The Eleven Comedies, vol 2 | Page 2

a separate
play, under the title perhaps of 'The dicast turned gentleman,' and
relates various ridiculous mistakes and laughable blunders committed
by Philocleon, who, having given up his attendance on the law-courts,
has set up for playing a part in polite society.
The drama, as was very often the case, takes its title from the Chorus--a
band of old men dressed up as wasps, who acrimonious, stinging,
exasperated temper is meant to typify the character fostered among
Athenian citizens by excessive addiction to forensic business.
Racine, in the only comedy he attempted, 'Les Plaideurs,' borrows the
incident of the mock trial of the house-dog, amplifying and adding

further diverting features.
Perhaps 'The Wasps' is the least amusing of all our Author's pieces
which have come down to us--at any rate to a modern reader. The
theme of its satire, the litigious spirit of the Athenians, is after all
purely local and temporary, while the fun often strikes us as thin and
forced. Schlegel writes in his 'Dramatic Literature': "The subject is too
limited, the folly it ridicules appears a disease of too singular a
description, without a sufficient universality of application, and the
action is too much drawn out."
* * * * *
THE WASPS
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
PHILOCLEON, a Dicast. BDELYCLEON, his Son. SOSIAS,
House-servant of Philocleon. XANTHIAS, House-servant of
Philocleon. BOYS. A DOG. A BAKER'S WIFE. ACCUSER.
CHORUS OF ELDERS, costumed as Wasps.
SCENE: Philocleon's house at Athens.
* * * * *
THE WASPS
SOSIAS. Why, Xanthias! what are you doing, wretched man?
XANTHIAS. I am teaching myself how to rest; I have been awake and
on watch the whole night.
SOSIAS. So you want to earn trouble for your ribs,[1] eh? Don't you
know what sort of an animal we are guarding here?
XANTHIAS. Aye indeed! but I want to put my cares to sleep for a
while.

SOSIAS. Beware what you do. I too feel soft sleep spreading over my
eyes. Resist it, for you must be as mad as a Corybant if you fall
asleep.[2]
XANTHIAS. No! 'Tis Bacchus who lulls me off.
SOSIAS. Then you serve the same god as myself. Just now a heavy
slumber settled on my eyelids like a hostile Mede; A nodded and, faith!
I had a wondrous dream.
XANTHIAS. Indeed! and so had I. A dream such as I never had before.
But first tell me yours.
SOSIAS. Methinks I saw an eagle, a gigantic bird, descend upon the
market-place; it seized a brazen buckler with its talons and bore it away
into the highest heavens; then I saw 'twas Cleonymus had thrown it
away.
XANTHIAS. This Cleonymus is a riddle worth propounding among
guests. How can one and the same animal have cast away his buckler
both on land, in the sky and at sea?[3]
SOSIAS. Alas! what ill does such a dream portend for me?
XANTHIAS. Rest undisturbed! An it please the gods, no evil will
befall you.
SOSIAS. Nevertheless, 'tis a fatal omen when a man throws away his
weapons. But what was your dream? Let me hear.
XANTHIAS. Oh! it is a dream of high import. It has reference to the
hull of the State; to nothing less.
SOSIAS. Tell it me quickly; show me its very keel.
XANTHIAS. In my first slumber I thought I saw sheep, wearing cloaks
and carrying staves,[4] met in assembly on the Pnyx; a rapacious whale
was haranguing them and screaming like a pig that is being grilled.

SOSIAS. Faugh! faugh!
XANTHIAS. What's the matter?
SOSIAS. Enough, enough, spare me. Your dream stinks vilely of old
leather.[5]
XANTHIAS. Then this scoundrelly whale seized a balance and set to
weighing ox-fat.[6]
SOSIAS. Alas! 'tis our poor Athenian people, whom this accursed beast
wished to cut up and despoil of their fat.
XANTHIAS. Seated on the ground close to it, I saw Theorus,[7] who
had the head of a crow. The Alcibiades said to me in his lisping way,
"Do you thee? Theoruth hath a crow'th head."[8]
SOSIAS. Ah! 'twas very well lisped indeed!
XANTHIAS. This is might strange; Theorus turning into a crow!
SOSIAS. No, it is glorious.
XANTHIAS. Why?
SOSIAS. Why? He was a man and now he has suddenly become a
crow; does it not foretoken that he will take his flight from here and go
to the crows?[9]
XANTHIAS. Interpreting dreams so aptly certainly deserves two
obols.[10]
SOSIAS. Come, I must explain the matter to the spectators. But first a
few words of preamble: expect nothing very high-flown from us, nor
any jests stolen from Megara;[11] we have no slaves, who throw
baskets of nuts[12] to the spectators, nor any Heracles to be robbed of
his dinner,[13] nor is Euripides loaded with contumely; and despite the
happy chance that gave Cleon his fame[14] we shall not go out of