Delphi Complete Works of Aristophanes (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics) (47 page)

CLISTHENES. Tell me, who is your husband?

MNESILOCHUS. My husband? Do you know a certain individual at
Cothocidae…?

CLISTHENES. Whom do you mean? Give his name.

MNESILOCHUS. ’Tis an individual to whom the son of a certain individual one day….

CLISTHENES. You are drivelling! Let’s see, have you ever been here before?

MNESILOCHUS. Why certainly, every year.

CLISTHENES. Who is your tent companion?

MNESILOCHUS. ’Tis a certain…. Oh! my god!

CLISTHENES. You don’t answer.

FIFTH WOMAN. Withdraw, all of you; I am going to examine her thoroughly about last year’s mysteries. But move away, Clisthenes, for no man may hear what is going to be said. Now answer my questions! What was done first?

MNESILOCHUS. Let’s see then. What was done first? Oh! we drank.

FIFTH WOMAN. And then?

MNESILOCHUS. We drank to our healths.

FIFTH WOMAN. You will have heard that from someone. And then?

MNESILOCHUS. Xenylla relieved herself in a cup, for there was no other vessel.

FIFTH WOMAN. You trifle. Here, Clisthenes, here! This is the man of whom you spoke.

CLISTHENES. What is to be done then?

FIFTH WOMAN. Take off his clothes, I can get nothing out of him.

MNESILOCHUS. What! are you going to strip a mother of nine children naked?

CLISTHENES. Come, undo your girdle, you shameless thing.

FIFTH WOMAN. Ah! what a sturdy frame! but she has no breasts like we have.

MNESILOCHUS. That’s because I’m barren. I never had any children.

FIFTH WOMAN. Oh! indeed! just now you were the mother of nine.

CLISTHENES. Stand up straight. Hullo! what do I see there? Why, a penis sticking out behind.

FIFTH WOMAN. There’s no mistaking it; you can see it projecting, and a fine red it is.

CLISTHENES. Where has it gone to now?

FIFTH WOMAN. To the front.

CLISTHENES. No.

FIFTH WOMAN. Ah! ’tis behind now.

CLISTHENES. Why, friend, ’tis for all the world like the Isthmus; you keep pulling your tool backwards and forwards just as the Corinthians do their ships.

FIFTH WOMAN. Ah! the wretch! this is why he insulted us and defended
Euripides.

MNESILOCHUS. Aye, wretch indeed, what troubles have I not got into now!

FIFTH WOMAN. What shall we do?

CLISTHENES. Watch him closely, so that he does not escape. As for me, I go to report the matter to the magistrates, the Prytanes.

CHORUS. Let us kindle our lamps; let us go firmly to work and with courage, let us take off our cloaks and search whether some other man has not come here too; let us pass round the whole Pnyx, examine the tents and the passages. Come, be quick, let us start off on a light toe and rummage all round in silence. Let us hasten, let us finish our round as soon as possible. Look quickly for the traces that might show you a man hidden here, let your glance fall on every side; look well to the right and to the left. If we seize some impious fellow, woe to him! He will know how we punish the outrage, the crime, the sacrilege. The criminal will then acknowledge at last that gods exist; his fate will teach all men that the deities must be revered, that justice must be observed and that they must submit to the sacred laws. If not, then woe to them! Heaven itself will punish sacrilege; being aflame with fury and mad with frenzy, all their deeds will prove to mortals, both men and women, that the deity punishes injustice and impiety, and that she is not slow to strike. But I think I have now searched everywhere and that no other man is hidden among us.

SIXTH WOMAN. Where is he flying to? Stop him! stop him! Ah! miserable woman that I am, he has torn my child from my breast and has disappeared with it.

MNESILOCHUS. Scream as loud as you will, but he shall never suck your bosom more. If you do not let me go this very instant, I am going to cut open the veins of his thighs with this cutlass and his blood shall flow over the altar.

SIXTH WOMAN. Oh! great gods! oh! friends, help me! terrify him with your shrieks, triumph over this monster, permit him not to rob me of my only child.

CHORUS. Oh! oh! venerable Parcae, what fresh attack is this? ’Tis the crowning act of audacity and shamelessness! What has he done now, friends, what has he done?

MNESILOCHUS. Ah! this insolence passes all bounds, but I shall know how to curb it.

CHORUS. What a shameful deed! the measure of his iniquities is full!

SIXTH WOMAN. Aye, ’tis shameful that he should have robbed me of my child.

CHORUS. ’Tis past belief to be so criminal and so impudent!

MNESILOCHUS. Ah! you’re not near the end of it yet.

SIXTH WOMAN. Little I care whence you come; you shall not return to boast of having acted so odiously with impunity, for you shall be punished.

MNESILOCHUS. You won’t do it, by the gods!

CHORUS. And what immortal would protect you for your crime?

MNESILOCHUS. ’Tis in vain you talk! I shall not let go the child.

CHORUS. By the goddesses, you will not laugh presently over your crime and your impious speech. For with impiety, as ’tis meet, shall we reply to your impiety. Soon fortune will turn round and overwhelm you. Come! bring wood along. Let us burn the wretch, let us roast him as quickly as possible.

SIXTH WOMAN. Bring faggots, Mania!
(To Mnesilochus.)
You will be mere charcoal soon.

CHORUS. Grill away, roast me, but you, my child, take off this Cretan robe and blame no one but your mother for your death. But what does this mean? The little girl is nothing but a skin filled with wine and shod with Persian slippers. Oh! you wanton, you tippling woman, who think of nothing but wine; you are a fortune to the drinking-shops and are our ruin; for the sake of drink, you neglect both your household and your shuttle!

SIXTH WOMAN. Faggots, Mania, plenty of them.

MNESILOCHUS. Bring as many as you like. But answer me; are you the mother of this brat?

SIXTH WOMAN. I carried it ten months.

MNESILOCHUS. You carried it?

SIXTH WOMAN. I swear it by Artemis.

MNESILOCHUS. How much does it hold? Three cotylae? Tell me.

SIXTH WOMAN. Oh! what have you done? You have stripped the poor child quite naked, and it is so small, so small.

MNESILOCHUS. So small?

SIXTH WOMAN. Yes, quite small, to be sure.

MNESILOCHUS. How old is it? Has it seen the feast of cups thrice or four times?

SIXTH WOMAN. It was born about the time of the last Dionysia. But give it back to me.

MNESILOCHUS. No, may Apollo bear me witness.

SIXTH WOMAN. Well, then we are going to burn him.

MNESILOCHUS. Burn me, but then I shall rip this open instantly.

SIXTH WOMAN. No, no, I adjure you, don’t; do anything you like to me rather than that.

MNESILOCHUS. What a tender mother you are; but nevertheless I shall rip it open.
(Tears open the wine-skin.)

SIXTH WOMAN. Oh, my beloved daughter! Mania, hand me the sacred cup, that
I may at least catch the blood of my child.

MNESILOCHUS. Hold it below; ’tis the sole favour I grant you.

SIXTH WOMAN. Out upon you, you pitiless monster!

MNESILOCHUS. This robe belongs to the priestess.

SIXTH WOMAN. What belongs to the priestess?

MNESILOCHUS. Here, take it.
(Throws her the Cretan robe.)

SEVENTH WOMAN. Ah! unfortunate Mica! who has robbed you of your daughter, your beloved child?

SIXTH WOMAN. That wretch. But as you are here, watch him well, while I go with Clisthenes to the Prytanes and denounce him for his crimes.

MNESILOCHUS. Ah! how can I secure safety? what device can I hit on? what can I think of? He whose fault it is, he who hurried me into this trouble, will not come to my rescue. Let me see, whom could I best send to him? Ha! I know a means taken from Palamedes; like him, I will write my misfortune on some oars, which I will cast into the sea. But there are no oars here. Where might I find some? Where indeed? Bah! what if I took these statues instead of oars, wrote upon them and then threw them towards this side and that. ’Tis the best thing to do. Besides, like oars they are of wood. Oh! my hands, keep up your courage, for my safety is at stake. Come, my beautiful tablets, receive the traces of my stylus and be the messengers of my sorry fate. Oh! oh! this B looks miserable enough! Where is it running to then? Come, off with you in all directions, to the right and to the left; and hurry yourselves, for there’s much need indeed!

CHORUS. Let us address ourselves to the spectators to sing our praises, despite the fact that each one says much ill of women. If the men are to be believed, we are a plague to them; through us come all their troubles, quarrels, disputes, sedition, griefs and wars. But if we are truly such a pest, why marry us? Why forbid us to go out or show ourselves at the window? You want to keep this pest, and take a thousand cares to do it. If your wife goes out and you meet her away from the house, you fly into a fury. Ought you not rather to rejoice and give thanks to the gods? for if the pest has disappeared, you will no longer find it at home. If we fall asleep at friends’ houses from the fatigue of playing and sporting, each of you comes prowling round the bed to contemplate the features of this pest. If we seat ourselves at the window, each one wants to see the pest, and if we withdraw through modesty, each wants all the more to see the pest perch herself there again. It is thus clear that we are better than you, and the proof of this is easy. Let us find out which is worse of the two sexes. We say, “’Tis you,” while you aver, ’tis we. Come, let us compare them in detail, each individual man with a woman. Charminus is not equal to Nausimaché, that’s certain. Cleophon is in every respect inferior to Salabaccho. ’Tis long now since any of you has dared to contest the prize with Aristomaché, the heroine of Marathon, or with Stratonicé.

Among the last year’s Senators, who have just yielded their office to other citizens, is there one who equals Eubulé? Therefore we maintain that men are greatly our inferiors. You see no woman who has robbed the State of fifty talents rushing about the city in a magnificent chariot; our greatest peculations are a measure of corn, which we steal from our husbands, and even then we return it them the very same day. But we could name many amongst you who do quite as much, and who are, even more than ourselves, gluttons, parasites, cheats and kidnappers of slaves. We know how to keep our property better than you. We still have our cylinders, our beams, our baskets and our sunshades; whereas many among you have lost the wood of your spears as well as the iron, and many others have cast away their bucklers on the battlefield.

There are many reproaches we have the right to bring against men. The most serious is this, that the woman, who has given birth to a useful citizen, whether taxiarch or strategus should receive some distinction; a place of honour should be reserved for her at the Sthenia, the Scirophoria, and the other festivals that we keep. On the other hand, she of whom a coward was born or a worthless man, a bad trierarch or an unskilful pilot, should sit with shaven head, behind her sister who had borne a brave man. Oh! citizens! is it just, that the mother of Hyperbolus should sit dressed in white and with loosened tresses beside that of Lamachus and lend out money on usury? He, who may have done a deal of this nature with her, so far from paying her interest, should not even repay the capital, saying, “What, pay you interest? after you have given us this delightful son?”

MNESILOCHUS. I have contracted quite a squint by looking round for him, and yet Euripides does not come. Who is keeping him? No doubt he is ashamed of his cold Palamedes. What will attract him? Let us see! By which of his pieces does he set most store? Ah! I’ll imitate his Helen, his lastborn. I just happen to have a complete woman’s outfit.

SEVENTH WOMAN. What are you ruminating over now again? Why are you rolling up your eyes? You’ll have no reason to be proud of your Helen, if you don’t keep quiet until one of the Prytanes arrives.

MNESILOCHUS
(as Helen)
. “These shores are those of the Nile with the beautiful nymphs, these waters take the place of heaven’s rain and fertilize the white earth, that produces the black syrmea.”

SEVENTH WOMAN. By bright Hecaté, you’re a cunning varlet.

MNESILOCHUS. “Glorious Sparta is my country and Tyndareus is my father.”

SEVENTH WOMAN. He your father, you rascal! Why, ’tis Phrynondas.

MNESILOCHUS. “I was given the name of Helen.”

SEVENTH WOMAN. What! you are again becoming a woman, before we have punished you for having pretended it a first time!

MNESILOCHUS. “A thousand warriors have died on my account on the banks of the Scamander.”

SEVENTH WOMAN. Why have you not done the same?

MNESILOCHUS. “And here I am upon these shores; Menelaus, my unhappy husband, does not yet come. Ah! how life weighs upon me! Oh! ye cruel crows, who have not devoured my body! But what sweet hope is this that sets my heart a-throb? Oh, Zeus! grant it may not prove a lying one!”

EURIPIDES
(as Menelaus)
. “To what master does this splendid palace belong? Will he welcome strangers who have been tried on the billows of the sea by storm and shipwreck?”

MNESILOCHUS. “This is the palace of Proteus.”

EURIPIDES. “Of what Proteus?”

SEVENTH WOMAN. Oh! the thrice cursed rascal! how he lies! By the goddesses, ’tis ten years since Proteas died.

EURIPIDES. “What is this shore whither the wind has driven our boat?”

MNESILOCHUS. “It’s Egypt.”

EURIPIDES. “Alas! how far we are from our own country!”

SEVENTH WOMAN. But don’t believe that cursed fool. This is Demeter’s
Temple.

EURIPIDES. “Is Proteus in these parts?”

SEVENTH WOMAN. Ah, now, stranger, it must be sea-sickness that makes you so distraught! You have been told that Proteas is dead, and yet you ask if he is in these parts.

EURIPIDES. “He is no more! Oh! woe! where lie his ashes?”

MNESILOCHUS. ’Tis on his tomb you see me sitting.

SEVENTH WOMAN. You call an altar a tomb! Beware of the rope!