The Frogs Part 8

XAN. He flinched! You heard him?

DIO. Not at all; a jolly Verse of Hipponax flashed across my mind.

XAN. You don't half do it: cut his flanks to pieces.

AEAC. By Zeus, well thought on. Turn your belly here.

DIO. (Screaming.) Poseidon!

XAN. There! he's flinching.

DIO. (Singing) who dost reign Amongst the Aegean peaks and creeks And o'er the deep blue main.

AEAC. No, by Demeter, still I can't find out Which is the G.o.d, but come ye both indoors; My lord himself and Persepha.s.sa there, Being G.o.ds themselves, will soon find out the truth.

DIO. Right! right! I only wish you had thought of that Before you gave me those tremendous whacks.

CHOR. Come, Muse, to our Mystical Chorus, O come to the joy of my song, O see on the benches before us that countless and wonderful throng, Where wits by the thousand abide, with more than a Cleophon's pride- On the lips of that foreigner base, of Athens the bane and disgrace, There is shrieking, his kinsman by race, The garrulous swallow of Thrace; From that perch of exotic descent, Rejoicing her sorrow to vent, She pours to her spirit's content, a nightingale's woeful lament, That e'en though the voting be equal, his ruin will soon be the sequel.

Well it suits the holy Chorus evermore with counsel wise To exhort and teach the city: this we therefore now advise- End the townsmen's apprehensions; equalize the rights of all; If by Phrynichus's wrestlings some perchance sustained a fall, Yet to these 'tis surely open, having put away their sin, For their slips and vacillations pardon at your hands to win.

Give your brethren back their franchise.

Sin and shame it were that slaves, Who have once with stern devotion fought your battle on the waves, Should be straightway lords and masters, yea Plataeans fully blown- Not that this deserves our censure; there I praise you; there alone Has the city, in her anguish, policy and wisdom shown- Nay but these, of old accustomed on our s.h.i.+ps to fight and win, (They, their father too before them), these our very kith and kin, You should likewise, when they ask you, pardon for their single sin.

O by nature best and wisest, O relax your jealous ire, Let us all the world as kinsfolk and as citizens acquire, All who on our s.h.i.+ps will battle well and bravely by our side If we c.o.c.ker up our city, narrowing her with senseless pride Now when she is rocked and reeling in the cradles of the sea, Here again will after ages deem we acted brainlessly.

And O if I'm able to scan the habits and life of a man Who shall rue his iniquities soon! not long shall that little baboon, That Cleigenes s.h.i.+fty and small, the wickedest bathman of all Who are lords of the earth-which is brought from the isle of Cimolus, and wrought With nitre and lye into soap- Not long shall he vex us, I hope.

And this the unlucky one knows, Yet ventures a peace to oppose, And being addicted to blows he carries a stick as he goes, Lest while he is tipsy and reeling, some robber his cloak should be stealing.

Often has it crossed my fancy, that the city loves to deal With the very best and n.o.blest members of her commonweal, Just as with our ancient coinage, and the newly-minted gold.

Yea for these, our sterling pieces, all of pure Athenian mould, All of perfect die and metal, all the fairest of the fair, All of workmans.h.i.+p unequalled, proved and valued every-where Both amongst our own h.e.l.lenes and Barbarians far away, These we use not: but the worthless pinchbeck coins of yesterday, Vilest die and basest metal, now we always use instead.

Even so, our sterling townsmen, n.o.bly born and n.o.bly bred, Men of worth and rank and metal, men of honourable fame, Trained in every liberal science, choral dance and manly game, These we treat with scorn and insult, but the strangers newliest come, Worthless sons of worthless fathers, pinchbeck townsmen, yellowy sc.u.m, Whom in earlier days the city hardly would have stooped to use Even for her scapegoat victims, these for every task we choose.

O unwise and foolish people, yet to mend your ways begin; Use again the good and useful: so hereafter, if ye win 'Twill be due to this your wisdom: if ye fall, at least 'twill be Not a fall that brings dishonour, falling from a worthy tree.

AEAC. By Zeus the Saviour, quite the gentleman Your master is.

XAN. Gentleman? I believe you. He's all for wine and women, is my master.

AEAC. But not to have flogged you, when the truth came out That you, the slave, were pa.s.sing off as master!

XAN. He'd get the worst of that.

AEAC. Bravo! that's spoken Like a true slave: that's what I love myself.

XAN. You love it, do you?

AEAC. Love it? I'm entranced When I can curse my lord behind his back.

XAN. How about grumbling, when you have felt the stick, And scurry out of doors?

AEAC. That's jolly too.

XAN. How about prying?

AEAC. That beats everything!

XAN. Great Kin-G.o.d Zeus! And what of overhearing Your master's secrets?

AEAC. What? I'm mad with joy.

XAN. And blabbing them abroad?

AEAC. O heaven and earth! When I do that, I can't contain myself.

XAN. Phoebus Apollo! clap your hand in mine, Kiss and be kissed: and prithee tell me this, Tell me by Zeus, our rascaldom's own G.o.d, What's all that noise within? What means this hubbub And row?

AEAC. That's Aeschylus and Euripides.

XAN. Eh?

AEAC. Wonderful, wonderful things are going on. The dead are rioting, taking different sides.

XAN. Why, what's the matter?

AEAC. There's a custom here With all the crafts, the good and n.o.ble crafts, That the chief master of his art in each Shall have his dinner in the a.s.sembly hall, And sit by Pluto's side.

XAN. I understand.

AEAC. Until another comes, more wise than he In the same art: then must the first give way.

XAN. And how has this disturbed our Aeschylus?

AEAC. 'Twas he that occupied the tragic chair, As, in his craft, the n.o.blest.

XAN. Who does now?

AEAC. But when Euripides came down, he kept Flouris.h.i.+ng off before the highwaymen, Thieves, burglars, parricides-these form our mob In Hades-till with listening to his twists And turns, and pleas and counterpleas, they went Mad on the man, and hailed him first and wisest: Elate with this, he claimed the tragic chair Where Aeschylus was seated.

XAN. Wasn't he pelted?

AEAC. Not he: the populace clamoured out to try Which of the twain was wiser in his art.

XAN. You mean the rascals?

AEAC. Aye, as high as heaven!

XAN. But were there none to side with Aeschylus?

AEAC. Scanty and spa.r.s.e the good, (Regards the audience) the same as here.

XAN. And what does Pluto now propose to do?

AEAC. He means to hold a tournament, and bring Their tragedies to the proof.

XAN. But Sophocles, How came not he to claim the tragic chair?

AEAC. Claim it? Not he! When he came down, he kissed With reverence Aeschylus, and clasped his hand, And yielded willingly the chair to him.

But now he's going, says Cleidemides, To sit third-man: and then if Aeschylus win, He'll stay content: if not, for his art's sake, He'll fight to the death against Euripides.

XAN. Will it come off?

AEAC. O yes, by Zeus, directly.

And then, I hear, will wonderful things be done, The art poetic will be weighed in scales.

XAN. What! weigh out tragedy, like butcher's meat?

AEAC. Levels they'll bring, and measuring-tapes for words, And moulded oblongs.

XAN. Is it bricks they are making?

AEAC. Wedges and compa.s.ses: for Euripides Vows that he'll test the dramas, word by word.