LITTLE DAUGHTER. Take care not to knock against anything and so fall off
into space; once a cripple, you would be a fit subject for Euripides, who
would put you into a tragedy.[272]
TRYGAEUS. I'll see to it. Good-bye! (_To the Athenians._) You, for love
of whom I brave these dangers, do ye neither let wind nor go to stool for
the space of three days, for, if, while cleaving the air, my steed should
scent anything, he would fling me head foremost from the summit of my
hopes. Now come, my Pegasus, get a-going with up-pricked ears and make
your golden bridle resound gaily. Eh! what are you doing? What are you up
to? Do you turn your nose towards the cesspools? Come, pluck up a spirit;
rush upwards from the earth, stretch out your speedy wings and make
straight for the palace of Zeus; for once give up foraging in your daily
food.--Hi! you down there, what are you after now? Oh! my god! 'tis a man
emptying his belly in the Piraeus, close to the house where the bad girls
are. But is it my death you seek then, my death? Will you not bury that
right away and pile a great heap of earth upon it and plant wild thyme
therein and pour perfumes on it? If I were to fall from up here and
misfortune happened to me, the town of Chios[273]would owe a fine of five
talents for my death, all along of your cursed rump. Alas! how frightened
I am! oh! I have no heart for jests. Ah! machinist, take great care of
me. There is already a wind whirling round my navel; take great care or,
from sheer fright, I shall form food for my beetle.... But I think I am
no longer far from the gods; aye, that is the dwelling of Zeus, I
perceive. Hullo! Hi! where is the doorkeeper? Will no one open?
* * * * *
_The scene changes and heaven is presented._
HERMES. Meseems I can sniff a man. (_He perceives Trygaeus astride his
beetle._) Why, what plague is this?
TRYGAEUS. A horse-beetle.
HERMES. Oh! impudent, shameless rascal! oh! scoundrel! triple scoundrel!
the greatest scoundrel in the world! how did you come here? Oh! scoundrel
of all scoundrels! your name? Reply.
TRYGAEUS. Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. Your country?
TRYGAEUS. Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. Your father?
TRYGAEUS. My father? Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. By the Earth, you shall die, unless you tell me your name.
TRYGAEUS. I am Trygaeus of the Athmonian deme, a good vine-dresser,
little addicted to quibbling and not at all an informer.
HERMES. Why do you come?
TRYGAEUS. I come to bring you this meat.
HERMES. Ah! my good friend, did you have a good journey?
TRYGAEUS. Glutton, be off! I no longer seem a triple scoundrel to you.
Come, call Zeus.
HERMES. Ah! ah! you are a long way yet from reaching the gods, for they
moved yesterday.
TRYGAEUS. To what part of the earth?
HERMES. Eh! of the earth, did you say?
TRYGAEUS. In short, where are they then?
HERMES. Very far, very far, right at the furthest end of the dome of
heaven.
TRYGAEUS. But why have they left you all alone here?
HERMES. I am watching what remains of the furniture, the little pots and
pans, the bits of chairs and tables, and odd wine-jars.
TRYGAEUS. And why have the gods moved away?
HERMES. Because of their wrath against the Greeks. They have located War
in the house they occupied themselves and have given him full power to do
with you exactly as he pleases; then they went as high up as ever they
could, so as to see no more of your fights and to hear no more of your
prayers.
TRYGAEUS. What reason have they for treating us so?
HERMES. Because they have afforded you an opportunity for peace more than
once, but you have always preferred war. If the Laconians got the very
slightest advantage, they would exclaim, "By the Twin Brethren! the
Athenians shall smart for this." If, on the contrary, the latter
triumphed and the Laconians came with peace proposals, you would say, "By
Demeter, they want to deceive us. No, by Zeus, we will not hear a word;
they will always be coming as long as we hold Pylos."[274]
TRYGAEUS. Yes, that is quite the style our folk do talk in.
HERMES. So that I don't know whether you will ever see Peace again.
TRYGAEUS. Why, where has she gone to then?
HERMES. War has cast her into a deep pit.
TRYGAEUS. Where?
HERMES. Down there, at the very bottom. And you see what heaps of stones
he has piled over the top, so that you should never pull her out again.
TRYGAEUS. Tell me, what is War preparing against us?
HERMES. All I know is that last evening he brought along a huge mortar.
TRYGAEUS. And what is he going to do with his mortar?
HERMES. He wants to pound up all the cities of Greece in it.... But I
must say good-bye, for I think he is coming out; what an uproar he is
making!
TRYGAEUS. Ah! great gods! let us seek safety; meseems I already hear the
noise of this fearful war mortar.
WAR (_enters carrying a mortar_). Oh! mortals, mortals, wretched mortals,
how your jaws will snap!
TRYGAEUS. Oh! divine Apollo! what a prodigious big mortar! Oh, what
misery the very sight of War causes me! This then is the foe from whom I
fly, who is so cruel, so formidable, so stalwart, so solid on his legs!
WAR. Oh! Prasiae![275] thrice wretched, five times, aye, a thousand times
wretched! for thou shalt be destroyed this day.
TRYGAEUS. This does not yet concern us over much; 'tis only so much the
worse for the Laconians.
WAR. Oh! Megara! Megara! how utterly are you going to be ground up! what
fine mincemeat[276] are you to be made into!
TRYGAEUS. Alas! alas! what bitter tears there will be among the
Megarians![277]
WAR. Oh, Sicily! you too must perish! Your wretched towns shall be grated
like this cheese.[278] Now let us pour some Attic honey[279] into the
mortar.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! I beseech you! use some other honey; this kind is worth
four obols; be careful, oh! be careful of our Attic honey.
WAR. Hi! Tumult, you slave there!
TUMULT. What do you want?
WAR. Out upon you! You stand there with folded arms. Take this cuff o'
the head for your pains.
TUMULT. Oh! how it stings! Master, have you got garlic in your fist, I
wonder?
WAR. Run and fetch me a pestle.
TUMULT. But we haven't got one; 'twas only yesterday we moved.
WAR. Go and fetch me one from Athens, and hurry, hurry!
TUMULT. Aye, I hasten there; if I return without one, I shall have no
cause for laughing. [_Exit._
TRYGAEUS. Ah! what is to become of us, wretched mortals that we are? See
the danger that threatens if he returns with the pestle, for War will
quietly amuse himself with pounding all the towns of Hellas to pieces.
Ah! Bacchus! cause this herald of evil to perish on his road!
WAR. Well!
TUMULT (_who has returned_). Well, what?
WAR. You have brought back nothing?
TUMULT. Alas! the Athenians have lost their pestle--the tanner, who
ground Greece to powder.[280]
TRYGAEUS. Oh! Athené, venerable mistress! 'tis well for our city he is
dead, and before he could serve us with this hash.
WAR. Then go and seek one at Sparta and have done with it!
TUMULT. Aye, aye, master!
WAR. Be back as quick as ever you can.
TRYGAEUS (_to the audience_). What is going to happen, friends? 'Tis a
critical hour. Ah! if there is some initiate of Samothrace[281] among
you, 'tis surely the moment to wish this messenger some accident--some
sprain or strain.
TUMULT (_who returns_). Alas! alas! thrice again, alas!
WAR. What is it? Again you come back without it?
TUMULT. The Spartans too have lost their pestle.
WAR. How, varlet?
TUMULT. They had lent it to their allies in Thrace,[282] who have lost it
for them.
TRYGAEUS. Long life to you, Thracians! My hopes revive, pluck up courage,
mortals!
WAR. Take all this stuff away; I am going in to make a pestle for myself.
TRYGAEUS. 'Tis now the time to sing as Datis did, as he masturbated
himself at high noon, "Oh pleasure! oh enjoyment! oh delights!" 'Tis now,
oh Greeks! the moment when freed of quarrels and fighting, we should
rescue sweet Peace and draw her out of this pit, before some other pestle
prevents us. Come, labourers, merchants, workmen, artisans, strangers,
whether you be domiciled or not, islanders, come here, Greeks of all
countries, come hurrying here with picks and levers and ropes! 'Tis the
moment to drain a cup in honour of the Good Genius.
CHORUS. Come hither, all! quick, quick, hasten to the rescue! All peoples
of Greece, now is the time or never, for you to help each other. You see
yourselves freed from battles and all their horrors of bloodshed. The
day, hateful to Lamachus,[283] has come. Come then, what must be done?
Give your orders, direct us, for I swear to work this day without
ceasing, until with the help of our levers and our engines we have drawn
back into light the greatest of all goddesses, her to whom the olive is
so dear.
TRYGAEUS. Silence! if War should hear your shouts of joy he would bound
forth from his retreat in fury.
CHORUS. Such a decree overwhelms us with joy; how different to the edict,
which bade us muster with provisions for three days.[284]
TRYGAEUS. Let us beware lest the cursed Cerberus[285] prevent us even
from the nethermost hell from delivering the goddess by his furious
howling, just as he did when on earth.
CHORUS. Once we have hold of her, none in the world will be able to take
her from us. Huzza! huzza![286]
TRYGAEUS. You will work my death if you don't subdue your shouts. War
will come running out and trample everything beneath his feet.
CHORUS. Well then! _Let_ him confound, let him trample, let him overturn
everything! We cannot help giving vent to our joy.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! cruel fate! My friends! in the name of the gods, what
possesses you? Your dancing will wreck the success of a fine undertaking.
CHORUS. 'Tis not I who want to dance; 'tis my legs that bound with
delight.
TRYGAEUS. Enough, an you love me, cease your gambols.
CHORUS. There! Tis over.
TRYGAEUS. You say so, and nevertheless you go on.
CHORUS. Yet one more figure and 'tis done.
TRYGAEUS. Well, just this one; then you must dance no more.
CHORUS. No, no more dancing, if we can help you.
TRYGAEUS. But look, you are not stopping even now.
CHORUS. By Zeus, I am only throwing up my right leg, that's all.
TRYGAEUS. Come, I grant you that, but pray, annoy me no further.
CHORUS. Ah! the left leg too will have its fling; well, 'tis but its
right. I am so happy, so delighted at not having to carry my buckler any
more. I sing and I laugh more than if I had cast my old age, as a serpent
does its skin.
TRYGAEUS. No, 'tis no time for joy yet, for you are not sure of success.
But when you have got the goddess, then rejoice, shout and laugh;
thenceforward you will be able to sail or stay at home, to make love or
sleep, to attend festivals and processions, to play at cottabos,[287]
live like true Sybarites and to shout, Io, io!
CHORUS. Ah! God grant we may see the blessed day. I have suffered so
much; have so oft slept with Phormio[288] on hard beds. You will no
longer find me an acid, angry, hard judge as heretofore, but will find me
turned indulgent and grown younger by twenty years through happiness. We
have been killing ourselves long enough, tiring ourselves out with going
to the Lyceum[289] and returning laden with spear and buckler.--But what
can we do to please you? Come, speak; for 'tis a good Fate, that has
named you our leader.
TRYGAEUS. How shall we set about removing these stones?
HERMES. Rash reprobate, what do you propose doing?