Aristophanes: The Complete Plays

by Aristophanes

  EURIPIDES: That I’ll do, and you, Elaphium, must do

  what I explained to you on the way here.

  Begin by mincing to and fro,

  swinging your hips. Ready?

  Teredon, strike up a Persian mazurka.

  [TEREDON plays on his pipe while ELAPHIUM dances and sings.]

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: [waking up] Hi! What’s th’ ’ullabaloo—a

  riffraff?

  EURIPIDES: [in an old woman’s croaking voice]

  The lass is rehearsing, Officer.

  She’s appearing before a set of gentlemen. See?

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: Oi’m not stoppin’ ’er.

  Moi, she does ’op aboeut, loik a flea on a blanket.

  EURIPIDES: Now, my girl, off with that gown

  and sit on the Scythian’s knee.

  Give me a foot so’s I can take your shoes off.

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: Ow moi! Ow moi! Yai yai! Yummy yum!

  What titties! Plump as turnips!

  EURIPIDES: [to TEREDON] Pipe it up, piper!

  [to ELAPHIUM, who is now more or less naked]

  You’re not still frightened of the nice Scythian, are you?

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: Whatta fanny!

  [staring at his crotch] Sty down, yer peeper!

  [opening his fly] Ouch, that’s betta!

  EURIPIDES: [to ELAPHIUM] Bravo! Now get your gown. We must rip.

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: ’ow abart a little squeeze ter start?

  EURIPIDES: Give him a kiss, lovie.

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: Wow! Wow! Wow! Yippy yip!

  What a sweet feast!

  Tongue loik Attic ’oney! Whoi down’t yer sleep wi me?

  EURIPIDES: Goodbye, Scythian! We can’t let that happen.

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: Yer dear owld thing, not so fast! Lemme do it!

  EURIPIDES: It’ll cost you a packet.

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: Owky!

  EURIPIDES: Let’s see your money.

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: [hedging] Well now, got naught on mae,

  actually,

  but yoe can ’av moi quiver

  provoided oi get it back lyter.

  [to ELAPHIUM] Yoe come along wi’ mae, chickabiddy.

  [to EURIPIDES] Yoe keep yer oiyes on th’ owl man, Granny.

  What yer called?

  EURIPIDES: Artemisia.

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: Artimixia? Oi’ll remember that. [He runs after ELAPHIUM.]

  EURIPIDES: [aside] Hermes, you master trickster—he’s nicely

  fooled!

  [to TEREDON] Run along, lad, and take the quiver.

  [to MNESILOCHUS] I’m releasing you and as soon as you’re loose

  run home split arse

  to your wife and kiddies without a quaver.

  MNESILOCHUS: I damn well will the moment you undo me.

  EURIPIDES: [fiddling with the ropes] There you are. You’re free

  but make yourself scarce

  before the archer’s back and grabs you again.

  MNESILOCHUS: You bet!

  [EURIPIDES and MNESILOCHUS hurry away in different directions as ARCHER POLICEMAN returns, leading ELAPHIUM by the hand.]

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: [breathless after having chased ELAPHIUM and

  looking round to see where EURIPIDES is]

  Hy, yer owld bat! Noice kid yer got. She ain’t now pyne.

  [realizing that EURIPIDES has gone] Where’s th’ owld bat gone?

  Down’t tell mae th’ owld man, too—both gone!

  Owld bat, batty owld bat, Artimixia!

  She’s plyed mae false. [to ELAPHIUM] Quick, girl, run after ’er.

  [ELAPHIUM, delighted, scampers off.]

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: [sees that his quiver is missing] Well, oim fucked! That quiver kyse is a roight vagoina an’ oim licked. Now what am oi gowing to doe? Where’s that owld bat got to? . . . Artimixia!

  LEADER: You want the old woman with the lyre?

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: Roight y’ar! Seen ’er?

  LEADER: [pointing left]

  She went that way and an old man was with her.

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: Owld man in a crowcus-colored dress?

  LEADER: Yes . . . Hurry, you may still catch them. [points right]

  ARCHER POLICEMAN: Th’ owld sod! . . . Which wy agine? . . .

  Artimixia!

  CHORUS: [severally, all pointing in different directions] To your right . . . straight up there . . . Where are you off to . . . ? Stop . . . wrong direction!

  [ARCHER POLICEMAN dashes off.]

  LEADER: Well, we’ve had a load of fun But the time has come for every woman To head for home; and may the twain Thesmophorian Deities give their benediction On this production.

  FROGS

  Frogs was produced at the Lenaea in January 405

  B.C. by Philemedes, who had previously presented two of Aristophanes’ plays. It won first

  prize.

  THEME

  If one can accept that poetry is the apprehension of Being through the beauty of words, the next step is to realize that this implies reducing the seeming chaos of existence to some kind of order. The function of the poet becomes the showing of what lies behind the flux of textures that unite whatever is unique in the habits, tendencies, and vicissitudes of human behavior. Once again the poet is seen, in Percy Bysshe Shelley’s memorable phrase, as the “unacknowledged legislator of the world.”

  In Frogs, Aristophanes goes further than merely enunciating principles and examines piecemeal the tools of the poet’s trade. But beyond the discussion of the intricacies of prosody, there looms the specter of what all this is used to illustrate—namely, the tragedy of the human scene, now being manifested in the decline of Athens and the decline of tragedy itself as a supreme art.

  CHARACTERS

  XANTHIAS, servant of Dionysus

  DIONYSUS, god of nature and wine

  HERACLES, deified hero

  CORPSE, going to the Underworld

  CHARON, divine ferryman of the dead

  AEACUS, doorkeeper of Hades

  MAID, of Persephone

  BISTROKEEPER, of street in Athens

  PLATHANE, her assistant

  OLD SERVANT, of Pluto

  EURIPIDES, the tragic poet

  AESCHYLUS, the tragic poet

  PLUTO, god of the Underworld

  CHORUS, of frogs

  CHORUS, of Mystery initiates (the Novices)

  SILENT PARTS

  DONKEY, of Dionysus, carrying Xanthias

  PALLBEARERS, of the corpse

  TWO MAIDS, of the bistrokeeper and her assistant

  SERVANTS, of Aeacus

  MUSE, of Euripides

  DITYLAS (Camelface), archer policeman

  SCEBYLAS (Shitface), archer policeman

  PARDOCAS (Wetblanketface), archer policeman

  FLUTE PLAYER

  SERVANTS, of Pluto

  THE STORY

  Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides are all dead, the latter two quite recently, and there are no more good poets or good theater; so Dionysus, patron of the stage, decides to go down to Hades with his servant Xanthias (mounted on a donkey) and bring back a great poet. Once there, after a journey full of diversion, they can’t decide whether to bring back Aeschylus or Euripides and become involved in a detailed discussion of the nature of the poetic art. Yet it is not only the plight of poetry and drama that needs to be redressed but the plight of Athens itself. Was it not high time that the war with Sparta was brought to an end and that hawkish demagogues like Cleophon were removed and more responsible and better educated leaders were elected?

  OBSERVATIONS

  It might be wondered why Dionysus and Xanthias debate bringing back Aeschylus or Euripides from Hades but not Sophocles. The answer is not simply that Aeschylus and Euripides are easier to parody but that Sophocles was still alive when the play was first written. He died in 406 B.C., when the acting draft of Frogs was ready for production. There wasn’t time to write a whole new draft incorporating Sophocles
in the lengthy discussions on the art of poetry; the best Aristophanes could do was to insert a few references.

  The Athenian audience that thronged to the Lenaea on that winter morning of 405 B.C. must have been in dire need both of distraction from the deplorable plight Athens found herself in and of being bluntly told a few hard truths. As to the first, matters could hardly have been worse. The Spartan army had devastated much of Attica, commandeering cattle, destroying crops, and cutting down the sacred olive trees. The citizens, were it not for the Athenian fleet, were in danger of starvation. Unfortunately, that fleet—though victorious in the recent, costly engagement off Arginusae742—was in no state to meet a counteroffensive that Sparta, backed by the Persians, was preparing for the spring. The heavy losses that the fleet had suffered, both in the battle and in the storm that followed, needed to be made good and a rigorous program of shipbuilding begun. But where was the money to come from? The treasury was empty and the sacred objects of the temple had been melted down to provide coinage.

  On top of all this, the one man who could help Athens by his advice and diplomacy, the one man who understood the needs of the navy—for since 411 B.C. he had been in charge of it—the aristocratic and versatile Alcibiades, was not to be had. The shoddy treatment he’d received from the Assembly had made him wash his hands of Athens and tuck himself away in his stronghold on the Hellespont, where he was parleying with the Persians.

  It is not surprising, therefore, that one of the hard truths that Aristophanes was to tell the Athenian people in the Parabasis743 of Frogs was that they had chosen as their leaders not the best men in the state but the worst. There had been a chance of peace after the victory at Arginusae and the Spartans had offered honorable terms, but the Assembly was persuaded by the right-wing hothead Cleophon to turn the offer down.

  What remains to be said about this remarkable play is that, given the range and seriousness of the discussions on poetry and the place of the poet in society, it becomes obvious that the Athenian people from high to low enjoyed an exceptional degree of literacy. They knew their Homer as we know our Bible and they could pick up on any reference from their Classics.

  TIME AND SETTING

  It is early afternoon and DIONYSUS, with his servant XANTHIAS, is seen walking down a street in Athens. DIONYSUS is disguised as HERACLES, a most incongruous camouflage, HERACLES being the supermacho male of all time and DIONYSUS being notably endowed with much of the sensitivity of a female. Over one shoulder he has draped the lionskin of HERACLES—which partly hides the somewhat epicene yellow of his smock—and he carries (with some difficulty) HERACLES’ giant cudgel. XANTHIAS rides a donkey laden with baggage and he holds in one hand a pole from which dangles a bag with their provisions. They halt for a breather outside the house of HERACLES.

  XANTHIAS: Hey, boss, like me to perk things up a bit

  with one of those corny cracks

  that always get the audience laughing?

  DIONYSUS: Go ahead if you must,

  so long as it’s not: “I’m in a jam.”

  It’s so old hat that it sucks.

  XANTHIAS: Then want a real gem?

  DIONYSUS: So long as it’s not: “Squashed as I am.”

  XANTHIAS: This one, then, and you’ll be rolling?

  DIONYSUS: Out with it, but it had better not be . . .

  XANTHIAS: Be what?

  DIONYSUS: About your having to shift your pack and take a crap.

  XANTHIAS: What the heck! I can say, surely,

  that if somebody doesn’t come and help,

  my bottom’s going to let out a yelp.

  DIONYSUS: I’ll thank you to keep that until I’m ready to spew.

  XANTHIAS: It’s a bit tough, don’t you think, to have to carry all

  this stuff

  and not be allowed to do what Phrynichus does

  and all the others, too—like Lycis and Ameipsias?744

  They all tote bags in their comedies.

  DIONYSUS: Well, just don’t go on about it. Whenever I see that silly cliché trotted out I’m more than twelve months older when I leave the theater.

  XANTHIAS: Some neck mine must be—and you can multiply by

  three—

  if it’s saddled by a choker

  and I’m not even allowed to make a crack.

  DIONYSUS: The nerve! What a pampered brat! Here am I, Dionysus, son of Tipple, plodding along on foot so he won’t get tired or have to carry.

  XANTHIAS: And aren’t I carrying?

  DIONYSUS: What, carrying just sitting?

  XANTHIAS: I’ll have you know I am carrying something.

  DIONYSUS: Really?

  XANTHIAS: And mighty heavy.

  DIONYSUS: So it’s not the donkey that’s doing the carrying?

  XANTHIAS: The donkey’s not exactly carrying what I’m loaded with.

  DIONYSUS: How can you be loaded with anything

  when someone else is carrying everything?

  XANTHIAS: All I know is that this shoulder of mine sorely bears the

  brunt.

  DIONYSUS: All right, since you say the donkey’s no help to you,

  aren’t

  you going to pick him up and take your turn at helping him?

  XANTHIAS: God, how I wish I’d been in that battle at sea,

  then I’d be able to say to you—Scram!

  DIONYSUS: Get down, prodigy! I’ve plodded along and we’ve arrived at our first stop.

  [They halt outside the house of HERACLES. DIONYSUS knocks with his club.]

  Hi there, boy! Open up, boy!

  HERACLES: [as he comes out] Who on earth’s battering down my front

  door?

  Some bleeding centaur?745

  [trying not to laugh at first sight of DIONYSUS in his getup]

  My goodness, what’s this creature?

  DIONYSUS: [to XANTHIAS] Laddie?

  XANTHIAS: What?

  DIONYSUS: Didn’t you notice?

  XANTHIAS: Notice what?

  DIONYSUS: The shock I gave him.

  XANTHIAS: Yes, the shock of seeing you’d gone off your rocker.

  HERACLES: [staring at DIONYSUS and shaking with laughter]

  Sorry, can’t stop, though I’m biting my lip in two!

  DIONYSUS: Come, my fine fellow, I want a word with you.

  HERACLES: [still convulsed] I simply ... can’t ... gag this laughter....

  It’s that lionskin . . . atop . . . that crocus yellow . . .

  frock . . . and a cudgel married to . . . girlie booties!

  What’s the big idea?

  What on earth have you been up to?

  DIONYSUS: I’ve been on board with Cleisthenes.746

  HERACLES: See any action?

  DIONYSUS: Sure did. Sank several enemy ships—twelve or thirteen.

  HERACLES: The two of you?

  DIONYSUS: Apollo’s my witness, yes!

  XANTHIAS: [out of nowhere] And then I awoke.

  DIONYSUS: You see, I was on deck

  reading Andromeda,747 when I was struck

  with an overwhelming urge. I can’t tell you how strong.

  HERACLES: An urge? How overwhelming?

  DIONYSUS: As big as Moton748—really tiny.

  HERACLES: For a woman?

  DIONYSUS: No.

  HERACLES: For a laddie?

  DIONYSUS: No such thing!

  HERACLES: For a man?

  DIONYSUS: Boy, oh boy!

  HERACLES: So you came . . . with Cleisthenes? Ho ho ho!

  DIONYSUS: Oh brother, you’re making fun of me,

  and I’m in a real mess.

  That’s how strong my passion is.

  HERACLES: Passion for what, kid brother?

  DIONYSUS: I don’t have words for it exactly,

  but let me give you some idea by analogy.

  Have you ever had a sudden craving for bean soup?

  HERACLES: Good heavens, yes, constantly!

  DIONYSUS: Do I make myself clear, or do I
need to recoup?

  HERACLES: No, you’re quite clear. I have no problem with the bean

  soup.

  DIONYSUS: My point is, that’s the way I’m craving for Euripides.

  HERACLES: Though he’s a goner?749

  DIONYSUS: Maybe, but nothing on earth will stop me chasing after

  him.

  HERACLES: What, down to Hades?

  DIONYSUS: Absolutely, and if necessary even lower.

  HERACLES: What are you after?

  DIONYSUS: I need a proficient poet,

  for “the good are gone and the present ones are dim.”750

  HERACLES: What d’you mean? Isn’t Iophon alive?751

  DIONYSUS: Yes, he’s the only consolation—if it is a consolation. I’m not quite sure.

  HERACLES: If you must have a candidate for resurrection,

  why not Sophocles? He’s superior to Euripides.

  DIONYSUS: Because I want to give young Iophon a chance to prove

  himself on his own without his dad, Sophocles.

  Besides, Euripides is a bit of a rascal

  and could probably help us pull off some dirty work,

  whereas Sophocles was always a gentleman here up above

  and must be a gentleman down below.

  HERACLES: Oh! . . . Then Agathon?752

  DIONYSUS: Gone! Deserted me. A fine poet and a real pal.

  HERACLES: Gone where, the poor jerk?

  DIONYSUS: Gone to install

  himself among the happy ones.753

  HERACLES: And Xenocles?754

  DIONYSUS: Less said the better!

  HERACLES: And that goes for Pythangelus.755

  XANTHIAS: What about poor me,

  with my shoulder being worn to the bone?

  HERACLES: [ignoring the remark] But don’t we have a whole horde of babies today churning out tragedies and outbabbling Euripides by the mile?

  DIONYSUS: They’re nonentities, all,

  like swallows twittering away

  and murdering their art. And though they have the gall