HERMES
Ah! how golden cups do influence me! Come, friends, get to work.
To the pit quickly, pick in hand, and drag away the stones.
CHORUS
We go, but you, cleverest of all the gods, supervise our
labours; tell us, good workman as you are, what we must do; we shall
obey your orders with alacrity.
TRYGAEUS
Quick, reach me your cup, and let us preface our work by
addressing prayers to the gods.
HERMES
Oh! sacred, sacred libations! Keep silence, oh! ye people! keep silence!
TRYGAEUS
Let us offer our libations and our prayers, so that this day may begin
an era of unalloyed happiness for Greece and that he who has bravely
pulled at the rope with us may never resume his buckler.
CHORUS
Aye, may we pass our lives in peace, caressing our mistresses
and poking the fire.
TRYGAEUS
May he who would prefer the war, oh Dionysus, be ever drawing
barbed arrows out of his elbows.
HERMES
If there be a citizen, greedy for military rank and honours who
refuses, oh, divine Peace! to restore you to daylight. may he behave
as cowardly as Cleonymus on the battlefield.
TRYGAEUS
If a lance-maker or a dealer in shields desires war for the sake
of better trade, may he be taken by pirates and eat nothing but barley.
CHORUS
If some ambitious man does not help us, because he wants to become
a General, or if a slave is plotting to pass over to the enemy, let his limbs
be broken on the wheel, may he be beaten to death with rods! As for us,
may Fortune favour us! Io! Paean, Io!
TRYGAEUS
Don't say Paean,[1] but simply, Io.
f[1] The pun here cannot be kept. The word [in Greek], Paean, resembles
[that for] to strike; hence the word, as recalling the blows and wounds of
the war, seems of ill omen to Trygaeus.
HERMES
Very well, then! Io! Io! I'll simply say, Io!
TRYGAEUS
To Hermes, the Graces, Hora, Aphrodite, Eros!
CHORUS
But not to Ares?
TRYGAEUS
No.
CHORUS
Nor doubtless to Enyalius?
TRYGAEUS
No.
CHORUS
Come, all strain at the ropes to tear away the stones. Pull!
HERMES
Heave away, heave, heave, oh!
CHORUS
Come, pull harder, harder.
HERMES
Heave away, heave, heave, oh!
CHORUS
Still harder, harder still.
HERMES
Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave, heave, oh!
TRYGAEUS
Come, come, there is no working together. Come! all pull at the
same instant! you Boeotians are only pretending. Beware!
HERMES
Come, heave away, heave!
CHORUS
Hi! you two pull as well.
TRYGAEUS
Why, I am pulling, I am hanging on to the rope and straining
till I am almost off my feet; I am working with all my might.
CHORUS
Why does not the work advance then?
TRYGAEUS
Lamachus, this is too bad! You are in the way, sitting there.
We have no use for your Medusa's head, friend.[1]
f[1] The device on his shield was a Gorgon's head. (See 'The Acharnians.')
HERMES
But hold, the Argives have not pulled the least bit; they have done
nothing but laugh at us for our pains while they were getting gain
with both hands.[1]
f[1] Both Sparta and Athens had sought the alliance of the Argives; they
had kept themselves strictly neutral and had received pay from both sides.
But, the year after the production of 'The Wasps,' they openly joined
Athens, had attacked Epidaurus and got cut to pieces by the Spartans.
TRYGAEUS
Ah! my dear sir, the Laconians at all events pull with vigour.
CHORUS
But look! only those among them who generally hold the plough-tail
show any zeal,[1] while the armourers impede them in their efforts.
f[1] These are the Spartan prisoners from Sphacteria, who were lying in
goal at Athens. They were chained fast to large beams of wood.
HERMES
And the Megarians too are doing nothing, yet look how they are
pulling and showing their teeth like famished curs; The poor wretches
are dying of hunger![1]
f[1] 'Twas want of force, not want of will. They had suffered more than
any other people from the war. (See 'The Acharnians.')
TRYGAEUS
This won't do, friends. Come! all together! Everyone to the work
and with a good heart for the business.
HERMES
Heave away, heave!
TRYGAEUS
Harder!
HERMES
Heave away, heave!
TRYGAEUS
Come on then, by heaven.
HERMES
Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave!
CHORUS
This will never do.
TRYGAEUS
Is it not a shame? some pull one way and others
another. You, Argives there, beware of a thrashing!
HERMES
Come, put your strength into it.
TRYGAEUS
Heave away, heave!
CHORUS
There are many ill-disposed folk among us.
TRYGAEUS
Do you at least, who long for peace, pull heartily.
CHORUS
But there are some who prevent us.
HERMES
Off to the Devil with you, Megarians! The goddess hates you. She
recollects that you were the first to rub her the wrong way.
Athenians, you are not well placed for pulling. There you are too busy
with law-suits; if you really want to free the goddess, get down a
little towards the sea.[1]
f[1] Meaning, look chiefly to your fleet. This was the counsel that
Themistocles frequently gave the Athenians.
CHORUS
Come, friends, none but husbandmen on the rope.
HERMES
Ah! that will do ever so much better.
CHORUS
He says the thing is going well. Come, all of you, together and
with a will.
TRYGAEUS
'Tis the husbandmen who are doing all the work.
CHORUS
Come then, come, and all together! Hah! hah! at last there is some
unanimity in the work. Don't let us give up, let us redouble our efforts.
There! now we have it! Come then, all together! Heave away, heave!
Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! Heave
away, heave! All together! (PEACE IS DRAWN OUT OF THE PIT.)
TRYGAEUS
Oh! venerated goddess, who givest us our grapes, where am I to
find the ten-thousand-gallon words[1] wherewith to greet thee? I have
none such at home. Oh! hail to thee, Opora,[2] and thee, Theoria![3]
How beautiful is thy face! How sweet thy breath! What gentle fragrance
comes from thy bosom, gentle as freedom from military duty, as
the most dainty perfumes!
f[1] A metaphor referring to the abundant vintages that peace would
assure.
f[2] The goddess of fruits.
f[3] Aristophanes personifies under this name the sacred ceremonies
in general which peace would allow to be celebrated with due pomp.
Opora and Theoria come on the stage in the wake of Peace, clothed
and decked out as courtesans.
HERMES
Is it then a smell like a soldier's knapsack?
TRYGAEUS
Oh! hateful soldier! your hideous satchel makes me sick! it stinks
like the belching of onions, whereas this lovable deity has the odour
of sweet fruits, of festivals, of the Dionysia, of the harmony
of flutes, of the comic poets, of the verses of Sophocles, of the phrases
of Euripides...
HERMES
That's a foul calumny, you wretch! She detests that framer of
subtleties and quibbles.
TRYGAEUS
...of ivy, of straining-bags for wine, of bleating ewes, of
provision-laden women hastening to the kitchen, of the tipsy servant
wench, of the upturned wine-jar, and of a whole heap of other good
things.
HERMES
Then look how the reconciled towns chat pleasantly together, how
they laugh; and yet they are all cruelly mishandled; their wounds
are bleeding still.
TRYGAEUS
But let us also scan the mien of the spectators; we shall thus
find out the trade of each.
HERMES
Ah! good gods! Look at that poor crest-maker, tearing at his hair,[1] and
at that pike-maker, who has just broken wind in yon sword-cutler's face.
|