The Frogs | Page 8

young fellow.
DIO. (In agony.) Man! don't torture ME! I am a god. You'll blame yourself hereafter If you touch ME.
AEAC. Hillo! What's that you are saying?
DIO. I say I'm Bacchus, son of Zeus, a god, Anid he's the slave.
AEAC. You hear him?
XAN. Hear him? Yes. All the more reason you should flog him well. For if he is a god, he won't perceive it.
DIO. Well, but you say that you're a god yourself. So why not you be flogged as well as I?
XAN. A fair proposal. And be this the test, Whichever of us two you first behold Flinching or crying out--he's not the god.
AEAC. Upon my word you're quite the gentleman, You're all for right and justice. Strip then, both.
XAN. How can you test us fairly?
AEAC. Easily, I'll give you blow for blow.
XAN. A good idea. We're ready! Now! (Aeacus strikes him), see if you catch me flinching.
AEAC. I struck you.
XAN. (Incredulously.) No!
ABAC Well, it seems "no," indeed. Now then I'll strike the other (Strikes DIO.).
DIO. Tell me when?
AEAC. I struck you.
DIO. Struck me? Then why didn't I sneeze?
AEAC. Don't know, I'm sure. I'll try the other again.
XAN. And quickly too. Good gracious!
AEAC. Why "good gracious"? Not hurt you, did I?
XAN. No, I merely thought of The Diomeian feast of Heracles.
AEAC. A holy man! 'Tis now the other's turn.
DIO. Hi! Hi!
AEAC. Hallo!
DIO. Look at those horsemen, look!
AEAC. But why these tears?
DIO. There's such a smell of onions.
AEAC. Then you don't mind it?
DIO. (Cheerfully.) Mind it? Not a bit.
AEAC. Well, I must go to the other one again.
XAN. O! O!
AEAC. Hallo!
XAN. Do pray pull out this thorn.
AEAC. What does it mean? 'Tis this one's turn again.
DIO. (Shrieking.) Apollo! Lord! (Calmly) of Delos and of Pytho.
XAN. He flinched! You heard him?
DIO. Not at all; a jolly Verse of Hipponax flashed across my mind.
XAN. You don't half do it: cut his flanks to pieces.
AEAC. By Zeus, well thought on. Turn your belly here.
DIO. (Screaming.) Poseidon!
XAN. There! he's flinching.
DIO. (Singing) who dost reign Amongst the Aegean peaks and creeks And o'er the deep blue main.
AEAC. No, by Demeter, still I can't find out Which is the god, but come ye both indoors; My lord himself and Persephassa there, Being gods themselves, will soon find out the truth.
DIO. Right! right! I only wish you had thought of that Before you gave me those tremendous whacks.
CHOR. Come, Muse, to our Mystical Chorus, O come to the joy of my song, O see on the benches before us that countless and wonderful throng, Where wits by the thousand abide, with more than a Cleophon's pride-- On the lips of that foreigner base, of Athens the bane and disgrace, There is shrieking, his kinsman by race, The garrulous swallow of Thrace; From that perch of exotic descent, Rejoicing her sorrow to vent, She pours to her spirit's content, a nightingale's woeful lament, That e'en though the voting be equal, his ruin will soon be the sequel.
Well it suits the holy Chorus evermore with counsel wise To exhort and teach the city: this we therefore now advise-- End the townsmen's apprehensions; equalize the rights of all; If by Phrynichus's wrestlings some perchance sustained a fall, Yet to these 'tis surely open, having put away their sin, For their slips and vacillations pardon at your hands to win. Give your brethren back their franchise. Sin and shame it were that slaves, Who have once with stern devotion fought your battle on the waves, Should be straightway lords and masters, yea Plataeans fully blown-- Not that this deserves our censure; there I praise you; there alone Has the city, in her anguish, policy and wisdom shown-- Nay but these, of old accustomed on our ships to fight and win, (They, their father too before them), these our very kith and kin, You should likewise, when they ask you, pardon for their single sin. O by nature best and wisest, O relax your jealous ire, Let us all the world as kinsfolk and as citizens acquire, All who on our ships will battle well and bravely by our side If we cocker up our city, narrowing her with senseless pride Now when she is rocked and reeling in the cradles of the sea, Here again will after ages deem we acted brainlessly.
And O if I'm able to scan the habits and life of a man Who shall rue his iniquities soon! not long shall that little baboon, That Cleigenes shifty and small, the wickedest bathman of all Who are lords of the earth--which is brought from the isle of Cimolus, and wrought With nitre and lye into soap-- Not long shall he vex us, I hope. And this the unlucky one knows, Yet ventures a peace to oppose, And being addicted to blows he carries a stick as he goes, Lest