Delphi Complete Works of Aristophanes (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics) (60 page)

FIRST OLD WOMAN. I know what you want.

YOUNG MAN. I can say as much of you.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. By Aphrodité, who has granted me this good chance, I won’t let you go.

YOUNG MAN. You are drivelling, you little old hag.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. Rubbish! I am going to lead you to my couch.

YOUNG MAN. What need for buying hooks? I will let her down to the bottom of the well and pull up the buckets with her old carcase, for she’s crooked enough for that.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. A truce to your jeering, poor boy, and follow me.

YOUNG MAN. Nothing compels me to do so, unless you have paid the levy of five hundredths for me.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. Look, by Aphrodité, there is nothing that delights me as much as sleeping with a lad of your years.

YOUNG MAN. And I abhor such as you, and I will never, never consent.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. But, by Zeus, here is something will force you to it.

YOUNG MAN. What’s that?

FIRST OLD WOMAN. A decree, which orders you to enter my house.

YOUNG MAN. Read it out then, and let’s hear.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. Listen. “The women have decreed, that if a young man desires a young girl, he can only possess her after having satisfied an old woman; and if he refuses and goes to seek the maiden, the old women are authorized to seize him by his privates and so drag him in.”

YOUNG MAN. Alas! I shall become a Procrustes.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. Obey the law.

YOUNG MAN. But if a fellow-citizen, a friend, came to pay my ransom?

FIRST OLD WOMAN. No man may dispose of anything above a medimnus.

YOUNG MAN. But may I not enter an excuse?

FIRST OLD WOMAN. There’s no evasion.

YOUNG MAN. I shall declare myself a merchant and so escape service.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. Beware what you do!

YOUNG MAN. Well! what is to be done?

FIRST OLD WOMAN. Follow me.

YOUNG MAN. Is it absolutely necessary?

FIRST OLD WOMAN. Yes, as surely as if Diomedes had commanded it.

YOUNG MAN. Well then, first spread out a layer of origanum upon four pieces of wood; bind fillets round your head, bring phials of scent and place a bowl filled with lustral water before your door.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. Will you buy a chaplet for me too?

YOUNG MAN. Aye, if you outlast the tapers; for I expect to see you fall down dead as you go in.

YOUNG GIRL. Where are you dragging this unfortunate man to?

FIRST OLD WOMAN. ’Tis my very own property that I am leading in.

YOUNG GIRL. You do ill. A young fellow like him is not of the age to suit you. You ought to be his mother rather than his wife. With these laws in force, the earth will be filled with Oedipuses.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. Oh! you cursed pest! ’tis envy that makes you say this; but I will be revenged.

YOUNG MAN. By Zeus the Deliverer, what a service you have done me, by freeing me of this old wretch! with what ardour I will show you my gratitude in a form both long and thick!

SECOND OLD WOMAN. Hi! you there! where are you taking that young man to, in spite of the law? The decree ordains that he must first sleep with me.

YOUNG MAN. Oh! what a misfortune! Where does
this
hag come from? ’Tis a more frightful monster than the other even.

SECOND OLD WOMAN. Come here.

YOUNG MAN
(to the young girl)
. Oh! I adjure you, don’t let me be led off by her!

SECOND OLD WOMAN. ’Tis not I; ’tis the law that leads you off.

YOUNG MAN. No, ’tis not the law, but an Empusa with a body covered with blemishes and blotches.

SECOND OLD WOMAN. Follow me, my handsome little friend, come along quick without any more ado.

YOUNG MAN. Oh! let me first do the needful, so that I may gather my wits somewhat. Else I should be so terrified that you would see me letting out something yellow.

SECOND OLD WOMAN. Never mind! you can stool, if you want, in my house.

YOUNG MAN. Oh! I fear doing more than I want to; but I offer you two good securities.

SECOND OLD WOMAN. I don’t require them.

THIRD OLD WOMAN. Hi! friend, where are you off to with that woman?

YOUNG MAN. I am not going with her, but am being dragged by force. Oh! whoever you are, may heaven bless you for having had pity on me in my dire misfortune.
(Turns round and sees the Third Old Woman.)
Oh Heracles! oh Heracles! oh Pan! Oh ye Corybantes! oh ye Dioscuri! Why, she is still more awful! Oh! what a monster! great gods! Are you an ape plastered with white lead, or the ghost of some old hag returned from the dark borderlands of death?

THIRD OLD WOMAN. No jesting! Follow me.

SECOND OLD WOMAN. No, come this way.

THIRD OLD WOMAN. I will never let you go.

SECOND OLD WOMAN. Nor will I.

YOUNG MAN. But you will rend me asunder, you cursed wretches.

SECOND OLD WOMAN. ’Tis I he must go with according to the law.

THIRD OLD WOMAN. Not if an uglier old woman than yourself appears.

YOUNG MAN. But if you kill me at the outset, how shall I afterwards go to find this beautiful girl of mine?

THIRD OLD WOMAN. That’s your business. But begin by obeying.

YOUNG MAN. Of which one must I rid myself first?

SECOND OLD WOMAN. Don’t you know? Come here.

YOUNG MAN. Then let the other one release me.

THIRD OLD WOMAN. Come to my house.

YOUNG MAN. If this dame will let me go.

SECOND OLD WOMAN. No, by all the gods, I’ll not let you go.

THIRD OLD WOMAN. Nor will I.

YOUNG MAN. You would make very bad boatwomen.

SECOND OLD WOMAN. Why?

YOUNG MAN. Because you would tear your passengers to pieces in dragging them on board.

SECOND OLD WOMAN. Then come along, do, and hold your tongue.

THIRD OLD WOMAN. No, by Zeus, come with me.

YOUNG MAN. ’Tis clearly a case of the decree of Cannonus; I must cut myself in two in order to fuck you both. But how am I to work two oars at once?

SECOND OLD WOMAN. Easily enough; you have only to eat a full pot of onions.

YOUNG MAN. Oh! great gods! here I am close to the door and being dragged in!

THIRD OLD WOMAN
(to Second Old Woman)
. You will gain nothing by this, for I shall rush into your house with you.

YOUNG MAN. Oh, no! no! ’twould be better to suffer a single misfortune than two.

THIRD OLD WOMAN. Ah! by Hecaté, ‘twill be all the same whether you wish it or not.

YOUNG MAN. What a fate is mine, that I must gratify such a stinking harridan the whole night through and all day; then, when I am rid of her, I have still to tackle a hag of brick-colour hue! Am I not truly unfortunate? Ah! by Zeus the Deliverer! under what fatal star must I have been born, that I must sail in company with such monsters! But if my bark sinks in the sewer of these strumpets, may I be buried at the very threshold of the door; let this hag be stood upright on my grave, let her be coated alive with pitch and her legs covered with molten lead up to the ankles, and let her be set alight as a funeral lamp.

A SERVANT-MAID TO PRAXAGORA
(she comes from the banquet)
. What happiness is the people’s! what joy is mine, and above all that of my mistress! Happy are ye, who form choruses before our house! Happy all ye, both neighbours and fellow-citizens! Happy am I myself! I am but a servant, and yet I have poured on my hair the most exquisite essences. Let thanks be rendered to thee, oh, Zeus! But a still more delicious aroma is that of the wine of Thasos; its sweet bouquet delights the drinker for a long enough, whereas the others lose their bloom and vanish quickly. Therefore, long life to the wine-jars of Thasos! Pour yourselves out unmixed wine, it will cheer you the whole night through, if you choose the liquor that possesses most fragrance. But tell me, friends, where is my mistress’s husband?

CHORUS. Wait for him here; he will no doubt pass this way.

MAID-SERVANT. Ah! there he is just going to dinner. Oh! master! what joy! what blessedness is yours!

BLEPYRUS. Ah! d’you think so?

MAID-SERVANT. None can compare his happiness to yours; you have reached its utmost height, you who, alone out of thirty thousand citizens, have not yet dined.

CHORUS Aye, here is undoubtedly a truly happy man.

MAID-SERVANT. Where are you off to?

BLEPYRUS. I am going to dine.

MAID-SERVANT. By Aphrodité, you will be the last of all, far and away the last. Yet my mistress has bidden me take you and take with you these young girls. Some Chian wine is left and lots of other good things. Therefore hurry, and invite likewise all the spectators whom we have pleased, and such of the judges as are not against us, to follow us; we will offer them everything they can desire. Let our hospitality be large and generous; forget no one, neither old nor young men, nor children. Dinner is ready for them all; they have but to go … home.

CHORUS. I am betaking myself to the banquet with this torch in my hand according to custom. But why do you tarry, Blepyrus? Take these young girls with you and, while you are away a while, I will whet my appetite with some dining-song. I have but a few words to say: let the wise judge me because of whatever is wise in this piece, and those who like a laugh by whatever has made them laugh. In this way I address pretty well everyone. If the lot has assigned my comedy to be played first of all, don’t let that be a disadvantage to me; engrave in your memory all that shall have pleased you in it and judge the competitors equitably as you have bound yourselves by oath to do. Don’t act like vile courtesans, who never remember any but their last lover. It is time, friends, high time to go to the banquet, if we want to have our share of it. Open your ranks and let the Cretan rhythms regulate your dances.

SEMI-CHORUS. Ready; we are ready!

CHORUS. And you others, let your light steps too keep time. Very soon will be served a very fine menu
[*]
— oysters-saltfish-skate-sharks’-heads left-over-vinegar-dressing-laserpitium-leek-with-honey-sauce-thrush blackbird-pigeon-dove-roast-cock’s-brains-wagtail-cushat-hare-stewed in-new-wine-gristle-of-veal-pullet’s-wings. Come, quick, seize hold of a plate, snatch up a cup, and let’s run to secure a place at table. The rest will have their jaws at work by this time.

[* Transcriber’s note: In the original, all following words until ‘wings’ are connected with hyphens, i.e. they form one word.]

SEMI-CHORUS. Let up leap and dance, Io! evoë! Let us to dinner, Io! evoë.
For victory is ours, victory is ours! Ho! Victory! Io! evoë!

Anonymous translation for the
Athenian Society, London, 1912

First produced in 408 BC, this political satire features the personified god of wealth Plutus and is unique among Aristophanes’ extant works for demonstrating the development of Old Comedy towards New Comedy. Unlike the burlesque and bawdy early political plays,
Wealth
uses such familiar character types such as the stupid master and the cunning and insubordinate slave, which are often seen in the New Comedy works of later playwrights such as Menander.

Wealth
introduces the elderly Athenian citizen, Chremylos, who presents himself and his family as virtuous but poor, and has accordingly gone to seek advice from an oracle. The play begins as he returns to Athens from Delphi, having been instructed by Apollo to follow the first man he meets and persuade him to come home with him. That man turns out to be the god of wealth Plutus, who is a blind beggar. After much argument, Plutus is convinced to enter Chremylus’ house, where he will have his vision restored, meaning that “wealth” will now go only to those who deserve it in one way or another. The first part of the play examines the concept that wealth is not distributed to the virtuous, or necessarily to the non-virtuous, but instead it is distributed randomly. Chremylos is convinced that if Plutus’ eyesight can be restored, these wrongs can be righted, making the world a better place.

The second part of the drama introduces the goddess Poverty, who counters Chremylos’ arguments that it is better to be rich, by arguing that without poverty there would be no slaves, as every slave would buy his freedom, and no fine goods or luxury foods, as nobody would work if everyone were rich – once again posing engaging questions for the audience to consider. After Plutus’ eyesight is restored at the Temple of Asclepius, he formally becomes a member of Chremylus’ household. At the same time, the entire world is turned upside-down economically and socially. Unsurprisingly, this gives rise to rancorous comments and claims of unfairness from those who have been deprived of their riches.