and the rivers frozen solid.
DICAEOPOLIS: Whilst here we were frozen solid by Theognis’ play.17
THEORUS:
I at the time was drinking with King Sitalces.
What an admirer of Athens he is, a real Athenophile!
We made his son an honorary citizen, and then
the boy could hardly wait to eat the sausages
when the celebrations began.
He begged his father to support his adopted country,
and his father, amid floods of wine,
promised to send such a horde of help
it would make the Athenians yelp:
“Holy mackerel! A locust swarm is on us!”
DICAEOPOLIS: I’m jiggered if I believe a word of what you say,
except about the locusts.
THEORUS: And now Sitalces sends you
the most pugnacious tribe in Thrace.
DICAEOPOLIS: [eyeing a ruffian PLATOON of Odomantian soldiers in
kilts]
I can see that!
CRIER: ’ey, you Thracian lot what Theorus brought, step forward.
[The Thracians advance.]
DICAEOPOLIS: What on frigging earth . . . ?
THEORUS: The Odomantian Guards, sir.18
DICAEOPOLIS: [lifting the kilt of one of the Guards]
Don’t tell me these men are Odomantians!
Who’s been docking their cocks?19
THEORUS: Give them pay of two drachmas a day
and they’ll flatten the whole of Boeotia.20
DICAEOPOLIS:
Two drachmas a day for these mutilated pricks?
The sailors who man the ships that keep our city safe
would be appalled.
[The Odomantians charge DICAEOPOLIS and snatch his bag.]
Hey, knock it off! My garlic’s in that.
Odomantians, drop my garlic!
THEORUS: Cool it, sir! I wouldn’t mess with Odomantians
once they’ve had a spot of garlic.
DICAEOPOLIS:
You Deputies out there, didn’t you see what happened—
how I’m treated in my own country
and by Barbarians at that?
I insist that the Assembly turns down
all question of pay for the Thracians.
Indeed, I’ve just had a sign from heaven—a raindrop.21
CRIER: Them Thracians can go but ’ave to come back in two days’
time.
The Deputies ’ave declared the Assembly dissolved.
[Everyone leaves except DICAEOPOLIS.]
DICAEOPOLIS: Drat it, my salad’s been ruined!
But here comes Amphitheus back from Sparta.
[AMPHITHEUS comes running in.]
Good day, Amphitheus!
AMPHITHEUS: Not at all good! . . . Sorry, can’t stop:
the Acharnians are after me . . . got to get clear.
DICAEOPOLIS: What’s up?
AMPHITHEUS:
I was hurrying back here with a load of truces,
when some Acharnian veterans got to hear of it.
They’re tough old blighters:
hard as oak or maple—they fought at Marathon.22
They started shouting: “Traitor, you dare bring treaties
when our vines are being hacked to pieces?”
That’s when I bolted,
and they came after me—yelling.
DICAEOPOLIS: Let them yell.... You’ve got the pledges?23
AMPHITHEUS: I have indeed. There’s a choice of three.
This one matures in five years—have a sip?
DICAEOPOLIS: Shit!
AMPHITHEUS: What’s wrong?
DICAEOPOLIS: This one’s horrible:
smells of tar and caulking for men-of-war.24
AMPHITHEUS: Try this one. It’s good for ten years.
DICAEOPOLIS: This one stinks too—a vinegary smell
like squeezed allies.25
AMPHITHEUS: Well, here we have a pledge to last thirty years
over land and sea.
DICAEOPOLIS:
Sweet Dionysus! This one has a bouquet
of nectar and ambrosia,
and of not having to hear: “Your three days’ rations, mate.”
This one says to my mouth:
“Go wherever you please.”
Yes, I’ll take this one,
I’ll pour it out and drain it to the dregs,
and I’ll say to the Acharnians:
“To hell with you! Goodbye!”
AMPHITHEUS: Well, the Acharnians are here. . . . I’m off.
DICAEOPOLIS: As for me, I’m rid of war and destitution;
I’m off to live it up at the Country Dionysia.
[DICAEOPOLIS removes himself as the angry old men of the CHORUS march in.]
STROPHE
LEADER:
This way, everyone, go after him and ask
All-and-sundry where the blighter is. We’ll whisk
Him away. O what a triumph for our town!
If any of you has an inkling where the fellow
Is heading with the truces,
Tell us.
CHORUS:
He’s fled, he’s got away, and O
Cursed be these legs of mine!
Never in my younger days
Would he have got away,
Nor needed I excuses
When I could hoist a sack of coal
Or come in second after Phayllus.26
It would have been no use
To this slippery bearer of truce:
None at all.
ANTISTROPHE
LEADER:
But now because of my arthritic limbs and old
Lacrateides’27 wobbly legs, the man has flown,
Got clean away. It’s up to us to go after
Him. The fellow musn’t brag he diddled us
Acharnians, however
Old we are.
CHORUS:
No matter who he is, O Father
Zeus and all you deities,
The fellow has contrived a truce
With our enemies
And I will fight with fervor
To defend my lands, and shall not cease
Till with a stake slim as a reed
I pierce them to the hilt,
So they’ll learn never again
To trample my vines.
LEADER:
We’ve simply got to search for the man
And hunt him from land to land
And pelt him when we’ve found
Him, with every stone at hand.
DICAEOPOLIS: [from within] Silence! Holy silence, please!
LEADER:
Men, be quiet, all of you.
Didn’t you hear a call for silence?
I think this is the man we’re after.
Stand ready, everyone.
He’s coming out to sacrifice.
DICAEOPOLIS: [emerging] Silence! Holy silence, please!
[DICAEOPOLIS comes out of the house with his WIFE and DAUGHTER and two SERVANTS carrying a large ceremonial phallus.]
DICAEOPOLIS: Basket carrier, step to the front.
Xanthias, hold that phallus up erect. . . .
Now, daughter, lay the basket down and I’ll begin.
DAUGHTER: Mother, hand me the spoon for the sauce
and I’ll ladle some sauce over the cake.
DICAEOPOLIS: Okeydokey, here goes!
Hail, Dionysus. Lord, may you find
this ritual and sacrifice full of grace,
and may I and my family celebrate
the Country Dionysia full of happiness
seeing that at last I’m free
from all that nasty campaign stress.
So let the truce of Thirty Years of Peace
be a success. . . .
Now, my sweet daughter, carry that basket sweetly
with your sweetest smile—
Oh what a lucky dog he’s going to be who weds you
and gets on you a litter of small
pussies as cute and pretty as you
and smelling as sweet as dawn.
Now, onwards, all of you,
but in the crowds let me warn
you against pickpockets who sneak up and steal
your jewels. . . . Now you and Xanthias
walk behind the basket bearer, keeping the phallus
erect, and I’ll bring up the rear
to sing the ode to the phallus; and you, wifey dear,
can watch me from the roof up there. . . . Proceed.
[DICAEOPOLIS spreads his hands dramatically and delivers the following verses in a kind of chant.]
Phales,28 comrade of Bacchus, pal
Of his orgies, prowler at night, lover
Of girls and boys, a shedder
Of seed, six years have passed and now
I am returning home
Joyously since I
Have made a peace all of my own,
Saving you from turmoil and war,
Not to mention Lamachuses.29
But, Phallus, O Phales,
It’s infinitely nicer
To grab a young girl in the bud
As she is collecting wood—
That Thracian wench perhaps, from the back of beyond—
To squeeze her by the middle,
Throw her to the ground
And crack her kernel.
CHORUS:
It’s him, it’s him, the man, it’s him.
Stone him, stone him, stone him, stone him!
Give it to him thick and thin!
Got a stone there? Got a stone?
DICAEOPOLIS: Great Heracles! What’s going on? You’ll break my
pot.
CHORUS: It’s you we’ll break, you horrid deadhead!
DICAEOPOLIS: You venerable dodderers—for what?
CHORUS:
What a question to ask,
You filthy rat, you cursed
Betrayer of your people!
The only one in our midst
To settle
A separate peace:
You dare look me in the face?
DICAEOPOLIS: Oughtn’t you first to know my reasons? Listen.
CHORUS: Listen to you? You’re finished, and we’ll flatten
you under heaps of stone.
DICAEOPOLIS: Not before you’ve heard me, please!
Forbear, good people, I appeal.
CHORUS:
Forbear, I’ll not,
Nor do we want a spiel.
I hate you even more than Cleon,30
Whom I intend to cut up as leather for shoes
For the noble knights to use.
LEADER: I’m not going to listen to lengthy speeches
from one who goes in for making truces
with the Spartans, so what I’ll do
is just punish you.
DICAEOPOLIS: Good gentlemen, let’s forget the Spartans just for now
and concentrate on the truce I made.
Was I right to make it, anyhow?
LEADER: How can you possibly ask if it’s right
to deal with people who don’t abide
by any altar, faith, or oath?
DICAEOPOLIS: All I know is that the Spartans, whom we so loathe,
are not the only reason for our woes.
LEADER: Not the only? You frigging heel, you have the gall
to say this to my face and think we’re going to spare you?
DICAEOPOLIS: Not the only reason, I repeat: not the only.
In fact, with a little dissertation I could show you
how in many ways the Spartans are the wronged party.
LEADER: What a truly awful thing to say!
A brazen exculpation of our enemy—
enough to cause a heart attack.
DICAEOPOLIS: Very well, if what I say
doesn’t seem right and true to all the people
I’m ready to speak with my head on the butcher’s block.
LEADER: Fellow demesmen, why do we delay?
Why don’t we flay the rascal
till he’s as red as a Spartan cloak?31
DICAEOPOLIS: Ah, sons of Acharneus, that was a spark
that flared up in you then, but won’t you listen?
Please, just listen?
LEADER: Listen, we shall not.
DICAEOPOLIS: Then I’ll be hurt.
LEADER: I would rather die.
DICAEOPOLIS: Acharnians, don’t say that!
LEADER: You’re the one that’s going to die—immediately.
DICAEOPOLIS:
In that case I’ll sting and murder in return:
yes, the most loved ones of your loves—and presently.
They’re hostages. Let me go and get them
and cut their throats.
[DICAEOPOLIS goes inside.]
LEADER: Comrade Acharnians, what does he mean by these threats? Is there someone locked up in his home? Otherwise, why is he so sassy?
[DICAEOPOLIS comes out with a large knife and a basket of charcoal.]
DICAEOPOLIS: So go ahead and stone me and I’ll slaughter these,
and I’ll soon see which of you is fussy
about the way your blessed coal behaves.
LEADER: No, no, it’ll be the end of us.
That basket of charcoal is from my home.
Don’t do it. Oh please don’t!
DICAEOPOLIS: Yowl away and make a fuss, but kill I will.
LEADER: You’d kill me, too—the lover of charcoal?
DICAEOPOLIS: When I pleaded a moment ago you were dumb.
CHORUS: All right, mean what you meant:
That the Spartan is your friend.
This wee basket I’ll not desert.
DICAEOPOLIS: First empty those stones onto the ground.
LEADER: See, they’re on the ground, so put your weapon down.
DICAEOPOLIS: Sure no stones are tucked away inside your gown?
CHORUS:
Look, it’s shaken down to the ground.
Can’t you see it’s shaken down?
No going back on what you said.
Just put that sword of yours to bed.
Look, I’m whirling round and round.
DICAEOPOLIS:
How ready you were just now to shake me with your shouts
when some Parnesian32 charcoals all but died
just because their demesmen went berserk.
My basket in a panic, like a squid,
squirted me with charcoal dust. How sad
that any should succumb to suchlike fits
of bitterness, hurl stones and bark
and refuse to listen to anything I say for Sparta,
even though I’m ready to put my head on the chopping block;
and I’m a man who’d rather keep his life instead.
CHORUS:
Then go ahead, you difficult man, and put the block
outside your door and give us the speech we’re waiting for.
Whatever is on your mind, I can hardly wait to hear.
LEADER: Yes, bring the block out here—the whole thing’s your idea
and just the way you want it—then begin your speech.
[DICAEOPOLIS goes into the house and comes out with a butcher block.]
DICAEOPOLIS:
So here is the man and there is the butcher block,
and this is where he’s primed himself to make his pitch.
Don’t be nervous. I’m unarmed, I swear, and speak
just to put the Spartan case as best I may.
But I am nervous, all the same. I know the way
country folk respond: how easy it is to con
them with flattery of themselves or of their city,
whether true or not and however shitty.
Of which they’re completely unaware. I know
too
how the old ones think and want to sting
by how they vote. And I know how I got stung
last year by Cleon because of my comedy,33
when he had me hauled before the Council and blew
his top off, slandering, lying, lashing, roaring—exactly
like the river Cycloborus flooding—as he drenched me
in abuse until I was all but annihilated
by a sickly-slimy-sewery slush34 of smeary hatred.
Well now, before I launch into my apologia,
Allow me, please, to dress up in pathetic gear.
CHORUS: What are all these clever delaying tactics?
For all I care, you can go and get yourself a wig
from Hieronymus,35 a shaggy, unkempt camouflage.
LEADER: Let’s get to the bottom of your Sisyphean tricks.36
There’s no excuse for any delay—not one bit.
DICAEOPOLIS: The time has come to show a stalwart heart at large.
I’ll call on Euripides.
[He walks to the door of EURIPIDES’ house and knocks.]
Boy! Boy!
SERVANT: Who is it?
DICAEOPOLIS: Is Euripides in, please?
SERVANT: He’s in, yet not in. . . . If you get my meaning.
DICAEOPOLIS: How can he be in, yet not in?
SERVANT: Quite easily, old sir.
His mind’s outside collecting verses, so his mind’s not in,
but the man himself is inside, though in the air,
working on tragedies.
DICAEOPOLIS: Thrice-fortunate Euripides,
having a servant who knows exactly where you are!
Call him out.
SERVANT: I can’t.
DICAEOPOLIS: Don’t be silly! [EURIPIDES’ SERVANT slams the door.]
Well, I’m not going. I’ll keep knocking.
Euripides, dear Euripides, won’t you listen?
Listen now if you’ve ever listened to anyone.
It’s Dicaeopolis of Cholleidai‡ calling.
EURIPIDES: [from a window] I’m busy.
DICAEOPOLIS: Just get yourself wheeled out.
EURIPIDES: I can’t.
DICAEOPOLIS: Oh please!
EURIPIDES: Very well, I’ll be wheeled out.