Delphi Complete Works of Aristophanes (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics)

by Aristophanes

  THIRD OLD WOMAN. No, by Zeus, come with me.

  YOUNG MAN. ’Tis clearly a case of the decree of Cannonus; I must cut myself in two in order to fuck you both. But how am I to work two oars at once?

  SECOND OLD WOMAN. Easily enough; you have only to eat a full pot of onions.

  YOUNG MAN. Oh! great gods! here I am close to the door and being dragged in!

  THIRD OLD WOMAN (to Second Old Woman). You will gain nothing by this, for I shall rush into your house with you.

  YOUNG MAN. Oh, no! no! ’twould be better to suffer a single misfortune than two.

  THIRD OLD WOMAN. Ah! by Hecaté, ‘twill be all the same whether you wish it or not.

  YOUNG MAN. What a fate is mine, that I must gratify such a stinking harridan the whole night through and all day; then, when I am rid of her, I have still to tackle a hag of brick-colour hue! Am I not truly unfortunate? Ah! by Zeus the Deliverer! under what fatal star must I have been born, that I must sail in company with such monsters! But if my bark sinks in the sewer of these strumpets, may I be buried at the very threshold of the door; let this hag be stood upright on my grave, let her be coated alive with pitch and her legs covered with molten lead up to the ankles, and let her be set alight as a funeral lamp.

  A SERVANT-MAID TO PRAXAGORA (she comes from the banquet). What happiness is the people’s! what joy is mine, and above all that of my mistress! Happy are ye, who form choruses before our house! Happy all ye, both neighbours and fellow-citizens! Happy am I myself! I am but a servant, and yet I have poured on my hair the most exquisite essences. Let thanks be rendered to thee, oh, Zeus! But a still more delicious aroma is that of the wine of Thasos; its sweet bouquet delights the drinker for a long enough, whereas the others lose their bloom and vanish quickly. Therefore, long life to the wine-jars of Thasos! Pour yourselves out unmixed wine, it will cheer you the whole night through, if you choose the liquor that possesses most fragrance. But tell me, friends, where is my mistress’s husband?

  CHORUS. Wait for him here; he will no doubt pass this way.

  MAID-SERVANT. Ah! there he is just going to dinner. Oh! master! what joy! what blessedness is yours!

  BLEPYRUS. Ah! d’you think so?

  MAID-SERVANT. None can compare his happiness to yours; you have reached its utmost height, you who, alone out of thirty thousand citizens, have not yet dined.

  CHORUS Aye, here is undoubtedly a truly happy man.

  MAID-SERVANT. Where are you off to?

  BLEPYRUS. I am going to dine.

  MAID-SERVANT. By Aphrodité, you will be the last of all, far and away the last. Yet my mistress has bidden me take you and take with you these young girls. Some Chian wine is left and lots of other good things. Therefore hurry, and invite likewise all the spectators whom we have pleased, and such of the judges as are not against us, to follow us; we will offer them everything they can desire. Let our hospitality be large and generous; forget no one, neither old nor young men, nor children. Dinner is ready for them all; they have but to go … home.

  CHORUS. I am betaking myself to the banquet with this torch in my hand according to custom. But why do you tarry, Blepyrus? Take these young girls with you and, while you are away a while, I will whet my appetite with some dining-song. I have but a few words to say: let the wise judge me because of whatever is wise in this piece, and those who like a laugh by whatever has made them laugh. In this way I address pretty well everyone. If the lot has assigned my comedy to be played first of all, don’t let that be a disadvantage to me; engrave in your memory all that shall have pleased you in it and judge the competitors equitably as you have bound yourselves by oath to do. Don’t act like vile courtesans, who never remember any but their last lover. It is time, friends, high time to go to the banquet, if we want to have our share of it. Open your ranks and let the Cretan rhythms regulate your dances.

  SEMI-CHORUS. Ready; we are ready!

  CHORUS. And you others, let your light steps too keep time. Very soon will be served a very fine menu[*] — oysters-saltfish-skate-sharks’-heads left-over-vinegar-dressing-laserpitium-leek-with-honey-sauce-thrush blackbird-pigeon-dove-roast-cock’s-brains-wagtail-cushat-hare-stewed in-new-wine-gristle-of-veal-pullet’s-wings. Come, quick, seize hold of a plate, snatch up a cup, and let’s run to secure a place at table. The rest will have their jaws at work by this time.

  [* Transcriber’s note: In the original, all following words until ‘wings’ are connected with hyphens, i.e. they form one word.]

  SEMI-CHORUS. Let up leap and dance, Io! evoë! Let us to dinner, Io! evoë.

  For victory is ours, victory is ours! Ho! Victory! Io! evoë!

  WEALTH

  Anonymous translation for the Athenian Society, London, 1912

  First produced in 408 BC, this political satire features the personified god of wealth Plutus and is unique among Aristophanes’ extant works for demonstrating the development of Old Comedy towards New Comedy. Unlike the burlesque and bawdy early political plays, Wealth uses such familiar character types such as the stupid master and the cunning and insubordinate slave, which are often seen in the New Comedy works of later playwrights such as Menander.

  Wealth introduces the elderly Athenian citizen, Chremylos, who presents himself and his family as virtuous but poor, and has accordingly gone to seek advice from an oracle. The play begins as he returns to Athens from Delphi, having been instructed by Apollo to follow the first man he meets and persuade him to come home with him. That man turns out to be the god of wealth Plutus, who is a blind beggar. After much argument, Plutus is convinced to enter Chremylus’ house, where he will have his vision restored, meaning that “wealth” will now go only to those who deserve it in one way or another. The first part of the play examines the concept that wealth is not distributed to the virtuous, or necessarily to the non-virtuous, but instead it is distributed randomly. Chremylos is convinced that if Plutus’ eyesight can be restored, these wrongs can be righted, making the world a better place.

  The second part of the drama introduces the goddess Poverty, who counters Chremylos’ arguments that it is better to be rich, by arguing that without poverty there would be no slaves, as every slave would buy his freedom, and no fine goods or luxury foods, as nobody would work if everyone were rich – once again posing engaging questions for the audience to consider. After Plutus’ eyesight is restored at the Temple of Asclepius, he formally becomes a member of Chremylus’ household. At the same time, the entire world is turned upside-down economically and socially. Unsurprisingly, this gives rise to rancorous comments and claims of unfairness from those who have been deprived of their riches.

  Eirene (Peace) bearing Plutus (Wealth), Roman copy after a Greek votive statue by Kephisodotos, c. 370 BC

  CONTENTS

  INTRODUCTION

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  PLUTUS

  INTRODUCTION

  The ‘Plutus’ differs widely from all other works of its Author, and, it must be confessed, is the least interesting and diverting of them all. “In its absence of personal interests and personal satire,” and its lack of strong comic incidents, “it approximates rather to a whimsical allegory than a comedy properly so called.”

  The plot is of the simplest. Chremylus, a poor but just man, accompanied by his body-servant Cario — the redeeming feature, by the by, of an otherwise dull play, the original type of the comic valet of the stage of all subsequent periods — consults the Delphic Oracle concerning his son, whether he ought not to be instructed in injustice and knavery and the other arts whereby worldly men acquire riches. By way of answer the god only tells him that he is to follow whomsoever he first meets upon leaving the temple, who proves to be a blind and ragged old man. But this turns out to be no other than Plutus himself, the god of riches, whom Zeus has robbed of his eyesight, so that he may be unable henceforth to distinguish between the just and the unjust. However, succoured by Chremylus and conducted by him to the Temple of Aesculapius, Plutus regains the use of his eyes. Where
upon all just men, including the god’s benefactor, are made rich and prosperous, and the unjust reduced to indigence.

  The play was, it seems, twice put upon the stage — first in 408 B.C., and again in a revised and reinforced edition, with allusions and innuendoes brought up to date, in 388 B.C., a few years before the Author’s death. The text we possess — marred, however, by several considerable lacunae — is now generally allowed to be that of the piece as played at the later date, when it won the prize.

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  CHREMYLUS.

  CARIO, Servant of Chremylus.

  PLUTUS, God of Riches.

  BLEPSIDEMUS, friend of Chremylus.

  WIFE OF CHREMYLUS.

  POVERTY.

  A JUST MAN.

  AN INFORMER, or Sycophant.

  AN OLD WOMAN.

  A YOUTH.

  HERMES.

  A PRIEST OF ZEUS.

  CHORUS OF RUSTICS.

  SCENE: In front of a farmhouse — a road leading up to it.

  PLUTUS

  CARIO. What an unhappy fate, great gods, to be the slave of a fool! A servant may give the best of advice, but if his master does not follow it, the poor slave must inevitably have his share in the disaster; for fortune does not allow him to dispose of his own body, it belongs to his master who has bought it. Alas! ’tis the way of the world. But the god, Apollo, whose oracles the Pythian priestess on her golden tripod makes known to us, deserves my censure, for ’tis assured he is a physician and a cunning diviner; and yet my master is leaving his temple infected with mere madness and insists on following a blind man. Is this not opposed to all good sense? ’Tis for us, who see clearly, to guide those who don’t; whereas he clings to the trail of a blind fellow and compels me to do the same without answering my questions with ever a word. (To Chremylus.) Aye, master, unless you tell me why we are following this unknown fellow, I will not be silent, but I will worry and torment you, for you cannot beat me because of my sacred chaplet of laurel.

  CHREMYLUS. No, but if you worry me I will take off your chaplet, and then you will only get a sounder thrashing.

  CARIO. That’s an old song! I am going to leave you no peace till you have told me who this man is; and if I ask it, ’tis entirely because of my interest in you.

  CHREMYLUS. Well, be it so. I will reveal it to you as being the most faithful and the most rascally of all my servants. I honoured the gods and did what was right, and yet I was none the less poor and unfortunate.

  CARIO. I know it but too well.

  CHREMYLUS. Other amassed wealth — the sacrilegious, the demagogues, the informers, indeed every sort of rascal.

  CARIO. I believe you.

  CHREMYLUS. Therefore I came to consult the oracle of the god, not on my own account, for my unfortunate life is nearing its end, but for my only son; I wanted to ask Apollo, if it was necessary for him to become a thorough knave and renounce his virtuous principles, since that seemed to me to be the only way to succeed in life.

  CARIO. And with what responding tones did the sacred tripod resound?

  CHREMYLUS. You shall know. The god ordered me in plain terms to follow the first man I should meet upon leaving the temple and to persuade him to accompany me home.

  CARIO. And who was the first one you met?

  CHREMYLUS. This blind man.

  CARIO. And you are stupid enough not to understand the meaning of such an answer? Why, the god was advising you thereby, and that in the clearest possible way, to bring up your son according to the fashion of your country.

  CHREMYLUS. What makes you think that?

  CARIO. Is it not evident to the blind, that nowadays to do nothing that is right is the best way to get on?

  CHREMYLUS. No, that is not the meaning of the oracle; there must be another, that is nobler. If this blind man would tell us who he is and why and with what object he has led us here, we should no doubt understand what our oracle really does mean.

  CARIO (to Plutus). Come, tell us at once who you are, or I give effect to my threat. (He menaces him.) And quick too, be quick, I say.

  PLUTUS. I’ll thrash you.

  CARIO (to Chremylus). Ha! is it thus he tells us his name?

  CHREMYLUS. ’Tis to you and not to me that he replies thus; your mode of questioning him was ill-advised. (To Plutus.) Come, friend, if you care to oblige an honest man, answer me.

  PLUTUS. I’ll knock you down.

  CARIO. Ah! what a pleasant fellow and what a delightful prophecy the god has given you!

  CHREMYLUS. By Demeter, you’ll have no reason to laugh presently.

  CARIO. If you don’t speak, you wretch, I will surely do you an ill turn.

  PLUTUS. Friends, take yourselves off and leave me.

  CHREMYLUS. That we very certainly shan’t.

  CARIO. This, master, is the best thing to do. I’ll undertake to secure him the most frightful death; I will lead him to the verge of a precipice and then leave him there, so that he’ll break his neck when he pitches over.

  CHREMYLUS. Well then, I leave him to you, and do the thing quickly.

  PLUTUS. Oh, no! Have mercy!

  CHREMYLUS. Will you speak then?

  PLUTUS. But if you learn who I am, I know well that you will ill-use me and will not let me go again.

  CHREMYLUS. I call the gods to witness that you have naught to fear if you will only speak.

  PLUTUS. Well then, first unhand me.

  CHREMYLUS. There! we set you free.

  PLUTUS. Listen then, since I must reveal what I had intended to keep a secret. I am Plutus.

  CHREMYLUS. Oh! you wretched rascal! You Plutus all the while, and you never said so!

  CARIO. You, Plutus, and in this piteous guise!

  CHREMYLUS. Oh, Phoebus Apollo! oh, ye gods of heaven and hell! Oh, Zeus! is it really and truly as you say?

  PLUTUS. Aye.

  CHREMYLUS. Plutus’ very own self?

  PLUTUS. His own very self and none other.

  CHREMYLUS. But tell me, whence come you to be so squalid?

  PLUTUS. I have just left Patrocles’ house, who has not had a bath since his birth.

  CHREMYLUS. But your infirmity; how did that happen? Tell me.

  PLUTUS. Zeus inflicted it on me, because of his jealousy of mankind. When I was young, I threatened him that I would only go to the just, the wise, the men of ordered life; to prevent my distinguishing these, he struck me with blindness! so much does he envy the good!

  CHREMYLUS. And yet, ’tis only the upright and just who honour him.

  PLUTUS. Quite true.

  CHREMYLUS. Therefore, if ever you recovered your sight, you would shun the wicked?

  PLUTUS. Undoubtedly.

  CHREMYLUS. You would visit the good?

  PLUTUS. Assuredly. It is a very long time since I saw them.

  CHREMYLUS. That’s not astonishing. I, who see clearly, don’t see a single one.

  PLUTUS. Now let me leave you, for I have told you everything.

  CHREMYLUS. No, certainly not! we shall fasten ourselves on to you faster than ever.

  PLUTUS. Did I not tell you, you were going to plague me?

  CHREMYLUS. Oh! I adjure you, believe what I say and don’t leave me; for you will seek in vain for a more honest man than myself.

  CARIO. There is only one man more worthy; and that is I.

  PLUTUS. All talk like this, but as soon as they secure my favours and grow rich, their wickedness knows no bounds.

  CHREMYLUS. And yet all men are not wicked.

  PLUTUS. All. There’s no exception.

  CARIO. You shall pay for that opinion.

  CHREMYLUS. Listen to what happiness there is in store for you, if you but stay with us. I have hope; aye, I have good hope with the god’s help to deliver you from that blindness, in fact to restore your sight.

  PLUTUS. Oh! do nothing of the kind, for I don’t wish to recover it.

  CHREMYLUS. What’s that you say?

  CARIO. This fellow hugs his own misery.
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  PLUTUS. If you were mad enough to cure me, and Zeus heard of it, he would overwhelm me with his anger.

  CHREMYLUS. And is he not doing this now by leaving you to grope your wandering way?

  PLUTUS. I don’t know; but I’m horribly afraid of him.

  CHREMYLUS. Indeed? Ah! you are the biggest poltroon of all the gods! Why, Zeus with his throne and his lightnings would not be worth an obolus if you recovered your sight, were it but for a few instants.

  PLUTUS. Impious man, don’t talk like that.

  CHREMYLUS. Fear nothing! I will prove to you that you are far more powerful and mightier than he.

  PLUTUS. I mightier than he?

  CHREMYLUS. Aye, by heaven! For instance, what is the origin of the power that Zeus wields over the other gods?

  CARIO. ’Tis money; he has so much of it.

  CHREMYLUS. And who gives it to him?

  CARIO (pointing to Plutus). This fellow.

  CHREMYLUS. If sacrifices are offered to him, is not Plutus their cause?

  CARIO. Undoubtedly, for ’tis wealth that all demand and clamour most loudly for.

  CHREMYLUS. Thus ’tis Plutus who is the fount of all the honours rendered to Zeus, whose worship he can wither up at the root, if it so please him.

  PLUTUS. And how so?

  CHREMYLUS. Not an ox, nor a cake, nor indeed anything at all could be offered, if you did not wish it.

  PLUTUS. Why?

  CHREMYLUS. Why? but what means are there to buy anything if you are not there to give the money? Hence if Zeus should cause you any trouble, you will destroy his power without other help.

  PLUTUS. So ’tis because of me that sacrifices are offered to him?

  CHREMYLUS. Most assuredly. Whatever is dazzling, beautiful or charming in the eyes of mankind, comes from you. Does not everything depend on wealth?

  CARIO. I myself was bought for a few coins; if I’m a slave, ’tis only because I was not rich.

  CHREMYLUS. And what of the Corinthian courtesans? If a poor man offers them proposals, they do not listen; but if it be a rich one, instantly they offer their buttocks for his pleasure.