f[1] A tragic poet; we know next to nothing of him or his works.
f[2] Son of Aeolus, renowned in fable for his robberies, and for the tortures
to which he was put by Pluto. He was cunning enough to break loose out
of hell, but Hermes brought him back again.
DICAEOPOLIS
The time has come for me to manifest my courage, so I will go
and seek Euripides. Ho! slave, slave!
SLAVE
Who's there?
DICAEOPOLIS
Is Euripides at home?
SLAVE
He is and he isn't; understand that, if you have wit for't.
DICAEOPOLIS
How? He is and he isn't![1]
f[1] This whole scene is directed at Euripides; Aristophanes ridicules the
subtleties of his poetry and the trickeries of his staging, which, according
to him, he only used to attract the less refined among his audience.
SLAVE
Certainly, old man; busy gathering subtle fancies here and
there, his mind is not in the house, but he himself is; perched aloft,
he is composing a tragedy.
DICAEOPOLIS
Oh, Euripides, you are indeed happy to have a slave so quick at
repartee! Now, fellow, call your master.
SLAVE
Impossible!
DICAEOPOLIS
So much the worse. But I will not go. Come, let us knock at the door.
Euripides, my little Euripides, my darling Euripides, listen;
never had man greater right to your pity. It is Dicaeopolis of the
Chollidan Deme who calls you. Do you hear?
EURIPIDES
I have no time to waste.
DICAEOPOLIS
Very well, have yourself wheeled out here.[1]
f[1] "Wheeled out"--that is, by means of a mechanical contrivance of
the Greek stage, by which an interior was shown, the set scene
with performers, etc., all complete, being in some way, which cannot
be clearly made out from the descriptions, swung out or wheeled out
on to the main stage.
EURIPIDES
Impossible.
DICAEOPOLIS
Nevertheless...
EURIPIDES
Well, let them roll me out; as to coming down, I have not
the time.
DICAEOPOLIS
Euripides....
EURIPIDES
What words strike my ear?
DICAEOPOLIS
You perch aloft to compose tragedies, when you might just as
well do them on the ground. I am not astonished at your introducing
cripples on the stage.[1] And why dress in these miserable tragic rags?
I do not wonder that your heroes are beggars. But, Euripides, on my knees
I beseech you, give me the tatters of some old piece; for I have to
treat the Chorus to a long speech, and if I do it ill it is all over
with me.
f[1] Having been lamed, it is of course implied, by tumbling from the lofty
apparatus on which the Author sat perched to write his tragedies.
EURIPIDES
What rags do you prefer? Those in which I rigged out Aeneus[1] on
the stage, that unhappy, miserable old man?
f[1] Euripides delighted, or was supposed by his critic Aristophanes to
delight, in the representation of misery and wretchedness on the stage.
'Aeneus,' 'Phoenix,' 'Philoctetes,' 'Bellerophon,' 'Telephus,' Ino' are titles
of six tragedies of his in this genre of which fragments are extant.
DICAEOPOLIS
No, I want those of some hero still more unfortunate.
EURIPIDES
Of Phoenix, the blind man?
DICAEOPOLIS
No, not of Phoenix, you have another hero more unfortunate than him.
EURIPIDES
Now, what tatters DOES he want? Do you mean those of the beggar
Philoctetes?
DICAEOPOLIS
No, of another far more the mendicant.
EURIPIDES
Is it the filthy dress of the lame fellow, Bellerophon?
DICAEOPOLIS
No, 'tis not Bellerophon; he, whom I mean, was not only lame and a
beggar, but boastful and a fine speaker.
EURIPIDES
Ah! I know, it is Telephus, the Mysian.
DICAEOPOLIS
Yes, Telephus. Give me his rags, I beg of you.
EURIPIDES
Slave! give him Telephus' tatters; they are on top of the rags
of Thyestes and mixed with those of Ino.
SLAVE
Catch hold! here they are.
DICAEOPOLIS
Oh! Zeus, whose eye pierces everywhere and embraces all, permit me
to assume the most wretched dress on earth. Euripides, cap your
kindness by giving me the little Mysian hat, that goes so well with
these tatters. I must to-day have the look of a beggar; "be what I am,
but not appear to be";[1] the audience will know well who I am, but
the Chorus will be fools enough not to, and I shall dupe 'em with my
subtle phrases.
f[1]
Line borrowed from Euripides. A great number of verses are similarly
parodied in this scene.
EURIPIDES
I will give you the hat; I love the clever tricks of an ingenious
brain like yours.
DICAEOPOLIS
Rest happy, and may it befall Telephus as I wish. Ah! I already
feel myself filled with quibbles. But I must have a beggar's staff.
EURIPIDES
Here you are, and now get you gone from this porch.
DICAEOPOLIS
Oh, my soul! You see how you are driven from this house, when I
still need so many accessories. But let us be pressing, obstinate,
importunate. Euripides, give me a little basket with a lamp alight inside.
EURIPIDES
Whatever do you want such a thing as that for?
DICAEOPOLIS
I do not need it, but I want it all the same.
EURIPIDES
You importune me; get you gone!
DICAEOPOLIS
Alas! may the gods grant you a destiny as brilliant as your
mother's.[1]
f[1] Report said that Euripides' mother had sold vegetables on the market.
EURIPIDES
Leave me in peace.
DICAEOPOLIS
Oh, just a little broken cup.
EURIPIDES
Take it and go and hang yourself. What a tiresome fellow!
DICAEOPOLIS
Ah! you do not know all the pain you cause me. Dear, good
Euripides, nothing beyond a small pipkin stoppered with a sponge.
EURIPIDES
Miserable man! You are robbing me of an entire tragedy.[1] Here, take it
and be off.
f[1] Aristophanes means, of course, to imply that the whole talent of
Euripides lay in these petty details of stage property.
DICAEOPOLIS
I am going, but, great gods! I need one thing more; unless I
have it, I am a dead man. Hearken, my little Euripides, only give me
this and I go, never to return. For pity's sake, do give me a few
small herbs for my basket.
EURIPIDES
You wish to ruin me then. Here, take what you want; but it is
all over with my pieces!
DICAEOPOLIS
I won't ask another thing; I'm going. I am too importunate and
forget that I rouse against me the hate of kings.--Ah! wretch that I am!
I am lost! I have forgotten one thing, without which all the rest is
as nothing. Euripides, my excellent Euripides, my dear little Euripides,
may I die if I ask you again for the smallest present; only one, the last,
absolutely the last; give me some of the chervil your mother left
you in her will.
EURIPIDES
Insolent hound! Slave, lock the door!
DICAEOPOLIS
Oh, my soul! I must go away without the chervil. Art thou
sensible of the dangerous battle we are about to engage upon in
defending the Lacedaemonians? Courage, my soul, we must plunge
into the midst of it. Dost thou hesitate and art thou fully steeped
in Euripides? That's right! do not falter, my poor heart, and let us risk
our head to say what we hold for truth. Courage and boldly to
the front. I wonder I am so brave.
CHORUS
What do you purport doing? what are you going to say? What an
impudent fellow! what a brazen heart! to dare to stake his head and
uphold an opinion contrary to that of us all! And he does not
tremble to face this peril. Come, it is you who desired it, speak!
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