The Eleven Comedies, Volume 2. Аристофан

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СКАЧАТЬ one of those who set Thrace free;46 we have to prepare him a funeral urn … so march on, my boy, get a-going.

      BOY. Father, would you give me something if I asked for it?

      CHORUS. Assuredly, my child, but tell me what nice thing do you want me to buy you? A set of knuckle-bones, I suppose.

      BOY. No, dad, I prefer figs; they are better.

      CHORUS. No, by Zeus! even if you were to hang yourself with vexation.

      BOY. Well then, I will lead you no father.

      CHORUS. With my small pay, I am obliged to buy bread, wood, stew; and now you ask me for figs!

      BOY. But, father, if the Archon47 should not form a court to-day, how are we to buy our dinner? Have you some good hope to offer us or merely "Hellé's sacred waves"?48

      CHORUS. Alas! alas! I have not a notion how we shall dine.

      BOY. Oh! my poor mother! why did you let me see this day?

      CHORUS. Oh! my little wallet! you seem like to be a mere useless ornament!

      BOY. 'Tis our destiny to groan.

      PHILOCLEON.49 My friends, I have long been pining away while listening to you from my window, but I absolutely know not what do do. I am detained here, because I have long wanted to go with you to the law court and do all the harm I can. Oh! Zeus! cause the peals of they thunder to roll, change me quickly into smoke or make me into a Proxenides, a perfect braggart, like the son of Sellus. Oh, King of Heaven! hesitate not to grant me this favour, pity my misfortune or else may thy dazzling lightning instantly reduce me to ashes; then carry me hence, and may thy breath hurl me into some burning pickle50 or turn me into one of the stones on which the votes are counted.

      CHORUS. Who is it detains you and shuts you in? Speak, for you are talking to friends.

      PHILOCLEON. 'Tis my son. But no bawling, he is there in front asleep; lower your voice.

      CHORUS. But, poor fellow, what is his aim? what is his object?

      PHILOCLEON. My friends, he will not have me judge nor do anyone any ill, but he wants me to stay at home and enjoy myself, and I will not.

      CHORUS. This wretch, this Demolochocleon51 dares to say such odious things, just because you tell the truth about our navy!

      PHILOCLEON. He would not have dared, had he not been a conspirator.

      CHORUS. Meanwhile, you must devise some new dodge, so that you can come down here without his knowledge.

      PHILOCLEON. But what? Try to find some way. For myself, I am ready for anything, so much do I burn to run along the tiers of the tribunal with my voting-pebble in my hand.

      CHORUS. There is surely some hole through which you could manage to squeeze from within, and escape dressed in rags, like the crafty Odysseus.52

      PHILOCLEON. Everything is sealed fast; not so much as a gnat could get through. Think of some other plan; there is no possible hold of escape.

      CHORUS. Do you recall how, when you were with the army at the taking of Naxos,53 you descended so readily from the top of the wall by means of the spits you have stolen?

      PHILOCLEON. I remember that well enough, but what connection is there with present circumstances? I was young, clever at thieving, I had all my strength, none watched over me, and I could run off without fear. But to-day men-at-arms are placed at every outlet to watch me, and two of them are lying in wait for me at this very door armed with spits, just as folk lie in wait for a cat that has stolen a piece of meat.

      CHORUS. Come, discover some way as quick as possible. Here is the dawn come, my dear little friend.

      PHILOCLEON. The best way is to gnaw through the net. Oh! goddess, who watches over the nets,54 forgive me for making a hole in this one.

      CHORUS. 'Tis acting like a man eager for his safety. Get your jaws to work!

      PHILOCLEON. There! 'tis gnawed through! But no shouting! let Bdelycleon notice nothing!

      CHORUS. Have no fear, have no fear! if he breathes a syllable, 'twill be to bruise his own knuckles; he will have to fight to defend his own head. We shall teach him not to insult the mysteries of the goddesses.55 But fasten a rope to the window, tie it around your body and let yourself down to the ground, with your heart bursting with the fury of Diopithes.56

      PHILOCLEON. But if these notice it and want to fish me up and drag me back into the house, what will you do? Tell me that.

      CHORUS. We shall call up the full strength of out courage to your aid.

      That is what we will do.

      PHILOCLEON. I trust myself to you and risk the danger. If misfortune overtakes me, take away my body, bathe it with your tears and bury it beneath the bar of the tribunal.

      CHORUS. Nothing will happen to you, rest assured. Come friend, have courage and let yourself slide down while you invoke your country's gods.

      PHILOCLEON. Oh! mighty Lycus!57 noble hero and my neighbour, thou, like myself, takest pleasure in the tears and the groans of the accused. If thou art come to live near the tribunal, 'tis with the express design of hearing them incessantly; thou alone of all the heroes hast wished to remain among those who weep. Have pity on me and save him, who lives close to thee; I swear I will never make water, never, nor relieve my belly with a fart against the railing of thy statue.

      BDELYCLEON. Ho there! ho! get up!

      SOSIAS. What's the matter?

      BDELYCLEON. Methought I heard talking close to me.

      SOSIAS. Is the old man at it again, escaping through some loophole?

      BDELYCLEON. No, by Zeus! no, but he is letting himself down by a rope.

      SOSIAS. Ha, rascal! what are you doing there? You shall not descend.

      BDELYCLEON. Mount quick to the other window, strike him with the boughs that hang over the entrance; perchance he will turn back when he feels himself being thrashed.

      PHILOCLEON. To the rescue! all you, who are going to have lawsuits this year—Smicythion, Tisiades, Chremon and Pheredipnus. 'Tis now or never, before they force me to return, that you must help.

      CHORUS. Why do we delay to let loose that fury, that is so terrible, when our nests are attacked? I feel my angry sting is stiffening, that sharp sting, with which we punish our enemies. Come, children, cast your cloaks to the winds, run, shout, tell Cleon what is happening, that he may march against this foe to our city, who deserves death, since he proposes to prevent the trial of lawsuits.

      BDELYCLEON. Friends, listen to the truth, СКАЧАТЬ