DICAEOPOLIS
May I die if I believe a word of what you tell us! Excepting the
grasshoppers, there is not a grain of truth in it all!
THEORUS
And he has sent you the most warlike soldiers of all Thrace.
DICAEOPOLIS
Now we shall begin to see clearly.
HERALD
Come hither, Thracians, whom Theorus brought.
DICAEOPOLIS
What plague have we here?
THEORUS
'Tis the host of the Odomanti.[1]
f[1] A Thracian tribe from the right bank of the Strymon.
DICAEOPOLIS
Of the Odomanti? Tell me what it means. Who has mutilated them
like this?
THEORUS
If they are given a wage of two drachmae, they will put all
Boeotia[1] to fire and sword.
f[1] The Boeotians were the allies of Sparta.
DICAEOPOLIS
Two drachmae to those circumcised hounds! Groan aloud, ye people
of rowers, bulwark of Athens! Ah! great gods! I am undone; these
Odomanti are robbing me of my garlic![1] Will you give me back
my garlic?
f[1] Dicaeopolis had brought a clove of garlic with him to eat during
the Assembly.
THEORUS
Oh! wretched man! do not go near them; they have eaten garlic[1].
f[1] Garlic was given to game-cocks, before setting them at each other,
to give them pluck for the fight.
DICAEOPOLIS
Prytanes, will you let me be treated in this manner, in my own
country and by barbarians? But I oppose the discussion of paying
a wage to the Thracians; I announce an omen; I have just felt a drop
of rain.[1]
f[1] At the lest unfavourable omen, the sitting of the Assembly was
declared at an end.
HERALD
Let the Thracians withdraw and return the day after tomorrow;
the Prytanes declare the sitting at an end.
DICAEOPOLIS
Ye gods, what garlic I have lost! But here comes Amphitheus
returned from Lacedaemon. Welcome, Amphitheus.
AMPHITHEUS
No, there is no welcome for me and I fly as fast as I can, for I
am pursued by the Acharnians.
DICAEOPOLIS
Why, what has happened?
AMPHITHEUS
I was hurrying to bring your treaty of truce, but some old dotards
from Acharnae[1] got scent of the thing; they are veterans of Marathon,
tough as oak or maple, of which they are made for sure--rough and
ruthless. They all started a-crying
"Wretch! you are the bearer of
a treaty, and the enemy has only just cut our vines!" Meanwhile they
were gathering stones in their cloaks, so I fled and they ran after
me shouting.
f[1] The deme of Acharnae was largely inhabited by charcoal-burners,
who supplied the city with fuel.
DICAEOPOLIS
Let 'em shout as much as they please! But HAVE you brought me
a treaty?
AMPHITHEUS
Most certainly, here are three samples to select from,[1] this one is
five years old; take it and taste.
f[1] He presents them in the form of wines contained in three separate
skins.
DICAEOPOLIS
Faugh!
AMPHITHEUS
Well?
DICAEOPOLIS
It does not please me; it smells of pitch and of the ships they are
fitting out.[1]
f[1] Meaning, preparations for war.
AMPHITHEUS
Here is another, ten years old; taste it.
DICAEOPOLIS
It smells strongly of the delegates, who go around the towns
to chide the allies for their slowness.[1]
f[1] Meaning, securing allies for the continuance of the war.
AMPHITHEUS
This last is a truce of thirty years, both on sea and land.
DICAEOPOLIS
Oh! by Bacchus! what a bouquet! It has the aroma of nectar and
ambrosia; this does not say to us, "Provision yourselves for three
days." But it lisps the gentle numbers, "Go whither you will."[1]
I accept it, ratify it, drink it at one draught and consign the
Acharnians to limbo. Freed from the war and its ills, I shall
keep the Dionysia[2] in the country.
f[1] When Athens sent forth an army, the soldiers were usually ordered
to assemble at some particular spot with provisions for three days.
f[2] These feasts were also called the Anthesteria or Lenaea; the Lenaem
was a temple to Bacchus, erected outside the city. They took place
during the month Anthesterion (February).
AMPHITHEUS
And I shall run away, for I'm mortally afraid of the Acharnians.
CHORUS
This way all! Let us follow our man; we will demand him of
everyone we meet; the public weal makes his seizure imperative. Ho,
there! tell me which way the bearer of the truce has gone; he has escaped
us, he has disappeared. Curse old age! When I was young, in the days
when I followed Phayllus,[1] running with a sack of coals on my back, this
wretch would not have eluded my pursuit, let him be as swift as he will;
but now my limbs are stiff; old Lacratides[2] feels his legs are
weighty and the traitor escapes me. No, no, let us follow him; old
Acharnians like ourselves shall not be set at naught by a
scoundrel, who has dared, great gods! to conclude a truce, when I wanted
the war continued with double fury in order to avenge my ruined lands.
No mercy for our foes until I have pierced their hearts like sharp
reed, so that they dare never again ravage my vineyards.
Come, let us seek the rascal; let us look everywhere, carrying our
stones in our hands; let us hunt him from place to place until we trap
him; I could never, never tire of the delight of stoning him.
f[1] A celebrated athlete from Croton and a victor at Olympia; he was
equally good as a runner and at the 'five exercises.'
f[2] He had been Archon at the time of the battle of Marathon.
DICAEOPOLIS
Peace! profane men![1]
f[1] A sacred formula, pronounced by the priest before offering
the sacrifice.
CHORUS
Silence all! Friends, do you hear the sacred formula? Here is he,
whom we seek! This way, all! Get out of his way, surely he comes
to offer an oblation.
DICAEOPOLIS
Peace, profane men! Let the basket-bearer[1] come forward, and thou
Xanthias, hold the phallus well upright.[2]
f[1] The maiden who carried the basket filled with fruits at the Dionysia
in honour of Bacchus.
f[2] The emblem of the fecundity of nature; it consisted of a representation,
generally grotesquely exaggerated, of the male genital organs;
the phallophori crowned with violets and ivy and their faces shaded
with green foliage, sang improvised airs, call 'Phallics,' full of obscenity
and suggestive 'double entendres.'
WIFE OF DICAEOPOLIS
Daughter, set down the basket and let us begin the sacrifice.
DAUGHTER OF DICAEOPOLIS
Mother, hand me the ladle, that I may spread the sauce on the
cake.
DICAEOPOLIS
It is well! Oh, mighty Bacchus, it is with joy that, freed from
military duty, I and all mine perform this solemn rite and offer
thee this sacrifice; grant that I may keep the rural Dionysia
without hindrance and that this truce of thirty years may be
propitious for me.
WIFE OF DICAEOPOLIS
Come, my child, carry the basket gracefully and with a grave, demure
face. Happy he, who shall be your possessor and embrace you so firmly
at dawn,[1] that you belch wind like a weasel. Go forward, and have a care
they don't snatch your jewels in the crowd.
f[1] The most propitious moment for Love's gambols, observes the
scholiast.
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