disintegrate.
XANTHIAS: Not on your life, Lovecleon!
LOVECLEON: Then I’ll chew through the wire netting.
XANTHIAS: What! Without teeth?
LOVECLEON: Damn it, I’ll kill you. Give me a sword
or, better still, an indictment!
HATECLEON: [ from the roof ] The man’s primed for a crime.
LOVECLEON: Not so, by Zeus!
It’s market day and all I want
is to set forth with donkey and panniers.
HATECLEON: Surely I could do that for you?
LOVECLEON: Not quite the way I would.
HATECLEON: You’re right. Much better.
LOVECLEON: At least let the donkey out.
XANTHIAS: What a smooth liar! You’d trick him into letting it out.
HATECLEON: But it didn’t work. I know his tricks.
I’ll just go and get the donkey myself.
I’m not giving the old fool so much as a keyhole.
[HATECLEON disappears from view to fetch the DONKEY, going out by a back door. He now appears in front of the house with the recalcitrant animal.]
HATECLEON: Jackass, do you really have to bray like that?
So you object to buying and selling today?
Shit! What’s the matter with you?
No Odysseus clamped to your underside, eh?289
XANTHIAS: Hold on a minute! There is someone tucked up
underneath.
HATECLEON: Surely not! Let me see. Well, I’m damned! Who on earth are you, fellow?
LOVECLEON: Nobody. That’s the truth.
HATECLEON: Well, Mr. Nobody, you’ll soon be nobody all right.
Pull him out from there at once, the freak.
Can you imagine it: all tucked up beneath:
a real s-nag-poena!
LOVECLEON: Just let me be—or it’s war.
HATECLEON: War about what?
LOVECLEON: The ass’s shadow.290
HATECLEON: You’re a criminal genius. You’re beyond the pale.
LOVECLEON: Me, criminal? God, no! Can’t you see I’m perfect?
You’ll find that out if you bite off a hunk of this old juryman.
HATECLEON: Get into the house, both of you—you and the donkey.
LOVECLEON: Comrades! Jurymen! Cleon! Help!
HATECLEON: Cry away inside behind locked doors.
[calling to a SERVANT]
You there, heap rocks against the threshold
and snap back that bolt into its groove,
bolster it with a board,
and roll that huge millstone up against it. Hurry!
XANTHIAS: Crikey! Where did that clod of earth hit me from?
HATECLEON: Could be a mouse . . . shifted something onto you.
XANTHIAS: A mouse? No way!
What’s rummaging up there under the tiles is a roof sack.291
HATECLEON: Great heavens, the man’s turning into a sparrow.
He’s going to fly his way out. Quick, my net, where is it?
Shoo! Shoo! Go back! Shoo! . . .
My God, I’d be better off blockading Scione‡
than this father of mine.
[There is a general scuffle and LOVECLEON retreats to the interior.]
XANTHIAS: Well, now that we’ve chased him back
and there’s no way he can give us the slip,
what about a bit of shut-eye?
HATECLEON: Don’t be a twit,
his juror pals will be arriving in a minute to pick Dad up.
XANTHIAS: Nonsense, it’s hardly morning.
HATECLEON: Then they got up bloody late today.
They usually call for him just after midnight,
in a masquerade of torchlight and sweet
summoning-honeyed-ancient-Phrynician-Sidon-songs.292
XANTHIAS: Fine! If necessary we’ll just fling stones at them.
HATECLEON: Don’t be a dope!
Anyone upsetting that bunch of geriatrics
stirs up a wasps’ nest.
Why, they’ve got stings to stab with
sticking out of their bottoms
and they dart about crackling like sparks.
XANTHIAS: Not to worry! I’ve got stones
and can scatter a whole nestful of justices.
[XANTHIAS and HATECLEON relax and are soon asleep; meanwhile the CHORUS OF JURYMEN enters accompanied by youths, their sons.]
LEADER: Hey there, Comias, move along with you and stop lagging: My God, you never used to—you were tough as dogskin. But Charinades now outstrides you by far, and no denying. You there, Stryodorus from Conthyle, my wonderful law kin, Have you seen Euergides anywhere or Chabes of Phyla? Except for us—damn it alas!—nothing remains but desire For the days of our prime when we were guardsmen together, You and I in Byzantium. Do you remember the time
We went rampaging at night and filched the kneading bowl
Of that poor baker woman and smashed it up for firewood
To make a pimpernel stew? But, fellows, let’s get rolling. Laches293 is in for it today. In fact the word
Is going around that his hive is simply crammed with loot.
That’s why Cleon our boss yesterday ordered us out
To turn up on time (after three festering days of fury
Have come to a head), to punish him. But anyway
Let’s get a move on before the dawn, my lads of the jury,
And shine our lamps onto the stones to make sure
No stone is lurking there underfoot to injure.
YOUTH: Dad, Dad, watch out for the mud!
LEADER: Turn the wick up to trim the lamp. We need a twig.294
YOUTH: No, I think my finger will do.
LEADER: Brainless, who taught you to mangle the wick with your
finger,
especially now when oil is so dear.
Naturally, you’re not one to feel the pinch when prices rocket.
YOUTH: Bugger off! And don’t you dare one more time
use your fists on me, or we’ll snuff out the lamps
and go home by ourselves.
No doubt you’ll go lamplessly stumbling around in the dark,
mashing up the mud like a woodcock.‡
LEADER:
Watch it, boy! I’ve dealt with bigger chaps than you. . . .
Damn it, I’ve just stepped into a puddle of mire!
Doubtless the deity will pour down his water again on cue
Within four days, though already the mold on these lamps is
dire.
Four days without rain is the most that he can restrain.
Of course, I know that rain is good for the crops and the grain.
And when the north wind . . .
[He halts outside LOVECLEON’s house.]
Whatever’s amiss with our legal mate
Who lives in this house? He hasn’t joined us yet. He’s late,
Which he’s never been before: he led our gang
With a song from Phrynichus that he always sang,
(Given to singing, he is)—well, how about him,
Fellows? Shall we stop outside his house and shout him
Out of doors? Perhaps my song will please and rouse him.
CHORUS: Let me see, what can it be, why can’t he, The old geriatric, appear At his door or reply? Can he hear? He can’t find his shoes maybe, Or has battered a toe in the dark, Or got a boil on the groin, Or twisted an ankle, for he’s Old, but he once had a bark Fiercer than any of us. There was no good saying: Oh please, Let me off. I’ll atone. He’d drop his head and mutter like this: “You might as well boil a stone.”
Perhaps it’s all because of what happened yesterday
With that fellow who got away
By making us think he was a friend
Of Athens and so pretend
To be the first to tell us
The goings-on at Samos.295
Is that what’s bothering him
And laid him low with fever?
For he’s that kind of geezer.
Do be a good chap and rise and shake a limb,
And don’t be too upset:
A fat one’s on the carpet
Who betrayed the Thracian strip.296
See that you dish him up.
LEADER: Get moving, lad, get moving.
YOUTH: Will you give me something if I ask, Papa?
Something nice?
LEADER: Ask away, my boy, Whatever you’d like me to buy. I’m sure I won’t be far Wrong if you say dice.
YOUTH: Dead wrong, Dad—it’s figs:
They’re much more nice.
LEADER: No, not on your fucking lives! Go hang yourselves on pegs.
YOUTH: No, and I’ll stop guiding your steps.
LEADER: Be reasonable. Out of my puny pay
I’ve got to buy
Flour, firewood, dinner,
For us three, and you ask me for figs!
YOUTH: Father,
Do you mean to say
If the court doesn’t sit today
That we can’t have dinner?
What hope is there for us
In holy Hellas?
LEADER: Golly! I haven’t the faintest idea
Of how we get any dinner.
YOUTH: Poor, wretched Mum, why did you bear me?
LEADER: Just so’s I’d have the job to rear thee.
YOUTH: So you’re just an ornamental shopping bag!
I find that shocking. . . . Boohoo!
LOVECLEON: [calling down from a window]
My friends, I’ve been yearning
For ages for you and listening
Through this crack, not singing.
What can I do? They’re watching,
To stop me joining you and voting
And being a nuisance. O thundering Zeus,
What is the use?
Change me into hot air at once
Like frothy-mouthed Parmenides297
Or that bombast son of Sellus here—
That creeping vine.
Be indulgent, Lord, and take the trouble
Either to frizzle me up with a bolt
And dip me in hot sauce,
Or change me into a pebble:
A voting pebble of course.
YOUTH: Who imprisons you thus
With bolted doors?
You can confide in us:
We’re all yours.
LOVECLEON: My son. Don’t shout. He’s asleep just over there
in front of the house. So lower your voice.
YOUTH: What makes him treat you like this? Are you inept? What’s his excuse?
LOVECLEON: He won’t let me into the courts—I’m such a
nuisance.
He’d rather treat me to dinners—which I don’t want.
CHORUS: This skunk of a man has the gall,
This demi-demalogical-cleon-and-all
To froth at the mouth
Because you told the truth,
The embarrassing truth about youth:
Which he wouldn’t have dared to tell
If he weren’t a commonplace goof.
LEADER: This being so, you’ve got to think of a way
Of slipping yourself down here though he says nay.
LOVECLEON: I know, but what? Think of something. I’ll do anything. I so long to walk again through the boardrooms among the magistrates.
LEADER: Surely there’s a crack somewhere that you could enlarge
and slip through in tatters like sly Odysseus?
LOVECLEON: Everything is jammed shut. There’s not a chink for even a gnat to get through. You’ve got to think of something else. I can’t liquefy myself.298
LEADER: All right, but do you remember the time
on campaign at the capture of Naxos
when you stole the poles
and slid down the walls like greased lightning?
LOVECLEON: Yes, but what of it? That’s got nothing to do with the present problem. I was in my prime and could rely on my strength to bring things off. I made my getaway because no one was watching. But now the army’s drawn up ready to defeat Me, controlling the passes, two in the doorway With bayonets fixed, their eyes like a cat’s That’s got away with a chunk of meat.
CHORUS: Now is the time again to hit on Something tricky as quick as you can. Busy little bee, it’s already dawn.
LOVECLEON: The best thing is for me to chew through the netting. May Dictynna goddess of nets not find this upsetting.
CHORUS: That’s more like a man headed for salvation,
So set that jaw chomping with its mastication.
LOVECLEON: There! I’ve chewed it through, but don’t shout bravo.
We mustn’t let Hatecleon know.
CHORUS: Never fear, old pal, never fear. If he utters a squeak I’ll make him eat his heart out, Sprinting the sprint of his life.
Thus let him learn not to ignore a
Decree by vote
Of Demeter and Cora.299
LEADER: Fasten that rope to the frame in the window. Lash it around you and let yourself down. Make Diopeithes’300 frenzy your own.
LOVECLEON: But what if the two at the door arrest me?
Pull me down and reel me away?
How will you help me? What do you say?
LEADER: We’ll call on our courage and we’ll protect you.
We’ll do all we can and not let them get you.
LOVECLEON: All right I’ll do as you say,
But all else failing,
Collect my remains and give me a funeral,
And bury me by the courthouse paling.
LEADER: Bear up! Have no fear!
Just let yourself down, my brave heart,
and look to your gods with a prayer.
LOVECLEON: Lycus,301 lord and champion, hear me,
taking pleasure in the same things I do,
the daily groans of plaintiffs and their wailings—
sitting near them not to miss a tear—then
and save your next-door neighbor.
I promise not to piss or fart
near your railings in disfavor.
[The scene now focuses on the front door, where HATECLEON and XANTHIAS have been asleep.]
HATECLEON: You there, wake up!
XANTHIAS: What’s on?
HATECLEON: The air is full of voices. . . . I hope the old relic
is not going to spring something on us—is he?
XANTHIAS: I hope not indeed,
but he’s all roped up and descending.
HATECLEON: What are you up to? Menace. Don’t dare descend.
[to XANTHIAS]
Quick, boy, up the other way
and smite him with those sticks.
Perhaps he’ll back down if hit with festival twigs.302
LOVECLEON: [still dangling on the rope]
Help, all you indicters with cases pending:
you there, Mincer, Grinder, Whiner, Diner,
come to my rescue now or never,
before I’m dragged inside—a goner.
CHORUS: Why are we waiting to show our anger—tell me—
When somebody comes to disturb our wasps’ nest?
Up and at the ready!
Stings honed to a point and sharper than ever.
And you, boys, seize your jackets and run
With shouts to Cleon
And tell him what’s being done
And order him to come
And face this uncivil man
Who needs to be put down
For wanting lawsuits forbidden.
HATECLEON: Gentlemen, listen to the facts, and please don’t
shout.
LEADER: I’ll shout if I want to. I’ll shout to high heaven.
HATECLEON: But I won’t let him out.
CHORUS: Is this not disgraceful? Tyranny writ clear?
My poor city! And poor god-deserted Theorus!303
And all other slimy fawners who support us!
XANTHIAS: Holy Heracles, master! Just look at their stingers!
HATECLEON: The very same that stung and unstrung
Philipus, the son of Gorgias.304
LEADER: And we’ll dispose of you as well. Fix bayonets, Wasps, wheel in close order, charge, and sting inflamed with choler, so he’ll always remember the swarm he provoked to anger.
XANTHIAS: Holy Zeus, this is serious if it comes to a fight!
The mere sight of their stingers fills me with fright.
LEADER: Very well, Let the man go free, or you’ll wish you had a tortoise shell.
LOVECLEON: Charge, fellow jurors, wasps with hearts like stingers.
Platoon One, contain your fire and bomb his bottom.
Platoon Two, concentrate your fire on eyes and fingers.
HATECLEON: [summoning SERVANTS from the house]
Midas, Phryx, Masyntias, help!
[SERVANTS rush out.]
Nab him. Let no one else have him,
or I’ll put your feet in fetters, and no lunch.
His bustle is nothing but a bunch
of fig leaves when they rustle.
[HATECLEON and XANTHIAS hurry into the house.]
LEADER: If you don’t let him go, you’ll find yourself jabbed.
LOVECLEON: Cecrops,305 lord and hero, you below-the-waisted snake,
are you just going to stare while I am being fought
by the same barbarian thugs whom once I taught
to cry in court?
LEADER: So isn’t old age fraught with miseries?
It certainly is.
Look at the way these two manhandle their former master,
oblivious of all the jackets and suits he used to buy them,
and the caps, too, of course,
and how in winter he did all he could
to keep their toes from freezing, but in their eyes
their toes now don’t matter a cuss.
LOVECLEON: [calling into the house] So you won’t let me go even now, you brute? Remember the time I caught you stealing grapes and strapped you to an olive tree and manfully flayed you raw, making you the envy of everyone who saw. Come on then, you two, before my son flashes into view.
LEADER: Yes, but both of you will pay a price
and soon discover the quality of those you face: