Senate, Prytanes, look upon Theoria and see what precious blessings
I place in your hands. Hasten to raise its limbs and to immolate
the victim. Admire the fine chimney,[2] it is quite black with smoke,
for 'twas here that the Senate did their cooking before the war.
Now that you have found Theoria again, you can start the most
charming games from to-morrow, wrestling with her on the ground,
either on your hands and feet, or you can lay her on her side, or
stand before her with bent knees, or, well rubbed with oil, you can
boldly enter the lists, as in the Pancratium, belabouring your foe
with blows from your fist or otherwise. The next day you will celebrate
equestrian games, in which the riders will ride side by side, or else
the chariot teams, thrown one on top of another, panting and whinnying,
will roll and knock against each other on the ground, while other rivals,
thrown out of their seats, will fall before reaching the goal, utterly
exhausted by their efforts.--Come, Prytanes, take Theoria. Oh! look how
graciously yonder fellow has received her; you would not have been
in such a hurry to introduce her to the Senate, if nothing were coming
to you through it;[3] you would not have failed to plead some holiday
as an excuse.
f[1] Doubtless the vessels and other sacrificial objects and implements
with which Theoria was laden in her character of presiding deity
at religious ceremonies.
f[2] Where the meats were cooked after sacrifice; this also marks
the secondary obscene sense he means to convey.
f[3] One of the offices of the Prytanes was to introduce those who asked
admission to the Senate, but it would seem that none could obtain this
favour without payment. Without this, a thousand excuses would be made;
for instance, it would be a public holiday, and consequently the Senate
could receive no one. As there was some festival nearly every day,
he whose purse would not open might have to wait a very long while.
CHORUS
Such a man as you assures the happiness of all his fellow-citizens.
TRYGAEUS
When you are gathering your vintages you will prize me even better.
CHORUS
E'en from to-day we hail you as the deliverer of mankind.
TRYGAEUS
Wait until you have drunk a beaker of new wine, before you
appraise my true merits.
CHORUS
Excepting the gods, there is none greater than yourself, and that
will ever be our opinion.
TRYGAEUS
Yea, Trygaeus of Athmonia has deserved well of you, he has freed
both husbandman and craftsman from the most cruel ills; he has
vanquished Hyberbolus.
SERVANT
Well then, what must be done now?
TRYGAEUS
You must offer pots of green-stuff to the goddess to consecrate
her altars.
SERVANT
Pots of green-stuff[1] as we do to poor Hermes--and even he thinks
the fare but mean?
f[1] This was only offered to lesser deities.
TRYGAEUS
What will you offer them? A fatted bull?
SERVANT
Oh no! I don't want to start bellowing the battle-cry.[1]
f[1] In the Greek we have a play upon the similarity of the words [for]
a bull, and to shout the battle-cry.
TRYGAEUS
A great fat swine then?
SERVANT
No, no.
TRYGAEUS
Why not?
SERVANT
We don't want any of the swinishness of Theagenes.[1]
f[1] Theagenes, of the Piraeus, a hideous, coarse, debauched and evil-living
character of the day.
TRYGAEUS
What other victim do you prefer then?
SERVANT
A sheep.
TRYGAEUS
A sheep?
SERVANT
Yes.
TRYGAEUS
But you must give the word the Ionic form.
SERVANT
Purposely. So that if anyone in the assembly says, "We must go
to war," all may start bleating in alarm, "Oi, oi."[1]
f[1] That is the vocative of the Ionic form of the word; in Attic Greek
it is contracted throughout.
TRYGAEUS
A brilliant idea.
SERVANT
And we shall all be lambs one toward the other, yea, and milder
still toward the allies.
TRYGAEUS
Then go for the sheep and haste to bring it back with you; I
will prepare the altar for the sacrifice.
CHORUS
How everything succeeds to our wish, when the gods are willing and
Fortune favours us! how opportunely everything falls out.
TRYGAEUS
Nothing could be truer, for look! here stands the altar all
ready at my door.
CHORUS
Hurry, hurry, for the winds are fickle; make haste, while the
divine will is set on stopping this cruel war and is showering on us
the most striking benefits.
TRYGAEUS
Here is the basket of barley-seed mingled with salt, the chaplet
and the sacred knife; and there is the fire; so we are only waiting
for the sheep.
CHORUS
Hasten, hasten, for, if Chaeris sees you, he will come without
bidding, he and his flute; and when you see him puffing and panting
and out of breath, you will have to give him something.
TRYGAEUS
Come, seize the basket and take the lustral water and hurry to
circle round the altar to the right.
SERVANT
There! 'tis done. What is your next bidding?
TRYGAEUS
Hold! I take this fire-brand first and plunge it into the water.
SERVANT
Be quick! be quick! Sprinkle the altar.
TRYGAEUS
Give me some barley-seed, purify yourself and hand me the basin;
then scatter the rest of the barley among the audience.
SERVANT
'Tis done.
TRYGAEUS
You have thrown it?
SERVANT
Yes, by Hermes! and all the spectators have had their share.
TRYGAEUS
But not the women?
SERVANT
Oh! their husbands will give it them this evening.[1]
f[1] An obscene jest.
TRYGAEUS
Let us pray! Who is here? Are there any good men?[1]
f[1] Before sacrificing, the officiating person asked, "Who is here?"
and those present answered, "Many good men."
SERVANT
Come, give, so that I may sprinkle these. Faith! they are indeed good,
brave men.
TRYGAEUS
You believe so?
SERVANT
I am sure, and the proof of it is that we have flooded them with
lustral water and they have not budged an inch.[1]
f[1] The actors forming the chorus are meant here.
TRYGAEUS
Come, then, to prayers; to prayers, quick!-- Oh! Peace, mighty queen,
venerated goddess, thou, who presidest over choruses and at nuptials,
deign to accept the sacrifices we offer thee.
SERVANT
Receive it, greatly honoured mistress, and behave not like the coquettes,
who half open the door to entice the gallants, draw back when they
are stared at, to return once more if a man passes on. But do not act like this
to us.
TRYGAEUS
No, but like an honest woman, show thyself to thy worshippers, who
are worn with regretting thee all these thirteen years. Hush the noise
of battle, be a true Lysimacha to us.[1] Put an end to this
tittle-tattle, to this idle babble, that set us defying one another.
Cause the Greeks once more to taste the pleasant beverage of friendship
and temper all hearts with the gentle feeling of forgiveness. Make
excellent commodities flow to our markets, fine heads of garlic,
early cucumbers, apples, pomegranates and nice little cloaks for the slaves;
make them bring geese, ducks, pigeons and larks from Boeotia
and baskets of eels from Lake Copais; we shall all rush to buy them,
disputing their possession with Morychus, Teleas, Glaucetes and every
other glutton. Melanthius[2] will arrive on the market last of all; 'twill be,
"no more eels, all sold!" and then he'll start a-groaning and exclaiming
as in his monologue of Medea,[3] "I am dying, I am dying! Alas!
I have let those hidden in the beet escape me!"[4] And won't we laugh?
These are the wishes, mighty goddess, which we pray thee to grant.
f[1] Lysimacha is derived from [the Greek for] put an end to, and
[the Greek for] fight.
f[2] A tragic poet, reputed a great gourmand.
f[3] A tragedy by Melanthius.
f[4] Eels were cooked with beet.--A parody on some verses in the 'Medea'
of Melanthius.
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