XANTHIAS:
[to the imaginary monster]
Beat it! Shoo!
Come on, master.
DIONYSUS:
What’s going on?
340
XANTHIAS:
Cheer up—we’ve come through everything just fine.
Now like Hegelochus we can
recite
“After the storm I see the
seals are calm.”*
Empousa’s left.
DIONYSUS:
You swear?
XANTHIAS:
Cross my heart.
DIONYSUS:
Swear again.
XANTHIAS:
Yes, by Zeus.
DIONYSUS:
Swear it one more time.
XANTHIAS:
By Zeus, I swear.
DIONYSUS:
That was a close shave—
looking at her almost made me
puke.
XANTHIAS:
You were so terrified you stained your pants.
DIONYSUS:
[in a tragic tone] Woe, woe, why do such ills afflict me so?
Which god shall I accuse of
thus destroying me?
350
[310]
XANTHIAS:
How ’bout Zeus’ airy pied-a-terre or the foot of time?
[The
sound of music being played on the pipes comes from inside the house]
XANTHIAS:
Listen!
DIONYSUS:
What is it?
XANTHIAS:
You don’t hear that?
DIONYSUS:
What?
XANTHIAS:
A tune played on the flute.
DIONYSUS:
[continuing his tragic rant]
Ah yes, and now
the scent of torches just came
wafting o’er me,
torches of mystery . . .
XANTHIAS:
[interrupting]
Shhhh. Let’s squat down here—
keep quiet and pay attention.
[The
Chorus of Initiates is heard offstage]
CHORUS
OF INITIATES: Iacchus, O Iacchus,
Iacchus, O Iacchus.
XANTHUS:
Master, this is it—the initiates
doing their chant, the ones he
talked about—
360
Diagoras’ hymn to Iacchus.*
[320]
DIONYSUS:
It sounds like that to me. We’d best shut up,
so we find out for sure.
CHORUS
OF INITIATES: Iacchus, living here
in your highly honoured
shrines—
Iacchus, O Iacchus
in this meadow come to
dance
with partners in your mystery.
Shake the garland round your
head,
the fruit-filled myrtle, come
and tread
370
[330]
our playful rite’s unbridled
steps
where the Graces join in, too—
our pure and sacred dance and
song,
the chant of your initiate
throng.
XANTHIAS:
O holy noble daughter of Demeter,*
I just smelt roast pork—how
sweet a smell that is.
DIONYSUS:
If you keep quiet, you may just get a slice.
[Enter
the Chorus of Initiates carrying torches]
LEADER
OF THE CHORUS: Awake the blazing torches in your hands!
CHORUS
OF INITIATES: O Iacchus, Iacchus—with us you stand
light-bearing star in our
nocturnal rite.
380
For now the meadow blazes
light,
old men’s knees will move
again
as they dance off their
ancient pain,
the lengthy cycle of their
aged plight
in this your ceremonial night.
As your radiant torches blaze
bring to this flowery marshy
place,
the forward march of all the
young
that constitute your choral
throng,
O sacred one.
390
CHORUS
LEADER: Let all those stand in silence here
and keep their distance from
our dance—
all those who have no sure
command
of ritual words and purposes,
who have not purified their
hearts,
the ones who’ve never seen or
danced
the noble Muses’ ritual
songs,
or played their part in
Bacchic rites
of bull-devouring Cratinus,*
or like words fit for foolish
clowns
400
when such words are not
suitable—
or anyone who just can't turn
away
from fights and hateful party
strife,
who cannot be a genial
citizen,
easy going with his
countrymen,
but lights and fans the flames
of war,
ambitious to advance
himself,
[360]
whoever guides our state
through storms
and is corrupted by some
bribe,
betrays our watch posts and
our ships
410
or from Aegina smuggles goods,
like that wretch Thorycion,
our customs agent who shipped
off
illicit stuff to Epidaurus*—
oar pads and cloth for sails
and pitch,
or who persuades some other
man
to send supplies to hostile
ships,
or anyone opposing Hecate
in dithyrambic choruses,
or any politician setting
out
420
to pare back pay our poets get
because they mock him in these
rites,
ancient rites of Dionysus.
I say to all such people, and I say again—
and for a third time I state
once more—
stand back from our choral
mysteries.
[370]
But those now here begin the
songs,
the dances lasting all night
long,
as fits our ceremonial throng.
CHORUS
OF INITIATES:
Now each one boldly
marches
on
430
into the meadow’s flowery lap,
and each one stamps the
ground—
we joke, make fun, we mock,
our bellies crammed with breakfast
food.
CHORUS
LEADER: Move on, now—but see you praise
the saving goddess in a noble
way,
as you sing out our
melodies.
She says she acts to save our
land
[380]
from season unto season,
against the wishes of
Thorycion.
440
Come now, cry aloud another chant
for goddess Demeter, our
harvest queen,
a celebration made in sacred
song
CHORUS
OF INITIATES
O Demeter, queen of our sacred
rites, stand with us here
preserve us now, your chorus.
Let me play in safety,
let me dance all day, tell
lots of really funny jokes,
and offer many serious
reflections, too.
[390]
Then, as befits your
ceremonial rites, let me,
with my ridicule and fun, take
off first prize,
let me wear the wreath,
garland of victory.
450
CHORUS
LEADER: Come now, with your singing summon here
that lovely god, our partner
in this dance.
CHORUS:
Widely honoured Iacchus,
creator of the sweetest joyful
song,
come here with us to Demeter,
show us how you move along
this lengthy way with so much
ease.
Iacchus, lover of the dance,
escort me forward as I prance.
In your playful penny-pinching
mood
460
you’ve torn my tiny dancing
shoes,
you’ve ripped my dress to
shreds—
Iacchus, you’ve found a
way
for all of us to dance and
play
what more, we never have to
pay.
O Iacchus, lover of the dance
escort me forward as I prance.
What's more, as I just glanced
aside
around me here, I saw a girl,
[410]
a lovely partner in the
dance—
470
her scanty dress was ripped in
two,
I saw a nipple peeking
through.
Iacchus, lover of the dance,
escort me forward as I prance.
DIONYSUS:
Hey, I’m always keen to enjoy myself.
I’d like to dance with her.
XANTHIAS:
Me, too.
CHORUS
OF INITIATES: Would you like to join us now in making fun
of Archedemos, who at seven
years old
was toothless, no genuine
Athenian teeth.*
And now he plays big shot in
politics
480
among the dead above—the best
there is
at double dealing and
corruption.
And Cleisthenes, I hear, still
picks his ass
and rips his cheeks apart among
the tombstones,
blubbering over his dead lover
Sabinos.
And Callias, they say, son of
the man
who used to bugger his own
horses,
has fights at sea, naval
entanglements,
his arse hole covered by a
lion skin.
[430]
DIONYSUS
[approaching the Leader of the Chorus]
Could you please inform the
two of us
490
where Pluto lives when he’s at
home down here?
We’re strangers in these
parts. We’ve just arrived.
LEADER
OF THE CHORUS: No need to travel very far from here—
so don’t ask me again. You
should know
you’re there—right at this
very door.
DIONYSUS:
[to Xanthias] All right, lad, pick up the bags again.
XANTHIAS:
[grumbling as he picks up the luggage]
What’s this all mean—the same
old storyline,
with Corinth, son of Zeus . .
. all this baggage.*
CHORUS
OF INITIATES: Keep up the dance
along the round path sacred to
our goddess,
500
to the flower-bearing
grove—let’s play
with those who join this
festival,
the one our goddess so adores.
I’ll join the women and the
girls
who dance to the goddess all
night long,
the ones who bear the sacred
light.
Let’s move on into flowery
meadows,
the rose-filled fields,
and worship there
the way we always do, with
song and dance,
where blessed Fates assemble,
too.
510
[The
Chorus exits]
DIONYSUS:
Let’s see—what style do I use at this point
to knock upon the door? Which
one to use?
What’s the local style of
knocking here?
XANTHIAS:
Stop wasting time. Try chewing on the door—
act like Hercules. You’ve got
his length and strength.
DIONYSUS:
[knocking ] You in there! Doorkeeper!
AEACUS:
[from inside]
Who is it?
DIONYSUS:
It's great Hercules!
[Aeacus
bursts through the door and grabs Dionysus very roughly]
AEACUS:
Oh you abominable, you shameless reckless wretch—
villain, villain, damned
smiling villain—
the man who made off with
Cerberus my dog!
You grabbed him by the throat
and throttled him, 520
then took off on the run,
while I stood guard.
Now you’re
caught—black-hearted Stygian rocks,
and blood-dripping peaks of
Acheron
will hold you down. Roaming
hounds of Cocytus
will gnaw your guts to
bits—Echnida, too,
and she’s a hundred heads. The
Tartesian eel
will chew your lungs, your
kidneys bleed
from entrails Tithrasian
Gorgons rip apart.
I’ll set out hot foot in their
direction.
[Aeacus
lets go of Dionysus, who drops to the ground in terror. Exit Aeacus back into
the house. Dionysus lifts his tunic and inspects his underpants]
XANTHIAS:
What have you done?
DIONYSUS:
I’ve made an offering. Call the god. 530
XANTHIAS:
You’re being ridiculous. Get up. Move
it,
[480]
before some stranger spots
you.
DIONYSUS:
I’m going to faint.
Bring the sponge here—set it
on my heart.
[Xanthias
rummages through the bags and finds a large sponge]
XANTHIAS:
I’ve found the sponge! Here—you can do it.
[Dionysus
takes the sponge and begins to clean up his crotch with it]
XANTHIAS:
Where are you putting that sponge? Oh golden gods,
you keep your heart in there?
DIONYSUS:
It was scared—
it ran off to my lower bowel.
XANTHIAS:
Of all gods and men
no one’s more cowardly than
you.
DIONYSUS:
Me?
How can I be when I asked you
for the sponge?
Another man would not have
asked, as I did.
540
XANTHIAS:
What would he have done?
DIONYSUS:
Well, a coward
would have lain there and
stunk up the place.
But I stood up—what’s more, I
wiped myself.
[490]
XANTHIAS:
By Poseidon, a valiant act.
DIONYSUS:
By Zeus. I think it was.
Weren’t you scared shitless by
his angry words,
by all those threats?
XANTHIAS:
By Zeus, I never thought of them.
DIONYSUS:
All right then, since you’re so brave, so
valiant,
you can be me. Take this club
and lion skin.
If you’re got the guts, I’ll
trade places with you.
I’ll carry all the baggage.
XANTHIAS:
All right.
550
I’ve got no choice. Quick,
give me that.
[Xanthias
takes the club and puts on the lion skin]
XANTHIAS:
[in the grand style] Now gaze upon the Xanthian Hercules—
see if I turn coward and act like you.
[500]
DIONYSUS:
No, by god, you’ll well deserve a whipping.
Come on, then, I’ll pick up
the bags.
[Dionysus
starts to pick up a few of the smaller pieces. A Servant enters through the
door]
SERVANT:
Have you come back, my dearest Hercules?
Come on in. Once the goddess
heard you’d come
she had us baking bread loaves
right away,
boiling up pea soup—two or
three cauldrons full,
roasting an entire ox, baking
honey cakes
560
and cookies. So do come in.
XANTHIAS:
That’s really nice,
but I’m afraid . . .
SERVANT:
I won’t let you get away—
by Apollo, no. She’s stewing
bird meat,
[510]
toasting fresh desserts,
mixing sweetest wines.
Please come in.
XANTHIAS:
I appreciate it, but . . .
SERVANT:
You can’t be serious. I won’t let you leave.
There’s a lovely flute girl in
there, just for you—
two or three dancing girls, as
well.
XANTHIAS:
What’s
that?
Did you say dancing girls?
SERVANT:
Young and in full bloom—
all freshly plucked. So come
on in. Right now
570
the cook’s all ready to
produce the fish.
The table’s being brought in.
XANTHIAS:
You go on back.
First, tell those dancing
girls inside I’m coming.
[to Dionysus]
You, slave, follow me. And bring the
baggage.
[520]
DIONYSUS:
Hey, hold on a minute. All this pretence,
you can’t be taking it so
seriously.
The fact I dressed you up as
Hercules—
that was just fun. Don’t play
the fool with me.
Pick up these bags again and
bring them in.
XANTHIAS:
What? You're not intending to take back from me 580
what you gave in person?
DIONYSUS:
You bet I am.
Take off that lion skin.
XANTHIAS:
I want witnesses—
I entrust my law suit to the
gods.
DIONYSUS:
What gods?
To think that you, a slave and
mortal, too,
[530]
could play Hercules, Alcmene’s
son—
so arrogant and stupid.
XANTHIAS:
All right, all right.
Have it your way, then. Take
the costume.
Perhaps some day the gods'll
make you need me.
[Xanthias
hands the club and lion skin to Dionysus]
CHORUS:
There’s a man with brains,
with keen
intelligence—
590
someone who’s sailed about a
bit
and always rolls himself
around
to the right side of the ship.
He’s not one to stand
transfixed
like some image made in paint
or frozen solid like a stone.
To move away from where one
stands
to places much more
comfortable—
that indicates a clever man,
a born Theramenes.*
600
DIONYSUS:
Now that would be extremely funny
to see Xanthias, my slave,
lying at ease
enjoying bed linen from
Milesia,
as he smooches with some
dancing girl.
He asks me for a pot to piss
in—
but I, looking at him
straight, grab him hard
right by his cucumber.
[Dionysus
laughs at the thought, but then reconsiders]
But then he’d see me
and, being a rascal, sock me
on the jaw.
He’d knock my front teeth out
for sure.
[Pandokeutria,
a landlady, enters through the door, looks at Dionysus, and calls back through
the doorway]
PANDOKEUTRIA:
Plathane, Plathane, come out
here. 610
That fellow’s back who came to
our hotel
and ate up all our bread, all
sixteen loaves.
[550]
[Enter
Plathane, another landlady]
PLATHANE:
My god, that’s the one.
XANTHIAS:
Oh, oh. Someone’s in trouble.
PANDODEUTRIA:
And twenty boiled hams afterwards as well—
at half an obol each.
XANTHIAS:
Now he’s in for it.
PANDOKEUTRIA:
And lots of garlic, too.
DIONYSUS:
My good women, you jest.
You don’t know what you’re
saying.
PANDOKEUTRIA:
Oh yes, we do.
You thought I wouldn’t know
you any more
because you’ve got those
little booties on.
What else was there? I haven’t
said a word
620
about the pickled fish.
PLATHANE:
You left out
all the fresh cheese, by god,
the scoundrel ate.
He gobbled up the baskets,
too.
[560]
PANDOKEUTRIA:
To top it all,
when I tallied up his bill, he
just looked at me
and yelled, a massive
roar right in my face.
XANTHIAS:
That’s just like him. He does that everywhere.
PANDOKEUTRIA:
Then he pulled out his sword—he looked
insane.
PLATHANE:
My god, you poor dear!
PANDOKEUTRIA:
We were both terrified.
Somehow we ran up fast onto
the shelf,
and he took off, grabbing up
the mats.
630
XANTHIAS:
Well, that’s exactly how he operates.
PANDOKEUTRIA:
We’ve got to deal with him somehow. I know—
go call my patron Cleon.*
PLATHANE:
If you meet him,
get Hyperbolos, as well. We’ll
fix this fellow.
[570]
PANDOKEUTRIA:
You wretched greedy swine—I’d be so happy
to smash your molars with a
rock, those teeth
which gobbled down my stuff.
DIONYSUS:
That’s really nice—
and I’d like to dump you in a
deep ravine.
PLATHANE:
I could take a sickle and slice that gullet
which wolfed down all my
tripe. Instead of that,
640
I’ll get Cleon to draw up a
charge,
so we can fish food out of him
right here.
[Exit
Plathane and Pandokeutria]
DIONYSUS:
Now, may I die the nastiest of deaths,
my little Xanthias, if I’m not
fond of you . . .
XANTHIAS:
I know what you’re thinking. Just stop right there.
[580]
Don’t say a word. I’m Hercules
again—
but I won’t do it.
DIONYSUS:
Dear little Xanthias,
don’t say such things.
XANTHIAS:
How could I be Hercules—
remember I’m a slave and
mortal, too.
DIONYSUS:
I know you’re angry—you’ve a right to
be. 650
But even if you hit me, I
won’t criticize.
And if in future I take
anything from you,
may I be chopped down root and
branch.
Let me die in the worst way
possible—
me, my wife, and kids—and
Archedemus, too—
the man with clammy eyes.
XANTHIAS:
On those conditions I accept your oath.
[Xanthias
and Dionysus exchange the lion skin and club once again]
CHORUS:
Since you’ve taken up the skin,
the one you had before,
your task is now to start
again,
660
to reinvigorate yourself—
once more put on that dreadful
stare,
recall the god you imitate.
If you get caught in foolish
talk
or squeak out squeals of fear,
you’ll be compelled a second
time
to carry all the
bags.
XANTHIAS:
Men, the advice you give me is not bad.
I was thinking the same thing
myself.
What’s more, if all this turns
out a success,
670
he’ll try to take this back
from me again.
[600]
I know that for a fact. But
I’ll make myself
a manly man—with a gaze like
mustard.
I need to do that—for just as
I thought
I hear the sound of scraping
by the door.
[Enter
Aeacus with servants]
AEACUS:
Tie up this dog thief. Get a move on, too—
so we can punish him. Be quick
about it.
DIONYSUS:
Oh, oh. Someone’s in trouble now.
XANTHIAS:
What the hell!
You stay away from me!
AEACUS:
Oh ho, you’re fighting back!
[calling
inside the house]
Ditylas, Sceblias, Pandocus—outside!—
680
come here and punch this
fellow out.
[Servants
appear and begin to fight Xanthias]
DIONYSUS:
It's shameful, a complete disgrace—
[610]
the way he hits them back—and
more than that—
he steals.
AEACUS:
That’s shocking.
DIONYSUS:
It’s even worse.
It’s scandalous and dreadful.
XANTHIAS:
Now, by god,
I’m prepared to die if I was
ever here
before today, or stole a thing
from you
that’s worth a hair. What’s
more, I’ll make an offer,
like a true gentleman—take
this slave of mine
and torture him. If you find
out from
him
690
I’ve done wrong, then take me
out and kill me.
AEACUS:
How should I torture him?
XANTHIAS:
All the ways there are.
Tie him to a ladder, hang him
up,
whip him with nails, twist him
on the rack,
strip off skin, fill his nose
with vinegar,
load bricks on him—do
everything you can.
Just don’t flog him with fresh
onions or a leek.
AEACUS:
That offer's fair. So if I beat the slave
and cripple him, I’ll pay for
damages.
XANTHIAS:
Not to me. Just take him off for
torture.
700
AEACUS:
No. I’ll torture him right here, so he’ll confess
before your very eyes.
[To
Dionysus]
Put down that load.
And hurry up. Don’t give me
any lies.
DIONYSUS:
I here proclaim no one should torture me.
I’m an immortal god. If you do
so,
you’ll have yourself to blame.
AEACUS:
What are you saying?
[630]
DIONYSUS:
I'm saying I'm Dionysus, an
immortal,
a son of Zeus—this man here’s a slave.
AEACUS:
You hear that?
XANTHIAS:
I hear what he claims to be—
all the more good reason for
flogging him.
710
If he’s a god, he won’t feel a
thing.
DIONYSUS:
You’re right.
And since you also
claim that you’re a god,
why don’t you take as many
blows as me?
XANTHIAS:
Fair enough. Then whichever of the two
you see bursting into tears or
flinching
as he’s whipped—you’ll know
he’s not the god.
AEACUS:
You’re a fine gentleman—that’s
obvious.
You stand for justice. All
right—the two of you,
take off your clothes.
[Xanthias
and Dionysus remove their clothes and get down on all fours in preparation for
the whipping. Aeacus produces a massive whip]
XANTHIAS:
How will you judge this?
How will you keep it fair?
AEACUS:
That’s easy.
720
I’ll alternate the blows.
XANTHIAS:
A fine suggestion.
AEACUS:
[striking Xanthias] There!
XANTHIAS:
Watch closely if I flinch or not.
AEACUS:
But I just hit you.
XANTHIAS:
By god, I didn’t feel a thing.
AEACUS:
All right. Now I’ll lay into this one here.
[Aeacus
strikes Dionysus]
DIONYSUS:
When are you going to start my whipping?
AEACUS:
I just did.
DIONYSUS:
Why didn’t I sneeze?
AEACUS:
I haven't a clue..
Back to this one again.
XANTHIAS:
Get on with it!
[Aeacus
strikes Xanthias much harder than the first time]
XANTHIAS:
[feeling the pain]
Ahhhh!!!
AEACUS:
What’s that sound about? Did that blow hurt?
XANTHIAS:
No, by god. I was just remembering
[650]
the feast for Hercules at
Diomeia.
730
AEACUS:
The man’s a saint. All right, now this one’s turn.
[Aeacus
strikes Dionysus, again much harder than before]
DIONYSUS:
Oooowww! Ahhh!!
AEACUS:
What was that cry?
DIONYSUS:
I see men on horseback.
AEACUS:
Why are your eyes full of tears?
DIONYSUS:
I smell onions.
AEACUS:
You didn’t feel a thing?
DIONYSUS:
No, nothing—
nothing that bothered me.
AEACUS:
All right, then,
back to this one here.
[Aeacus
hits Xanthias really hard]
XANTHIAS:
Aiiieeee!!
AEACUS:
What was that?
XANTHIAS:
[pretending he has a thorn in his hand]
A little prickle. Pull it
out.
AEACUS:
What’s going on?
Now it’s this one’s turn.
[Aeacus
strikes Dionysus very hard]
DIONYSUS:
Aaaiiii!! O Apollo,
who presides at Delphi
and at Delos . . .
XANTHIAS:
You hear that—the man’s in pain.
DIONYSUS:
No, I’m not. 740 [660]
I was remembering some poetry,
a verse from Hipponax.
XANTHIAS:
You’re getting nowhere.
Hit him on the ribs.
AEACUS:
A good idea, by god.
Stick out that pot of yours.
[Aeacus
hits Dionysus savagely on the ribs and stomach]
DIONYSUS:
Aaaiii! O Poseidon . . .
XANTHIAS:
Someone’s feeling pain.
DIONYSUS:
[continuing to recite poetry]
. . . you who command
Aegean headlands and the
green-grey sea . . .
AEACUS:
Holy Demeter, I can’t sort this
out.
Which one's the god?
You'd best come inside.
My master Pluto will know who
you are,
so will Persephone, his
wife—they're gods.
750
DIONYSUS:
Now you talking. I’d have liked it better
if you’d thought of that
before these whippings.
[Dionysus
and Xanthias and Aeacus go into the house leaving the Chorus on stage]
CHORUS:
You Muses, enter now our sacred dance.
Enjoy our songs and gaze upon
the massive crowds of people
here,
thousands of clever thinkers
in their seats,
in love with honour more than
Cleophon,
on whose snarling lips a
Thracian swallow
sits,
[680]
making an awful din—on that
foreign leaf
she squawks her nightingale’s
lament,
760
for he’ll soon be sentenced,
sent to die
although the jury’s votes
create a tie.*
CHORUS
LEADER: It’s just and proper in this city
our sacred chorus give advice
and teach.
So first it seems appropriate
to us
to free the citizens from
inequalities—
to ease their fears. So if a
man slips up
thanks to the wrestling tricks
of Phrynicus,*
I say we should allow the ones
who fall
to state their case, reform
their evil ways.
770
Besides that’s no dishonour to
our city.
It would bring benefits. It’s
scandalous
that those who fought a battle
once at sea
should instantly become
Plataeans,
masters instead of slaves.*
I don’t deny
this worked out well—in fact,
I praise it.
It’s the only well-intentioned
thing you did.
But as well as this it stands
to reason
we should forget the single
blow of fortune
of those who fought so much at
sea beside
you,
780
just like their fathers, your
ethnic kinsmen—
that's what they keep requesting.
But you here,
whom nature made the wisest of all people,
should drop your anger and
make everyone
who fights alongside us at sea
a kinsman,
a citizen. For if we are too
proud,
too puffed up with self-worth,
especially now,
when we’re encircled by the
sea’s embrace,
in future time we’ll look like
total fools.
If I’ve a keen sense of the life and
style
790
of someone who will someday cry
in woe,
this tiny irritating ape
Cleigenes,
[710]
the most corrupt of all our
laundry types,
those noble men who cut the
soap with ash,
dilute the mix, and use Cimolian
earth,
won’t be with us long. He
knows it, too—
that’s why he’s not a man
promoting peace.
He knows that someday in a
drunken fit
he may well lose his staff of
office,
and, more than that, be stripped
of all his clothes.*
800
This city, it often seems
to me
treats our best and worthiest
citizens
the way it does our old silver
coins,
our new gold ones, as well.*
This money
was never counterfeit—no,
these coins
appeared to be the finest
coins of all,
the only ones which bore the
proper stamp.
Everywhere among barbarians
and Greeks
they stood the test. But these
we do not use.
Instead we have our debased
coins of
bronze,
810
poorly struck some days ago or
yesterday.
That’s how we treat our finest
citizens,
the nobly born, our righteous
men,
our best and brightest, the
ones well trained
in music and the dance at the
palaestra.*
Instead we use foreign bronze
for everything—
useless men from useless
fathers, red heads,*
[730]
men who’ve come here very
recently—
the sort the city at its most
negligent
would never use in earlier
days,
820
not even as a scapegoat.*
But now,
you silly fools, it’s time to
change your ways.
Use worthy people once again.
You’ll see—
if you’re successful, then
you’ll merit praise.
And if you fail, well, you’ll
be a fine match
for the tree you’re hanging
from. At any rate,
should you slip up, that’s
what the wise will say.
[Enter
Xanthias with a servant from the house]
SERVANT:
By Zeus who saves us, that master of yours
is a very cultured gentleman.
XANTHIAS:
Of course, he is.
The only things he knows are
how to drink
830 [740]
and dip his dink.
SERVANT:
But not to beat you on the spot
when they proved that you’re
the slave—and one
who claimed you were the
master.
XANTHIAS:
If he had,
he’d have had regrets—and
that’s a fact.
SERVANT:
What you just did is worthy of a slave,
something I love to do.
XANTHIAS:
Forgive my asking,
but what is it you love to do?
SERVANT:
It's more than love—
almost ecstasy—when I can curse my master
out of ear shot.
XANTHIAS:
What about really bitching,
whenever you’ve received a
total thrashing
840
and run outside?
SERVANT:
Yes, I do like that, too.
XANTHIAS:
What about sticking your nose in everything?
SERVANT:
By god, there’s nothing finer—that’s for sure.
XANTHIAS:
By Zeus, divine protector of our
race,
[750]
what about listening to our
masters’ chat
when they spread gossip . . .
SERVANT:
I’m even crazier for that!
XANTHIAS:
. . . then passing on the gossip all around,
to everyone outside the house?
SERVANT:
You mean me?
Every time I do that, I piss
myself.
XANTHIAS:
By Phoebus Apollo, give me your
hand,
850
let me kiss you, and you kiss
me.
[Notices
a noise from inside the house]
Tell me,
by Zeus, patron of all flogged
slaves like us,
what’s going on inside the
house, that noise,
all that yelling and abuse?
SERVANT:
Oh that—
that’s Euripides and
Aeschylus.
XANTHIAS:
Ah ha!
SERVANT:
Big, big trouble’s in the works down here
among the dead—a massive civil
war.
[760]
XANTHIAS:
What about?
SERVANT:
There’s a custom in these parts
that in the arts—the great and
worthy ones—
the best man in his special
area
860
gets all his meals for free at
City Hall
in the chair of honour next to
Pluto . . .
XANTHIAS:
I get it.
SERVANT:
. . . until someone else arrives
who has more skill than he
does. At that point,
he has to yield his place.
XANTHIAS:
But why would this
get Aeschylus upset?
SERVANT:
Well, he had his chair,
the one for tragedy, as the
finest
in that form of art.
XANTHIAS:
Who’s got it now?
[770]
SERVANT:
When Euripides came down to Hades
he started showing off his
rhetoric
870
to thieves, bag snatchers,
parricides,
to all the ones who steal—and
here in Hades
that’s most of us. Well, they
listened to him,
heard his counter-arguments,
his twists and turns,
and went nuts for him. So they
then proposed
he was the wisest of all men.
With that,
Euripides got so worked up he
claimed
that chair where Aeschylus
sits down.
XANTHIAS:
Didn’t people throw stuff at him?
SERVANT: My
god, no.
Quite the opposite. They all
cried out
880
to have a trial set up which
could find out
which of the two men was the
wiser poet.
[780]
XANTHIAS:
The crowd of scoundrels?
SERVANT:
Yes, that bunch—
they made a din, by god—right
up to heaven.
XANTHIAS:
Didn’t Aeschylus get some support?
SLAVE:
It's like this audience—too few good men.
XANTHIAS:
So what’s Pluto planning to set
up?
SLAVE:
A contest— there's going to be a trial right here,
a test of skill.
XANTHIAS:
What about Sophocles—
how come he didn’t claim the
poet’s chair?
890
SLAVE:
My god, he wouldn’t. When he first arrived
he kissed Aeschylus, shook him
by the hand,
and kept his distance from the
chair of honour.
[790]
And now, according to
Cleidemides,
he means to sit by as a
substitute.
If Aeschylus wins out, he’ll
keep his place.
If not, in this contest of
poetic skill
he says he’ll fight on to the
bitter end
against Euripides.
XANTHIAS:
So this affair is on.
SLAVE:
Yes, in a minute. In this very
spot
900
some fairly weird things will
be going on—
they’re testing poetry with
balance scales!
XANTHIAS:
What?! They’ll weigh tragedy in milligrams?
SERVANT:
And they’re bringing out some measuring sticks,
rulers for words, framed
rectangles . . .
XANTHIAS:
Will they be constructing bricks?
[800]
SERVANT:
. . . bevels, too,
and wedges—all because
Euripides
says he’ll test their tragedies,
every word.
XANTHIAS:
Well, my guess is that Aeschylus
isn’t liking this at all.
SLAVE:
He just glared,
910
lowering his head as if he
were a bull.
XANTHIAS:
Who’s going to judge this trial?
SLAVE:
That’s difficult.
Wise men are hard to find—in
short supply.
And Aeschylus didn’t really
hit it off
with the Athenians . . .
XANTHIAS:
Perhaps because
he thought that most of them
were criminals.
SERVANT:
. . . and he considered other
people
worthless as judges of true
poetry.
[810]
So at last they turned toward
your master,
since he’s got some knowledge
of that art.
920
But let’s go in. There’s
always trouble for us,
every time our master’s in a
rush.
[Xanthias
and the Servant go into the house]
CHORUS:
[in a parody of the tragic style]
Now the loud-roaring hero
feels in full his fury—
that valiant vehemence which
surges up within,
when he confronts his rival in
poetic craft
sharpening smooth-talking
tusks, just like a boar.
His frenzied passion's going
to make those eyeballs
roll.
The battle’s here at
hand—helmet-glancing war,
horse-crested words, while
splintered axles break apart,
as the subtle chisel-worker
tries to push and parry
930
[820]
steed-prancing phrases from
the man who builds our minds.
The bristling crest erect
there on his shaggy neck,
his natural hair, a fearful
scowl upon his brow,
and bellowing, he’ll launch
his language fixed with bolts,
like planking for a ship,
he’ll rip the words apart,
blasting with his giant’s
lungs. The other man,
the one who works his mouth,
who tortures every word,
unrolling his smooth tongue
and shaking envy’s rein,
will dissect and parse those
words, and, splitting hairs,
refute all that large labour
of the former’s lungs.
940
[Enter
Aeschylus, Euripides, Dionysus, and Pluto, with attendants]
EURIPIDES:
I’ll not give up the chair—no more advice.
[830]
I say I’m better in poetic
skill.
DIONYSUS:
Why are you silent, Aeschylus? You hear
the claim he’s made.
EURIPIDES:
His high-and-mighty pose—
he does that at the start of
every play,
some hocus-pocus for his
tragedies.
DIONYSUS:
My dear fellow, that’s too much big
talk.
EURIPIDES:
I know the man—and for a long time now
I’ve studied him. He makes
crude characters
with stubborn tongues. As for
his own mouth,
950
it’s unrestrained and
uncontrolled, unlocked,
no proper discourse,
bombastiloquent.
AESCHYLUS:
Is that so, you garden-goddess
child?
[840]
You say that of me, you
gossip-monger,
a beggar’s poet who picks and
stitches rags?
You’ll regret those words.
DIONYSUS:
Hey, Aeschylus,
hold on. Don’t fire up your
heart so angrily,
with such ill will.
AESCHYLUS:
No, no, I won’t hold back,
’til I’ve exposed the man and
clearly proved
this cripples’ poet is a
boastful fool . . .
960
DIONYSUS:
[to the attendants]
Hey, boys, bring out a
sheep—a black one, too.
It looks as if a storm’s about
to break.*
AESCHYLUS:
. . . collecting all those monodies from Crete,
importing impure marriage into
art . . .*
[850]
DIONYSUS:
Whoa, hold on there, much-honoured Aeschylus.
And you, my poor Euripides,
back off
beyond this breaking
storm—that would be wise,
in case his anger cracks your
skull in two,
some heady phrase makes all
your brain leak out
your hero Telephos. And you
there, Aeschylus,
970
don’t get so angry. Test him,
but calmly—
and then be tested, too. It’s
just not right
for poets to engage in such
abuse,
like two women selling bread.
You bellow
as if you were a tree on fire.
EURIPIDES:
I’m ready.
[860]
I don’t mind biting or being
bitten first,
whatever he prefers, about my
diction,
or the songs and sinews of my
tragic plays—
and by god, about Peleus, too,
my Meleager or my Aeolos,
980
or, even more about my
Telephos.*
DIONYSUS:
What do you want to do? Tell us, Aeschylus.
AESCHYLUS:
I have no wish to enter battle here.
The war we fight is not on
equal terms.
DIONYSUS:
Why’s that?
AESCHYLUS:
My poetry did not die with me,
but his did once he died. So
it’s down here—
he’ll have it with him when he
wants to speak.
But nonetheless since it’s
what you want,
we must go through with
this.
[870]
DIONYSUS:
[to the assembled group]
Come now,
someone bring an offering
here, and fire as
well,
990
so I can pray before this
contest starts,
our battle of the brains, and
judge the fight
with maximum aesthetic
expertise.
[addressing
the Chorus]
Now for the Muses you should sing a song.
CHORUS:
Oh you nine sacred Muses
mighty Zeus' virgin daughters,
gazing down on subtle
minds,
you see intelligence at work
in men who write our maxims.
When such as these go out to
fight,
1000
with counterarguments and
tricks,
with fiercely studied
wrestling moves,
with crooked throws, come to
us here,
observe the power of these
mouths,
their awesome skill in making
words,
[880]
sawing phrases up like
sawdust.
Now our great contest in this
art
stands ready let the business
start.
DIONYSUS:
Before we have you two recite your lines,
you ought to offer up your
prayers.
AESCHYLUS:
Oh Demeter,
1010
who nourishes my mind, make me
worthy
to be there in your mysteries.
DIONYSUS:
[to Euripides]
It’s your turn—
take some incense. Make an
offering.
EURIPIDES:
All right—
but I pray to different gods.
DIONYSUS:
Personal ones?
Your very own? Freshly minted?
EURIPIDES:
That’s right.
[890]
DIONYSUS:
Then pray away to those private gods of yours.
EURIPIDES:
Oh air, my food, oh pivot of my tongue,
oh native wit, oh nose that
smells so fine,
whatever words I seize upon,
let me
refute them—let the victory be
mine.
1020
CHORUS:
Now we’re filled with great desire
to hear from poets with such
skill,
the pathway in this war of
words
they’ll walk along. Their tongues
are wild,
no lack of boldness in their
mood,
nor are their intellects
asleep.
It looks as though we’re going
to see
[900]
one man say something quite
urbane
and finely trimmed. The other
one
will seize him and his
arguments,
1030
the roots and all, and then
attack
and scatter words around the
place
like wrestle-rolling on a mat.
DIONYSUS:
[To Aeschylus and Euripides]
You must speak at full
speed. But see you talk
this way—with elegance, no
metaphors,
and nothing someone else might
say.
EURIPIDES:
All right.
As for myself—the kind of poet
I am—
I’ll say that in my final
words. For first,
I’ll demonstrate this fellow’s
fraudulent,
a cheat. I’ll show just how he
took them in,
1040
and fooled those idiots reared
on Phrynichos.*
[910]
First, he’d wrap a person up
and sit him down
with his face hidden away—some
character
like Niobe or his Achilles—
mere window dressing for the
tragedy.
They didn’t speak or even
mutter.
DIONYSUS:
That’s right. They didn’t.
EURIPIDES:
And then his Chorus thumped their lyrics out—
strings of them, four in a row
without a break,
the character just sat on
stage in silence.
DIONYSUS:
Well, I liked that they kept quiet. It pleased me. 1050
It wasn’t any worse than those
today
who babble on and on.
EURIPIDES:
You were a fool—
no doubt of that.
DIONYSUS:
I think so, too. But why so?
Why did our friend here do
that?
EURIPIDES:
It was a trick
designed to keep spectators in
their seats,
waiting for when Niobe might
start to speak.
So the play continued on and
on and on . . .
[920]
DIONYSUS:
What a rascal! How he had me fooled!
[to Aeschylus] Why are
you fretting there and fidgeting?
EURIPIDES:
Because I’ve caught him out. When he’d played this trick 1060
and half the play was done,
someone would speak up,
a dozen ox-like words—with
eyebrows, crests,
some fear-faced things full of
the bogey man,
which no one in the audience
understood.
AESCHYLUS:
How miserable I feel . . .
DIONYSUS:
Stay quiet please.
EURIPIDES:
Nothing he said was ever clear.
DIONYSUS:
[to Aeschylus]
Don’t grind your teeth.
EURIPIDES:
He talked on about Scamanders, trenches,
shields with bronze enamelled
griffon-eagles,
in horse-cliffed phrases hard
to comprehend.
DIONYSUS:
Yes, by god, one long night I got no
sleep 1070
from worrying what kind of
bird was called
the tawny clear-voiced horse
cock.
AESCHYLUS:
You idiot!
It was a symbol painted on the
ships.
DIONYSUS:
I thought it was Eryxis, Philoxenos’ son.
EURIPIDES:
Did you have to work a rooster in
just for the tragedy?*
AESCHYLUS:
You god-forsaken wretch,
what sorts of plays did you
create?
EURIPIDES:
None like you—
no horse-cock monsters or
goat-stags, by god,
the sort they paint on Persian
tapestries.
When I first took this art of
plays from you,
1080
crammed with bombast to the
gills, fustian stuff,
[940]
at first I made it slim,
reduced its weight,
with vesicles, and walks, and
laxatives.
I gave a potion drawn from
bookish chat,
and took care nursing it with
monodies.
DIONYSUS:
Mixing in Cephisophon, as well.*
EURIPIDES:
I wasn’t fool enough to put in there
whatever stuff I chanced upon,
or add
just anything I found. The
character
who came out first would right
away explain
1090
on my behalf the background of
the play.
DIONYSUS:
Which was better than your own, by god.
EURIPIDES:
After those opening words I never set
anything superfluous in the
play. No.
For me the woman spoke—so did
the slave,
the master, maiden, the old
woman, too.
AESCHYLUS:
Well, shouldn’t you be killed for daring this?
EURIPIDES:
By Apollo, no. I was doing my work
the democratic way.
DIONYSUS:
[to Euripides]
My dear chap,
I’d forget that—from your
point of view
1100
that’s not the best line you
could take.*
EURIPIDES:
[indicating the audience]
I taught these people here
to speak their minds . . .
AESCHYLUS:
I say so too—and before doing that
I wish you’d split apart—right
down the middle.
EURIPIDES:
. . . introducing subtle rules for words,
for verses nicely trimmed. I
taught them to think,
to see, to understand, to love
new twists
and double dealing, to suspect
the worst,
to be too smart in everything
. . .
AESCHYLUS:
I agree.
EURIPIDES:
. . . and I brought in domestic issues,
too— 1110
useful matters of things we
understand,
things people here could
challenge me about.
[960]
They know their stuff—so they
could test my art.
I didn’t boast or lose my
common sense.
Nor did I scare them all with
characters
like Cycnus and Memnon, who
walk around
with bells attached.*
Look at our disciples,
his and mine—you know them all
quite well.
Meganeitos and rough Phormisios
are his—great
long-beard-lance-and-trumpet
men, 1120
flesh-rippers with the
pine—whereas, for me
there’s neat Theramenes and
Cleitophon.*
DIONYSUS:
Theramenes? Now, he’s a clever man,
expert in everything. When he
meets trouble,
when it hits him in the face,
he gets away,
no problem, by changing who he
is—
if being a Chian doesn’t work
for him,
[970]
he claims that he's Achaean.*
EURIPIDES:
[rushing his concluding speech]
I taught these people here
to think about such
things.
1130
I brought logic into art.
I made them questioners.
Now they see everything
and understand it all.
Their minds are more profound—
they organize their homes
much better than before.
So now they ask “Where’s
this?”
“How’s it going?” “Who took
that?”
DIONYSUS:
[imitating Euripides speaking style here]
Yes, by god, that’s what
they do.
1140
[980]
Now each Athenian man
goes home and starts to yell—
to scream at his own servants,
“Where’s my pot? My sardine—
who’s bitten off its head?
My bowl from bygone years,
is it, too, dead and gone?
And where’s my garlic clove?
I had it yesterday.
Who’s munching on my
olives?”
1150
Before this, they’d just sit
and gape there stupidly,
like little mummy’s boys
[990]
and silly sweet-toothed fools.
CHORUS:
[to Aeschylus] You see this, radiant Achilles,*
Come now, what can you say to
him?
Don’t let your anger take
control
and carry you beyond the track.
He’s charged you with some
dreadful things.
But now, you noble
gentleman,
1160
respond to him, but not with
wrath
Haul in your sails—except the
tips—
[1000]
then bit by bit bring in your
ship.
Keep watching for an easy
wind.
You just may get a gentle
breeze.
DIONYSUS:
Now you who were first among the Greeks
to raise the solemn towers of
spoken words
adorning them with tragic
gibberish,
be strong and spout forth
eloquence.
AESCHYLUS:
This trial enrages me—it pains my
spleen 1170
to have to answer such a man.
But still,
to stop your claim that I’m
incompetent
you answer this for me: Why
should anyone
admire the man who is a poet?
EURIPIDES:
For cleverness
and good advice—and since we
help improve
the men who live within our
cities.
AESCHYLUS:
So if that’s something you didn’t
do,
[1010]
instead transforming fine and
decent men
to make them scoundrels, what
would you say
you'd then deserve by way of
punishment?
1180
DIONYSUS:
Death—but don’t ask him.
AESCHYLUS:
Consider first
the nature of the men he got
from me—
were they not nobly born and
six feet tall?
There were no runaways, no
layabouts,
no scoundrels like today, no
ne’er-do-wells.
No. Those men breathed spears
and javelins,
white-crested helmets,
coronets, and greaves,
with passions wrapped in seven
oxhide folds.
EURIPIDES:
This is getting bad.
DIONYSUS:
His helmet-making
wears me down.
EURIPIDES:
What exactly did you
do 1190
to make these men so noble?
DIONYSUS:
Aeschylus,
speak up. Forget your pride
and stubbornness.
[1020]
AESCHYLUS:
I wrote a play brim full of war god Ares.
DIONYSUS:
Which one was that?
AESCHYLUS:
My Seven Against Thebes.
Every man who saw it fell in
love with war.
DIONYSUS:
But you did something bad there with the Thebans—
you made them more courageous
in the war.
For that you should be
spanked.
AESCHYLUS:
[to the audience]
You too,
you could have trained
yourselves for war as well,
but you weren’t so inclined.
Then after that,
1200
by putting on my Persians
I instructed them
so they were always keen to
beat their foes—
thus honouring our finest act.*
DIONYSUS:
I was pleased
when you cried out in
sorrowful lament,
“Oh child of Darius, who is
dead,” and then,
the chorus clapped its hands
and all yelled out
“Booo hooo.”
AESCHYLUS:
Poets need to work on things
like this. [1030]
Look back—they’ve been useful
from the start,
the noble race of poets.
There’s Orpheus—
he taught us rituals and not
to kill,
1210
Musaeus showed us cures for
sicknesses
and oracles as well, and
Hesiod
taught farming, harvest times,
and how to plough.
As for divine Homer, where’s
his renown,
his special fame, if not in
what he taught,
those useful facts about
courageous deeds,
and battle ranks and how men
arm themselves.
DIONYSUS:
Well, that may be, but Homer didn’t teach
a thing to Pantacles, that
clumsy oaf.
The other day while marching
on parade,
1220
he clipped his helmet on, and
then he tried
to tie the crest on top.
AESCHYLUS:
And brave men, too—
Homer gave us lots—with them
the hero
Lamachos. I took Homeric
warriors,
[1040]
and let my brain write many
noble deeds
about great lion-hearted
fighting men
like Patroclos and Teucer—in
this way
I urged our citizens to match
themselves
with them, when they heard the
trumpet sound.
But by god I never made a
single whore
1230
like Phaedra or that Sthenoboia.*
No one’s ever known me as a
man
who writes about the way a
woman loves.
EURIPIDES:
No, by god. Whatever you possess,
there’s nothing there of
Aphrodite.
AESCHLYUS:
Let her stay away! But she took her seat
when she sat down hard on you
and yours.
She really squashed you flat.
DIONYSUS:
She sure did, by god.
What you wrote about the wives
of other men
you had to suffer with your
own.
EURIPIDES:
You wretched
man, 1240
How has my Stheneboia
harmed our state?
AESCHYLUS:
Because you helped persuade the noble wives
[1050]
of well-born men to drink down
hemlock,
ashamed of those like your
Bellerophon.
EURIPIDES:
My Phaedra story—did I make that up?
AESCHYLUS:
No—it was there. But it’s a poet’s task
to conceal disgrace—not put it
on parade
front and centre and instruct men in it.
Small children have a teacher
helping them,
for young men there’s the
poets—we’ve got
1250
a solemn duty to say useful
things.
EURIPIDES:
When you spout on of Lycabettus
and subjects like magnificant
Parnassus,
does this involve your
teaching useful things?
We need to use the language
people use.
AESCHYLUS:
You pestering demon, don’t you see
that noble thoughts and fine
ideas perforce
produce a language of
commensurate size?
Besides, it’s fitting for the
demi-gods
to speak in loftier terms—just
as they wear
1260
[1060]
much finer robes than ours.
But you besmirched
what I displayed with such
nobility.
EURIPIDES:
What did I do?
AESCHYLUS:
First, you dressed your kings in rags,
to make them pitiful to all
who watched.
EURIPIDES:
If I did that, what damage did it do?
AESCHYLUS:
It’s your fault no rich man any more
is keen to pay out money for a
ship.
Instead he wraps himself in
rags and weeps
and whines about how poor he
is.
DIONYSUS:
Yes, by Demeter, that’s true. But underneath 1270
he wears a tunic of pure wool.
And then,
if he deceives them with a
speech like that,
he pops up in the market by
the fish.*
AESCHYLUS:
And then you taught them how to babble on
with stupid gossip—so the
wrestling schools
[1070]
stood empty and the buttocks
of our young,
who chattered all the time,
were quite worn out.
You then convinced the
Paralos’ crew*
to argue with their officers.
In my day
they were ignorant of this—all
they knew
1280
was how to yell for food and
cry “Yo ho.”
DIONYSUS:
By Apollo, that’s right—and how to fart
straight in the faces of the
rowers there, or shit
on sailors down below, their
mess mates.
On shore they’d rob
someone. Now they talk back—
they never row—just sail out
here and there.
AESCHYLUS:
[rapidly summing up his opening argument]
What crimes is he not
guilty of?
Did he not put up on display
pimps and women giving birth
in holy shrines and having sex
1290
[1080]
with their own brothers, and
then claim
that living is no life? So
now,
because of him our city here
is crammed with bureaucratic
types
and stupid democratic apes
who always cheat our people.
Nobody caries on the torch—
no one's trained in that these
days.
DIONYSUS:
No, by god, they're not. That’s why
while at the Panathenic games
1300
[1090]
I laughed myself quite
pissless—
a slow, pallid, porky runner
went on by—head drooping down—
far behind the rest. In that
race
he wasn’t very good. Well
then,
the folks at Keremeios gate
began to whack him in the gut,
to hit his ribs and sides and
butt.
While their hands were
slapping him,
he let rip a tremendous
fart
1310
which killed the torch. Then
on he ran.
CHORUS:
The event is huge, the strife intense—
the mighty war goes on. It’s
hard to choose.
[1100]
When one man presses hard, the
other one
wheels round and launches the
attack once more.
[addressing
Aeschylus and Euripides]
You two, don’t you stay inactive
where you sit.
For wit knows many varied ways
to strike.
And so, no matter what you’re
fighting for,
speak out, set to, bring up
your works—
the old and new. Put your
daring to the test—
1320
say something that’s
intelligent and deft.
Don't be afraid the people
watching here
are just too ignorant and will
not see
[1110]
the subtle points in what you
two may say.
Don’t worry on that score, for
it’s not true.
They’ve served in wars—and
each man owns a book.
He understands the witty
parts. You see,
it’s in their nature to
possess strong minds,
but now the whetstone’s really
sharpened them.
So have no fears—examine
everything—
1330
at least for the spectators’
benefit
since they’ve become so wise.
EURIPIDES:
All right, I’ll turn to the prologues you composed,
so I can start off with a test
to check
[1120]
the first part of a clever
poet’s tragedy.
In setting down just how
events occurred
this man was never clear
DIONYSUS:
Which one will you test?
EURIPIDES:
Quite a few. [to Aeschylus] But first, will you recite for me
an opening from your Oresteia.
DIONYSUS:
Let everyone keep quiet. Achilles,
speak. 1340
AESCHYLUS
[quoting from the Choephoroi]
“Oh Hermes underground,
who oversees
my father’s power, be my
rescuer,
my ally, answering the prayers
I make.
I’ve come back and returned
unto this land.”
DIONYSUS:
You see some flaws in this?
EURIPIDES:
More
than a dozen.
DIONYSUS:
But the whole thing's only four lines long!
[1130]
EURIPIDES:
And each of them has twenty errors.
DIONYSUS: I warn you, Aeschylus, keep quiet. If not,
you’ll forfeit these four
lines and owe some more.
AESCHYLUS:
Am I to remain silent just for
him?
1350
DIONYSUS: I think that's best.
EURIPIDES:
Right at the very start
he’s made a huge mistake—as
high as heaven.
AESCHYLUS:
You do see you’re talking rubbish.
EURIPIDES:
If so,
it doesn’t bother me.
AESCHYLUS:
You claim I’m wrong—
Well, where are my
mistakes?
EURIPIDES:
Recite the start again.
AESCHYLUS:
“Oh Hermes underground, who oversees
my father’s power . . .”
EURIPIDES:
Orestes says this
at the tomb of his dead
father, does he not?
AESCHYLUS:
I won’t deny it.
[1140]
EURIPIDES:
Since his father died
a brutal death at the hands of
his own wife
1360
and by a secret trick, how can
he claim
that Hermes watches over
anything?
AESCHYLUS:
That’s not my sense—when he speaks, he means
Hermes, god of luck, who
watches all the dead.
And his words clearly show
that this Hermes
obtained that office from his
father Zeus.
EURIPIDES:
So you’ve made an even bigger blunder
than I thought—if this
subterranean job
comes from his dad . . .
DIONYSUS:
If that’s the case,
he’s a grave robber on his
father’s side.
1370
AESCHYLUS:
That’s cheap wine you’re drinking, Dionysus,
[1150]
it lacks bouquet.
DIONYSUS:
Recite another line for him.
[to
Euripides]
And you, take care about the damage you inflict.
AESCHYLUS:
[quoting again] “. . . my father’s power, be my rescuer,
my ally, answering the prayers
I make.
I’ve come back and returned
unto this land.”
EURIPIDES:
The skilful Aeschylus has just revealed
the same thing twice.
DIONYSUS:
How so?
EURIPIDES:
Look at the verse.
All right, I’ll tell you—“I’ve
come back”
is followed by the word
“returned”—coming
back 1380
and returning—they mean the
same.
DIONYSUS:
Yes, by god—
exactly like a man who says to
someone,
“Hey, lend me a baking dish
or, if you like,
a dish for baking.”
AESCHYLUS:
You blithering idiot,
[1160]
it’s not the same at all. That
line of verse
has beautifully chosen words.
EURIPIDES:
It does?
Then show me what you mean.
AESCHYLUS:
To come unto a land
refers to someone with a
native home—
he’s come back—there’s nothing
else implied.
But when a man arrives who’s
been an
exile,
1390
he comes back and returns.*
DIONYSUS:
By Apollo, that’s good!
What do you say to that,
Euripides?
EURIPIDES:
I say Orestes didn’t "return" home.
He came in secret, without
permission
from those in charge.
DIONYSUS:
By Hermes, that’s good.
But I don’t get what you mean.
EURIPIDES:
Come on then,
try another line.
DIONYSUS:
Yes, let’s have some more.
Get a move on, Aeschylus. And
you,
keep looking out for something
bad.
AESCHYLUS:
[reciting more lines]
“On this heaped-up burial
mound I pray
1400
my father hears and listens .
. .”
EURIPIDES:
It’s there again—
he’s saying the same thing
twice—
to hear, to listen—obviously
the same.
DIONYSUS:
Well, you fool, he is speaking to the dead.
And we don’t reach them even
with a triple prayer.
AESCHYLUS:
All right, how do you compose your prologues?
EURIPIDES:
I’ll tell you. And if I say the same thing twice
or you see extra padding
there, some verse
that doesn’t suit the plot,
then spit on me.
DIONYSUS:
Come on, speak up. I need to clearly hear
1410 [1180]
the language in your prologues
working well.
EURIPIDES:
[reciting from one of his plays]
“Oedipus to start with was
a lucky man . . .”
AESCHYLUS:
By god, no he wasn’t—his nature
gave him a dreadful fate. Before
his birth
Apollo said he’d murder his
own father—
he wasn’t even born! How could
he be
a lucky man right at the very
start?
EURIPIDES:
[continuing to recite]
“Then he became most
wretched of all men.”
AESCHYLUS:
No, no, by god. He always was like that.
And why? Because as soon as he
was born,
1420
he was exposed out in the
cold, in a pot,
[1190]
so he wouldn’t grow into a
murderer
and kill his father. He
dragged himself away
to Polybus on mutilated feet.
And after that he married an
old woman,
though he was young, and, as
things turned out,
she was his mother. So he
poked out his eyes.
DIONYSUS:
Then he’d have ended happy after all,
if, like Erastinides, he’d
been a general.*
EURIPIDES:
You’re being stupid. I make my prologues well. 1430
AESCHYLUS:
Is that so? Well, by god, I won’t scratch
each phrase word for word, but
with help from the gods
I’ll kill your prologues with
a little oil jug.
[1200]
EURIPIDES:
My prologues? With an oil jug?
AESCHYLUS:
Yes, just one.
The way you write, well,
everything fits in—
a little fleece, a little oil
jug,
a little bag—they all mesh
nicely in
with your iambics. Let me
demonstrate.*
EURIPIDES:
What this? You’ll demonstrate?
AESCHYLUS:
That’s what I’m
saying.
DIONYSUS:
All right, Euripides, you’ve got to
speak. 1440
EURIPIDES:
[reciting some more of his own lines]
“Aegyptos, so many people
say,
with fifty children in a
rowing boat,
landing in Argos . . .”
AESCHYLUS:
. . . lost his little
oil jug.
EURIPIDES:
What’s this stuff about an oil jug?
You’ll regret this.
DIONYSUS:
Recite another prologue
[1210]
so I can see the point again.
EURIPIDES:
[continuing to recite]
“Dionysus clothed in fawn
skins leaps
among the torches on
Parnassus,
on that mount he waved his
thysrus—
there he danced and . . .”
AESCHYLUS:
. . . lost his little oil
jug.
DIONYSUS:
Oh
dear, 1450
we’ve been stricken with an
oil jug once again.
EURIPIDES:
It’s no big deal. In this next prologue
he can’t tie in his little oil
jug.
“Among all men there’s not one
living
who’s blessed in everything—if
nobly born
he lacks sufficient
livelihood, or else,
if basely born, . . .”
AESCHYLUS:
. . . he’s lost his
little oil jug.
DIONYSUS:
Euripides . . .
EURIPIDES:
What?
DIONYSUS:
It seems to me
you should haul in your sails.
This little oil jug—
[1220]
it’s going to introduce a
mighty storm.
1460
EURIPIDES:
By Demeter, I won’t even think of it.
Here’s one will knock that oil
jug from his hand.
DIONYSUS:
All right, recite another one—take care—
keep your distance from that
oil jug.
EURIPIDES:
“Abandoning Sidon city, Cadmus,
Agenor’s son . . .”
AESCHYLUS:
. . . lost his little oil jug.
DIONYSUS:
My dear fellow, buy the oil jug from him,
so he can’t shatter all our
prologues.
EURIPIDES:
What?
I should purchase it from him?
DIONYSUS:
I think you should.
EURIPIDES:
No way. I’ve got lots of prologues to recite— 1470 [1230]
ones where he can’t stick in
his little oil jug.
“Pelops, son of Tantalus,
arrived at Pisa,
and riding his swift horses .
. .”
AESCHYLUS:
. . . lost his little oil jug.
DIONYSUS:
You see—he stuck in that little oil jug
once again. Look, my good man,
pay his price—
use all your means. You’ll get
it for an obol.
And it’s really nice—a good
one.
EURIPIDES:
Not yet—
I’ve still got plenty left:
“Oeneus once
from his own land . . .”
AESCHYLUS:
. . . lost his little oil jug.
EURIPIDES:
Let me at least recite the whole line
first— 1480
“Oeneus once from his own land
received
a bounteous harvest—then while
offering
[1240]
first fruits for sacrifice . .
.”
AESCHYLUS:
. . . lost his little oil jug.
DIONYSUS:
In the middle of the service? Who stole it?
EURIPIDES:
Back off, my dear man—let him speak to this:
“Zeus, as truth reports . . .”
DIONYSUS:
You’ll be destroyed—
For he’ll just say “lost his
little oil jug.”
These oil jugs pop up in your
prologues
the way warts grow on eyes.
For god’s sake,
change the subject. What about
his lyrics?
1490
EURIPIDES:
All right. I’ll show how bad he is at them.
His songs are awful—they all
sound just the same.
[1250]
CHORUS:
What’s going to happen now?
I’ve got an idea how
he’ll criticize and mar
the one whose lyrics are
our finest songs so far.
How will his censure ring
to a Dionysian king,
for me a fearful thing?
1500
[1260]
EURIPIDES:
His songs are truly quite astonishing.
I’ll give quick proof, for
I’ll condense them all
into a single song.
DIONYSUS:
All right, you do that.
I’ll gather up some pebbles
and keep score.
[Someone
begins the accompaniment on a flute]
EURIPIDES:
[beginning his parody of Aeschylus]
Phthian Achilles, oh, you
hear the crash—
the loud man-slaughtering
BASH, why don’t you come,
come here to help us? As the
primordial race,
we honour Hermes by the
lake—BASH.
Why come you not to our
assistance?
DIONYSUS:
That’s two bashes for you, Aeschylus.
1510
EURIPIDES:
[continuing the parody]
Most glorious of Achaean
men, O Atreus,
[1270]
who rules far and wide, learn
of me—BISH BASH—
why come you not to our assistance?
DIONYSUS:
There’s a third bash for you, Aeschylus.
EURIPIDES:
[continuing the parody]
Be still! Attendants on
the bee priestess
are nigh to open up Artemis’
shrine—BASH.
Why come you not to our
assistance?
I have authority to utter out
in full,
to speak those fatal orders
ruling us
and this our expedition—BISH
BASH.
1520
Why come you not to our
assistance?
DIONYSUS:
By ruling Zeus, what a pile of bashes!
The toilet’s where I want to
be right now—
this bashing’s swollen both my
kidneys.
[1280]
EURIPIDES:
Don’t go, not before you listen to
another group of songs,
compressed medlies
of this man’s lyric melodies.
DIONYSUS:
All right then, go on.
But you can leave out all the
bash and crash.
EURIPIDES:
[continuing his parody of Aeschylus]
How the Achaeans’
twin-throned power, youth of Greece—
Tophlatto-thratto-phlilatto-thrat—
1530
sent by the Sphinx, presiding
she dog of unlucky days—
Tophlatto-thratto-phlilatto-thrat—
swooping bird with spear and
with avenging hand—
Tophlatto-thratto-phlilatto-thrat—
[1290]
granting eager sky-diving dogs
to light upon—
Tophlatto-thratto-phlilatto-thrat—
the allied force assembled to
assault great Ajax—
Tophlatto-thratto-phlilatto-thrat.
DIONYSUS:
What’s this phlatto-thrat? Is it from Marathon?
Where did you pick up your
rope-twisting songs?
1540
AESCHYLUS:
I brought them to a noble place from somewhere fine,
lest I be seen to gather up my
crop
from that same sacred meadow
of the Muse
[1300]
as Phrynichos. But this fellow
over here
gets his songs anywhere—from
prostitutes,
Meletus’ drinking songs, flute
tunes from Caria,
from lamentations or dance
melodies,
as in a moment I will
demonstrate.
Let someone bring a lyre
here—and yet
who needs a lyre for this man?
Where is she,
1550
that girl who beats time with
her castanets?
Come hither, you Muse of this
Euripides—
for your style fits the songs
we’re going to sing.
[Enter
a very old and ugly woman who accompanies Aeschylus’ parody by clicking her
castanets and dancing very badly]
DIONYSUS:
[reacting to the old woman’s appearance]
This Muse is hardly the
most gorgeous babe
we've ever seen from Lesbos,
that’s for sure.
AESCHYLUS:
[parodying Euripides]
You chattering kingfishers
in the sea
in the ever-flowing waves
[1310]
who wet wing-tops with water
drops
like so much dripping dew,
and spiders underneath the
roof,
1560
your fingers
wi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-inding
threads for stretching on the
loom,
work of tuneful weaving rods,
where dolphins, those
flute-loving fish,
leap at the blue-peaked prows,
at oracles and stadiums.
I joy in early budding vines,
[1320]
the spiral cluster, killing
pain.
Oh my child, hurl your arms
about me . . .
You see this foot?
DIONYSUS:
I see it.
AESCHYLUS:
And the other
one?
DIONYSUS:
I see that too.*
1570
AESCHYLUS:
[to Euripides] You write this sort of bilge and then you dare
to criticize my songs—you, who
wrote your tunes
to twelve-stringed music of
Cyrene?* Bah!
So much for his songs. I still
want to check
his solo melodies, their lyric
style.
[1330]
[parodying
Euripides once more]
O Night, oh darkly shining
Night,
what are you sending me,
what dreams of woe,
from Hades’ halls—
what souls without a
soul,
1580
the children of black night,
so horrible they raise my hair
in black corpse-clothes—
murder, murder—
such huge fingernails.
Now, servants, light my lamp
for me,
haul river water in your pails
and warm it up, so I
may rinse away my dream,
[1340]
O spirit of the
sea.
1590
That’s it—oh all you
who share this house with me,
gaze here upon these portents.
My Glyce’s fled away—
she stole my cock and ran.
You nymphs born on the
mountain peaks,
and you, oh Mania, aid me now.
There I was, poor wretched me,
at work with all my daily
tasks,
my spindle full of
thread,
1600
my fingers
wi-i-i-i-i-i-i-inding,
as I wove skeins of yarn
to carry off to market
[1350]
for sale in early morning.
But now my bird has flown,
flown off into the atmosphere
its wing-tips oh so nimble.
It’s left me woes, woes,
and in my eyes tears, tears—
they trickle, trickle
down,
1610
oh miserable me.
Oh you Cretans, Ida’s
children,
seize your bows and rescue me.
Swiftly move your limbs,
make full circle round this
house.
And child Diktynna, Artemis,
so beautiful, by all means
bring
your baby bitches to my home.
[1360]
And you, oh Hecate, Zeus’
child,
with blazing fire-brands in
both your hands,
1620
light my way to Glyke’s place,
so I can then reveal her theft
and catch her in the act.
DIONYSUS:
Stop the songs.
AESCHYLUS:
All right. I’ve said
enough.
Now I want to bring him to the
balance scale,
the very thing to test our
poetry—
to check how much our phrases
weigh.
DIONYSUS:
Come here, then, if I have to do this—
treating poets just like
cheese for sale.
CHORUS:
Clever men like these take
pains,
1630
[1370]
for here’s a marvel once
again.
Devices new and strange they
bring.
Who else would think up such a
thing?
I’d not believe it—even though
I met someone who told me so.
DIONYSUS:
Come on. Stand beside the balance scales.
AESCHYLUS
and EURIPIDES: [together]
All right.
DIONYSUS:
Now, each of you grab hold and don’t let go
until I yell at you—I’ll say
“Cuckoo!”
[1380]
AESCHYLUS
and EURIPIDES: [each one holding a scale pan]
We’re holding on.
DIONYSUS:
Speak your line into the
scale.
EURIPIDES:
[reciting]
“I wish that Argive ship had
never flown . . .”
1640
AESCHYLUS:
[reciting]
“O river Spercheios, where
cattle graze . . .”
DIONYSUS:
Cuckoo!!! Let go . . .
[Dionysus
inspects the scale pans and sees that Aeschylus’ side has sunk more]
The pan on this man's side
has gone much further down.
EURIPIDES:
And why is that?
DIONYSUS:
Why? Because he put a river in it.
He wet his words the way
wool-sellers do—
whereas you put in a word with
wings.
EURIPIDES:
All right, let him speak again and match me.
DIONYSUS:
Grab hold again.
AESCHYLUS
and EURIPIDES: We’re ready.
DIONYSUS:
So speak down.
[1390]
EURIPIDES:
[reciting]
“Persuasion has no temple
except speech.”
AESCHYLUS:
[reciting]
“The only god who loves no
gifts is
Death.”
1650
DIONYSUS:
Let go. Let go. This one’s going down again.
He put death in—the heaviest
of harms.
EURIPIDES:
But I put in persuasion—and my line
was beautifully expressed.
DIONYSUS:
Persuasion’s light—
she’s got no brains at
all. Say something else,
a heavy line, immense and ponderous,
to make you sink.
EURIPIDES:
A heavy line like that,
where can I find such lines in
all my verse?
DIONYSUS:
I’ll tell you. “ Achilles threw the dice—
[1400]
two snake’s eyes and a four.”
You’d better speak— 1660
it’s
the last time the two of you get weighed.
EURIPIDES:
[reciting]
“His right hand grasped the
heavy iron club . . .”
AESCHYLUS:
[reciting]
“Chariot piled on chariot,
corpse on corpse . . .”
DIONYSUS:
This time he got you once again.
EURIPIDES:
How so?
DIONYSUS:
He put in two chariots and two stiffs.
A hundred Egyptians couldn’t
shift that load.*
AESCHYLUS:
No more contest with me word for word—
put him in the scale pan with
his wife and kids,
throw on Cephisophon. Let him
step in,
sit down—he can bring all his
books. For
me—
1670
I’ll only speak two verses of
my own.
[1410]
DIONYSUS:
These men are friends of mine, so I won’t judge
the two of them. I don’t want
to be at war
with either man. One of them,
I think,
is really clever. The other I
enjoy.
PLUTO:
Won’t you fail to get the thing you came for?
DIONYSUS:
What if I chose the other man?
PLUTO:
Take one—
whichever one you wish, so you
don’t leave
and make your trip in vain.
DIONYSUS:
May gods bless you.
Look, how ’bout this—I came
here for a poet.
1680
EURIPIDES:
What for?
DIONYSUS:
So I might save our city
and let it keep its choruses.
Therefore,
whichever one of you will give
our state
[1420]
the best advice, well, that’s
the man I’ll take.
So first, a question for each
one of you—
What’s your view of
Alcibiades?*
This issue plagues our city.
EURIPIDES:
The people there—
what do they think of him?
DIONYSUS:
What do they think?
The city yearns for him, but
hates him, too,
yet wants him back. But you
two, tell me
this—
1690
what’s your sense of him?
.EURIPIDES:
I hate a citizen
who helps his native land by
seeming slow,
but then will quickly inflict
injuries
which profit him but give our
city nothing.
DIONYSUS:
By Poseidon, that’s well said. Now,
Aeschylus,
[1430]
what’s your view on this?
AESCHYLUS:
The wisest thing
is not to rear a lion cub
inside the city,
but if that's what the
citizens have done,
we’d must adjust ourselves to
fit its ways.
DIONYSUS:
By Zeus the saviour, this decision’s
hard. 1700
One spoke with skill, the
other was so clear.
All right, each one of you
speak up again.
Tell me of our state—how can
we save her?
EURIPIDES:
Use Cinesias as Cleocritus’ wings—
then winds would lift them
over the flat sea.*
DIONYSUS:
A really funny sight. But what’s the point?
EURIPIDES:
In a sea fight, they’d take some vinegar,
[1440]
and dump the bottles in
opponents’ eyes.
But I know the answer—let me
speak.
DIONYSUS:
All right, say on.
EURIPIDES:
When those among
us
1710
who have no faith act
faithfully, and things
bereft of trust are trusted .
. .
DIONYSUS:
What’s that?
I don’t get what you’re
saying. Speak out
more clearly—more matter with
less art.
EURIPIDES:
If we removed our trust from politicians
on whom we now rely, and used
the ones
we don’t use now, we could be
saved. It’s clear
we’re not doing well with what
we’re doing now,
if we reversed our course, we
might be saved.
[1450]
DIONYSUS:
Well put, O Palamedes,* you clever
man. 1720
Did you come up with this idea
yourself,
or is it from Cephisophon?
EURIPIDES:
It’s mine alone.
that bit about those jars of
vinegar—
Cephisophon’s idea.
DIONYSUS:
[to Aeschylus] Now you.
What do you say?
AESCHYLUS:
About our state—acquaint me first of all
with those in her employ.
Surely they’re good men?
DIONYSUS:
Of course they’re not. She hates those worst of all.
AESCHLYUS:
She loves the ne’er-do-wells?
DIONYSUS:
Not really—
but she's got no choice.
She has to use 'em.
AESCHYLUS:
How can one save a city like this
one,
1730
which has no taste for woolen
city coats
or country cloaks of goat
skin?
DIONYSUS:
By Zeus,
to get upstairs, you’d best
come up with something.
[1460]
AESCHYLUS:
Up there I’d talk, but I don’t want to here.
DIONYSUS:
Don’t be that way. Send something good from here.
AESCHYLUS:
When they consider their foe’s land their own
and think of their land as the
enemy’s,
and when they look upon their
ships as riches
and see their wealth as
wretchedness . . .*
DIONYSUS:
Yes, but jury members wolf down all the cash. 1740
PLUTO:
You should decide.
DIONYSUS:
I’ll make my choice between
them.
I’ll choose the one who’s
pleasing to my soul.
EURIPIDES:
Do not forget those gods by whom you swore
to take me home. You have to
choose your friends . . .
[1470]
DIONYSUS:
My tongue made that oath, but I choose Aeschylus.
EURIPIDES:
What have you done, you foulest of all men?
DIONYSUS:
Me? I’ve picked Aeschylus to win. Why not?
EURIPIDES:
Do you dare to look me in the face
after you’ve done the dirtiest
of deeds?
DIONYSUS:
What’s dirty if this audience
approves?
1750
EURIPIDES:
You’re heartless. Will you never think of me
now that I’m dead?
DIONYSUS:
What if living isn’t really
dying,
or breathing dining, or sleep
a pillow slip?*
PLUTO:
Come inside now, Dionysus.
DIONYSUS:
What for?
PLUTO:
So I can entertain you here, before you go.
DIONYSUS:
An excellent idea, by god. I won’t say no.
[1480]
CHORUS:
Blest is the man with keen intelligence—
we learn this truth in many
ways
Once he’s shown his own good sense
he goes back home
again.
1760
He brings our citizens good
things
as well as family and friends,
with his perceptive mind.
[1490]
So to be truly civilized,
don’t sit by Socrates and chat
or cast the Muses’ work aside,
forgetting the most vital
skills
of writing tragedies.
Wasting time with pompous
words,
while idly scratching verbal
bits—
1770
that suits a man who’s lost
his wits
PLUTO:
So now, farewell, Aeschylus—go,
[1500]
save our city with your noble
thoughts,
and educate our fools—we have
so many.
Take this sword, hand it to
Cleophon.
Present this rope to tax
collector
Myrmex and his colleague
Nicomachos—
this hemlock give to
Archenomos.
Tell them to come here fast
without delay.
If they don’t come soon, then,
by Apollo,
1780
[1510]
I’ll brand and cripple them,
then ship them down
at full speed underground with
Adeimantos,
Leucolophos's son.*
AESCHYLUS:
That I'll do. As for my chair of honour,
give it to Sophocles to keep
safe for me
in case I ever come back here.
He’s the one
whose talent I would put in
second place.
Bear in mind—the rogue right
there, this
clown,
[1520]
this liar, will never occupy
my chair,
not even by mistake.
PLUTO:
[to the Chorus]
Let your torches
shine, 1790
your sacred torches light the
way for him,
escort him on his way—and
praise his fame
with his own songs and dances.
CHORUS:
First, all you spirits underneath the ground,
let’s bid our poet here a fond
farewell,
as he goes upward to the
light. To the city
grant worthy thoughts of every
excellence.
[1530]
Then we could put an end to
our great pain,
the harmful clash of arms Let
Cleophon—
and all those keen to
fight—war on their
enemy
1800
in their ancestral fields, on
their own property.*
Explanatory Notes for
Aristophanes' The Frogs
[Note that the line numbers in the following notes
refer to the translated text not to the original Greek]
*
(line 21) Phrynichus, Ameipsias, Lycias: comic poets, rivals of
Aristophanes. [Back to text]
* (line 44) the fight at sea refers to the naval
victory of Arginusae. Athenian slaves who had fought were freed (this is
the first of a number of references to this action). [Back to text]
* (line 61) Cleisthenes: a well-known homosexual in
Athens, a favourite target of Aristophanes. [Back to text]
* (line 68) Molon: a man remarkable for his size—either
very large or very small. The joke would seem to demand something very small.
Given the sexual innuendo, it may be the case that Molon was a very big man
with (reputedly) a very small penis. [Back to text]
* (line 72) brother: Hercules and Dionysus are
both sons of Zeus, hence brothers. [Back to text]
* (line 76) stew: Hercules was famous for his enormous
appetite. [Back to text]
* (line 82) dead: Euripides had died in Macedonia the
year before the first production of The Frogs. [Back to
text]
* (line 88) Iophon: son of Sophocles and a writer of
tragedies. [Back to text]
* (line 101) Agathon: an important and successful
Athenian tragic playwright. He’d recently left Athens and was living in
Macedonia. [Back to text]
* (line 102) Xenocles and Pythangelos: minor
Athenian tragic playwrights. [Back to text]
*(line 131) Cerberus: in one of Hercules’ most famous
exploits, he went down into Hell and returned with the Cerberus, the watch dog
of Hades. [Back to text]
*(line 148) hemlock: a lethal poison which begins by
numbing the lower limbs. [Back to text]
*(line 153) Kerameikos: a district in Athens. [Back
to text]
*(line 167) two obols: the standard amount for
welfare payments or daily pay for soldiers and sailors. [Back
to text]
*(line 168) Theseus: the legendary founder of
Athens, who made his own journey to Hades and back, and hence (according to
this comment) introduced Athenian customs into Hades. [Back
to text]
*(line 178) Morsimus: an inferior tragic playwright.
[Back to text]
*(line 179) Cinesias: an Athenian poet. [Back
to text]
*(line 185) the mysteries: secret cult religious
rituals for special groups of initiates. [Back to text]
*(line 190) Pluto: god of Hades. [Back
to text]
*(line 218) Ravens: a reference to a curse invoking
the ravens to pick someone’s bones. Charon lists various regions of Hell like
so many stop on a bus route. [Back to text]
*(line 226) Wuthering Rock: a part of the
landscape of hell (possibly invented here by Aristophanes). [Back
to text]
*(line 239) Salamis: an island close to Athens,
famous for its sailors. [Back to text]
*(line 245) Chorus of Frogs: it’s not clear
whether this chorus remains off stage or not. [Back
to text]
*(line 254) feast of Jars: a reference to an
annual Athenian festival (the Anthesteria) held early in the year in the
precinct of Dionysus "in the marsh" (Limnai). The
festival involved a lot of drinking. [Back to text]
*(line 332) Empousa: a celebrated Athenian
ghost-monster who could change her shape. [Back to text]
*(line 336)
so we can drink together: Dionysus here appeals to the audience, specifically
to the Priest of Dionysus who traditionally sat in the front row. [Back
to text]
*(line
343) Hegelochos . . . seals are calm: Hegelochos was an actor in Euripides' plays who
garbled a word and made the lines ridiculous (like changing "sea" to
"seal"). [Back to text]
*(line
361) Iacchos
was a minor divine presence associated with Dionysian celebrations. Diagoras
may refer to a notorious
Athenian atheist. [Back to text]
*(line
375) daughter of Demeter: a reference to
Persephone, wife of Pluto, king of Hades.[Back to text]
*(line
399) Cratinus:a well-known and successful comic
poet before Aristophanes. [Back to text]
*(line
414) Aegina . . . Thoracion . . . Epidauros: Aegina was an island centre for illegal trade
during the war. Thoracion was (one assumes) well known as a corrupt
official. Epidauros was a naval centre close to Athens. [Back to text]
*(line
479) Archedemos . . . teeth: a complex
joke about a prominent Athenian politician, alleging that he is not a genuine
citizen (someting that was determined at seven years of age).[Back to text]
*(line
498) Corinth, son of Zeus: an expression meaning (in effect) "always
the same old stuff." People from Corinth were (by reputation) never
tired of boasting about the divine origin of the founder of their city. [Back to text]
*(line
600) Theramenes: An Athenian politician famous
for his political survival skills. [Back to text]
*(line
633) Cleon . . . Hyperbolos: Athenian
politicians with a special interest in leading the common people. [Back to text]
*(line
762) Cleophon . . . votes are equal: Cleophon
was an Athenian politicianin favour of the war. The gibe here suggests
he's not a true Athenian. Aristophanes' prediction that Cleophon would
soon be sentenced to death came true a year later. [Back to text]
*(line
768) Phrynichus: Athenian politician who led the revolution in 411 BC. [Back to text]
*(line
775) Plataeans . . . masters instead of slaves: after the naval battle of Arginusae, the
Athenians freed the slaves who had fought and gave them rights of citizenship
equivalent to the rights of the Plataeans, important allies of Athens. [Back to text]
*(line
800) Cleigenes . . . clothes: Aristophanes here attacks the keeper of a public
bath and laundry for cheating his customers, predictng that soon he will lose
his political office. [Back to text]
*(line
804) our new gold ones, as well: a famous comparison between the political
leaders and the debased coinage (one of the effects of the war). [Back to text]
*(line
815) palaestra:
the traditional school in Athens, emphasizing physical fitness and the arts. [Back to text]
*(line
817) red heads:
a reference to foreigners or slaves, not true Athenians. [Back to text]
*(line
821) scapegoat:
once a year in Athens two condemned criminals were beaten out of the city and
executed in a purification ritual to cleanse the city of its collective
guilt. [Back to text]
*(line
962) about to break: Dionysus pretends he needs
to offer a sacrifice to placate the god of storms. [Back to text]
*(line
850) monodies . . . marriage into art: an attack on Euripides’ innovations and on the
alleged immorality in his plays. Monodies are long lyrical solos for main
characters. [Back to text]
*(line
981) Telephos: a beggar hero of one of Euripides’ plays. [Back to text]
*(line
1041) Phrynichos: the most important writer of
tragedy before Aeschylus. [Back to text]
*(line
1076) rooster . . . just for the tragedy:
Aeschylus refers to a rooster in Agamemnon. [Back to text]
*(line
1086) Cephisophon: an Athenian who lived in Euripides’ house and
was rumoured have assisted Euripides with his plays and had an affair with his
wife. [Back to text]
*(line
1101) line you could take: Euripides’ sympathies in his life
appeared to be with the oligarchs, not with the democrats in Athens. [Back to text]
*(line
1117) with bells attached: Cycnus and Memnon were characters in
plays by Aeschylus. Warriors had bells attached to their shields or to their
horses’ harnesses. [Back to text]
*(line
1122) Cleitophon: an Athenian member of the group around Socrates. [Back to text]
*(line
1128) Achaean: this joke is hard to render accurately. The Greek
says (literally) “not a Chian [i.e., from Chios] but a Kian” or (more
freely) “not a Chian with a ch but a Kian with a k,” indicating the man’s
slippery character, able to change nationality by altering the spelling of the
word. The change to “Achaean” may make the joke somewhat more compressed and
workable, especially when the speech is spoken rather than read. [Back to text]
*(line
1155) Achilles:
calling Aeschylus "Achilles" is a reminder both of his traditionally
noble character and of his mood. Like Achilles he sits there silent and
enraged. [Back to text]
*(line
1203) finest act: a reference to the defeat of the Persians at the
Battle of Marathon in 490 BC, for most Athenians the high point of their city’s
history. [Back to text]
*(line
1231) Phaedra and Sthenoboea: an attack on heroines in plays by
Euripides. [Back to text]
*(line
1273) by the fish: a reference to the fact that fish was an
expensive food in Athens at the time. [Back to text]
*(line
1277) Paralos’ crew: the Paralos was the flag ship of the
Athenian navy. [Back to text]
*(line
1391) and returns: Aeschylus’ hair-splitting point is that “come
back” and “return” mean different things, because the latter is appropriate for
those whose political status is uncertain. [Back to text]
*(line
1429) Erastinides: Athenian general condemned to death after the
battle of Arginusae. [Back to text]
*(line
1438) demonstrate: in the section which follows
Aeschylus repeatedly uses the phrase "lost his little oil jug" to
bring out the triviality of Euripides' verse, especially its rhythms and its
imagery. [Back to text]
*(line
1570) that too: Aeschylus is calling attention to the rhythmic
feet in Euripides’ verse. Dionysus, of course, misunderstands and starts inspecting
Aeschylus’ feet.[Back to text]
*(line
1573) Cyrene: a notorious prostitute. [Back to text]
*(line
1666) raise that load: Egyptians had a reputation for great
strength. [Back to text]
*(line
1686) Alcibiades: a brilliant and charismatic, but erratic and
controversial Athenian politician and general in the closing years of the
Peloponnesian War. [Back to text]
*(line
1705) flat sea: Cinesias was very tall and skinny, and Cleocritus
was reported to look like an ostrich. [Back to text]
*(line
1720) Palamedes: a hero in the Trojan war. [Back to text]
*(line
1739) wretchedness: Aeschylus is here apparently defending the
early Athenian policy of putting all their faith in the navy to prosecute the
war, leaving the land open for enemy occupation. [Back to text]
*(line
1753) pillow slip: Dionysus is here mocking Euripides with echoes of the
latter’s own verses. [Back to text]
*(line
1783) Adeimantos: a general in Athens, later accused of treachery. [Back to text]
*(line
1801) properties: Cleophon was a leader of the pro-war party. The
point here is that many of those advocating war were not putting their own
property in danger, unlike many Athenian farmers and landowners whose lands
were occupied by the enemy forces. [Back to text]
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