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Aristophanes >> Peace
I did not recoil in horror at the sight of such a monster, but fought him
relentlessly to win your deliverance and that of the Islanders. Such
are the services which should be graven in your recollection and entitle me
to your thanks. Yet I have not been seen frequenting the wrestling school
intoxicated with success and trying to tamper with young boys;[4]
but I took all my theatrical gear[5] and returned straight home.
I pained folk but little and caused them much amusement; my conscience
rebuked me for nothing. Hence both grown men and youths should be
on my side and I likewise invite the bald[6] to give me their votes; for,
if I triumph, everyone will say, both at table and at festivals,
"Carry this to the bald man, give these cakes to the bald one, do not
grudge the poet whose talent shines as bright as his own bare skull
the share he deserves."
Oh, Muse! drive the War far from our city and come to preside over
our dances, if you love me; come and celebrate the nuptials of
the gods, the banquets of us mortals and the festivals of the fortunate;
these are the themes that inspire thy most poetic songs. And should
Carcinus come to beg thee for admission with his sons to thy chorus,
refuse all traffic with them; remember they are but gelded birds,
stork-necked dancers, mannikins about as tall as a pat of goat dung,
in fact machine-made poets.[7] Contrary to all expectation, the father
has at last managed to finish a piece, but he owns himself that a cat
strangled it one fine evening.[8]
Such are the songs[9] with which the Muse with the glorious hair
inspires the able poet and which enchant the assembled populace,
when the spring swallow twitters beneath the foliage;[10] but the god
spare us from the chorus of Morsimus and that of Melanthius![11] Oh!
what a bitter discordancy grated upon my ears that day when the tragic
chorus was directed by this same Melanthius and his brother, these two
Gorgons,[12] these two harpies, the plague of the seas, whose gluttonous
bellies devour the entire race of fishes, these followers of old
women, these goats with their stinking arm-pits. Oh! Muse, spit upon
them abundantly and keep the feast gaily with me.
f[1] In spite of what he says, Aristophanes has not always disdained this
sort of low comedy--for instance, his Heracles in 'The Birds.'
f[2] A celebrated Athenian courtesan of Aristophanes' day.
f[3] Cleon. These four verses are here repeated from the parabasis
of 'The Wasps,' produced 423 B.C., the year before this play.
f[4] Shafts aimed at certain poets, who used their renown as a means
of seducing young men to grant them pederastic favours.
f[5] The poet supplied everything needful for the production of his piece--
vases, dresses, masks, etc.
f[6] Aristophanes was bald himself, it would seem.
f[7] Carcinus and his three sons were both poets and dancers. (See the
closing scene of 'The Wasps.') Perhaps relying little on the literary value
of their work, it seems that they sought to please the people by
the magnificence of its staging.
f[8] He had written a piece called 'The Mice,' which he succeeded
with great difficulty in getting played, but it met with no success.
f[9] This passage really follows on the invocation, "Oh, Muse! drive
the War," etc., from which indeed it is only divided by the interpolated
criticism aimed at Carcinus.
f[10] The scholiast informs us that these verses are borrowed from a poet
of the sixth century B.C.
f[11] Sons of Philocles, of the family of Aeschylus, tragic writers, derided
by Aristophanes as bad poets and notorious gluttons.
f[12] The Gorgons were represented with great teeth, and therefore
the same name was given to gluttons. The Harpies, to whom the two
voracious poets are also compared, were monsters with the face of
a woman, the body of a vulture and hooked beak and claws.
TRYGAEUS
Ah! 'tis a rough job getting to the gods! my legs are as good as
broken through it. How small you were, to be sure, when seen from
heaven! you had all the appearance too of being great rascals; but seen
close, you look even worse.
SERVANT
Is that you, master?
TRYGAEUS
So I've been told.
SERVANT
What has happened to you?
TRYGAEUS
My legs pain me; it is such a plaguey long journey.
SERVANT
Oh! tell me...
TRYGAEUS
What?
SERVANT
Did you see any other man besides yourself strolling about in
heaven?
TRYGAEUS
No, only the souls of two or three dithyrambic poets.
SERVANT
What were they doing up there?
TRYGAEUS
They were seeking to catch some lyric exordia as they flew by
immersed in the billows of the air.
SERVANT
Is it true, what they tell us, that men are turned into stars after death?
TRYGAEUS
Quite true.
SERVANT
Then who is that star I see over yonder?
TRYGAEUS
That is Ion of Chios,[1] the author of an ode beginning "Morning"; as soon
as ever he got to heaven, they called him "the Morning Star."
f[1] A tragic and dithyrambic poet, who had written many pieces, which
had met with great success at Athens.
SERVANT
And those stars like sparks, that plough up the air as they dart
across the sky?[1]
f[1] The shooting stars.
TRYGAEUS
They are the rich leaving the feast with a lantern and a light inside it.
--But hurry up, show this young girl into my house, clean out the bath,
heat some water and prepare the nuptial couch for herself and me.
When 'tis done, come back here; meanwhile I am off to present this one
to the Senate.
SERVANT
But where then did you get these pretty chattels?
TRYGAEUS
Where? why in heaven.
SERVANT
I would not give more than an obolus for gods who have got to
keeping brothels like us mere mortals.
TRYGAEUS
They are not all so, but there are some up there too who live by this trade.
SERVANT
Come, that's rich! But I bethink me, shall I give her something to eat?
TRYGAEUS
No, for she would neither touch bread nor cake; she is used to
licking ambrosia at the table of the gods.
SERVANT
Well, we can give her something to lick down here too.
CHORUS
Here is a truly happy old man, as far as I can judge.
TRYGAEUS
Ah! but what shall I be, when you see me presently dressed for
the wedding?
CHORUS
Made young again by love and scented with perfumes, your lot
will be one we all shall envy.
TRYGAEUS
And when I lie beside her and caress her bosoms?
CHORUS
Oh! then you will be happier than those spinning-tops who call
Carcinus their father.[1]
f[1] It has already been mentioned that the sons of Carcinus were dancers.
TRYGAEUS
And I well deserve it; have I not bestridden a beetle to save
the Greeks, who now, thanks to me, can make love at their ease and
sleep peacefully on their farms?
SERVANT
The girl has quitted the bath; she is charming from head to foot,
both belly and buttocks; the cake is baked and they are kneading
the sesame-biscuit;[1] nothing is lacking but the bridegroom's virility.
f[1] It was customary at weddings, says Menander, to give the bride
a sesame-caked as an emblem of fruitfulness, because sesame is the most
fruitful of all seeds.
TRYGAEUS
Let us first hasten to lodge Theoria in the hands of the Senate.
SERVANT
But tell me, who is this woman?
TRYGAEUS
Why, 'tis Theoria, with whom we used formerly to go to Brauron,[1]
to get tipsy and frolic. I had the greatest trouble to get hold of her.
f[1] An Attic town on the east coast, noted for a magnificent temple,
in which stood the statue of Artemis, which Orestes and Iphigenia
had brought from the Tauric Chersonese and also for the Brauronia,
festivals that were celebrated every four years in honour of the goddess.
This was one of the festivals which the Attic people kept with the greatest
pomp, and was an occasion for debauchery.
SERVANT
Ah! you charmer! what pleasure your pretty bottom will afford me
every four years!
TRYGAEUS
Let us see, who of you is steady enough to be trusted by the Senate
with the care of this charming wench? Hi! you, friend! what are you
drawing there?
SERVANT
I am drawing the plan of the tent I wish to erect for myself on
the isthmus.[1]
f[1] Competitors intending to take part in the great Olympic, Isthmian and
other games took with them a tent, wherein to camp in the open. Further,
there is an obscene allusion which the actor indicates by a gesture.
TRYGAEUS
Come, who wishes to take the charge of her? No one? Come, Theoria,
I am going to lead you into the midst of the spectators and confide you
to their care.
SERVANT
Ah! there is one who makes a sign to you.
TRYGAEUS
Who is it?
SERVANT
'Tis Ariphrades. He wishes to take her home at once.
TRYGAEUS
No, I'm sure he shan't. He would soon have her done for, absorbing
all her life-force. Come, Theoria, put down all this gear.[1]
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.
SERVANT
Take the knife and slaughter the sheep like a finished cook.
TRYGAEUS
No, the goddess does not wish it.[1]
f[1] As a matter of fact, the Sicyonians, who celebrated the festival of Peace
on the sixteenth day of the month of Hecatombeon (July), spilled no blood
upon her altar.
SERVANT
And why not?
TRYGAEUS
Blood cannot please Peace, so let us spill none upon her altar.
Therefore go and sacrifice the sheep in the house, cut off the legs
and bring them here; thus the carcase will be saved for the choregus.
CHORUS
You, who remain here, get chopped wood and everything needed for
the sacrifice ready.
TRYGAEUS
Don't I look like a diviner preparing his mystic fire?
CHORUS
Undoubtedly. Will anything that it behooves a wise man to know escape
you? Don't you know all that a man should know, who is distinguished
for his wisdom and inventive daring?
TRYGAEUS
There! the wood catches. Its smoke blinds poor Stilbides.[1] I am now
going to bring the table and thus be my own slave.
f[1] A celebrated diviner, who had accompanied the Athenians on their
expedition to Sicily. Thus the War was necessary to make his calling pay
and the smoke of the sacrifice offered to Peace must therefore be
unpleasant to him.
CHORUS
You have braved a thousand dangers to save your sacred town. All
honour to you! your glory will be ever envied.
SERVANT
Hold! Here are the legs, place them upon the altar. For myself,
I mean to go back to the entrails and the cakes.
TRYGAEUS
I'll see to those; I want you here.
SERVANT
Well then, here I am. Do you think I have been long?
TRYGAEUS
Just get this roasted. Ah! who is this man, crowned with laurel,
who is coming to me?
SERVANT
He has a self-important look; is he some diviner?
TRYGAEUS
No, I' faith! 'tis Hierocles.
SERVANT
Ah! that oracle-monger from Oreus.[1] What is he going to tell us?
f[1] A town in Euboea on the channel which separated that island from
Thessaly.
TRYGAEUS
Evidently he is coming to oppose the peace.
SERVANT
No, 'tis the odour of the fat that attracts him.
TRYGAEUS
Let us appear not to see him.
SERVANT
Very well.
HIEROCLES
What sacrifice is this? to what god are you offering it?
TRYGAEUS (TO THE SERVANT)
Silence!--(ALOUD.) Look after the roasting and keep your hands off
the meat.
HIEROCLES
To whom are you sacrificing? Answer me. Ah! the tail[1] is showing
favourable omens.
f[1] When sacrificing, the tail was cut off the victim and thrown into
the fire. From the way in which it burnt the inference was drawn as
to whether or not the sacrifice was agreeable to the deity.
SERVANT
Aye, very favourable, oh, loved and mighty Peace!
HIEROCLES
Come, cut off the first offering[1] and make the oblation.
f[1] This was the part that belonged to the priests and diviners. As one
of the latter class, Hierocles is in haste to see this piece cut off.
TRYGAEUS
'Tis not roasted enough.
HIEROCLES
Yea, truly, 'tis done to a turn.
TRYGAEUS
Mind your own business, friend! (TO THE SERVANT.) Cut away. Where is
the table? Bring the libations.
HIEROCLES
The tongue is cut separately.
TRYGAEUS
We know all that. But just listen to one piece of advice.
HIEROCLES
And that is?
TRYGAEUS
Don't talk, for 'tis divine Peace to whom we are sacrificing.
HIEROCLES
Oh! wretched mortals, oh, you idiots!
TRYGAEUS
Keep such ugly terms for yourself.
HIEROCLES
What! you are so ignorant you don't understand the will of the
gods and you make a treaty, you, who are men, with apes, who are
full of malice?[1]
f[1] The Spartans.
TRYGAEUS
Ha, ha, ha!
HIEROCLES
What are you laughing at?
TRYGAEUS
Ha, ha! your apes amuse me!
HIEROCLES
You simple pigeons, you trust yourselves to foxes, who are all
craft, both in mind and heart.
TRYGAEUS
Oh, you trouble-maker! may your lungs get as hot as this meat!
HIEROCLES
Nay, nay! if only the Nymphs had not fooled Bacis, and Bacis
mortal men; and if the Nymphs had not tricked Bacis a second time...[1]
f[1] Emphatic pathos, incomprehensible even to the diviner himself;
this is a satire on the obscure style of the oracles. Bacis was a famous
Boeotian diviner.
TRYGAEUS
May the plague seize you, if you don't stop wearying us with your Bacis!
HIEROCLES
...it would not have been written in the book of Fate that the
bends of Peace must be broken; but first...
TRYGAEUS
The meat must be dusted with salt.
HIEROCLES
...it does not please the blessed gods that we should stop the War until
the wolf uniteth with the sheep.
TRYGAEUS
How, you cursed animal, could the wolf ever unite with the sheep?
HIEROCLES
As long as the wood-bug gives off a fetid odour, when it flies; as
long as the noisy bitch is forced by nature to litter blind pups, so
long shall peace be forbidden.
TRYGAEUS
Then what should be done? Not to stop War would be to leave it
to the decision of chance which of the two people should suffer the most,
whereas by uniting under a treaty, we share the empire of Greece.
HIEROCLES
You will never make the crab walk straight.
TRYGAEUS
You shall no longer be fed at the Prytaneum; the war done,
oracles are not wanted.
HIEROCLES
You will never smooth the rough spikes of the hedgehog.
TRYGAEUS
Will you never stop fooling the Athenians?
HIEROCLES
What oracle ordered you to burn these joints of mutton in honour
of the gods?
TRYGAEUS
This grand oracle of Homer's: "Thus vanished the dark war-clouds
and we offered a sacrifice to new-born Peace. When the flame had
consumed the thighs of the victim and its inwards had appeased our
hunger, we poured out the libations of wine." 'Twas I who arranged
the sacred rites, but none offered the shining cup to the diviner.[1]
f[1] Of course this is not a bona fide quotation, but a whimsical
adaptatioin of various Homeric verses; the last is a coinage of his own,
and means, that he is to have no part, either in the flesh of the victim or
in the wine of the libations.
HIEROCLES
I care little for that. 'Tis not the Sibyl who spoke it.[1]
f[1] Probably the Sibyl of Delphi is meant.
TRYGAEUS
Wise Homer has also said: "He who delights in the horrors of civil
war has neither country nor laws nor home." What noble words!
HIEROCLES
Beware lest the kite turn your brain and rob...
TRYGAEUS
Look out, slave! This oracle threatens our meat. Quick, pour the libation,
and give me some of the inwards.
HIEROCLES
I too will help myself to a bit, if you like.
TRYGAEUS
The libation! the libation!
HIEROCLES
Pour out also for me and give me some of this meat.
TRYGAEUS
No, the blessed gods won't allow it yet; let us drink; and as for you,
get you gone, for 'tis their will. Mighty Peace! stay ever in our midst.
HIEROCLES
Bring the tongue hither.
TRYGAEUS
Relieve us of your own.
HIEROCLES
The libation.
TRYGAEUS
Here! and this into the bargain (STRIKES HIM).
HIEROCLES
You will not give me any meat?
TRYGAEUS
We cannot give you any until the wolf unites with the sheep.
HIEROCLES
I will embrace your knees.
TRYGAEUS
'Tis lost labour, good fellow; you will never smooth the rough
spikes of the hedgehog.... Come, spectators, join us in our feast.
HIEROCLES
And what am I to do?
TRYGAEUS
You? go and eat the Sibyl.
HIEROCLES
No, by the Earth! no, you shall not eat without me; if you do not give,
I take; 'tis common property.
TRYGAEUS (TO THE SERVANT)
Strike, strike this Bacis, this humbugging soothsayer.
HIEROCLES
I take to witness...
TRYGAEUS
And I also, that you are a glutton and an impostor. Hold him tight
and beat the impostor with a stick.
SERVANT
You look to that; I will snatch the skin from him which he has stolen
from us.[1] Are you going to let go that skin, you priest from hell! do you
hear! Oh! what a fine crow has come from Oreus! Stretch your wings
quickly for Elymnium.[2]
f[1] The skin of the victim, that is to say.
f[2] A temple in Euboea, close to Oreus. The servant means, "Return where
you came from."
CHORUS
Oh! joy, joy! no more helmet, no more cheese nor onions![1] No, I
have no passion for battles; what I love, is to drink with good
comrades in the corner by the fire when good dry wood, cut in
the height of the summer, is crackling; it is to cook pease on the coals
and beechnuts among the embers, 'tis to kiss our pretty Thracian[2]
while my wife is at the bath. Nothing is more pleasing, when the rain
is sprouting our sowings, than to chat with some friend, saying,
"Tell me, Comarchides, what shall we do? I would willingly drink myself,
while the heavens are watering our fields. Come, wife, cook three
measures of beans, adding to them a little wheat, and give us some figs.
Syra! call Manes off the fields, 'tis impossible to prune the vine or to
align the ridges, for the ground is too wet to-day. Let someone bring me
the thrush and those two chaffinches; there were also some curds and
four pieces of hare, unless the cat stole them last evening, for I
know not what the infernal noise was that I heard in the house.
Serve up three of the pieces for me, slave, and give the fourth to
my father. Go and ask Aeschinades for some myrtle branches with
berries on them, and then, for 'tis the same road, you will invite
Charinades to come and drink with me to the honour of the gods who
watch over our crops." When the grasshopper sings his dulcet tune,
I love to see the Lemnian vines beginning to ripen, for 'tis the earliest
plant of all. I love likewise to watch the fig filling out, and when it
has reached maturity I eat with appreciation and exclaim, "Oh!
delightful season!" Then too I bruise some thyme and infuse it in
water. Indeed I grow a great deal fatter passing the summer in this
way than in watching a cursed captain with his three plumes and his
military cloak of a startling crimson (he calls it true Sardian purple),
which he takes care to dye himself with Cyzicus saffron in a battle;
then he is the first to run away, shaking his plumes like a great yellow
prancing cock,[3] while I am left to watch the nets.[4] Once back again
in Athens, these brave fellows behave abominably; they write down these,
they scratch through others, and this backwards and forwards two or
three times at random. The departure is set for to-morrow, and some
citizen has brought no provisions, because he didn't know he had to go;
he stops in front of the statue of Pandion,[5] reads his name, is
dumbfounded and starts away at a run, weeping bitter tears.
The townsfolk are less ill-used, but that is how the husbandmen
are treated by these men of war, the hated of the gods and of men,
who know nothing but how to throw away their shield. For this reason,
if it please heaven, I propose to call these rascals to account, for they
are lions in times of peace, but sneaking foxes when it comes to fighting.