THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 MRS. VIRGINIA B. SPORER
 
 Greek Dramas 
 
 By 
 
 ^Eschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, 
 and Aristophanes 
 
 With Biographical Notes and a Critical Introduction 
 by Bernadotte Perrin 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1912
 
 Coi'VRlr.HT, IQOO, 
 
 Bv D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
 ]Yintril in tlic United Statcfl <>f America
 
 THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 FREQUENT experiments have shown that Greek 
 dramas, in English version, or even in the original 
 Greek, still have power to hold and impress a mod- 
 ern English-speaking audience. But these dramas gain 
 in power, whether acted or read, as hearer or reader sue- 
 ceeds in realizing the peculiar conditions under which 
 they were originally produced. And it is not enough to 
 remind the modern hearer or reader of the merely exter- 
 nal features of dramatic representation at Athens of the 
 vast open-air theatre, the national audiences, the competi- 
 tion for state recognition after state support, of the masks, 
 costumes, and other accessories that distinguish ancient 
 from modern dramatic art. The modern hearer or reader 
 of an ancient Greek play must, above all else, press back to 
 as full a realization as possible of the religious origin and 
 the abiding religious associations of Greek tragedy and 
 comedy. Even after the sense of the religious origin and 
 significance of the drama became vague in the Athenian 
 mind, the representations were part of a fixed religious 
 festival of annual recurrence. In the great days of Athe- 
 nian drama, when the plays included in this volume were 
 first brought out, there was no such thing as a play hav- 
 ing a " run." Indeed, repetition of a successful play was 
 rare. It was given once for all, as a religious offering at 
 an annual religious celebration. The spectator was more 
 or less consciously a worshipper. The theatre adjoined 
 a temple, and was within the temple precinct. The Ober- 
 ammergau passion-play is a helpful modern parallel; 
 
 iii 
 
 2042145
 
 JV THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 but no such parallel can be more than slightly suggestive 
 of the ancient conditions. To construct one that is really 
 helpful would require large play of imagination. Sup- 
 pose that the Roman Catholic Church, out of whose 
 bosom, out of whose liturgy, with its epic and choral 
 elements, the modern drama sprang, had succeeded in 
 retaining that complete control of the religious drama 
 which it had down to the thirteenth century, and that the 
 secular drama also had developed under such control ; 
 suppose the Roman Catholic to be a state religion in a 
 small but independent city-state of the size of Hartford 
 or New Haven, the sole capital, the focus, the " eye " of a 
 territory smaller than Rhode Island, in which there were 
 more than a hundred rural Roman Catholic churches, all 
 recognising a central cathedral leader and head ; suppose 
 the rural churches conducted religious plays for their 
 respective communities at annual harvest festivals, and 
 that the great cathedral head-church gave at Christmas 
 and Easter a series of plays by three poets who had sur- 
 passed all competitors, and who then contended for first, 
 second, and third rank before immense audiences com- 
 prising most of the male citizens of the city-state and 
 many visitors from all parts of the United States sup- 
 pose all this, and we have only a reasonably adequate 
 modern parallel. 
 
 The Greek drama was such an integral part of the 
 religion and cultus of Dionysus. This god was not a 
 genius of vines and wines merely, though even in that 
 case the scope of the personification would be no less 
 broad and dignified than that of Demeter. For the 
 Greek, the grape and wine were just as truly gifts of God 
 as grain and bread, just as intimately associated with 
 daily and yearly human toil, weariness, and refreshment. 
 Hut l)i ots far more than this. He is origi- 
 
 nally the germinal or male principle in universal life, that 
 principle which, in spite of the universal law of decay 
 and death, keeps the uni\e;-e kerning- with exuberant
 
 THE GREEK DRAMA V 
 
 life. He is the Father-principle in the universe, as De- 
 meter is the Mother-principle. These two great princi- 
 ples, aided by the principle of light and heat personated 
 in Apollo, wage perpetual warfare against the principles 
 of darkness and death. Death triumphs for the winter 
 season, but Life triumphs in the great resurrection of 
 spring. Here is the basis for the exquisite myth of De- 
 meter and Persephone. But Dionysus also, as life-prin- 
 ciple, has his passion, death, and resurrection, and on 
 these themes early Greek folk-song expressed itself in 
 tones of sympathy, despair, and triumph. The strains of 
 such song would naturally sweep the whole range of hu- 
 man emotion. 
 
 According to Herodotus, Dionysus is comparatively a 
 late god in the Hellenic pantheon. His cultus was intro- 
 duced from the Orient by way of Phrygia and Thrace. 
 Like the life-principle which the god personated, his 
 cultus was aggressive, struggling, often temporarily de- 
 feated, but finally victorious. The desperate conflicts of 
 the new religion with older religions also gave themes 
 for the choral songs of its votaries. Homer knows Dio- 
 nysus only as this aggressive new religious principle, re- 
 fused admittance by Lycurgus, king of the Thracian 
 Edonians, and bringing down on his enemy blindness and 
 death. His cultus fought its way from Thrace to Thebes, 
 and the awful myth of Pentheus, torn by his own mother 
 in an ecstasy of the Dionysiac inspiration, embodies the 
 cruelties of religious war, where a man's foes are they of 
 his own household. 
 
 As Lord of Life, subject to death in life and life after 
 death, Dionysus is closely associated with the souls of 
 the departed and their worship ; with prophecy as based 
 on communion with departed spirits ; with Apollo and 
 Demeter at Delphi and Eleusis. Under the name Za- 
 greus he is almost blended with Hades, Lord of Death. 
 As great Inspirer, he is -closely associated with the cultus 
 of the Muses. He is, therefore, to be thought of as the
 
 vi THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 source of every aspiration and inspiration, higher and 
 lower of battle rage, madness, joyful song and dance, 
 mysterious nightly revels, ecstasies, rhapsodies, visions, 
 unutterable longings and fancies. His office might in no 
 irreverent spirit be compared to that of the Holy Spirit 
 in the belief of the primitive Christian Church. St. 
 Paul's first letter to the Corinthians shows plainly that 
 the supposed gifts of the Spirit prophecy, tongues, heal- 
 ing were often abused and allowed to run into orgiastic 
 excesses. 
 
 The impulse to give expression to strong feeling in 
 song or dance or imitative action, or combinations of 
 these, is universal. Choral song and dance flourished 
 long among Greek country people before city poets de- 
 veloped and perfected them. Rude folk-songs may be 
 heard to-day among the peasantry or labouring classes of 
 all lands. The choral folk-songs in honour of Dionysus 
 were most naturally sung at the vintage festivals in 
 autumn, and one may hear such rude vintage songs now 
 among the Swabians or the Bavarians. The Dionysiac 
 vintage hymns were rude, turbulent, passionate, but rich 
 in tragic contents; for the great Giver and Inspirer was 
 soon to succumb to the law of ever-recurring death. As 
 in the Christian mass, so here in rude folk version was an 
 Incarnatus movement, a Passus et sepultus est. There 
 was not wanting an attendant sacrifice of propitiation. 
 Such deep themes combined, of course, with the lower 
 excesses naturally attendant on a popular vintage fes- 
 tival. 
 
 Popular choral hymns to Apollo, on the other hand, 
 the god of light, warmth, and victory, were joyful, and 
 less charged with deep passion. The Apollinic choral 
 was more intellectual and less emotional than the Di- 
 onysiac. Both styles of poetry were especially culti- 
 vated by the Dorians of Peloponnesus. It was poetry to 
 be sung by masses of singers, in distinction from lyric or 
 epic poetry intended for solo performers. The early
 
 THE GREEK DRAMA Vll 
 
 tyrants therefore favoured it as a popular diversion. 
 Court poets elaborated its structure. Into the wild and 
 turbulent measures of the Dionysiac choral they infused 
 the purer and more intellectual features of Apollinic 
 song. The resurrection motive in the myth was empha- 
 sized more, and the literary, as distinguished from the 
 folk Dionysiac dithyramb, was the result. This was a 
 hymn in praise of Dionysus for a trained chorus of fifty 
 voices, composed with elaborate responsive structure of 
 strophe and antistrophe by a trained and successful poet 
 for the spring festival of the god. According to the best 
 Greek tradition, it was perfected at Corinth, a Dorian 
 city, toward the end of the seventh century B.C., by 
 Arion the Lesbian 
 
 " Arion, whose melodic soul 
 Taught the dithyramb to roll." 
 
 This Dorian origin of the Dionysiac dithyramb accounts 
 for the persistence of Doric dialectic forms in the choral 
 parts of Athenian drama, though composed by Ionian 
 poets. These dialectic forms broad, long a-sounds, wel- 
 come to singers can not be represented in translation. 
 
 Meanwhile the cultus of Dionysus had made its way 
 from Thebes in Bceotia down into Attica, where the little 
 mountain hamlet of Icaria seems to have been its first con- 
 quest no peaceful conquest either, as the sad myth of 
 Icarius indicates. Here it was that the Dionysiac dithy- 
 ramb slowly developed into tragedy. 
 
 Guided by the best Greek tradition, and by careful and 
 chronological analysis of extant Greek dramas, one may 
 trace the successive steps in this remarkable evolution 
 with reasonable certainty. The Dionysiac choral had from 
 the very start, and always retained, mimetic or imitative 
 germs latent drama. And the evolution of the drama 
 of Hellas was from this lyric form with latent drama to 
 dramatic form with lingering lyric features. In other 
 words, the choral songs of a Greek play are not musical
 
 viii THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 interludes put between original dialogues, but the original 
 nucleus out of which the dialogues grew. 
 
 Moreover, the origin of the drama was distinctly rural. 
 The city ultimately adopted it from the country, but 
 never succeeded in refining away all traces of this rustic 
 origin. The rustic singers, untrained and of irregular 
 number, who sang rude chorals in praise of Dionysus at 
 vintage festivals, were from the start imitative to a certain 
 extent, in that they assumed the role of satyrs, or rustic 
 attendants on the vegetation genius Dionysus. As satyrs 
 they wore goat skins, and were called tragoi ; their song 
 tragoidia, the song of goat-skin wearers. 
 
 At Icaria, a secluded hill town halfway between 
 Athens and Marathon, this rustic tragedy, first brought 
 to high lyric level, no doubt, by influences from Corinth, 
 the home of the artistic dithyramb, budded into drama. 
 Here excavations of the American School at Athens, con- 
 ducted by the late Professor Merriam, of Columbia, in 
 the spring of 1888, brought to light sure traces of an 
 active and persistent worship of Dionysus, closely asso- 
 ciated with dramatic performances under state support. 
 " The scenery," says Professor Merriam, in his Annual 
 Report, " is in harmony with the twofold side of the 
 worship of Dionysus the gay and joyous, the sad and 
 mournful and aptly fitted to inspire a Thespis and a 
 Susarion to further advances on the trodden path." Here 
 we may imagine rustic tragedy i. e., Dionysiac choral 
 song, becoming more and more mimetic as the singers, 
 impersonating satyrs, threw themselves more and more 
 into their roles. The art of Dionysiac choral song may 
 have become patrial in the place handed down from 
 generation to generation in certain families like the roles 
 in the great passion-play at Oberarrimergau.. A local 
 chorus of fifty voices, the conventional number for the 
 literary form, would soon establish a style, to be handed 
 on and improved. As the local art became famous, vis- 
 itors would be attracted lay visitors and poets. And
 
 THE GREEK DRAMA ix 
 
 so tradition has it and good tradition, as Greek tradi- 
 tion goes that Susarion of Megara, the father of Greek 
 comedy, visited Icaria about the middle of the sixth 
 century. He may have come to be seen and heard, as 
 well as to see and hear. He found a local artist there 
 under whose name and he is little more than a name 
 we place the two most important steps in the evolution 
 of the drama out of lyric song. This artist was Thespis, 
 and the two great inventions that justify us in calling 
 him the father of Greek tragedy were the rhesis or 
 recital-part, and the impersonating actor. 
 
 Even a choral song by fifty voices can be dramatic as 
 the singers lose themselves more and more in their themes. 
 Divide the chorus, and the antiphonal effect, so prominent 
 in the Hebrew psalms, and in itself so dramatic, is secured. 
 Let one of the choreutse or tragoi, say the leader, sing, in 
 recitative solo, the goodness, joys, or sufferings of Diony- 
 sus, while the rest of the chorus, either all together or in 
 groups, respond in choral song to these recitals, and a 
 dramatic result is obtained as vivid, certainly, as that 
 produced by modern oratorio. Of this recital-role, with 
 good reason attributed to Thespis, the great narrative 
 roles of extant Greek drama are a logical development 
 and survival. The history of civilization which vEschylus 
 puts into the mouth of his Prometheus, the story of lo's 
 wanderings in the same play, the narratives of Guard and 
 Messenger in the " Antigone " of Sophocles, of Nurse 
 and Messenger in the " Medea " of Euripides, of the Serv- 
 ants, male and female, in his " Alcestis," are features 
 due, in the first instance, to this advance of Thespis. 
 
 Without further step a simple drama is possible. The 
 second step, however, was still more fruitful. Delegating 
 the recital-role to a second member of the chorus, the 
 leader now personated Dionysus, pretended to be Dio- 
 nysus himself, acted out his joys and sufferings, while the 
 reciter still told of others, and the chorus sang response 
 to both actor and reciter. With one member of the
 
 X Till:: GREEK DRAMA 
 
 chorus to relate thus certain episodes of joy or sorrow in 
 the god's career, and the leader of the chorus to act out 
 related episodes, and with the dialogue naturally develop- 
 ing between reciter, actor, and chorus, a definite plot, 
 with beginning, culmination, and ending, could readily 
 have been presented. And when, next, both reciter and 
 actor assumed two or more roles, both dialogue and 
 action would be diversified and enriched. All the per- 
 sonages of the Dionysiac story could be brought into the 
 action the relatives, friends, and foes of the god and 
 dialogue would come more and more to the fore, while 
 the lyric parts of the play would recede. 
 
 Soon the theme of tragedy was widened as its re- 
 sources increased. The actor passed from personations 
 of Dionysus or his relatives, friends, and foes, to those of 
 any gods or heroes whatever. For there were seeds of 
 drama in many other myths and cults besides those of 
 Dionysus, and Herodotus tells us (v, 67) of tragic choruses 
 that sang the sufferings of Adrastus. This advance threw 
 open the whole domain of heroic and sacred legend for 
 dramatic representation, though the drama's special rela- 
 tion to Dionysus never entirely disappeared from popular 
 consciousness, and the priest of Dionysus had the place 
 of honour in theatres of later centuries. 
 
 \\Y may fairly suppose that the visit of Susarion to 
 It aria quickened the invention of Thespis. As a result of 
 his improvements in the local Icarian drama, it attracted 
 the notice of artists and statesmen at Athens. Solon is 
 said to have gone to see Thespis acting in his own play, 
 and Pisistratus the tyrant, anxious to enrich the literary 
 atmosphere of his court at Athens, induced him to bring 
 his dramas for representation to the city. Here they 
 secured state patronage, and the Parian Marble assigns 
 the first competitive victory of Thespis to the year 536 
 i-. C. One of the four titles of plays thus brought out at 
 Athens by Thespis was " Pentheus," wherein the story 
 of Dionysus was still material for tragic plot, but other
 
 THE GREEK DRAMA xi 
 
 titles betoken that emancipation from purely Dionysiac 
 themes alluded to above. At last the drama is a promi- 
 nent part of a brilliant city's great annual festivals. 
 
 To trace the growth of the Greek drama further does 
 not require so much imagination, for tradition becomes 
 surer, and authentic titles of plays presented more numer- 
 ous and suggestive. No play of Phrynichus, the successor 
 of Thespis, has come down to us, but he is said to have 
 written nine tragedies, and among them an " Alcestis." 
 Of course competition, in the careers of Thespis and 
 Phrynichus, means that they had rivals, and sometimes 
 victorious rivals. But for purposes of brief introduction 
 only the greater names and surer traditions need to be 
 reviewed. Phrynichus worked with the dramatic appa- 
 ratus that he inherited from Thespis, though sundry in- 
 novations are ascribed to him, such as the female part 
 carried by male singers or actors. In the nature of 
 things, the dialogue was continually developing at the 
 expense of the choral parts, and yet the lyric songs of 
 Phrynichus are extolled almost beyond measure by so 
 great a master of song as Aristophanes. They were the 
 elderly Athenian's favourites even after a Sophocles had 
 arisen. 
 
 But the most startling innovation made by Phrynichus 
 was his selection of recent historical events for dramatiza- 
 tion. His first dramatic victory is set at 512 B. c, and no 
 later than 494 the great city of Miletus daughter city of 
 Athens, according to tradition, and encouraged by her 
 to withstand the Persian might was abandoned to an 
 awful destruction. " The Athenians," says Herodotus 
 (vi, 21), "showed themselves beyond measure afflicted at 
 the fall of Miletus, in many ways expressing their sym- 
 pathy, and especially by their treatment of Phrynichus. 
 For when this poet brought out his drama of the capture 
 of Miletus, the whole theatre burst into tears, and the 
 people sentenced him to pay a fine of a thousand drachmas 
 for recalling to them their own misfortunes. They like-
 
 xii THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 wise made a law that no one should ever again exhibit 
 that piece." Whatever the aesthetic bearing and value of 
 this famous sentence, it is clear that Phrynichus changed 
 his method of handling contemporary history, if we may 
 trust an item of dramatic information preserved by Plu- 
 tarch in his " Themistocles." Four years after the glo- 
 rious victory of Salamis, Themistocles defrayed the ex- 
 penses of representing a play of Phrynichus. This play 
 was probably the " Phoenician Women," and its theme 
 was the victory of Salamis, for which Themistocles won 
 the greatest credit. The title shows the composition of 
 the chorus of the play, and that makes it plain that the 
 scene was transferred to the enemy's country, where the 
 necessary idealization could be better secured, and that 
 the grief of the enemy was depicted in order to enhance 
 the triumph of the victor. An inspiring instead of a 
 rebuking theme, an ideal instead of a familiar scene, made 
 the play a success so much of a success that JEschylus, 
 the great follower of Phrynichus, tried to secure for his 
 favourite Aristides a larger credit for Salamis than the 
 popularitv of Themistocles allowed. This correction of 
 popular sentiment ^Eschylus attempted in his " Persians," 
 which celebrated Salamis, and was brought out in 472. 
 To make the story of dramatic and political rivalry com- 
 plete, Aristides should have defrayed the expenses of this 
 controversial play of YEschylus ; but so attractive a con- 
 clusion has no definite authority, though Plutarch plainly 
 shows, in the opening chapter of his "Aristides," that 
 there was plenty of dubious tradition about plays pro- 
 duced at the charges of that ardent rival of Themistocles. 
 innately, the " Persians" has come down to us, and 
 a brief description of its action and structure will best 
 \v the development now reached by the drama, and 
 serve as a transition to the briefer account of the 
 of the four Greek dramatists of whose work we 
 have entire specimens briefer, because the specimens tell 
 their own story. The play wa< Lpven by two actors, and
 
 THE GREEK DRAMA xiii 
 
 a chorus with its leader or representative. One of the 
 two actors took the parts of Atossa, widowed queen- 
 mother of Xerxes, and also of Xerxes, for mother and 
 son are not brought together in the action ; the other 
 actor took the parts of the messenger, and of the Darius- 
 ghost. The scene is in front of the royal palace at Susa, 
 the tomb of Darius being in the foreground. The action, 
 to give the barest outline, moves as follows: Enter chorus 
 of Persian elders, singing their anxious solicitude for the 
 great hosts of Xerxes in their distant campaign; enter 
 Atossa, who shares her own forebodings of disaster with 
 the chorus, till both are overwhelmed by the announce- 
 ment of an in-rushing messenger that the whole Persian 
 host has perished; choral lamentations at the messenger's 
 brief announcements; Atossa hears the detailed story of 
 the messenger (description of Salamis) ; choral hymn of 
 lament; Atossa invokes with offerings the spirit of Darius, 
 the chorus joining with an invocation hymn ; the ghost 
 of Darius appears with rebukes for Persian pride and 
 prophecies of further disaster (Platsea) ; choral lament ; 
 enter Xerxes, a fugitive, who with the chorus respon- 
 sively bewails his doom, and is at last escorted into the 
 palace, where Atossa had gone after the vision of Darius. 
 With this simple scheme, all the swelling exultations over 
 Marathon, Salamis, and Plataea are given voice, and in the 
 long description of the battle of Salamis, where Jischylus 
 was an eyewitness, Aristides is given his due meed of 
 praise. 
 
 The play is, of course, full of wars and fightings, as is 
 even to greater degree the same poet's " Seven against 
 Thebes," which, as Aristophanes testifies, made every 
 hearer long to go out to battle. ^Eschylus is a warrior 
 poet, Miltonic in style, Cromwellian in military spirit. 
 His first dramatic victory falls in 485, halfway between 
 Marathon and Salamis, at both of which he fought. His 
 life, from 525 to 456 15. c., covers the militant upward 
 career of Athens, and has no lessons of defeat and hu-
 
 xiv THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 miliation, except as he saw political principles \vhich he 
 disliked coming into control, and the dramatic tastes of 
 the city where he had been easily supreme inclining 
 toward the new ideals of a younger rival in the field. 
 
 A dramatic defeat by Sophocles may have disap- 
 pointed .Eschylus, but need not have embittered him, 
 in spite of the romantic story given by Plutarch in his 
 "Cimon." It was the national fame of ./Eschylus that 
 took him to the brilliant courts of Sicily, from which 
 he returned to Athens to vanquish Sophocles with his 
 incomparable Orestes plays, whither he returned again, 
 and where, as fate would have it, he died. 
 
 The "Prometheus Bound ''was perhaps brought oul 
 in Athens shortly after the poet's return from Sicily, 
 while the impressions of an eruption of Mount ^Etna 
 were still fresh in men's minds (page 18). Only two 
 actors were at this time assigned by the state, and the 
 play conforms to this restriction in a manner that makes 
 one forget the restriction entirely. The first actor took 
 the parts of Hephrestus and Prometheus, the silent Titan 
 being represented by a huge effigy during the first part 
 of the prologue, and the second actor the parts of Kratos 
 (Strength), Oceanus, lo, and Hermes, the choral songs. 
 giving this apparently overburdened adtor time for rest 
 and change of costumes. The chorus of twelve Ocean 
 nymphs makes a most spectacular entry in their winged 
 car, as does their Father Oceanus on his winged quadru- 
 ped. The scene is laid among desolate cliffs of Scythia, 
 and after the narrative and prophecy of Prometheus 
 have carried the imagination of the audience through 
 the manifold fascinations of unknown geographies, the 
 plav closes with a convulsion of nature. Its theme is 
 sublime the conflict between a noble but short-sighted 
 beneficence, and a beneficence that is omniscient and in 
 MIC with destiny. The disastrous conflict alone is 
 in this play, the reconciliation bv atonement 
 in the play that followed, the " Prometheus Loosed," of
 
 THE GREEK DRAMA XV 
 
 which only significant fragments arc preserved, and the 
 glorious reward of suffering after penitence in the final 
 play of the trilogy, the " Prometheus Fire-bearer." Of 
 this play hardly more than the name has reached us, but 
 we imagine it to have been a great cultus-drama, like the 
 extant " Eumenides." Still a fourth play followed imme- 
 diately in the original representation, a satyr-play, prob- 
 ably some grotesque mythical farce. In such groups of 
 four were the dramas of yEschylus presented, organic 
 tetralogies, four dramatic chapters ^of a single myth. 
 
 Sophocles also presented his tragedies in groups of 
 four, but freed himself from the restriction of a single 
 myth for all. Each play was independent of the other 
 three. The tetralogy was inorganic. Hence each play 
 of Sophocles is larger and more complete in its unity 
 than any single play of Jischylus. His resources, too, 
 were increased by the state. He had three actors at 
 his disposition, at least in all his plays that have come 
 down to us. This made it possible for him to enrich his 
 characterizations, enliven his dialogues, and quicken his 
 action. It is thus we get such delicate character-foils as 
 Ismene to Antigone, Chrysothemis to Electra, with ini- 
 tial stages of a secondary plot. The state also enlarged 
 the chorus for Sophocles to fifteen, a decided gain in 
 musical and spectacular resources. All these resources 
 yEschylus also enjoyed in his later contests with his 
 rivals, but he was unable to emancipate himself from 
 the influences of the old restrictions. 
 
 Sophocles is the poet-laureate of the Athenian empire, 
 of the golden Periclean age. He celebrated Salamis as a 
 youth of sixteen and died two years before the fall of 
 Athens. We get distinct glimpses of his pre-eminence 
 in physical vigour and beauty, in wealth and culture, in 
 state finance, diplomacy, and legislation ; while the rec- 
 ord of his dramatic victories is long almost unbroken. 
 At his death a contemporary comic poet -and the comic 
 poets spared not Pericles passed this encomium on him :
 
 xvi THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 " Blessed Sophocles ! He lived out a long life, a prosper- 
 ous, fortunate, and gifted man ; he wrote many beautiful 
 tragedies, he died a beautiful death, and he never had a 
 sorrow." From a career so rich and tranquil we may 
 well expect to get a rich and tranquil, well-poised art, 
 and we are not disappointed. His themes may not be so 
 grand, nor his diction so grandiose, as those of ^Eschylus; 
 but he brings the great heroic strifes and figures down 
 from a superhuman to a beautifully idealized human level. 
 " The impression of unity conveyed by one of his plays is 
 prodigious. Probably no other dramatist in any age has 
 been able to move a tragedy forward with such unswerv- 
 ing ethical relentlessness." 
 
 As in the still greater tragedy of " CEdipus the King " 
 its author is not to be held accountable for the savage 
 and bloody features of the myth, so in the " Antigone." 
 It is a myth crowded with ghastly features. " Its hor- 
 rors reach their height in the special subject of the pres- 
 ent play, the indignities offered to a dead body." But 
 back of all gruesome detail, the sure mark of popular 
 legend, lies the constant human element, the struggle 
 between the higher and the lower impulses of the indi- 
 vidual human soul. For Antigone the question is : Shall 
 I allow the lower impulses of retributive vengeance, even 
 when sanctioned by the formal authority of the state, to 
 triumph over the higher impulses of brotherly love, im- 
 planted in the soul by Heaven ? She answers in the nobler 
 wav, and pays her life for the privilege. 
 
 From the playwright's point of view the play differs 
 from the " Prometheus " ,not only in its deeper psychol- 
 ogy, its im:n use in action and vivacious dialogue, its 
 greater subordination of the epic and lyric elements, but 
 also in its greatest oratorical feature, the forensic scene 
 the high debate on the issue at stake between father and 
 son, king and lover. This marks the advent of an ele- 
 ment of public debate in public life, which was unknown 
 in the career ol A : .<i hvlus. In just so far as the poet
 
 THE GREEK DRAMA xvii 
 
 allows his work to mirror the peculiar and transitory fea- 
 tures of the life of his day he ceases to be the perfect 
 artist for all times, though he has " brought the afflictive 
 and fatalistic elements of the story into such exquisite 
 balance with the heroic and intentional as most fully to 
 hold the reader's interest, admiration, and awe." 
 
 The plays of Euripides are much more a reflex of the 
 spiritual, social, and political upheavals and perplexities 
 of his generation, a generation later than that of Sopho- 
 cles, although much of their lives coincided. Sophocles 
 represents the poise and full glory of Athenian power 
 and culture; Euripides their disintegration and confusion. 
 Himself a restless, introspective, unhappy, but fearlessly 
 inquiring spirit, his plays reflect the unrest and the fore- 
 bodings of a changing order of things. For this reason 
 he comes nearer to the modern heart than either of his 
 great predecessors "Euripides the Human, with his 
 droppings of warm tears." He has infused into the old 
 mythical framework of his dramas the hot, human pas- 
 sions of himself and his fellow-men, with no shielding 
 cloak of idealism. An ancient verdict clearly declares 
 that the heroes and heroines of Sophocles are men and 
 women as they should be ; those of Euripides, men and 
 women as they are. 
 
 His " Medea " conforms in story and in construction 
 to tradition, but the jealous wife in this " Medea," to 
 which she sacrifices mother love, and the mother love 
 that struggles with jealousy, are no more Athenian than 
 English, no more Asiatic than Athenian. Mother love 
 succumbs in " Medea," but wife love triumphs over 
 mother love and death in the " Alcestis," " that strangest, 
 saddest, sweetest song of his." Self-sacrifice submits to 
 death to save selfishness (Admetus); selfishness is con- 
 verted by this death, and then self sacrifice is restored to 
 life by the great self-sacrificer (Heracles), and bestowed 
 once more upon converted selfishness. As Euripides in- 
 fused into the skeleton of the old legend all the warmth
 
 xviii THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 and pathos of the lives of loving women and selfish men 
 about him, so Browning infuses into the drama of Eurip- 
 ides the richer warmth and deeper pathos of modern 
 lives. His paraphrase of the " Alcestis," in " Balaustion's 
 Adventure," is shining testimony to the increasing dig- 
 nity and depth of human life. 
 
 All these great plays are constructed on this general 
 scheme: I. Prologue; II. Chorus Entry; III. Episode 
 (dialogue); IV. Choral Song; V. Episode; VI. Choral 
 Song; VII. Episode; VIII. Choral Song; IX. Exodus. 
 There may be slight variations in the number of the di- 
 visions, the lyric element may be increased by duetts be- 
 tween actor and chorus, or by solos from the actors, but 
 the general scheme remains the same, the very nomen- 
 clature testifying to the original predominance of the 
 chorus. 
 
 In this original choral element there was much mim- 
 icry and mummery. There were also excesses in the 
 original rustic worship of Dionysus, which found repre- 
 sentation in the satyr-play or farce that once closed the 
 tetralogy. As the satyr-play disappears from the tragic 
 tetralogy, we find comedy coming into prominence, and 
 at last, long after its elder sister, receiving state support. 
 It had remained a country festival of the vintage long 
 after tragedy had been made a city rite. It slowly con- 
 quered its way up to state recognition as it took on more 
 and more artistic form. And it was the form of the 
 reigning tragedy, naturally, which imposed itself on the 
 somewhat chaotic materials for artistic comedy that were 
 latent in every vintage festival all over Hellas, though a 
 more distinct impulse toward artistic form seems to have 
 come from Sicily. So much Aristotle knew, but not who 
 gave comedy its distinct artistic being. Before men were 
 aware of her claim to distinct and beautiful personality, 
 Thalia stood full grown by the side of grave Melpomene. 
 
 About 460 B. c. comedy had jts first chorus assigned it 
 by the state, and the years 460-430 knew the work of the
 
 THE GREEK DRAMA xix 
 
 comic artists who made Aristophanes possible. He him- 
 self gives us their names and artistic traits and poetic 
 careers in the marvellous " parabasis " of the " Knights." 
 The parabasis is the dramatic feature that most distin- 
 guishes comedy from tragedy. The rest of a comedy of 
 Aristophanes and we must judge of old Athenian com- 
 edy almost solely by him can easily be brought under 
 the prevalent form of tragedy. The choral parts are 
 more freely distributed, and are, of course, in lighter vein, 
 often in the lightest vein of personal satire or jolly con- 
 ceit ; but the ruling form, after all, is : Prologue, chorus, 
 episode, chorus, alternating episodes and choruses, exo- 
 dus. The material of the dialogue is an indiscriminate 
 blending of caricature, personal satire, broad farce, and 
 genuine character-comedy, though the last element is 
 scarce. Athens was a great city, but a city-state, and 
 a city where everybody knew everybody else. Com- 
 edy dramatized that city's morals, politics, arts, and let- 
 ters. Comedies were political and social pamphlets, al- 
 ways in opposition to the new because it was new, and 
 always giving full contrasts between old and new ; 
 whence the value of these comedies for the study of the 
 life of their day. 
 
 But the parabasis is so distinct a feature of the old 
 Athenian comedy that it needs to be fully described and 
 understood. In its performance all dramatic illusion is 
 boldly abandoned or deftly played with, and yet in its 
 formal structure the original germs from which the whole 
 organism of the comedy grew are plainly to be seen. 
 The parabasis of the "Clouds" lacks one of the seven 
 technical divisions that go to make up the full structure 
 as elsewhere seen, but otherwise it is an admirable speci- 
 men of its kind. After the actors have been carefully 
 taken from the scene by the natural progress of the 
 action, the coryphaeus or leader of the chorus of twenty- 
 four female shapes, fantastically draped to represent 
 clouds, chants an accompaniment to their departure,
 
 XX THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 wishing them success in their undertaking (p. 312, 1. 15- 
 18). This division is called the Kommation. Then, the 
 chorus wheeling about and advancing to face the audi- 
 ence, whence the name parabasis, the coryphaeus chants 
 what may be called the Poet's Manifesto (p. 312, 1. 2o-p. 
 313, 1. 32). The poet himself was the coryphaeus. He 
 complains bitterly of the audience because when the 
 " Clouds " was presented first they did not award it the 
 first prize. He now presents it in an improved shape, 
 and counts on its complete success. This division is 
 technically named the Parabasis (proper), and usually 
 ends in a series of short verses to be recited all in one 
 breath, the Pnigos, or choker-passage, omitted here for 
 metrical reasons. The thought never is specialized in 
 it. It is merely a bit of metrical and elocutional farce. 
 Then the chorus unite in singing a lyric invocation to 
 sundry gods Zeus, Poseidon, and, very appropriately 
 for clouds, ^Ether and Helios (air and sun). This is 
 technically the Ode, a relic of the original choral song, 
 from which both tragedy and comedy sprang (p. 313, 1. 
 33-37). Then follows, chanted or recited by the cory- 
 phasus, the Epirrhcnia, or Address, a manifesto of the 
 chorus as such i. e., as clouds, directed at the audience. 
 The Athenians make bad return for the kindly attentions 
 of the clouds to them, since they have elected the rascally 
 Cleon to military office (p. 314, 1. 3-24). Then the Re- 
 sponsive Ode (p. 314, 1. 25-32) is sung by the united cho- 
 rus, invoking Apollo, Artemis, Athena, and Dionysus to 
 come to the great dramatic function, once a purely re- 
 ligious service. Last comes the Responsive Address, the 
 AntcpirrJieina, a second manifesto of the Clouds as such 
 (p. 314, 1. 33-p. 315, 1. 17). The Clouds bring an aggrieved 
 message to the Athenians from the Moon, who met them 
 as they were getting ready to go to Athens. She says 
 the Athenian calendar is all topsy-turvy. 
 
 After this singular mixture of personal appeal, reli- 
 gious song, political and social protest and satire, the
 
 THE GREEK DRAMA xxi 
 
 actors reappear and the burlesque resumes its sway. It 
 is surely a high tribute to the artistic sense of the Athe- 
 nian public that the rude, comic elements of cultus hymn 
 and travelling gibe and satire should have to assume 
 such elaborate structural dress as this in order to win 
 public support and favour. It is perhaps also a tribute 
 to the keen discernment of the same public that it refused 
 to confound Socrates with the common run of formal 
 rhetoricians or Sophists, as Aristophanes wilfully or ig- 
 norantly did in his coarse caricature of the great teacher ; 
 at least the comedy in which he did so, by its failure, 
 broke the poet's long line of brilliant successes, and 
 apparently almost broke' the poet's heart. 
 
 As the choral hymns of tragedy by their relative 
 prominence are a sure index of the age of the play, so is 
 the parabasis in comedy. A complete parabasis in the 
 first part of the play, and a short parabasis in the second 
 part, mark the earlier work of the poet ; a single para- 
 basis, even incomplete, his later manner ; and the absence 
 of any parabasis at all his latest. And his latest manner, 
 represented by the " Plutus," is an entirely new manner. 
 The Athens of 388 B. c. is no longer an imperial centre, 
 but, politically, a provincial city. Character-types take 
 the place of flesh-and-blood politicians ; social evils the 
 place of great national policies. It is wealth now, not 
 imperial sway, which needs fresh allotment under the 
 comic lash. The comedy of character-types, Middle 
 Comedy as it is called for convenience, soon and readily 
 passes into New Comedy, the comedy of manners. But 
 in the Greek original time has spared us complete speci- 
 mens only of Old and Middle Comedy. 
 
 For all the plays here presented no stage was needed. 
 That, with permanent stone theatre and stage structures, 
 came in far later times. Actors issue from a typical struc- 
 ture or scene, temporarily brought to adjoin the circular 
 orchestra, into the orchestra itself, where they mingle 
 freely with the chorus, and where the coryphaeus takes
 
 xxii THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 part in the action. The chorus and actors, as circum- 
 stances require, enter and leave the orchestra by pas- 
 sages on either side the central scene. The orchestra is 
 almost surrounded by the rising tiers of rude and tem- 
 porary seats for the spectators. 
 
 BERNADOTTE PERRIN.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 THE PROMETHEUS BOUND OF ^SCHYLUS PAGE 
 
 Translated by Elizabeth Barrett Browning I 
 
 THE AGAMEMNON OF VSCHYLUS 
 
 Translated by Robert Potter 45 
 
 THE ANTIGONE OF SOPHOCLES 
 
 Translated by Richard Claverhouse Jebb 101 
 
 THE CEoipus TYRANNUS OF SOPHOCLES 
 
 Translated by Thomas Francklin ...... 141 
 
 THE ALCESTIS OF EURIPIDES 
 
 Translated by Arthur S. Way 195 
 
 THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES 
 
 Translated by Arthur S. Way 239 
 
 THE CLOUDS OF ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Translated by William James Hickie ...... 291 
 
 THE PLUTUS OF ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Translated by William James Hickie 345 
 
 xxiii
 
 THE PROMETHEUS BOUND 
 OF AESCHYLUS 
 
 TRANST.ATKD BY 
 
 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
 
 s, the first in time and strength of the three great Greek 
 
 tragedians, was born in Eleusis, Attica, in 525 B.C. His father, Kupho- 
 rion, is supposed to have been a priest in the old temple of Demeter, 
 which was destroyed by tiie Persians. 4,^4 B.C.; and the son was undoubt- 
 edly an initiate into t:ie famous mysteries of his native town, and was 
 accused before the council of the Areopagus (4(0 n. C.), according to some 
 authorities, for having revealed them in one of his plays. The latter 
 part of his life was lived in the stirring days of the Persian wars, and 
 when thirty-live years old he lought with distinction and uas wounded 
 at the battle of Marathon. He was also at Salamis and Platea, ami 
 appears himself to have been prouder of his record as a soldier than of 
 his reputation as a writer. Fable relates that when /Kschylus wa^ a boy 
 he fell asleep while watching a vineyard, and Dionysus came to him in 
 a dream and told him to write tragedy. He awoke and wrote his first 
 verses. 1 L- was twenty-live years old when he made his first appearance 
 as a writer of tragedy at Athens; but it was not until he was forty-one 
 that he stood tirst in the competition. He wrote more than seventy plays, 
 u of which have come down I:) us in their entirety: "The Suppli- 
 cants," "The Persians," "The Seven against Thebes," "Prometheus 
 Hound," and the trilogy known as the "Oresteia," including "Agamem- 
 non, I'he C'hoephori," and "The Eumenides." He was fifty-three 
 
 when he produced the trilogy of which "The Persians" was the first 
 member and is the only surviving one. It is probably also the earliest 
 of his works that we possess. In 468 \t. C. he was defeated in the compe- 
 tition by his young rival, Sophocles. Soon afterward, cither from chagrin 
 at this defeat or under banishment by the Areopagus, he went to tin- 
 court of Hiero of Syracuse, where he again pioduced "The Persians." 
 In 407 it. C, Hiero died, and nine years later .T.schylus returned to Athens 
 to put the "Oie^teia" on the stage. An unpopular chorus in " The 
 Eumenides' 1 again forced him to leave Athens, to die, two years after- 
 ward (45 j > B.C.), at (iela. in Sicily. An oracle had foretold that .-Kschylus 
 should die by a blow from heaven, and the prediction was in a manner 
 fulfilled by the w.iy in which he met his death. An eagle, wishing to 
 crack the shell of a tortoise, carried it high in the air, and mistaking the 
 bald head of the poet for a stone, dropped it upon that. .Kschylus wrote 
 three tragedies on the subject of Prometheus ; the first pictured him 
 carrying the gift of fire to men ; the second chained to Caucasus ; the 
 third delivered from his chains. The second is the only one that has 
 survived. Many translations of " Prometheus Hound" have been made. 
 Mrs. Hrowning's is the best, being a great English poem as well as a 
 translation of a great drcck tragedy.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 OCEANUS. 
 
 HERMES. 
 
 HEPHAESTUS. 
 
 STRENGTH and FORCE. 
 
 lo, daughter of Inachus. 
 
 CHORUS of Ocean Nymphs. 
 
 SCENE AT THE ROCKS
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 
 
 STRENGTH and FORCE, HEPHAESTUS and PROMETHEUS 
 
 STRENGTH. We reach the utmost limit of the 
 earth 
 The Scythian track, the desert without man. 
 And now, Hephaestus, thou must needs fulfil 
 The mandate of our Father, and with links 
 Indissoluble of adamantine chains 
 Fasten against this beetling precipice 
 This guilty god. Because he filched away 
 Thine own bright flower, the glory of plastic fire, 
 And gifted mortals with it su'ch a sin 
 It doth behoove he expiate to the gods, 
 Learning to accept the empery of Zeus, 
 And leave off his old trick of loving man. 
 
 Hepliastus. O Strength and Force, for you our Zeus's 
 
 will 
 
 Presents a deed for doing, no more ! But I, 
 I lack your daring, up this storm-rent chasm 
 To fix with violent hands a kindred god, 
 Howbeit necessity compels me so 
 That I must dare it, and our Zeus commands 
 With a most inevitable word. Ho, thou ! 
 High-thoughted son of Themis, who is sage ! 
 Thee loath, I loath must rivet fast in chains 
 Against this rocky height unclomb by man, 
 
 5
 
 6 ^SCHYLUS 
 
 Where never human voice nor face shall find 
 Out thee who lov'st them ; and thy beauty's flower, 
 Scorched in the sun's clear heat, shall fade away. 
 Night shall come up with garniture of stars 
 To comfort thee with shadow, and the sun 
 Disperse with retrickt beams the morning-frosts ; 
 But through all changes, sense of present woe 
 Shall vex thee sore, because with none of them 
 There comes a hand to free. Such fruit is plucked 
 From love of man ! And in that thou, a god, 
 Didst brave the wrath of gods, and give away 
 Undue respect to mortals, for that crime 
 Thou art adjudged to guard this joyless rock, 
 Erect, unslumbering, bending not the knee, 
 And many a cry and unavailing moan 
 To utter on the air. For Zeus is stern, 
 And new-made kings are cruel. 
 
 Strength. Be it so. 
 
 Why loiter in vain pity ? Why not hate 
 A god the gods hate ? one, too, who betrayed 
 Thy glory unto men ? 
 
 Hephcestus. An awful thing 
 
 Is kinship joined to friendship. 
 
 Strength. Grant it be : 
 
 Is disobedience to the Father's word 
 A possible thing? Dost quail not more for that? 
 
 Hcplicestus. Thou, at least, art a stern one, ever bold. 
 
 Strength. Why, if I wept, it were no remedy ; 
 And do not thou spend labour on the air 
 To bootless uses. 
 
 Hephcestus. Cursed handicraft ! 
 
 I curse and hate thee, O my craft ! 
 
 Strength. Why hate 
 
 Thy craft most plainly innocent of all 
 These pending ills ? 
 
 //fp/Ki'stus. I would some other hand 
 Were IKT<- to \vork it !
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 7 
 
 Strength. All work hath its pain, 
 Except to rule the gods. There is none free 
 Except King Zeus. 
 
 HcpJicestus. I know it very well ; 
 
 I argue not against it. 
 
 Strength. Why not, then, 
 
 Make haste and lock the fetters over him, 
 Lest Zeus behold thee lagging? 
 
 Hephcestus. Here be chains. 
 
 Zeus may behold these. 
 
 Strength. Seize him ; strike amain ; 
 Strike with the hammer on each side his hands ; 
 Rivet him to the rock. 
 
 Hephcestus. The work is done, 
 
 And thoroughly done. 
 
 Strength. Still faster grapple him ; 
 
 Wedge him in deeper ; leave no inch to stir. 
 He's terrible for finding a way out 
 From the irremediable. 
 
 Hephcestus. Here's an arm, at least, 
 Grappled past freeing. 
 
 Strength. Now, then, buckle me 
 
 The other securely. Let this wise one learn 
 He's duller than our Zeus. 
 
 Hephcestus. Oh, none but he 
 
 Accuse me justly. 
 
 Strength. Now, straight through the chest, 
 
 Take him and bite him with the clinching tooth 
 Of the adamantine wedge, and rivet him. 
 
 Hephcestus. Alas! Prometheus, what thou sufferest here 
 I sorrow over. 
 
 Strength. Dost thou flinch again, 
 And breathe groans for the enemies of Zeus ? 
 Beware lest thine own pity find thee out. 
 
 Hephcestus. Thou dost behold a spectacle that turns 
 The sight o' the eyes to pity. 
 
 Strength. I behold
 
 g AESCHYLUS 
 
 A sinner suffer his sin's penalty. 
 But lash the thongs about his sides. 
 
 Hcphastus. So much 
 
 I must do. Urge no further than I must. 
 
 Strength. Ay, but I will urge ! and, with shout on 
 
 shout, 
 
 Will hound thee at this quarry. Get thee down, 
 And ring amain the iron round his legs. 
 
 Hep/uestus. That work was not long doing. 
 Strength. Heavily now 
 
 Let fall the strokes upon the perforant gyves ; 
 For he who rates the work has a heavy hand. 
 Hcphcestus. Thy speech is savage as thy shape. 
 Strength. Be thou 
 
 Gentle and tender, but revile not me 
 For the firm will and the untruckling hate. 
 
 HcphcBstus. Let us go. He is netted round with chains. 
 Strength. Here, now, taunt on ! and, having spoiled the 
 
 gods 
 
 Of honours, crown withal thy mortal men 
 Who live a whole day out. Why, how could they 
 Draw off from thee one single of thy griefs? 
 Methinks the Daemons gave thee a wrong name, 
 Prometheus, which means Providence, because 
 Thou dost thyself need providence to see 
 Thy roll and ruin from the top of doom. 
 
 Prometheus, (alone] O holy ^Ether, and swift-winged 
 
 Winds, 
 
 And River-wells, and Laughter innumerous 
 Of yon sea-waves ! Earth, mother of us all, 
 And all-viewing cyclic Sun, I cry on you 
 Behold me a god, what I endure from gods ! 
 Behold, with throe on throe, 
 How, wasted by this woe, 
 I wrestle down the myriad years of time! 
 
 Behold how, fast around me, 
 The new King of the happy ones sublime
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 9 
 
 Has flung the chain he forged, has shamed and 
 
 bound me ! 
 
 Woe, woe ! to-day's woe and the coming morrow's 
 I cover with one groan. And where is found me 
 
 A limit to these sorrows ? 
 
 And yet what word do I say ? I have foreknown 
 Clearly all things that should be ; nothing done 
 Comes sudden to my soul ; and I must bear 
 What is ordained with patience, being aware 
 Necessity doth front the universe 
 With an invincible gesture. Yet this curse 
 Which strikes me now I find it hard to brave 
 In silence or in speech. Because I gave 
 Honour to mortals, I have yoked my soul 
 To this compelling fate. Because I stole 
 The secret fount of fire, whose bubbles went 
 Over the ferule's brim, and manward sent 
 Art's mighty means and, perfect rudiment, 
 That sin I expiate in this agony, 
 Hung here in fetters, 'neath the blanching sky. 
 
 Ah, ah me ! what a sound ! 
 
 What a fragrance sweeps up from a pinion unseen 
 Of a god, or a mortal, or Nature between, 
 Sweeping up to this rock where the Earth has her 
 
 bound, 
 
 To have sight of my pangs, or some guerdon obtain. 
 Lo, a god in the anguish, a god in the chain ! 
 The god Zeus hateth sore, 
 And his gods hate again, 
 As many as tread on his glorified floor, 
 Because I love mortals too much evermore. 
 Alas me ! what a murmur and motion I hear, 
 As of birds flying near ! 
 And the air undersings 
 The light stroke of their wings, 
 And all life that approaches I wait for in fear.
 
 I0 ^SCHYLUS 
 
 CHORUS of Sea-nymphs, ist strophe 
 
 Fear nothing ! our troop 
 
 Floats lovingly up 
 
 With a quick-oaring stroke 
 
 Of wings steered to the rock, 
 Having softened the soul of our father below. 
 For the gales of swift-bearing have sent me a sound, 
 And the clank of the iron, the malleted blow, 
 
 Smote down the profound 
 
 Of my caverns of old, 
 
 And struck the red light in a blush from my brow, 
 Till I sprang up unsandalled, in haste to behold, 
 And rushed forth on my chariot of wings manifold. 
 
 Prometheus. Alas me ! alas me ! 
 Ye offspring of Tethys, who bore at her breast 
 Many children, and eke of Oceanus, he, 
 Coiling still around earth with perpetual unrest ! 
 
 Behold me and see 
 How transfixed with the fang 
 Of a fetter I hang 
 
 On the high-jutting rocks of this fissure, and keep 
 An uncoveted watch o'er the world and the deep. 
 
 CHORUS, ist antistroplie 
 
 I behold thee, Prometheus ; yet now, yet now, 
 A terrible cloud whose rain is tears 
 Sweeps over mine eyes that witness how 
 
 Thy body appears 
 
 1 lung awaste on the rocks by infrangible chains; 
 For new is the hand, new the rudder, that steers 
 The ship of Olympus through surge and wind, 
 And of old things passed, no track is behind. 
 
 Prometheus. Under earth, under Hades, 
 Where the home of the shade is, 
 All into the deep, deep Tartarus,
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND II 
 
 I would he had hurled me adown. 
 I would he had plunged me, fastened thus 
 In the knotted chain, with the savage clang, 
 All into the dark, where there should be none, 
 Neither god nor another, to laugh and see. 
 
 But now the winds sing through and shake 
 
 The hurtling chains wherein I hang, 
 
 And I in my naked sorrows make 
 Much mirth for my enemy. 
 
 CHORUS, 2d strophe 
 Nay ! who of the gods hath a heart so stern 
 
 As to use thy woe for a mock and mirth ? 
 Who would not turn more mild to learn 
 
 Thy sorrows ? who of the heaven and earth 
 Save Zeus ? But he 
 Right wrathfully 
 Bears on his sceptral soul unbent, 
 And rules thereby the heavenly seed, 
 Nor will he pause till he content 
 His thirsty heart in a finished deed, 
 Or till Another shall appear, 
 To win by fraud, to seize by fear, 
 The hard-to-be-captured government. 
 
 Prometheus. Yet even of me he shall have need, 
 That monarch of the blessed seed 
 Of me, of me who now am cursed 
 
 By his fetters dire 
 To wring my secret out withal, 
 
 And learn by whom his sceptre shall 
 Be filched from him, as was at first 
 
 His heavenly fire. 
 But he never shall enchant me 
 
 With his honey-lipped persuasion ; 
 Never, never, shall he daunt me, 
 With the oath and threat of passion,
 
 I2 J-.SCHYLUS 
 
 Into speaking- as they want me, 
 Till he loose this savage chain, 
 
 And accept the expiation 
 Of my sorrow in his pain. 
 
 CHORUS, zd antistrophe 
 Thou art, sooth, a brave god, 
 
 And, for all thou hast borne 
 From the stroke of the rod, 
 
 Naught relaxest from scorn. 
 But thou speakest unto me 
 
 Too free and unworn ; 
 And a terror strikes through me 
 
 And festers my soul, 
 
 And I fear, in the roll 
 Of the storm, for thy fate 
 
 In the ship far from shore ; 
 Since the son of Saturnus is hard in his hate, 
 
 And unmoved in his heart evermore. 
 
 Prometheus. I know that Zeus is stern ; 
 I know he metes his justice by his will ; 
 And yet his soul shall learn 
 More softness when once broken by this ill ; 
 And, curbing his unconquerable vaunt, 
 He shall rush on in fear to meet with me 
 Who rush to meet with him in agony, 
 To issues of harmonious covenant. 
 
 Chorus. Remove the veil from all things, and relate 
 The story to us of what crime accused, 
 Zeus smites thee with dishonourable pangs, 
 Speak, if to teach us do not grieve thyself. 
 
 PromctJicus. The utterance of these things is torture 
 
 to me, 
 
 But so, too, is their silence : each way lies 
 Woe strong as fate. 
 
 When gods began with wrath,
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 13 
 
 And war rose up between their starry brows, 
 
 Some choosing to cast Chronos from his throne 
 
 That Zeus might king it there, and some in haste 
 
 With opposite oaths, that they would have no Zeus 
 
 To rule the gods forever I, who brought 
 
 The counsel I thought meetest, could not move 
 
 The Titans, children of the Heaven and Earth, 
 
 What time, disdaining in their rugged souls 
 
 My subtle machinations, they assumed 
 
 It was an easy thing for force to take 
 
 The mastery of fate. My mother, then, 
 
 Who is called not only Themis, but Earth too 
 
 (Her single beauty joys in many names), 
 
 Did teach me with reiterant prophecy 
 
 What future should be, and how conquering gods 
 
 Should not prevail by strength and violence, 
 
 But by guile only. When I told them so, 
 
 They would not deign to contemplate the truth 
 
 On all sides round ; whereat I deemed it best 
 
 To lead my willing mother upwardly, 
 
 And set my Themis face to face with Zeus 
 
 As willing to receive her. Tartarus, 
 
 With its abysmal cloister of the Dark, 
 
 Because I gave that counsel, covers up 
 
 The antique Chronos and his siding hosts, 
 
 And, by that counsel helped, the king of gods 
 
 Hath recompensed me with these bitter pangs ; 
 
 For kingship wears a cancer at the heart 
 
 Distrust in friendship. Do ye also ask 
 
 What crime it is for which he tortures me ? 
 
 That shall be clear before you. When at first 
 
 He filled his father's throne, he instantly 
 
 Made various gifts of glory to the gods, 
 
 And dealt the empire out. Alone of men, 
 
 Of miserable men, he took no count; 
 
 But yearned to sweep their track off from the world, 
 
 And plant a newer race there. Not a god
 
 I4 AESCHYLUS 
 
 Resisted such desire, except myself. 
 
 I dared it ! I drew mortals back to light, 
 
 From meditated ruin deep as hell ! 
 
 For which wrong I am bent down in these pangs 
 
 Dreadful to suffer, mournful to behold, 
 
 And I who pitied man am thought myself 
 
 Unworthy of pity ; while I render out 
 
 Deep rhythms of anguish 'neath the harping hand 
 
 That strikes me thus a sight to shame your Zeus ! 
 
 Chorus. Hard as thy chains, and cold as all these rocks, 
 Is he, Prometheus, who withholds his heart 
 From joining in thy woe. I yearned before 
 To fly this sight ; and, now I gaze on it, 
 I sicken inward. 
 
 Prometheus. To my friends, indeed, 
 I must be a sad sight. 
 
 Chorus. And didst thou sin 
 
 No more than so? 
 
 Prometheus. I did restrain besides 
 
 My mortals from premeditating death. 
 
 Chorus. How didst thou medicine the plague-fear of 
 death ? 
 
 Prometheus. I set blind Hopes to inhabit in their house. 
 
 Chorus. By that gift thou didst help thy mortals well. 
 
 Prometheus. I gave them also fire. 
 
 Chorus. And have they now, 
 
 Those creatures of a day, the red-eyed fire? 
 
 Prometheus. They have, and shall learn by it many arts. 
 
 Chorus. And truly for such sins Zeus tortures thee, 
 And will remit no anguish? Is there set 
 No limit before thee to thine agony? 
 
 Prometheus. No other only what seems good to him. 
 
 Chorus. And how will it seem good ? what hope re- 
 mains? 
 Seest thou not that thou hast sinned ? But that thou hast 
 
 sinned 
 It glads me not to speak of, and grieves thee ;
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 15 
 
 Then let it pass from both, and seek thyself 
 Some outlet from distress. 
 
 Prometheus. It is in truth 
 
 An easy thing to stand aloof from pain, 
 And lavish exhortation and advice 
 On one vexed sorely by it. I have known 
 All in prevision. By my choice, my choice, 
 I freely sinned I will confess my sin 
 And, helping mortals, found mine own despair. 
 I did not think indeed that I should pine 
 Beneath such pangs against such skyey rocks, 
 Doomed to this drear hill, and no neighbouring 
 Of any life. But mourn not ye for griefs 
 I bear to-day : hear rather, dropping down 
 To the plain, how other woes creep on to me, 
 And learn the consummation of my doom. 
 Beseech you, nymphs, beseech you, grieve for me 
 Who now am grieving ; for Grief walks the earth, 
 And sits down at the foot of each by turns. 
 
 Chorus. We hear the deep clash of thy words, 
 Prometheus, and obey. 
 And I spring with a rapid foot away 
 
 From the rushing car and the holy air, 
 The track of birds ; 
 
 And I drop to the rugged ground, and there 
 
 Await the tale of thy despair. 
 
 OCEANUS enters 
 
 Oceanus. I reach the bourne of my weary road 
 Where I may see and answer thee, 
 Prometheus, in thine agony. 
 On the back of the quick-winged bird I glode, 
 And I bridled him in 
 With the will of a god. 
 Behold, thy sorrow aches in me 
 
 Constrained by the force of kin. 
 Nay, though that tie were all undone,
 
 !6 AESCHYLUS 
 
 For the life of none beneath the sun 
 
 Would I seek a larger benison 
 Than I seek for thine. 
 
 And thou shalt learn my words are truth, 
 
 That no fair parlance of the mouth 
 Grows falsely out of mine. 
 
 Now give me a deed to prove my faith ; 
 
 For no faster friend is named in breath 
 
 Than I, Oceanus, am thine. 
 Prometheus. Ha! what has brought thee? Hast thou 
 
 also come 
 
 To look upon my woe ? How hast thou dared 
 To leave the depths called after thee ? the caves 
 Self-hewn, and self-roofed with spontaneous rock, 
 To visit Earth, the mother of my chain ? 
 Hast come, indeed, to view my doom, and mourn 
 That I should sorrow thus ? Gaze on, and see 
 How I, the fast friend of your Zeus how I 
 The erector of the empire in his hand, 
 Am bent beneath that hand in this despair. 
 
 Oceanus. Prometheus, I behold ; and I would fain 
 Exhort thee, though already subtle enough, 
 To a better wisdom. Titan, know thyself, 
 And take new softness to thy manners, since 
 A new king rules the gods. If words like these, 
 Harsh words and trenchant, thou wilt fling abroad, 
 Zeus haply, though he sit so far and high, 
 May hear thee do it, and so this wrath of his, 
 Which now affects thee fiercely, shall appear 
 A mere child's sport at vengeance. Wretched god, 
 Rather dismiss the passion which thou hast, 
 And seek a change from grief. Perhaps I seem 
 To address thee with old saws and outworn sense ; 
 Yet such a curse, Prometheus, surely waits 
 On lips that speak too proudly : thou, meantime, 
 Art none the meeker, nor dost yield a jot 
 To evil circumstance, preparing still
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 17 
 
 To swell the account of grief with other griefs 
 
 Than what are borne. Beseech thee, use me, then, 
 
 For counsel : do not spurn against the pricks, 
 
 Seeing that who reigns, reigns by cruelty 
 
 Instead of right. And now I go from hence, 
 
 And will endeavour if a power of mine 
 
 Can break thy fetters through. For thee be calm, 
 
 And smooth thy words from passion. Knowest thou not, 
 
 Of perfect knowledge, thou who knowest too much, 
 
 That, where the tongue wags, ruin never lags ? 
 
 Prometheus. I gratulate thee who hast shared and dared 
 All things with me, except their penalty. 
 Enough so ! leave these thoughts. It can not be 
 That thou shouldst move him. He may not be moved ; 
 And thou, beware of sorrow on this road. 
 
 Oceanus. Ay ! ever wiser for another's use 
 Than thine. The event, and not the prophecy, 
 Attests it to me. Yet, where now I rush, 
 Thy wisdom hath no power to drag me back. 
 Because I glory, glory, to go hence, 
 And win for thee deliverance from thy pangs, 
 As a free gift from Zeus. 
 
 Prometheus. Why there, again, 
 
 I give thee gratulation and applause. 
 Thou lackest no good-will. But, as for deeds, 
 Do naught ! 'twere all done vainly, helping naught, 
 Whatever thou wouldst do. Rather take rest, 
 And keep thyself from evil. If I grieve, 
 I do not therefore wish to multiply 
 The griefs of others. Verily, not so ! 
 For still my brother's doom doth vex my soul 
 My brother Atlas, standing in the west, 
 Shouldering the column of the heaven and earth, 
 A difficult burden ! I have also seen, 
 And pitied as I saw, the earth-born one, 
 The inhabitant of old Cilician caves, 
 The great war-monster of the hundred heads
 
 !8 ,-KSCHYLUS 
 
 (All taken and bowed beneath the violent Hand), 
 
 Typhon the fierce, who did resist the gods, 
 
 And, hissing slaughter from his dreadful jaws, 
 
 Flash out ferocious glory from his eyes 
 
 As if to storm the throne of Zeus. Whereat, 
 
 The sleepless arrow of Zeus flew straight at him, 
 
 The headlong bolt of thunder-breathing flame, 
 
 And 'struck him downward from his eminence 
 
 Of exultation ; through the very soul 
 
 It struck him, and his strength was withered up 
 
 To ashes, thunder-blasted. Now he lies, 
 
 A helpless trunk, supinely, at full-length 
 
 Beside the strait of ocean, spurred into 
 
 By roots of ^Etna, high upon whose tops 
 
 Hephaestus sits, and strikes the flashing ore. 
 
 From thence the rivers of fire shall burst away 
 
 Hereafter, and devour with savage jaws 
 
 The equal plains of fruitful Sicily, 
 
 Such passion he shall boil back in hot darts 
 
 Of an insatiate fury and sough of flame, 
 
 Fallen Typhon, howsoever struck and charred 
 
 By Zeus's bolted thunder. But for thee, 
 
 Thou art not so unlearned as to need 
 
 My teaching ; let thy knowledge save thyself. 
 
 I quaff the full cup of a present doom, 
 
 And wait till Zeus hath quenched his will in wrath. 
 
 Oceanus. Prometheus, art thou ignorant of this, 
 That words do medicine anger? 
 
 Prometheus. If the word 
 
 With seasonable softness touch the soul, 
 And, where the parts are ulcerous, sear them not 
 By any rudeness. 
 
 Oceanus. With a noble aim 
 
 To dare as nobly is there harm in that? 
 Dost thou discern it? Teach me. 
 
 Prometheus. I discern 
 
 Vain aspiration, unresultive work.
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 19 
 
 Oceanus. Then suffer me to bear the brunt of this, 
 Since it is profitable that one who is wise 
 Should seem not wise at all. 
 
 Prometheus. And such would seem 
 
 My very crime. 
 
 Oceanus. In truth thine argument 
 
 Sends me back home. 
 
 Prometheus. Lest any lament for me 
 
 Should cast thee down to hate. 
 
 Oceanus. The hate of him 
 
 Who sits a new king on the absolute throne ? 
 
 Prometheus. Beware of him, lest thine heart grieve by 
 him. 
 
 Oceanus. Thy doom, Prometheus, be my teacher ! 
 
 Prometheus. Go ! 
 
 Depart ! Beware ! And keep the mind thou hast. 
 
 Oceanus. Thy words drive after, as I rush before. 
 Lo, my four-footed bird sweeps smooth and wide 
 The flats of air with balanced pinions, glad 
 To bend his knee at home in the ocean-stall. 
 
 [OCEANUS departs. 
 
 CHORUS, ist strophe 
 I moan thy fate, I moan for thee, 
 
 Prometheus ! From my eyes too tender 
 Drop after drop incessantly 
 
 The tears of my heart's pity render 
 My cheeks wet from their fountains free ; 
 Because that Zeus, the stern and cold, 
 
 Whose law is taken from his breast, 
 
 Uplifts his sceptre manifest 
 Over the gods of old. 
 
 ist antistrophe 
 All the land is moaning 
 With a murmured plaint to-day ; 
 All the mortal nations 
 Having habitations
 
 20 /ESCHYLUS 
 
 In the holy Asia 
 
 Are a dirge entoning 
 For thine honour and thy brothers', 
 Once-majestic beyond others 
 
 In the old belief 
 Now are groaning in the groaning 
 
 Of thy deep-voiced grief. 
 
 sd strophe 
 Mourn the maids inhabitant 
 
 Of the Colchian land, 
 Who with white, calm bosoms stand 
 
 In the battle's roar : 
 Mourn the Scythian tribes that haunt 
 
 The verge of earth, Maeotis' shore. 
 
 2d antistrophe 
 
 Yea ! Arabia's battle crown, 
 And dwellers in the beetling town 
 
 Mount Caucasus sublimely nears 
 An iron squadron, thundering down 
 
 With the sharp-prowed spears. 
 
 But one other before have I seen to remain 
 
 By invincible pain, 
 Bound and vanquished one Titan ! 'twas Atlas, who 
 
 bears 
 In a curse from the gods, by that strength of his own 
 
 Which he evermore wears, 
 The weight of the heaven on his shoulder alone, 
 
 While he sighs up the stars ; 
 And the tides of the ocean wail, bursting .their bars; 
 
 Murmurs still the profound. 
 And black Hades roars up through the chasm of the 
 
 ground, 
 
 And the fountains of pure-running rivers moan low 
 In a pathos of woe.
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 21 
 
 Prometheus. Beseech you, think not I am silent thus 
 Through pride or scorn. I only gnaw my heart 
 With meditation, seeing myself so wronged. 
 For see their honours to these new-made gods, 
 What other gave but I, and dealt them out 
 With distribution? Ay ! but here I am dumb; 
 For here I should repeat your knowledge to you, 
 If I spake aught. List rather to the deeds 
 I did for mortals ; how, being fools before, 
 I made them wise and true in aim of soul. 
 And let me tell you not as taunting men, 
 But teaching you the intention of my gifts 
 How, first beholding, they beheld in vain, 
 And, hearing, heard not, but, like shapes in dreams, 
 Mixed all things wildly down the tedious time, 
 Nor knew to build a house against the sun 
 With wicketed sides, nor any woodcraft knew, 
 But lived, like silly ants, beneath the ground 
 In hollow caves unsunned. There came to them 
 No steadfast sign of winter, nor of spring 
 Flower-perfumed, nor of summer full of fruit, 
 But blindly and lawlessly they did all things, 
 Until I taught them how the stars do rise 
 And set in mystery, and devised for them 
 Number, the inducer of philosophies, 
 The synthesis of letters, and, beside, 
 The artificer of all things, memory, 
 That sweet muse-mother. I was first to yoke 
 The servile beasts in couples, carrying 
 An heirdom of man's burdens on their backs. 
 I joined to chariots, steeds, that love the bit 
 They champ at the chief pomp of golden ease. 
 And none but I originated ships, 
 The seaman's chariots, wanderings on the brine 
 With linen wings. And I oh, miserable! 
 Who did devise for mortals all these arts, 
 Have no device left now to save myself
 
 22 AESCHYLUS 
 
 From the woe I suffer. 
 
 Chorus. Most unseemly woe 
 
 Thou sufferest, and dost stagger from the sense 
 Bewildered ! Like a bad leech falling sick, 
 Thou art faint at soul, and canst not find the drugs 
 Required to save thyself. 
 
 Prometheus. Hearken the rest, 
 
 And marvel further, what more arts and means 
 1 did invent this, greatest : if a man 
 Fell sick, there was no cure, nor esculent 
 Nor chrism nor liquid, but for lack of drugs 
 Men pined and wasted, till I showed them all 
 Those mixtures of emollient remedies 
 Whereby they might be rescued from disease. 
 I fixed the various rules of mantic art, 
 Discerned the vision from the common dream, 
 Instructed them in vocal auguries 
 Hard to interpret, and defined as plain 
 The wayside omens flights of crook-claWed birds 
 Showed which are by their nature fortunate, 
 And which not so, and what the food of each, 
 And what the hates, affections, social needs 
 Of all to one another taught what sign 
 Of visceral lightness, colored to a shade, 
 May charm the genial gods, and what fair spots 
 Commend the lung and liver. Burning so 
 The limbs incased in fat, and the long chine, 
 I led my mortals on to an art abstruse, 
 And cleared their eyes to the image in the fire, 
 Erst filmed in dark. Enough said now of this. 
 For the other helps of man hid underground, 
 The iron and the brass, silver and gold, 
 Can any dare affirm he found them out 
 Before me ? None, I know ! unless he choose 
 To lie in his vaunt. In one word learn the whole 
 That all arts came to mortals from Prometheus. 
 
 Chorus. Give mortals now no inexpedient help,
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 23 
 
 Neglecting thine own sorrow ? I have hope still 
 To see thee, breaking from the fetter here, 
 Stand up as strong as Zeus. 
 
 Prometheus. This ends not thus, 
 
 The oracular fate ordains. I must be bowed 
 By infinite woes and pangs to escape this chain. 
 Necessity is stronger than mine art. 
 
 Chorus. Who holds the helm of that Necessity? 
 
 Prometheus. The threefold Fates and the unforgetting 
 Furies. 
 
 Chorus. Is Zeus less absolute than these are ? 
 
 Prometheus. Yea, 
 
 And therefore can not fly what is ordained. 
 
 Chorus. What is ordained for Zeus, except to be 
 A king forever? 
 
 Prometheus. 'Tis too early yet 
 For thee to learn it : ask no more. 
 
 Chorus. Perhaps 
 
 Thy secret may be something holy ? 
 
 Prometheus. Turn 
 
 To another matter : this, it is not time 
 To speak abroad, but utterly to veil 
 In silence. For by that same secret kept, 
 I 'scape this chain's dishonour, and its woe. 
 
 CHORUS, ist strophe 
 
 Never, oh, never, 
 
 May Zeus, the all-giver, 
 
 Wrestle down from his throne 
 
 In that might of his own 
 
 To antagonize mine ! 
 
 Nor let me delay 
 
 As I bend on my way 
 
 Toward the gods of the shrine 
 
 Where the altar is full 
 
 Of the blood of the bull, 
 
 Near the tossing: brine '
 
 24 ^SCHYLUS 
 
 Of Ocean my father. 
 
 May no sin be sped in the word that is said, 
 But my vow be rather 
 
 Consummated, 
 Nor evermore fail, nor evermore pine. 
 
 1st antistrophe 
 'Tis sweet to have 
 
 Life lengthened out 
 With hopes proved brave 
 
 By the very doubt, 
 Till the spirit infold 
 
 Those manifest joys which were foretold. 
 But I thrill to behold 
 
 Thee, victim doomed, 
 By the countless cares 
 And the drear despairs 
 Forever consumed 
 And all because thou, who art fearless now 
 
 Of Zeus above, 
 
 Didst overflow for mankind below 
 With a free-souled, reverent love. 
 
 Ah, friend, behold and see ! 
 What's all the beauty of humanity ? 
 
 Can it be fair ? 
 What's all the strength ? Is it strong? 
 
 And what hope can they bear, 
 These dying livers, living one day long? 
 Ah, seest thou not, my friend, 
 
 How feeble and slow, . 
 
 And like a dream, doth go 
 This poor blind manhood, drifted from its end? 
 
 And how no mortal wranglings can confuse 
 
 The harmony of Zeus? 
 
 I 
 Prometheus, I have learned these things 
 
 From the sorrow in thy face.
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 25 
 
 Another song did fold its wings 
 Upon my lips in other days, 
 When round the bath and round the bed 
 The hymeneal chant instead 
 
 I sang for thee, and smiled, 
 And thou didst lead, with gifts and vows, 
 
 Hesione, my father's child, 
 To be thy wedded spouse. 
 
 lo enters 
 
 lo. What land is this ? what people is here ? 
 And who is he that writhes, I see, 
 
 In the rock-hung chain ? 
 
 Now what is the crime that hath brought thee to pain ? 
 Now what is the land make answer free 
 Which I wander through in my wrong and fear? 
 
 Ah, ah, ah me ! 
 
 The gad-fly stingeth to agony ! 
 O Earth, keep off that phantasm pale 
 Of earth-born Argus ! ah ! I quail 
 
 When my soul descries 
 That herdsman with the myriad eyes 
 Which seem, as he comes, one crafty eye. 
 Graves hide him not, though he should die ; 
 But he doggeth me in my misery 
 From the roots of death, on high, on high ; 
 And along the sands of the siding deep, 
 All famine-worn, he follows me, 
 And his waxen reed doth undersound 
 
 The waters round, 
 And giveth a measure that giveth sleep. 
 
 Woe, woe, woe ! 
 
 Where shall my weary course be done? 
 What wouldst thou with me, Saturn's son? 
 And in what have I sinned, that I should go 
 Thus yoked to grief by thine hand forever?
 
 26 J'SCIIYLUS 
 
 Ah, ah ! dost vex me so 
 That I madden and shiver 
 Stung through with dread ? 
 
 Flash the fire down to burn me ! 
 Heave the earth up to cover me ! 
 Plunge me in the deep, with the salt waves over me, 
 That the sea-beasts may be fed ! 
 
 king, do not spurn me 
 
 In my prayer! 
 For this wandering everlonger, evermore, 
 
 Hath overworn me, 
 And I know not on what shore 
 
 1 may rest from my despair. 
 
 Chorus. Hearest thou what the ox-horned maiden saith ? 
 
 Prometheus. How could I choose but hearken what she 
 
 saith, 
 
 The frenzied maiden ? Inachus's child ? 
 Who love-warms Zeus's heart, and now is lashed 
 By Here's hate along the unending ways ? 
 
 lo. Who taught thee to articulate that name 
 My father's? Speak to his child 
 By grief and shame defiled ! 
 Who 'art thou, victim, thou who dost acclaim 
 Mine anguish in true words on the wide air, 
 And callest, too, by name the curse that came 
 
 From Here unaware, 
 To waste and pierce me with its maddening goad ? 
 
 Ah, ah, I leap 
 With the pang of the hungry ; I bound on the road ; 
 
 I am driven by my doom; 
 
 I am overcome 
 
 By the wrath of an enemy strong and deep ! 
 Are any of those who have tasted pain, 
 
 Alas ! as wretched as T ? 
 Now tell me plain, doth aught remain
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 27 
 
 For my soul to endure beneath the sky ? 
 Is there any help to be holpen by ? 
 If knowledge be in thee, let it be said ! 
 
 Cry aloud cry 
 To the wandering, woful maid. 
 
 Prometheus. Whatever thou wouldst learn, I will de- 
 clare ; 
 
 No riddle upon my lips, but such straight words 
 As friends should use to each other when they talk. 
 Thou seest Prometheus, who gave mortals fire. 
 
 lo. O common help of all men, known of all, 
 O miserable Prometheus, for what cause 
 Dost thou endure thus? 
 
 Prometheus. I have done with wail 
 
 For my own griefs but lately. 
 
 lo. Wilt thou not 
 
 Vouchsafe the boon to me ? 
 
 Prometheus. Say what thou wilt, 
 
 For I vouchsafe all. 
 
 lo. Speak, then, and reveal 
 
 Who shut thee in this chasm. 
 
 Prometheus. The will of Zeus, 
 
 The hand of his Hephaestus. 
 
 lo. And what crime 
 
 Dost expiate so? 
 
 Prometheus. Enough for thee I have told 
 In so much only. 
 
 lo. Nay, but show besides 
 
 The limit of my wandering, and the time 
 Which yet is lacking to fulfil my grief. 
 
 Prometheus. Why, not to know were better than to 
 
 know 
 For such as thou. 
 
 lo. Beseech thee, blind me not 
 
 To that which I must suffer. 
 
 Prometheus. If I do,
 
 28 /KSCIIVLUS 
 
 The reason is not that I grudge a boon. 
 
 lo. What reason, then, prevents thy speaking out ? 
 
 Prometheus. No grudging, but a fear to break thine 
 heart. 
 
 lo. Less care for me, I pray thee. Certainty 
 I count for advantage. 
 
 Prometheus. Thou wilt have it so, 
 
 And therefore I must speak. Now hear 
 
 Chorus. Not yet. 
 
 Give half the guerdon my way. Let us learn 
 First what the curse is that befell the maid, 
 Her own voice telling her own wasting woes : 
 The sequence of that anguish shall await 
 The teaching of thy lips. 
 
 Prometheus. It doth behoove 
 
 That thou, maid lo, shouldst vouchsafe to these 
 The grace they pray the more, because they are called 
 Thy father's sisters ; since to open out 
 And mourn out grief, where it is possible 
 To draw a tear from the audience, is a work 
 That pays its own price well. 
 
 lo. I can not choose 
 
 But trust you, nymphs, and tell you all ye ask, 
 In clear words, though I sob amid my speech 
 In speaking of the storm-curse sent from Zeus, 
 And of my beauty, from which height it took 
 Its swoop on me, poor wretch ! left thus deformed 
 And monstrous to your eyes. For evermore 
 Around my virgin-chamber, wandering went 
 The nightly visions which entreated me 
 With syllabled smooth sweetness : " Blessed maid, 
 Why lengthen out thy maiden hours, when fate 
 Permits the noblest spousal in the world? 
 When Zeus burns with the arrow of thy love, 
 And fain would touch thy beauty? Maiden, thou 
 Despise not /ens! depart to Lenu'-'s mead 
 That's green around thv father's Hocks and stalls,
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 29 
 
 Until the passion of the heavenly Eye 
 
 Be quenched in sight." Such dreams did all night long 
 
 Constrain me me, unhappy ! till I dared 
 
 To tell my father how they trod the dark 
 
 With visionary steps. Whereat he sent 
 
 His frequent heralds to the Pythian fane, 
 
 And also to Dodona, and inquired 
 
 How best, by act or speech, to please the gods. 
 
 The same returning brought back oracles 
 
 Of doubtful sense, indefinite response, 
 
 Dark to interpret ; but at last there came 
 
 To Inachus an answer that was clear, 
 
 Thrown straight as any bolt, and spoken out 
 
 This : " He should drive me from my home and land, 
 
 And bid me wander to the extreme verge 
 
 Of all the earth ; or, if he willed it not, 
 
 Should have a thunder with a fiery eye 
 
 Leap straight from Zeus to burn up all his race 
 
 To the last root of it." By which Loxian word 
 
 Subdued, he drove me forth, and shut me out, 
 
 He loath, me loath ; but Zeus's violent bit 
 
 Compelled him to the deed : when instantly 
 
 My body and soul were changed and distraught, 
 
 And, horned as ye see, and spurred along 
 
 By the fanged insect, with a maniac leap 
 
 I rushed on to Cenchrea's limpid stream, 
 
 And Lern6's fountain-water. There, the earth-born, 
 
 The herdsman Argus, most immitigable 
 
 Of wrath, did find me out, and track me out 
 
 With countless eyes set staring at my steps ; 
 
 And though an unexpected sudden doom 
 
 Drew him from life, I, curse-tormented still, 
 
 Am driven from land to land before the scourge 
 
 The gods hold o'er me. So thou hast heard the past ; 
 
 And, if a bitter future thou canst tell, 
 
 Speak on. I charge thee, do not flatter me, 
 
 Through pity, with .false words; for in my mind 
 
 Deceiving works more shame than torturing doth.
 
 30 iiM.rs 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Ah, silence here ! 
 
 Nevermore, nevermore, 
 
 Would I languish for 
 
 The stranger's word 
 
 To thrill in mine ear 
 Nevermore for the wrong and the woe and the fear 
 
 So hard to behold, 
 
 So cruel to bear, 
 Piercing my soul with a double-edged sword 
 
 Of a sliding cold. 
 
 Ah, Fate ! ah, me ! 
 
 I shudder to see 
 This wandering maid in her agony. 
 
 PrometJicus. Grief is too quick in thee, and fear too full ; 
 Be patient till thou hast learned the rest. 
 
 Chorus. Speak : teach, 
 
 To those who are sad already, it seems sweet, 
 By clear foreknowledge to make perfect, pain. 
 
 Prometheus. The boon ye asked me first was lightly 
 
 won ; 
 
 For first ye asked the story of this maid's grief, 
 As her own lips might tell it. Now remains 
 To list what other sorrows she so young 
 Must bear from Here". Inachus's child, 
 O thou ! drop down thy soul my weighty words, 
 And measure out the landmarks which are set 
 To end thy wandering. Toward the orient sun 
 First turn thy face from mine, and journey on 
 Along the desert-flats till thou shalt come 
 Where Scythia's shepherd-peoples dwell aloft, 
 Perched in wheeled wagons under woven roofs, 
 And twang the rapid arrow past the bo\v. 
 Approach them not, but, siding in thy course 
 The rugged shore-rocks resonant to the sea, 
 
 :irt that counfrv. On the left hand dwell 
 The iron-workers, called the Chalybes,
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 3! 
 
 Of whom beware, for certes they are uncouth, 
 
 And nowise bland to strangers. Reaching so 
 
 The stream Hybristes (well the scorner called), 
 
 Attempt no passage it is hard to pass 
 
 Or ere thou come to Caucasus itself, 
 
 That highest of mountains, where the river leaps 
 
 The precipice in his strength. Thou must toil up 
 
 Those mountain-tops that neighbour with the stars, 
 
 And tread the south way, and draw near, at last, 
 
 The Amazonian host that hateth man, 
 
 Inhabitants of Themiscyra, close 
 
 Upon Thermodon, where the sea's rough jaw 
 
 Doth gnash at Salmydessa, and provide 
 
 A cruel host to seamen, and to ships 
 
 A stepdame. They, with unreluctant hand, 
 
 Shall lead thee on and on till thou arrive 
 
 Just where the ocean-gates show narrowest 
 
 On the Cimmerian isthmus. Leaving which, 
 
 Behooves thee swim with fortitude of soul 
 
 The strait Maeotis. Ay, and evermore 
 
 That traverse shall be famous on men's lips, 
 
 That strait called Bosporus, the horned one's road, 
 
 So named because of thee, who so wilt pass 
 
 From Europe's plain to Asia's continent. 
 
 How think ye, nymphs ? the king of gods appears 
 
 Impartial in ferocious deeds? Behold ! 
 
 The god desirous of this mortal's love 
 
 Hath cursed her with these wanderings. Ah, fair child, 
 
 Thou hast met a bitter groom for bridal troth ! 
 
 For all thou yet hast heard can only prove 
 
 The incompleted prelude of thy doom. 
 
 lo. Ah, ah ! 
 
 Prometheus. Is't thy turn now to shriek and moan ? 
 How wilt thou, when thou hast hearkened what remains? 
 
 Chorus. Besides the grief thou hast told, can aught 
 remain ? 
 
 Prometheus. A sea of foredoomed evil worked to storm.
 
 32 .KSCHYLUS 
 
 lo. What boots my life, then ? why not cast myself 
 Down headlong from this miserable rock, 
 That, dashed against the flats, I may redeem 
 My soul from sorrow ? Better once to die 
 Than day by day to suffer. 
 
 Prometheus. Verily, 
 
 It would be hard for thee to bear my woe 
 For whom it is appointed not to die. 
 Death frees from woe ; but I before me see 
 In all my far prevision not a bound 
 To all I suffer, ere that Zeus shall fall 
 From being a king. 
 
 lo. And can it ever be 
 
 That Zeus shall fall from empire ? 
 
 Prometheus. Thou, methinks, 
 
 Wouldst take some joy to see it. 
 
 lo. Could I choose? 
 
 I who endure such pangs now, by that god ! 
 
 Prometheus. Learn from me, therefore, that the event 
 shall be. 
 
 lo. By whom shall his imperial sceptred hand 
 Be emptied so ? 
 
 Prometheus. Himself shall spoil himself, 
 Through his idiotic counsels. 
 
 lo. How? declare, 
 
 Unless the word bring evil. 
 
 Prometheus. He shall wed, 
 
 And in the marriage-bond be joined to grief. 
 
 lo. A heavenly bride, or human ? Speak it out, 
 If it be utterable. 
 
 Prometheus. Why should I say which ? 
 
 It ought not to be uttered, verily. 
 
 lo. Then 
 
 It is his wife shall tear him from his throne ? 
 
 Prometheus. It is his wife shall bear a son to him 
 More mighty than the father. 
 
 lo. From this doom
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 33 
 
 Hath he no refuge ? 
 
 Prometheus. None : or ere that I 
 
 Loosed from these fetters 
 
 Jo. Yea : but who shall loose 
 
 While Zeus is adverse? 
 
 Prometheus. One who is born of thee : 
 
 It is ordained so. 
 
 Io. What is this thou sayest? 
 
 A son of mine shall liberate thee from woe ? 
 
 Prometheus. After ten generations count three more, 
 And find him in the third. 
 
 Io. The oracle 
 
 Remains obscure. 
 
 Prometheus. And search it not to learn 
 Thine own griefs from it. 
 
 Io. Point me not to a good 
 
 To leave me straight bereaved. 
 
 Prometheus. I am prepared 
 
 To grant thee one of two things. 
 
 Io. But which two ? 
 
 Set them before me ; grant me power to choose. 
 
 Prometheus. I grant it ; choose now ! Shall I name 
 
 aloud 
 
 What griefs remain to wound thee, or what hand 
 Shall save me out of mine ? 
 
 Chorus. Vouchsafe, O god, 
 
 The one grace of the twain to her who prays, 
 The next to me, and turn back neither prayer 
 Dishonoured by denial. To herself 
 Recount the future wandering of her feet ; 
 Then point me to the looser of thy chain, 
 Because I yearn to know him. 
 
 Prometheus. Since ye will, 
 
 Of absolute will, this knowledge, I will set 
 No contrary against it, nor keep back 
 A word of all ye ask for. Io, first 
 To thee I must relate thy wandering course 
 
 3
 
 34 
 
 AESCHYLUS 
 
 Far winding. As I tell it, write it down 
 
 In thy soul's book of memories. When thou hast passed 
 
 The refluent bound that parts two continents, 
 
 Track on the footsteps of the orient sun 
 
 In his own fire across the roar of seas 
 
 Fly till thou hast reached the Gorgonaean flats 
 
 Beside Cisthene. There the Phorcides, 
 
 Three ancient maidens, live, with shape of swan, 
 
 One tooth between them, and one common eye, 
 
 On whom the sun doth never look at all 
 
 With all his rays, nor evermore the moon 
 
 When she looks through the night. Anear to whom 
 
 Are the Gorgon sisters three, enclothed with wings, 
 
 With twisted snakes for ringlets, man-abhorred : 
 
 There is no mortal gazes in their face, 
 
 And gazing can breathe on. I speak of such 
 
 To guard thee from their horror. Ay, and list 
 
 Another tale of a dreadful sight : beware 
 
 The Griffins, those unbarking dogs of Zeus, 
 
 Those sharp-mouthed dogs ! and the Arimaspian host 
 
 Of one-eyed horsemen, habiting beside 
 
 The river of Pluto that runs bright with gold: 
 
 Approach them not, beseech thee. Presently 
 
 Thou'lt come to a distant land, a dusky tribe 
 
 Of dwellers at the fountain of the Sun, 
 
 Whence flows the River ^thiops ; wind along 
 
 Its banks, and turn off at the cataracts, 
 
 Just as the Nile pours from the Bybline hills 
 
 His holy and sweet wave : his course shall guide 
 
 Thine own to that triangular Nile-ground 
 
 Where, lo, is ordained for thee and thine 
 
 A lengthened exile. Have I said in this 
 
 Aught darkly or incompletely ? now repeat 
 
 The question, make the knowledge fuller! Lo, 
 
 I have more leisure than I covet here. 
 
 Chorus. If thou canst tell us aught that's left untold, 
 Or loosely told, of her most dreary flight,
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 35 
 
 Declare it straight ; but, if thou hast uttered all, 
 Grant us that latter grace for which we prayed, 
 Remembering how we prayed it. 
 
 Prometheus. She has heard 
 
 The uttermost of her wandering. There it ends. 
 But, that she may be certain not to have heard 
 All vainly, I will speak what she endured 
 Ere coming hither, and invoke the past 
 To prove my prescience true. And so to leave 
 A multitude of words, and pass at once 
 To the subject of thy course when thou hadst gone 
 To those Molossian plains which sweep around 
 Dodona shouldering Heaven, whereby the fane 
 Of Zeus Thesprotian keepeth oracle, 
 And, wonder past belief, where oaks do wave 
 Articulate adjurations (ay, the same 
 Saluted thee in no perplexed phrase, 
 But clear with glory, noble wife of Zeus 
 That shouldst be, there some sweetness took thy sense !) 
 Thou didst rush farther onward, stung along 
 The ocean-shore, toward Rhea's mighty bay, 
 And, tossed back from it, wast tossed to it again 
 In stormy evolution : and know well, 
 In coming time that hollow of the sea 
 Shall bear the name Ionian, and present 
 A monument of lo's passage through, 
 Unto all mortals. Be these words the signs 
 Of my soul's power to look beyond the veil 
 Of visible things. The rest to you and her 
 I will declare in common audience, nymphs, 
 Returning thither where my speech brake off. 
 There is a town, Canobus, built upon 
 The earth's fair margin, at the mouth of the Nile, 
 And on the mound washed up by it : lo, there 
 Shall Zeus give back to thee thy perfect mind, 
 And only by the pressure and the touch 
 Of a hand not terrible ; and thou to Zeus
 
 36 yi'SCHVLUS 
 
 Shalt bear a dusky son who shall be called 
 
 Thence Epaphus, Touched. That son shall pluck the fruit 
 
 Of all that land wide-watered by the flow 
 
 Of Nile ; but after him, when counting out 
 
 As far as the fifth full generation, then 
 
 Full fifty maidens, a fair woman-race, 
 
 Shall back to Argos turn reluctantly, 
 
 To fly the proffered nuptials of their kin, 
 
 Their father's brothers. These being passion-struck, 
 
 Like falcons bearing hard on flying doves, 
 
 Shall follow hunting at a quarry of love 
 
 They should not hunt ; till envious Heaven maintain 
 
 A curse betwixt that beauty and their desire, 
 
 And Greece receive them, to be overcome 
 
 In murtherous woman-war by fierce red hands 
 
 Kept savage by the night. For every wife 
 
 Shall slay a husband, dyeing deep in blood 
 
 The sword of a double edge (I wish indeed 
 
 As fair a marriage-joy to all my foes !) 
 
 One bride alone shall fail to smite to death 
 
 The head upon her pillow, touched with love 
 
 Made impotent of purpose, and impelled 
 
 To choose the lesser evil shame on her cheeks, 
 
 Than blood-guilt on her hands ; which bride shall bear 
 
 A royal race in Argos. Tedious speech 
 
 Were needed to relate particulars 
 
 Of these things; 'tis enough that from her seed 
 
 Shall spring the strong He, famous with the bow, 
 
 Whose arm shall break my fetters off. Behold, 
 
 My mother Themis, that old Titaness, 
 
 Delivered to me such an oracle ; 
 
 But how and when, I should be long to speak, 
 
 And thou, in hearing, wouldst not gain at all. 
 
 lo. Eleleu, eleleu ! 
 
 Ilmv the spasm and the pain, 
 And the lire on (lie brain, 
 
 Strike, buniiii:; me through!
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 37 
 
 How the sting of the curse, all aflame as it flew, 
 
 Pricks me onward again ! 
 
 How my heart in its terror is spurning my breast, 
 And my eyes like the wheels of a chariot roll round ! 
 I am whirled from my course, to the east, to the west, 
 In the whirlwind of frenzy all madly inwound ; 
 And my mouth is unbridled for anguish and hate, 
 And my words beat in vain, in wild storms of unrest, 
 
 On the sea of my desolate fate. 
 
 [Io rushes out. 
 CHORUS strophe 
 
 Oh, wise was he, oh, wise was he, 
 Who first within his spirit knew, 
 And with his tongue declared it true, 
 That love comes best that comes unto 
 
 The equal of degree ! 
 And that the poor and that the low 
 Should seek no love from those above, 
 Whose souls are fluttered with the flow 
 Of airs about their golden height, 
 Or proud because they see arow 
 
 Ancestral crowns of light. 
 
 
 
 Antistrophe 
 Oh, never, never, may ye, Fates, 
 
 Behold me with your awful eyes 
 
 Lift mine too fondly up the skies 
 Where Zeus upon the purple waits ! 
 
 Nor let me step too near, too near, 
 To any suitor bright from heaven ; 
 
 Because I see, because I fear, 
 This loveless maiden vexed and laden 
 By this fell curse of Her6, driven 
 
 On wanderings dread and drear. 
 
 Epode 
 
 Nay, grant an equal troth instead 
 Of nuptial love, to bind me by !
 
 38 AESCHYLUS 
 
 It will not hurt, I shall not dread 
 
 To meet it in reply. 
 But let not love from those above 
 Revert and fix me, as I said, 
 
 With that inevitable Eye ! 
 I have no sword to fight that fight, 
 I have no strength to tread that path, 
 I know not if my nature hath 
 The power to bear, I can not see 
 Whither from Zeus's infinite 
 I have the power to flee. 
 
 Prometheus. Yet Zeus, albeit most absolute of will, 
 Shall turn to meekness such a marriage-rite 
 He holds in preparation, which anon 
 Shall thrust him headlong from his gerent seat 
 Adown the abysmal void ; and so the curse 
 His father Chronos muttered in his fall, 
 As he fell from his ancient throne and cursed, 
 Shall be accomplished wholly. No escape 
 From all that ruin shall the filial Zeus 
 Find granted to him from any of his gods 
 Unless I teach him. I the refuge know, 
 And I, the means. Now, therefore, let him sit 
 And brave the imminent doom, and fix his faith 
 On his supernal noises hurtling on 
 With restless hand the bolt that breathes out fire ; 
 For these things shall not help him, none of them, 
 Nor hinder his perdition when he falls 
 To shame, and lower than patience : such a foe 
 He doth himself prepare against himself, 
 A wonder of unconquerable hate, 
 An organizer of sublimer fire 
 Than glares in lightnings, and of grander sound 
 Than aught the thunder rolls, out-thundering it, 
 With power to shatter in Poseidon's fist 
 The trident-spear, which, while it plagues the sea,
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 39 
 
 Doth shake the shores around it. Ay, and Zeus, 
 Precipitated thus, shall learn at length 
 The difference betwixt rule and servitude. 
 
 Chorus. Thou makest threats for Zeus of thy desires. 
 
 Prometheus. I tell you all these things shall be fulfilled 
 Even so as I desire them. 
 
 Chorus. Must we, then, 
 
 Look out for one shall come to master Zeus? 
 
 Prometheus. These chains weigh lighter than his sor- 
 rows shall. 
 
 Chorus. How art thou not afraid to utter such words ? 
 
 Prometheus. What should I fear, who can not die ? 
 
 Chorus. But he 
 
 Can visit thee with dreader woe than death's. 
 
 Prometheus. Why, let him do it ! I am here, prepared 
 For all things and their pangs. 
 
 Chorus. The wise are they 
 
 Who reverence Adrasteia. 
 
 Prometheus. Reverence thou, 
 
 Adore thou, flatter thou, whomever reigns, 
 Whenever reigning ! But for me, your Zeus 
 Is less than nothing. Let him act and reign 
 His brief hour out according to his will : 
 He will not, therefore, rule the gods too long. 
 But lo ! I see that courier-god of Zeus, 
 That new-made menial of the new-crowned king : 
 He, doubtless, comes to announce to us something new. 
 
 HERMES enters 
 
 Hermes. I speak to thee, the sophist, the talker-down 
 Of scorn by scorn, the sinner against gods, 
 The reverencer of men, the thief of fire 
 I speak to thee and adjure thee : Zeus requires 
 Thy declaration of what marriage-rite 
 Thus moves thy vaunt, and shall hereafter cause 
 His fall from empire. Do not wrap thy speech 
 In riddles, but speak clearly. Never cast
 
 40 .v.scHYi.rs 
 
 Ambiguous paths, Prometheus, for my feet, 
 Since Zeus, thou mayst perceive, is scarcely won 
 To mercy by such means. 
 
 Prometheus. A speech well-mouthed 
 
 In the utterance, and full-minded in the sense, 
 As doth befit a servant of the gods ! 
 New gods, ye newly reign, and think, forsooth, 
 Ye dwell in towers too high for any dart 
 To carry a wound there ! Have I not stood by 
 While two kings fell from thence? and shall 1 not 
 Behold the third, the same who rules you now, 
 Fall, shamed to sudden ruin? Do I seem 
 To tremble and quail before your modern gods? 
 Far be it from me ! For thyself depart ; 
 Retread thy steps in haste. To all thou hast asked 
 I answer nothing. 
 
 Hermes. Such a wind of pride 
 
 Impelled thee of yore full sail upon these rocks. 
 
 Prometheus. I would not barter learn thou soothly 
 
 that ! 
 
 My suffering for thy service. I maintain 
 It is a nobler thing to serve these rocks 
 Than live a faithful slave to Father Zeus. 
 Thus upon scorners I retort their scorn. 
 
 Hermes. It seems that thou dost glory in thy despair. 
 
 Prometheus. I glory ? Would my foes did glory so, 
 And I stood by to see them ! naming whom, 
 Thou art not unremembered. 
 
 Hermes. Dost thou charge 
 
 Me also with the blame of thy mischance? 
 
 Prometheus. I tell thee I loathe the universal gods, 
 Who, for the good I gave them, rendered back 
 The ill of their injustice. 
 
 Hermes. Thou art mad, 
 
 Thou art raving, Titan, at the fever-height. 
 
 Prometheus. If it be madness to abhor my foes, 
 May I be mad !
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 41 
 
 Hermes. If thou wert prosperous, 
 Thou wouldst be unendurable. 
 
 Prometheus. Alas ! 
 
 Hermes. Zeus knows not that word. 
 
 Prometheus. But maturing Time 
 
 Teaches all things. 
 
 Hermes. Howbeit, thou hast not learned 
 
 The wisdom yet, thou needest. 
 
 Prometheus. If I had, 
 
 I should not talk thus with a slave like thee. 
 
 Hermes. No answer thou vouchsafest, I believe, 
 To the great Sire's requirement. 
 
 Prometheus. Verily 
 
 I owe him grateful service, and should pay it. 
 
 Hermes. Why, thou dost mock me, Titan, as I stood 
 A child before thy face. 
 
 Prometheus. No child, forsooth, 
 
 But yet more foolish than a foolish child, 
 If thou expect that I should answer aught 
 Thy Zeus can ask. No torture from his hand, 
 Nor any machination in the world, 
 Shall force mine utterance ere he loose, himself, 
 These cankerous fetters from me. For the rest, 
 Let him now hurl his blanching lightnings down, 
 And with his white-winged snows, and mutterings deep 
 Of subterranean thunders, mix all things, 
 Confound them in disorder. None of this 
 Shall bend my sturdy will, and make me speak 
 The name of his dethroner who shall come. 
 
 Hermes. Can this avail thee ? Look to it ! 
 
 Prometheus. Long ago 
 
 It was looked forward to, precounselled of. 
 
 Hermes. Vain god, take righteous courage ! Dare for 
 
 once 
 
 To apprehend and front thine agonies 
 With a just prudence. 
 
 Prometheus. Vainly dost thou chafe 
 
 3
 
 42 HYLUS 
 
 
 
 My soul with exhortation, as yonder sea 
 
 Goes beating on the rock. Oh ! think no more 
 
 That I, fear-struck by Zeus to a woman's mind. 
 
 Will supplicate him, loathed as he is, 
 
 With feminine upliftings of my hands, 
 
 To break these chains. Far from me be the thought ! 
 
 Hermes. I have, indeed, methinks, said much in vain, 
 For still thy heart beneath my showers of prayers 
 Lies dry and hard, nay, leaps like a young horse 
 Who bites against the new bit in his teeth, 
 And tugs and struggles against the new-tried rein, 
 Still fiercest in the feeblest thing of all, 
 Which sophism is ; since absolute will disjoined 
 From perfect mind is worse than weak. Behold, 
 Unless my words persuade thee, what a blast 
 And whirlwind of inevitable woe 
 Must sweep persuasion through thee ! For at first 
 The Father will split up this jut of rock 
 With the great thunder and the bolted flame, 
 And hide thy body where a hinge of stone 
 Shall catch it like an arm ; and when thou hast passed 
 A long black time within, thou shalt come out 
 To front the sun while Zeus's winged hound, 
 The strong, carnivorous eagle, shall wheel down 
 To meet thee, self-called to a daily feast, 
 And set his fierce beak in thee, and tear off 
 The long rags of thy flesh, and batten deep 
 Upon thy dusky liver. Do not look 
 For any end, moreover, to this curse, 
 Or ere some god appear to accept thy pangs 
 On his own head vicarious, and descend 
 With unreluctant step the darks of hell 
 And gloomy abysses around Tartarus. 
 Then ponder this this threat is not a growth 
 Ot vain invention ; it is spoken and meant : 
 King Zeus's mouth is impotent to lie, 
 Consummating the utterance by the act.
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 43 
 
 So, look to it, thou ! take heed, and nevermore 
 Forget good counsel to indulge self-will. 
 
 Chorus. Our Hermes suits his reasons to the times, 
 At least I think so, since he bids thee drop 
 Self-will for prudent counsel. Yield to him ! 
 When the wise err, their wisdom makes their shame. 
 Prometheus. Unto me the foreknower, this mandate of 
 
 power 
 
 He cries, to reveal it. 
 What's strange in my fate, if I suffer from hate 
 
 At the hour that I feet it ? 
 Let the locks of the lightning, all bristling and whitening, 
 
 Flash, coiling me round, 
 While the ether goes surging 'neath thunder and 
 
 scourging 
 
 Of wild winds unbound ! 
 
 Let the blast of the firmament whirl from its place 
 The earth rooted below, 
 
 
 
 And the brine of the ocean, in rapid emotion, 
 
 Be driven in the face 
 
 Of the stars up in heaven, as they walk to and fro ! 
 Let him hurl me anon into Tartarus on 
 
 To the blackest degree, 
 
 With Necessity's vortices strangling me down ! 
 But he can not join death to a fate,meant for me ! 
 
 Hermes. Why, the words that he speaks and the 
 
 thoughts that he thinks 
 Are maniacal ! add, 
 If the Fate who hath bound him should loose not the links, 
 
 He were utterly mad. 
 Then depart ye who groan with him, 
 Leaving to moan with him ; 
 
 Go in haste ! lest the roar of the thunder anearing 
 Should blast you to idiocy, living and hearing. 
 
 Chorus. Change thy speech for another, thy thought 
 
 for a new, 
 If to move me and teach me indeed be thy care ;
 
 44 
 
 AESCHYLUS 
 
 For thy words swerve so far from the loyal and true 
 
 That the thunder of Zeus seems more easy to bear. 
 How ! couldst teach me to venture such vileness ? behold ! 
 
 I choose with this victim this anguish foretold ! 
 I recoil from the traitor in haste and disdain, 
 And I know that the curse of the treason is worse 
 
 Than the pang of the chain. 
 Hermes. Then remember, O nymphs, what I tell you 
 
 before, 
 Nor, when pierced by the arrows that At6 will throw 
 
 you, 
 Cast blame on your fate, and declare evermore 
 
 That Zeus thrust you on anguish he did not foreshow 
 
 you. 
 Nay, verily, nay ! for ye perish anon 
 
 For your deed, by your choice. By no blindness of 
 
 doubt, 
 
 No abruptness of doom, but by madness alone, 
 In the great net of At6, whence none cometh out, 
 
 Ye are wound and undone. 
 Prometheus. Ay ! in act now, in word now no more, 
 
 Earth is rocking in space. 
 
 And the thunders crash up with a roar upon roar, 
 And the eddying lightnings flash fire in my face, 
 And the whirlwinds are whirling the dust round and 
 
 round, 
 
 And the blasts of the winds universal leap free, 
 And blow each upon each with a passion of sound, 
 And ether goes mingling in storm with the sea. 
 Such a curse on my head, in a manifest dread, 
 
 From the hand of your Zeus has been hurtled along. 
 Oh, my mother's fair glory ! O ^Ether, enringing 
 All eyes with the sweet common light of thy bringing ! 
 Dost see how I suffer this wrong ?
 
 THE AGAMEMNON OF 
 AESCHYLUS 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 ROBERT POTTER
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 WATCHMAN. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 CHORUS OF ARGIVE SENATORS. 
 SCENE : Argos, before the Palace of Agamemnon
 
 AGAMEMNON 
 
 THE WATCHMAN. Ye fav'ring gods, relieve me 
 from this toil : 
 Fixed, as a dog, on Agamemnon's roof 
 I watch the livelong year, observing hence 
 The host of stars, that in the spangled skies 
 Take their bright stations, and to mortals bring 
 Winter and summer; radiant rulers, when 
 They set, or rising, glitter through the night. 
 Here now I watch, if haply I may see 
 The blazing torch, whose flame brings news from Troy, 
 The signal of its ruin : these high hopes 
 My royal mistress, thinking on her lord, 
 Feeds in her heart. Meanwhile the dews of night 
 Fall on my couch, unvisited by dreams ; 
 For fear, lest sleep should close my eyes, repels 
 The soft intruder. When my spirits prompt me 
 To raise the song, or hum the sullen notes 
 Preventing slumber, then I sigh, and wail 
 The state of this unhappy house, no more 
 Well-ordered as of old. But may my toils 
 Be happily relieved ! Blaze, thou bright flame, 
 Herald of joy, blaze through the gloomy shades 
 And it does blaze. Hail, thou auspicious flame, 
 That streaming through the night denouncest joy, 
 Welcomed with many a festal dance in Argos ! 
 In the queen's ear I'll holloa this, and rouse her 
 
 49
 
 50 HYLUS 
 
 From her soft couch with speed, that she may teach 
 
 The royal dome to echo with the strains 
 
 Of choral warblings greeting this blest fire, 
 
 Bright sign that Troy is taken. Nor shall I 
 
 Forbear the prelude to the dance before her : 
 
 For by this watch, so prosperously concluded, 
 
 I to my masters shall assure good fortune. 
 
 Shall I then see my king returned, once more 
 
 To grace this house ? and shall this hand once more 
 
 Hang on his friendly hand ? I could unfold 
 
 A tale. But, hush ; my tongue is chained : these walls, 
 
 Could they but speak, would make discoveries. 
 
 There are who know this ; and to them this hint 
 
 Were plain : to those that know it not, mysterious. 
 
 Chorus. The tenth slow year rolls on, since great in 
 
 arms 
 
 The noble sons of Atreus, each exalted 
 To majesty and empire, royal brothers, 
 Led hence a thousand ships, the Argive fleet, 
 Big with the fate of Priam and of Troy ; 
 A warlike preparation ; their bold breasts 
 Breathing heroic ardour to high deeds ; 
 Like vultures, which, their unplumed offspring lost, 
 Whirl many a rapid flight, for that their toil , 
 To guard their young was vain : till some high power, 
 For they are dear to Phoebus, dear to Pan, 
 And Jove with pity hears their shrill-voiced grief, 
 And sends, though late, the fury to avenge 
 Their plundered nests on the unpitying spoilers. 
 So now the power of hospitable Jove 
 Arms against Paris, for th' oft-wedded dame, 
 The sons of Atreus, bent to plunge the hosts 
 Of Greece and Troy in all the toils, that sink 
 The body down, the firm knee bowed in dust, 
 And the strong spear, ere conquest crowns their helms, 
 Shivered in battle. These are what they are, 
 And fate directs th' event: nor the bent knee,
 
 AGAMEMNON 
 
 Libation pure, or supplicating tear, 
 
 Can soothe the stern rage of those merciless powers 
 
 In whose cold shrine no hallowed flame ascends. 
 
 But we, our age-enfeebled limbs unfit 
 
 For martial toils, inglorious here remain, 
 
 The staff supporting our weak steps, like children : 
 
 For as the infant years have not attained 
 
 The military vigour, withered age 
 
 Crawls through the streets like helpless infancy, 
 
 And passes as a day-dream. But what tidings, 
 
 What circumstances of fair event hath reached 
 
 Thy royal ears, daughter of Tyndarus, 
 
 Inducing thee to send the victims round ? 
 
 The shrines of all the gods, whose guardian cares 
 
 Watch o'er this state, be they enthroned in heaven, 
 
 Or rule beneath the earth, blaze with thy presents ; 
 
 And from th' imperial dome a lengthened line 
 
 Of torches shoot their lustre to the skies. 
 
 O tell me what is fit for me to know, 
 
 And prudence suffers to be told : speak peace 
 
 To this anxiety, which one while swells 
 
 Presaging ill, and one while from the victims 
 
 Catches a gleam of hope, whose cheering ray 
 
 Breaks through the gloom that darkens o'er my soul. 
 
 Strophe 
 It swells upon my soul : I feel the power 
 
 To hail th' auspicious hour, 
 When, their brave hosts marching in firm array, 
 
 The heroes led the way. 
 The fire of youth glows in each vein, 
 And heaven-born confidence inspires the strain. 
 
 Pleased the omen to record, 
 That to Troy's ill-fated strand 
 
 Led each monarch, mighty lord, 
 Led the bold confederate band, 
 The strong spear quiv'ring in their vengeful hand.
 
 AESCHYLUS 
 
 Full in each royal chieftain's view, 
 A royal eagle whirls his flight ; 
 In plumage one of dusky hue, 
 And one his dark wings edged with white ; 
 Swift to th' imperial mansion take their way, 
 And in their armed talons bear, 
 Seized in its flight, a pregnant hare, 
 And in those splendid seats enjoy their prey. 
 
 Sound high the strain, the swelling notes prolong, 
 Till conquest listens to the raptured song. 
 
 Antistrophe 
 The venerable seer, whose skill divine 
 
 Knows what the Fates design, 
 On each bold chief, that for the battle burns, 
 
 His glowing eyeball turns ; 
 And thus in high prophetic strains 
 The rav'ning eagles and their prey explains: 
 
 " Priam's haughty town shall fall, 
 Slow they roll, the destined hours, 
 
 Fate and fury shake her wall, 
 Vengeance wide the ruin pours, 
 And conquest seizes all her treasured stores. 
 Ah ! may no storm from th' angry sky 
 Burst dreadful o'er this martial train, 
 
 Nor check their ardour, flaming high 
 To pour the war o'er Troy's proud plain ! 
 Wrath kindles in the chaste Diana's breast: 
 Gorged with the pregnant mother's blood, 
 And, ere the birth, her hapless brood, 
 Hell-hounds of Jove, she hates your horrid feast. 
 
 Sound high the strain, the swelling notes prolong, 
 Till conquest listens to the raptured song.
 
 AGAMEMNON 53 
 
 Epode 
 
 " The virgin goddess of the chase, 
 Fair from the spangled dewdrops that adorn 
 
 The breathing flowrets of the morn, 
 
 Protectress of the infant race 
 
 Of all that haunt the tangled grove, 
 
 Or o'er the rugged mountains rove, 
 She, beauteous queen, commands me to declare 
 
 What by the royal birds is shown, 
 
 Signal of conquest, omen fair, 
 
 But darkened by her awful frown. 
 
 God of the distant-wounding bow, 
 Thee, Paean, thee I call ; hear us, and aid ; 
 
 Ah ! may not the offended maid 
 
 Give the sullen gales to blow, 
 
 Adverse to this eager train, 
 
 And bar th' unnavigable main ; 
 
 Nor other sacrifice demand, 
 At whose barbaric rites no feast is spread ; 
 
 But discord rears her horrid head, 
 
 And calls around her murd'rous band : 
 
 Leagued with hate, and fraud, and fear, 
 
 Nor king, nor husband, they revere ; 
 
 Indignant o'er a daughter weep, 
 
 And burn to stamp their vengeance deep ? " 
 Prophetic thus the reverend Chalcas spoke, 
 
 Marking th' imperial eagles' whirling wings ; 
 From his rapt lips the joyful presage broke, 
 Success and glory to th' embattled kings. 
 
 Sound high the strain, th' according notes prolong, 
 Till conquest listens to the raptured song. 
 
 Strophe I 
 O thou, that sitt'st supreme above, 
 
 Whatever name thou deign'st to hear, 
 Unblamed may I pronounce thee Jove !
 
 54 /ESCHYLUS 
 
 Immersed in deep and holy thought, 
 If rightly I conjecture aught, 
 
 Thy power I must revere : 
 Else vainly tossed the anxious mind 
 Nor truth, nor calm repose, can find. 
 Feeble and helpless to the light 
 
 The proudest of man's race arose, 
 Though now, exulting in his might, 
 
 Dauntless he rushes on his foes ; 
 Great as he is, in dust he lies; 
 He meets a greater, and he dies. 
 
 Antistrophe i 
 He that, when conquest brightens round, 
 
 Swells the triumphal strain to Jove, 
 Shall ever with success be crowned. 
 Yet often, when to wisdom's seat 
 Jove deigns to guide man's erring feet, 
 
 His virtues to improve ; 
 He to affliction gives command 
 To form him with her chastening hand : 
 The memory of her rigid lore, 
 
 On the sad heart imprinted deep, 
 Attends him through day's active hour, 
 
 Nor in the night forsakes his sleep. 
 Instructed thus thy grace we own, 
 O thou, that sittest on Heaven's high throne ! 
 
 Strophe 2 
 When now in Aulis' rolling bay 
 
 His course the refluent floods refused, 
 And sickening with inaction lay 
 In dead repose th' exhausted train, 
 Did the firm chief of chance complain? 
 
 No prophet he accused ; 
 His eyes toward Chalcis bent he stood, 
 And silent marked the surging flood.
 
 AGAMEMNON 55 
 
 Sullen the winds from Strymon sweep, 
 
 Mischance and famine in the blast, 
 Ceaseless torment the angry deep, 
 
 The cordage rend, the vessels waste, 
 With tedious and 'severe delay 
 Wear the fresh flower of Greece away. 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 
 When, in Diana's name, the seer 
 
 Pronounced the dreadful remedy 
 More than the stormy sea severe, 
 Each chieftain stood in grief profound, 
 And smote his sceptre on the ground : 
 
 Then with a rising sigh 
 The monarch, while the big tears roll, 
 Expressed the anguish of his soul : 
 " Dreadful the sentence : not t' obey, 
 
 Vengeance and ruin close us round : 
 Shall then the sire his daughter slay, 
 
 In youth's fresh bloom with beauty crowned ? 
 Shall on these hands her warm blood flow ? 
 Cruel alternative of woe ! 
 
 Strophe j 
 
 " This royal fleet, this martial host, 
 
 The cause of Greece shall I betray, 
 The monarch in the father lost? 
 To calm these winds, to smooth this flood, 
 Diana's wrath a virgin's blood 
 
 Demands : 'tis ours t' obey." 
 Bound in necessity's iron chain 
 Reluctant Nature strives in vain : 
 Impure, unholy thoughts succeed, 
 
 And darkening o'er his bosom roll ; 
 While madness prompts the ruthless deed, 
 
 Tyrant of the misguided soul :
 
 56 AESCHYLUS 
 
 Stern on the fleet he rolls his eyes, 
 And dooms the hateful sacrifice. 
 
 Antistrophe j 
 
 Armed in a woman's cause, around 
 
 Fierce for the war the princes rose ; 
 No place affrighted pity found. 
 In vain the virgin's streaming tear, 
 Her cries in vain, her pleading prayer, 
 
 Her agonizing woes. 
 Could the fond father hear unmoved ? 
 The Fates decreed : the king approved : 
 Then to th' attendants gave command 
 
 Decent her flowing robes to bind ; 
 Prone on the altar with strong hand 
 
 To place her, like a spotless hind ; 
 And check her sweet voice, that no sound 
 Unhallowed might the rites confound. 
 
 Epode 
 Rent on the earth her maiden veil she throws, 
 
 That emulates the rose ; 
 And on the sad attendants rolling 
 The trembling lustre of her dewy eyes, 
 
 Their grief-impassioned souls controlling, 
 That ennobled, modest grace, 
 Which the mimic pencil tries 
 In imaged form to trace, 
 
 The breathing picture shows : 
 And as, amid his festal pleasures, 
 Her father oft rejoiced to hear 
 Her voice in soft mellifluous measures 
 
 Warble the sprightly-fancied air: 
 So now in act to speak the virgin stands : 
 But when, the third libation paid, 
 
 She heard her father's dread commands 
 Enjoining silence, she obeyed :
 
 AGAMEMNON 57 
 
 And for her country's good, 
 With patient, meek, submissive mind 
 
 To her hard fate resigned, 
 Poured out the rich stream of her blood. 
 
 What since hath past I know not, nor relate ; 
 
 But never did the prophet speak in vain, 
 Th' afflicted, anxious for his future fate, 
 
 Looks forward, and with hope relieves his pain. 
 
 But since th' inevitable ill will come, 
 Much knowledge to much misery is allied ; 
 
 Why strive we then t' anticipate the doom, 
 Which happiness and wisdom wish to hide? 
 
 Yet let this careful, age-enfeebled band 
 
 Breathe from our inmost soul one ardent vow, 
 
 Now the sole guardians of this Apian land, 
 " May fair success with glory bind her brow ! " 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA, CHORUS 
 
 Chorus. With reverence, Clytemnestra, I approach 
 Thy greatness ; honour due to her that fills 
 The royal seat, yet vacant of its lord. 
 If aught of glad import hath reached thy ear. 
 Or to fair hope the victim bleeds, I wish, 
 But with submission to thy will, to hear. 
 
 Cly. The joy-importing Morn springs, as they say, 
 From Night, her mother. Thou shalt hear a joy 
 Beyond thy hopes to hear : the town of Priam 
 Is fallen beneath the conquering arms of Greece. 
 
 Chor. What saidst thou ? Passing credence fled thy 
 word. 
 
 Cly. In Troy Greece triumphs. Speak I clearly now? 
 
 Chor. Joy steals upon me, and calls forth the tear. 
 
 Cly. Thy glist'ning eye bespeaks an honest heart. 
 
 Chor. Does aught of certain proof confirm these tid- 
 insrs?
 
 58 nvi.rs 
 
 Cly. It does. Why not ? unless the gods deceive us. 
 
 Chor. Perchance the visions of persuasive dreams. 
 
 Cly. Sport of the slumbering soul ; they move not me. 
 
 Chor. Hath then some winged rumour spread these 
 transports ? 
 
 Cly. As a raw girl's, thou holdest my judgment cheap. 
 
 Chor. How long hath ruin crushed this haughty city? 
 
 Cly. This night, that gave this infant morning birth. 
 
 Chor. What speed could be the herald of this news? 
 
 Cly. The fire, that from the height of Ida sent 
 Its streaming light, as from th' announcing flame 
 Torch blazed to torch. First Ida to the steep 
 Of Lemnos ; Athos' sacred height received 
 The mighty splendour ; from the surging back 
 Of the Hellespont the vigorous blaze held on 
 Its smiling way, and like the orient sun 
 Illumes with golden-gleaming rays the head 
 Of rocky Macetas ; nor lingers there, 
 Nor winks unheedful, but its warning flames 
 Darts to the streams of Euripus, and gives 
 Its glittering signal to the guards that hold 
 Their high watch on Mesapius. These enkindle 
 The joy-announcing fires, that spread the blaze 
 To where Erica hoar its shaggy brow 
 Waves rudely. Unimpaired the active flame 
 Bounds o'er the level of Asopus, like 
 The jocund moon, and on Cithaeron's steep 
 Wakes a successive flame ; the distant watch 
 Agnize its shine, and raise a brighter fire, 
 That o'er the lake Gorgopis streaming holds 
 Its rapid course, and on the mountainous heights 
 Of ^Egiplanctus huge, swift-shooting spreads 
 The lengthened line of light. Thence onward waves 
 Its fiery tresses, eager to ascend 
 The crags of Prone, frowning in their pride 
 ( ) Cr the Saronic gulf : it leaps, it mounts 
 The summit of Arachne, whose high head
 
 AGAMEMNON 59 
 
 Looks down on Argos : to this royal seat 
 Thence darts the light that from th' Idean fire 
 Derives its birth. Rightly in order thus 
 Each to the next consigns the torch, and fills 
 The bright succession, while the first in speed 
 Vies with the last : the promised signal this 
 Given by my lord t' announce the fall of Troy. 
 
 Chor. Anon my grateful praise shall rise to heaven : 
 Now, lady, would I willingly attend 
 Through each glad circumstance the wond'rous tale. 
 
 Cly. This day the conquering Greeks are lords of Troy. 
 Methinks I hear the various clamours rise 
 Discordant through the city. Pour thou oil 
 In the same vase and vinegar, in vain 
 Wouldst thou persuade th' unsocial streams to mix: 
 The captives' and the conqueror's voice distinct, 
 Marks of their different fortune, mayst thou hear : 
 Those rolling on the bodies of the slain, 
 Friends, husbands, brothers, fathers ; the weak arms 
 Of children clasped around the bleeding limbs 
 Of hoary age, lament their fall, their necks 
 Bent to the yoke of slavery : eager these 
 From the fierce toils of war, who through the gloom 
 Of night ranged wide, fly on the spoils, as chance, 
 Not order, leads them ; in the Trojan houses, 
 Won by their spears, they walk at large, relieved 
 From the cold dews dropped from th' unsheltered sky ; 
 And at th' approach of eve, like those whose power 
 Commands security, the easy night 
 Shall sleep unguarded. If with hallowed rites 
 They venerate the gods that o'er the city, 
 With those that o'er the vanquished country rule, 
 And reverence their shrines, the conquering troops 
 Shall not be conquered. May no base desire, 
 No guilty wish urge them, enthralled to gain, 
 To break through sacred laws. Behooves them now, 
 With safety in their train, backward to plough
 
 60 .V.SCHYLUS 
 
 The refluent wave. Should they return exposed 
 To th' anger of the gods, vengeance would wake 
 To seize its prey, might they perchance escape 
 Life's incidental ills. From me thou hearest 
 A woman's sentiment ; and much I wish, 
 Their glories by no rude mischance depressed, 
 To cull from many blessings the most precious. 
 
 Chor. With manly sentiment thy wisdom, lady, 
 Speaks well. Confiding in thy suasive signs, 
 Prepare we to address the gods ; our strains 
 Shall not without their meed of honour rise. 
 
 Prosode 
 
 Supreme of kings, Jove ; and thou, friendly night, 
 That wide o'er Heaven's star-spangled plain 
 
 Holdest thy awful reign, 
 Thou, that with resistless might 
 O'er Troy's proud towers, and destined state, 
 Hast thrown the secret net of fate, 
 In whose enormous sweep the young, the old, 
 
 Without distinction rolled, 
 Are with unsparing fury dragged away 
 
 To slavery and woe a prey ; 
 Thee, hospitable Jove, whose vengeful power 
 These terrors o'er the foe has spread, 
 Thy bow long bent at Paris' head, 
 Whose arrows know their time to fly, 
 Not hurtling aimless in the sky, 
 Our pious strains adore. 
 
 Strophe i 
 The hand of Jove will they not own ; 
 
 And, as his marks they trace, 
 Confess he willed, and it was done? 
 
 Who now of earth-born race 
 Shall dare contend that his hi-h power 
 
 Deigns not with eye severe to view
 
 AGAMEMNON 6l 
 
 The wretch that tramples on his law ? 
 
 Hence with this impious lore : 
 Learn that the sons accursed shall rue 
 
 The madly daring father's pride, 
 That furious drew th' unrighteous sword, 
 High in his house the rich spoils stored, 
 And the avenging gods defied. 
 
 But be it mine to draw 
 From wisdom's fount, pure as it flows, 
 That calm of soul which virtue only knows. 
 
 For vain the shield that wealth shall spread, 
 To guard the proud oppressor's head, 
 Who dares the rites of justice to confound, 
 And spurn her altars to the ground. 
 
 Antistrophe t 
 
 But suasive is the voice of vice, 
 
 That spreads th' insidious snare ; 
 She, not concealed, through her disguise 
 
 Emits a livid glare. 
 Her votary, like adult'rate brass 
 
 Unfaithful to its use, unsound, 
 Proves the dark baseness of his soul ; 
 
 Fond as a boy to chase 
 The winged bird light-flitting rqund, 
 
 And bent on his pernicious play 
 Draws desolation on his state. 
 
 His vows no god regards, when Fate 
 
 In vengeance sweeps the wretch away. 
 With base intent and foul, 
 
 Each hospitable law defied, 
 From Sparta's king thus Paris stole his bride. 
 
 To Greece she left the shield, the spear, 
 
 The naval armament of war ; 
 And, bold in ill, to Troy's devoted shore 
 
 Destruction for her dowry bore.
 
 AESCHYLUS 
 
 Strophe 2 
 When through the gates her easy way 
 
 She took, his pensive breast 
 Each prophet smote in deep dismay, 
 ' And thus his grief expressed : 
 " What woes this royal mansion threat, 
 
 This mansion, and its mighty lord? 
 Where now the chaste connubial bed ? 
 
 The traces of her feet, 
 By love to her blest consort led, 
 
 Where now? Ah ! silent, see, she stands; 
 Each glowing tint, each radiant grace, 
 That charm th' enraptured eye, we trace ; 
 And still the blooming form commands, 
 
 Still honoured, still adored, 
 Though, careless of her former loves, 
 Far o'er the rolling sea the wanton roves ; 
 The husband, with a bursting sigh, 
 Turns from the pictured fair his eye ; 
 While love, by absence fed, without control 
 Tumultuous rushes on his soul. 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 " Oft as short slumbers close his eyes, 
 
 His sad soul soothed to rest, 
 The dream-created visions rise, 
 
 With all her charms impressed : 
 But vain th' ideal scene, that smiles 
 
 With rapturous love and warm delight ; 
 Vain his fond hopes : his eager arms 
 
 The fleeting form beguiles, 
 On sleep's quick pinions passing light." 
 Such griefs, and more severe than these, 
 Their sad gloom o'er the palace spread ; 
 Thrncc stretch their melancholy shade, 
 And darken o'er the realms of Greece. 
 Struck with no false alarms
 
 AGAMEMNON 63 
 
 Each house its home-felt sorrow knows, 
 Each bleeding heart is pierced with keenest woes ; 
 
 When for the hero, sent to share 
 
 The glories of the crimson war, 
 
 Naught, save his arms stained with their master's gore, 
 And his cold ashes reach the shore. 
 
 Strophe j 
 Thus in the dire exchange of war 
 
 Does Mars the balance hold ; 
 Helms are the scale, the beam a spear, 
 
 And blood is weighed for gold. 
 Thus, for the warrior, to his friends 
 
 His sad remains, a poor return, 
 Saved from the sullen fire that rose 
 
 On Troy's cursed shore, he sends, 
 Placed decent in the mournful urn. 
 
 With many a tear their dead they weep, 
 Their names with many a praise resound ; 
 
 One for his skill in arms renowned ; 
 
 One, that amid the slaughtered heap 
 
 Of fierce-conflicting foes 
 Glorious in beauty's cause he fell : 
 Yet 'gainst th' avenging chiefs their murmurs swell 
 In silence. Some in youth's fresh bloom 
 Beneath Troy's towers possess a tomb ; 
 Their bodies buried on the distant strand, 
 Seizing in death the hostile land. 
 
 Antistrophe j 
 How dreadful, when the people raise 
 
 Loud murmurs mixed with hate ! 
 Yet this the tribute greatness pays 
 
 For its exalted state. 
 E'en now some dark and horrid deed 
 
 By my presaging soul is feared ; 
 For never with unheedful eyes,
 
 64 /ESCHYLUS 
 
 When slaughtered thousands bleed, 
 Did the just powers of Heaven regard 
 
 The carnage of th' ensanguined plain. 
 The ruthless and oppressive power 
 May triumph for its little hour ; 
 
 Full soon with all their vengeful train 
 The sullen Furies rise, 
 Break his fell force, and whirl him down 
 Through life's dark paths, unpitied and unknown. 
 And dangerous is the pride of fame, 
 Like the red lightning's dazzling flame. 
 Nor envied wealth, nor conquest let me gain, 
 Nor drag the conqueror's hateful chain. 
 
 Epode 
 
 But from these fires far streaming through the night 
 Fame through the town her progress takes, 
 
 And rapt'rous joy awakes ; 
 If with truth's auspicious light 
 They shine, who knows? Her sacred reign 
 Nor fraud, nor falsehood, dares profane. 
 But who, in wisdom's school so lightly taught, 
 
 Suffers his ardent thought 
 From these informing flames to catch the fire, 
 
 Full soon perchance in grief t' expire ? 
 Yet when a woman holds the sovereign sway, 
 Obsequious wisdom learns to bow, 
 And hails the joy it does not know : 
 Though, as the glitt'ring visions roll 
 Before her easy, credulous soul, 
 Their glories fade away. 
 
 Cly, Whether these fires, that with successive signals 
 Blaze through the night, be true, or like a dream 
 Play with a sweet delusion on the soul, 
 Soon shall we know. A herald from the shore 
 I see ; branches of olive shade his brows.
 
 AGAMEMNON 65 
 
 That cloud of dust, raised by his speed, assures me 
 That neither speechless, nor enkindling flames 
 Along the mountains, will he signify 
 His message ; but his tongue shall greet our ears 
 With words of joy : far from my soul the thought 
 Of other, than confirm these fav'ring signals. 
 
 Chor. May he, that to this state shall form a wish 
 Of other aim, on his own head receive it. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA, CHORUS, HERALD 
 Herald. Hail, thou paternal soil of Argive earth ! 
 In the fair light of the tenth year to thee 
 Returned, from the sad wreck of many hopes 
 This one I save ; saved from despair e'en this ; 
 For never thought I in this honoured earth 
 To share in death the portion of a tomb. 
 Hail then, loved earth ; hail, thou bright sun ; and thou, 
 Great guardian of my country, supreme Jove ; 
 Thou, Pythian king, thy shafts no longer winged 
 'For our destruction ; on Scamander's banks 
 Enough we mourned thy wrath ; propitious now 
 Come, King Apollo, our defence. And all 
 Ye gods, that o'er the works of war preside, 
 I now invoke ; thee, Mercury, my avenger, 
 Revered by heralds, that from thee derive 
 Their high employ ; you heroes, to the war 
 That sent us, friendly now receive our troops, 
 The relics of the spear. Imperial walls, 
 Mansion of kings, ye seats revered ; ye gods, 
 That to the golden sun before these gates 
 Present your honoured forms ; if e'er of old 
 Those eyes with favour haVe beheld the king, 
 Receive him now, after this length of time, 
 With glory ; for he comes, and with him brings 
 To you, and all, a light that cheers this gloom : 
 Then greet him well ; such honour is his meed. 
 The mighty king, that with the mace of Jove 
 5
 
 66 riYLUS 
 
 Th % avenger, wherewith he subdues the earth, 
 Hath levelled with the dust the towers of Troy ; 
 Their altars are o'erturned, their sacred shrines, 
 And all the race destroyed. This iron yoke 
 Fixed on the neck of Troy, victorious comes 
 The great Atrides, of all mortal men 
 Worthy of highest honours. Paris now, 
 And the perfidious state, shall boast no more 
 His proud deeds unrevenged ; stripped of his spoils, 
 The debt of justice for his thefts, his rapines, 
 Paid amply, o'er his father's house he spreads 
 With twofold loss the wide-involving ruin. 
 
 Cly. Joy to thee, herald of the Argive host. 
 
 Her. For joy like this death were a cheap exchange. 
 
 Cly. Strong thy affection to thy native soil. 
 
 Her. So strong, the tear of joy starts from my eye. 
 
 Cly. What, hath this sweet infection reached e'en you? 
 
 Her. Beyond the power of language have I felt it. 
 
 Cly. The fond desire of those, whose equal love 
 
 Her. This of the army sayst thou, whose warm love 
 Streams to this land ? Is this thy fond desire ? 
 
 Cly. Such that I oft have breathed the secret sigh. 
 
 Her. Whence did the army cause this anxious sadness? 
 
 Cly. Silence I long have held a healing balm. 
 
 Her. The princes absent, hadst thou whom to fear? 
 
 Cly. To use thy words, death were a wished exchange. 
 
 Her. Well is the conflict ended. In the tide 
 Of so long time, if 'midst the easy flow 
 Of wished events some tyrannous blast assail us, 
 What marvel ? Who, save the blest gods, can claim 
 Through life's whole course an unmixed happiness? 
 Should I relate our toils, our wretched plight 
 Wedged in our narrow ill-provided cabins, 
 
 h irksome hour was loaded with fatigues. 
 Yrt these were slight assays to those worse hardships 
 We suffered on the shore : our lodging near 
 The walls of the enemy, the dews of heaven
 
 AGAMEMNON 67 
 
 Fell on us from above, the damps beneath 
 From the moist marsh annoyed us, shrouded ill 
 In shaggy cov'rings. Or should one relate 
 The winter's keen blasts, which from Ida's snows 
 Breathe frore, that, pierced through all their plumes, the 
 
 birds 
 
 Shiver and die ; or th' extreme heat that scalds, 
 When in his midday caves the sea reclines, 
 And not a breeze disturbs his calm repose. 
 But why lament these sufferings ? They are past ; 
 Past to the dead indeed ; they lie, no more 
 Anxious to rise. What then avails to count 
 Those whom the wasteful war hath swept away, 
 And with their loss afflict the living? Rather 
 Bid we farewell to misery : in our scale, 
 Who haply of the Grecian host remain, 
 The good preponderates, and in counterpoise 
 Our loss is light ; and, after all our toils 
 By sea and land, before yon golden sun 
 It is our glorious privilege to boast, 
 " At length from vanquished Troy our warlike troops 
 Have to the gods of Greece brought home these spoils, 
 And in their temples, to record our conquests, 
 Fixed these proud trophies." Those that hear this boast 
 It well becomes to gratulate the state, 
 And the brave chiefs ; revering Jove's high power 
 That grace our conquering arms. Thou hast my message. 
 
 Chor. Thy words convince me ; all my doubts are 
 
 vanished : 
 
 But scrupulous inquiry grows with age. 
 On Clytemnestra and her house this charge, 
 Blessing e'en me with the rich joy, devolves. 
 
 Cly. Long since my voice raised high each note of joy, 
 When through the night the streaming blaze first came, 
 And told us Troy was taken : not unblamed 
 That, as a woman lightly credulous, 
 I let a mountain fire transport my soul
 
 68 AESCHYLUS 
 
 With the fond hope that Ilion's haughty towers 
 
 Were humbled in the dust. At this rebuke, 
 
 Though somewhat shaken, yet I sacrificed ; 
 
 And, as weak woman wont, one voice of joy 
 
 Awoke another, till the city rang 
 
 Through all its streets ; and at the hallowed shrines 
 
 Each raised the pious strains of gratitude, 
 
 And fanned the altar's incense-breathing flame. 
 
 But it is needless to detain thee longer, 
 
 Soon from the king's own lips shall I learn all. 
 
 How best I may receive my honoured lord, 
 
 And grace his wished return, now claims my speed. 
 
 Can heaven's fair beam show a fond wife a sight 
 
 More grateful than her husband from his wars 
 
 Returned with glory, when she opes the gate, 
 
 And springs to welcome him ? Tell my lord this, 
 
 That he may hasten his desired return : 
 
 And tell him he will find his faithful wife, 
 
 Such as he left her, a domestic creature, 
 
 To him all fondness, to his enemies 
 
 Irreconcilable ; and tell him too 
 
 That ten long years have not effaced the seal 
 
 Of constancy ; that never knew I pleasure 
 
 In the blamed converse of another man, 
 
 More than the virgin metal in the mines 
 
 Knows an adulterate and debasing mixture. 
 
 Her. This high boast, lady, sanctified by truth, 
 Is not unseemly in thy princely rank. 
 
 HERALD, CHORUS 
 
 Chorus. This, for thy information, hath she spoken 
 With dignity and truth. Now tell me, herald, 
 Of Sparta's king wish I to question thee, 
 The pride of Greece : returns he safe with you ? 
 
 Her. Never can I esteem a falsehood honest, 
 Though my friends long enjoy the sweet delusion. 
 
 Chor. What then if thou relate an honest truth?
 
 AGAMEMNON 69 
 
 From this distinction the conjecture's easy. 
 
 Her. Him from the Grecian fleet our eyes have lost, 
 The hero and his ship. This is the truth. 
 
 Chor. Chanced this when in your sight he weighed 
 
 from Troy ; 
 Or in a storm that rent him from the fleet ? 
 
 Her. Rightly is thy conjecture aimed, in brief 
 Touching the long recital of our loss. 
 
 Chor. How deemed the other mariners of this ; 
 That the ship perished or rode out the storm ? 
 
 Her. Who, save yon sun, the regent of the earth, 
 Can give a clear and certain information ? 
 
 Chor. How saidst thou then a storm, not without loss, 
 Winged with Heaven's fury, tossed the shattered fleet ? 
 
 Her. It is not meet, with inauspicious tongue 
 Spreading ill tidings, to profane a day 
 Sacred to festal joy : the gods require 
 Their pure rites undisturbed. When with a brow 
 Witness of woe, the messenger relates 
 Unwelcome news, defeats, and slaughtered armies, 
 The wound with general grief affects the state ; 
 And with particular and private sorrow 
 Full many a house, for many that have fall'n 
 Victims to Mars, who to his bloody car 
 Delights to yoke his terrors, sword and spear. 
 A paean to the Furies would become 
 The bearer of such pond'rous heap of ills. 
 My tidings are of conquest and success, 
 Diffusing joy : with these glad sounds how mix 
 Distress, and speak of storm and angry gods ? 
 The powers, before most hostile, now conspired, 
 Fire and the sea, in ruin reconciled : 
 And in a night of tempest wild from Thrace 
 In all their fury rushed the howling winds ; 
 Tossed by the forceful blasts ship against ship 
 In hideous conflict dashed, or disappeared, 
 Driven at the boist'rous whirlwind's dreadful will;
 
 7 
 
 /ESCHYLUS 
 
 But when the sun's fair light returned, we see 
 
 Bodies of Grecians, and the wreck of ships 
 
 Float on the chafed foam of th % ^gean Sea. 
 
 Us and our ship some god, the power of man 
 
 Were all too weak holding the helm preserved 
 
 Unhurt, or interceding for our safety ; 
 
 And fortune, the deliverer, steered our course 
 
 To shun the waves, that near the harbour's mouth 
 
 Boil high, or break upon the rocky shore. 
 
 Escaped th' ingulfing sea, yet scarce secure 
 
 Of our escape, through the fair day we view 
 
 With sighs the recent sufferings of the host, 
 
 Cov'ring the sea with wrecks. If any breathe 
 
 This vital air, they deem us lost, as we 
 
 Think the same ruin theirs. Fair fall th' event! 
 
 But first and chief expect the Spartan king 
 
 T' arrive ; if yet one ray of yon bright sun 
 
 Beholds him living, through the care of Jove, 
 
 Who wills not to destroy that royal race, 
 
 Well may we hope to joy in his return. 
 
 Having heard this, know thou hast heard the truth. 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe i 
 Is there to names a charm profound 
 Expressive of their fates assigned, 
 Mysterious potency of sound, 
 
 And truth in wondrous accord joined ? 
 Why else this fatal name, 
 That Helen and destruction are the same? 
 
 Affianced in contention, led, 
 The spear her dowry, to the bridal bed : 
 
 With desolation in her train, 
 Fatal to martial hosts, to rampired towers, 
 From the rich fragrance of her gorgeous bowers, 
 
 I >escending to the main, 
 She hastes to spread her flying sails, 
 And calls the earth-born zephyr's gales.
 
 AGAMEMNON 7 
 
 While heroes, breathing vengeance, snatch their shields, 
 And trace her light oars o'er the pathless waves, 
 
 To the thick shades fresh waving o'er those fields, 
 Which Simois with his silver windings laves. 
 
 Antistrophe i 
 To Troy the shining mischief came ; 
 
 Before her, young-eyed pleasures play ; 
 But in the rear with steadfast aim 
 Grim-visaged Vengeance marks his prey, 
 
 Waiting the dreadful hour 
 The terrors of offended Heaven to pour 
 
 On those that dared, an impious train, 
 The rites of hospitable Jove profane ; 
 
 Nor revered that sacred song, 
 
 Whose melting strains the bride's approach declare, 
 As Hymen wakes the rapture-breathing air. 
 
 Far other notes belong, 
 The voice of mirth now heard no more, 
 To Priam's state ; its ruins o'er 
 Wailing instead, distress, and loud lament ; 
 
 Long sorrows sprung from that unholy bed, 
 And many a curse in heart-felt anguish sent 
 On its woe-wedded Paris' hated head. 
 
 Strophe 2 
 The woodman, from his thirsty lair, 
 
 Reft of his dam, a lion bore ; 
 Fostered his future foe with care 
 To mischiefs he must soon deplore : 
 Gentle and tame, while young, 
 Harmless he frisked the fondling babes among ; 
 
 Oft in the father's bosom lay, 
 Oft licked his feeding hand in fawning play ; 
 
 Till, conscious of his firmer age, 
 His lion-race the lordly savage shows ; 
 No more his youth-protecting cottage knows,
 
 72 ^SCHYLUS 
 
 But with insatiate rage 
 
 Flies on the flocks, a baleful guest, 
 
 And riots in th' unbidden feast: 
 While through his mangled folds the hapless swain 
 
 With horror sees th' unbounded carnage spread ; 
 And learns too late that from th' infernal reign 
 
 A priest of At6 in his house was bred. 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 To Ilion's towers in wanton state 
 
 With speed she wings her easy way ; 
 Soft gales obedient round her wait, 
 And pant on the delighted sea. 
 
 Attendant on her side 
 The richest ornaments of splendid pride : 
 
 The darts, whose golden points inspire, 
 Shot from her eyes the flames of soft desire ; 
 
 The youthful bloom of rosy love, 
 That fills with ecstasy the willing soul : 
 With duteous zeal obey her sweet control. 
 
 But, such the doom of Jove, 
 Vindictive round her nuptial bed, 
 With threat'ning mien and footstep dread, 
 Rushes to Priam and his state severe, 
 
 To rend the bleeding heart his stern delight, 
 And from the bridal eye to force the tear, 
 Erinnys, rising from the realms of night. 
 
 Epode 
 
 From ev'ry mouth we oft have heard 
 This saying, for its age revered : 
 " With joy we see our offspring rise, 
 And happy, who not childless dies : 
 But Fortune, when her flow'rets blow, 
 Oft bears the bitter fruit of woe." 
 Though these saws are as truths allowed, 
 Thus I dare differ from the crowd :
 
 AGAMEMNON 73 
 
 " One base deed, with prolific power, 
 Like its cursed stock engenders more : 
 But to the just, with blooming grace 
 Still flourishes, a beauteous race." 
 
 The old Injustice joys to breed 
 Her young, instinct with villanous deed ; 
 The young her destined hour will find 
 To rush in mischief on mankind : 
 She too in At6's murky cell, 
 Brings forth the hideous child of hell, 
 A burden to th' offended sky, 
 The power of bold impiety. 
 
 But Justice bids her ray divine 
 E'en on the low-roofed cottage shine ; 
 And beams her glories on the life, 
 That knows not fraud, nor ruffian strife. 
 The gorgeous glare of gold, obtained 
 By foul polluted hands, disdained 
 She leaves, and with averted eyes 
 To humbler, holier mansions flies ; 
 And looking through the times to come 
 Assigns each deed its righteous doom. 
 
 CHORUS, AGAMEMNON 
 
 Chorus. My royal lord, by whose victorious hand 
 The towers of Troy are fall'n, illustrious son 
 Of Atreus, with what words, what reverence 
 Shall I address thee, not t' o'erleap the bounds 
 Of modest duty, nor to sink beneath 
 An honourable welcome ? Some there are, 
 That form themselves to seem, more than to be, 
 Transgressing honesty : to him that feels 
 Misfortune's rugged hand, full many a tongue 
 Shall drop condolence, though th' unfeeling heart 
 Knows not the touch of sorrow ; these again 
 4
 
 74 
 
 AESCHYLUS 
 
 In fortune's summer gale, with the like art, 
 
 Shall dress in forced smiles th' unwilling face : 
 
 But him the penetrating eye soon marks, 
 
 That in the seemly garb of honest zeal 
 
 Attempts to clothe his meagre blandishments. 
 
 When first in Helen's cause my royal lord 
 
 Levied his host, let me not hide the truth, 
 
 Notes, other than music, echoed wide 
 
 In loud complaints from such as deemed him rash, 
 
 And void of reason, by constraint to plant 
 
 In breast averse the martial soul, that glows 
 
 Despising death. But now their eager zeal 
 
 Streams friendly to those chiefs, whose prosp'rous valour 
 
 Is crowned with conquest. Soon then shalt thou learn, 
 
 As each supports the state, or strives to rend it 
 
 With faction, who reveres thy dignity. 
 
 Aga. To Argos first, and to my country's gods, 
 I bow with reverence, by whose holy guidance 
 On Troy's proud towers I poured their righteous venge- 
 ance, 
 
 And now revisit safe my native soil. 
 No loud-tongued pleader heard, they judged the cause, 
 And in the bloody urn, without one vote 
 Dissentient, cast the lots that fixed the fate 
 Of Ilion and its sons : the other vase 
 Left empty, save of widowed hope. The smoke, 
 Rolling in dusky wreaths, shows that the town 
 Is fall'n ; the fiery storm yet lives, and high 
 The dying ashes toss rich clouds of wealth 
 Consumed. For this behooves us to the gods 
 Render our grateful thanks, and that they spread 
 The net of fate sweeping with angry ruin. 
 In beauty's cause the Argive monster reared 
 Its bulk enormous, to th' affrighted town 
 Portending devastation ; in its womb 
 Hiding embattled hosts, rushed furious forth, 
 About the setting of the Pleiades,
 
 75 
 
 And, as a lion rav'ning for its prey, 
 
 Ramped o'er their walls, and lapped the blood of kings. 
 
 This to the gods addressed, I turn me now 
 
 Attentive to thy caution : I approve 
 
 Thy just remark, and with my voice confirm it. 
 
 Few have the fortitude of soul to honour 
 
 A friend's success, without a touch of envy ; 
 
 For that malignant passion to the heart 
 
 Cleaves close, and with a double burden loads 
 
 The man infected with it ; first he feels 
 
 In all their weight his own calamities, 
 
 Then sighs to see the happiness of others. 
 
 This of my own experience have I learned ; 
 
 And this I know, that many, who in public 
 
 Have borne the semblance of my firmest friends, 
 
 Are but the flatt'ring image of a shadow 
 
 Reflected from a mirror ; save Ulysses 
 
 Alone, who, though averse to join our arms, 
 
 Yoked in his martial harness from my side 
 
 Swerved not ; living or dead be this his praise. 
 
 But what concerns our kingdom and the gods, 
 
 Holding a general council of the state, 
 
 We will consult ; that what is well may keep 
 
 Its goodness permanent, and what requires 
 
 Our healing hand, with mild severity 
 
 May be corrected. But my royal roof 
 
 Now will I visit, and before its hearths 
 
 Offer libations to the gods, who sent me 
 
 To this far-distant war, and led me back. 
 
 Firm stands the victory that attends our arms. 
 
 ^CLYTEMNESTRA, AGAMEMNON, CHORUS 
 Clytemnestra. Friends, fellow-citizens, whose counsels 
 
 guide 
 
 The state of Argos, in your reverend presence 
 A wife's fond love I blush not to disclose : 
 Thus habit softens dread. From my full heart
 
 7 6 
 
 ^SCHYLUS 
 
 Will I recount my melancholy life 
 
 Through the long stay of my loved lord at Troy : 
 
 For a weak woman, in her husband's absence, 
 
 Pensive to sit and lonely in her house, 
 
 Tis dismal, list'ning to each frightful tale : 
 
 First one alarms her, then another comes 
 
 Charged with worse tidings. Had my poor lord here 
 
 Suffered as many wounds as common fame 
 
 Reported, like a net he had been pierced ; 
 
 Had he been slain oft as the loud-tongued rumour 
 
 Was noised abroad, this triple-formed Geryon, 
 
 A second of the name, while yet alive, 
 
 For of the dead I speak not, well might boast 
 
 To have received his triple mail, to die 
 
 In each form singly. Such reports oppressed me, 
 
 Till life became distasteful, and my hands 
 
 Were prompted oft to deeds of desperation. 
 
 Nor is thy son Orestes, the dear tie 
 
 That binds us each to th' other, present here 
 
 To aid me, as he ought : nay, marvel not, 
 
 The friendly Strophius with a right strong arm 
 
 Protects him in Phocsea ; while his care 
 
 Saw danger threat' me in a double form, 
 
 The loss of thee at Troy, the anarchy 
 
 That might ensue, should madness drive the people 
 
 To deeds of violence, as men are prompt 
 
 Insultingly to trample on the fall'n : 
 
 Such care dwells not with fraud. At thy return 
 
 The gushing fountains of my tears are dried, 
 
 Save that my eyes are weak with midnight watchings, 
 
 Straining, through tears, if haply they might see 
 
 Thy signal fires, that claimed my fixed attention. 
 
 If they were closed in sleep, a silly fly 
 
 Would, with its slightest murm'rings, make me start, 
 
 And wake me to more fears. For thy dear sake 
 
 All this I suffered : but my jocund heart 
 
 Forgets it all, while I behold my lord,
 
 AGAMEMNON 77 
 
 My guardian, the strong- anchor of my hope, 
 
 The stately column that supports my house, 
 
 Dear as an only child to a fond parent ; 
 
 Welcome as land, which the tossed mariner 
 
 Beyond his hope descries ; welcome as day 
 
 After a night of storms with fairer beams 
 
 Returning ; welcome as the liquid lapse 
 
 Of fountain to the thirsty traveller : 
 
 So pleasant is it to escape the chain 
 
 Of hard constraint. Such greeting I esteem 
 
 Due to thy honour : let it not offend, 
 
 For I have suffered much. But, my loved lord, 
 
 Leave now that car ; nor on the bare ground set 
 
 That royal foot, beneath whose mighty tread 
 
 Troy trembled. Haste, ye virgins, to whose care 
 
 This pleasing office is intrusted, spread 
 
 The streets with tapestry ; let the ground be covered 
 
 With richest purple, leading to the palace ; 
 
 That honour with just state may grace his entry, 
 
 Though unexpected. My attentive care 
 
 Shall, if the gods permit, dispose the rest 
 
 To welcome his high glories, as I ought. 
 
 Aga. Daughter of Leda, guardian of my house, 
 Thy words are correspondent to my absence, 
 Of no small length. With better grace my praise 
 Would come from others : soothe me not with strains 
 Of adulation, as a girl ; nor raise, 
 As to some proud barbaric king, that loves 
 Loud acclamations echoed from the mouths 
 Of prostrate worshippers, a clamorous welcome : 
 Nor spread the streets with tapestry ; 'tis invidious ; 
 These are the honours we should pay the gods. 
 For mortal man to tread on ornaments 
 
 Of rich embroidery No : I dare not do it : 
 
 Respect me as a man, not as a god. 
 
 Why should my foot pollute these vests, that glow 
 
 With various tinctured radiance ? My full fame
 
 7 g AESCHYLUS 
 
 Swells high without it; and the temperate rule 
 
 Of cool discretion is the choicest gift 
 
 Of favouring Heaven. Happy the man, whose life 
 
 Is spent in friendship's calm security. 
 
 These sober joys be mine, I ask no more. 
 
 Cly. Do not thou thwart the purpose of my mind. 
 
 Aga. My mind, be well assured, shall not be tainted. 
 
 Cly. Hast thou in fear made to the gods this vow? 
 
 Aga. Free, from my soul in prudence have I said it. 
 
 Cly. Had Priam's arms prevailed, how had he acted ? 
 
 Aga. On rich embroidery he had proudly trod. 
 
 Cly. Then dread not thou th' invidious tongues of men. 
 
 Aga. Yet has the popular voice much potency. 
 
 Cly. But the unenvied is not of the happy. 
 
 Aga. Ill suits it thy soft sex to love contention. 
 
 Cly. To yield sometimes adds honour to the mighty. 
 
 Aga. Art thou so earnest to obtain thy wish ? 
 
 Cly. Let me prevail : indulge me with this conquest. 
 
 Aga. If such thy will, haste some one, from my feet 
 Unloose these high-bound buskins, lest some god 
 Look down indignant, if with them I press 
 These vests sea-tinctured : shame it were to spoil 
 With unclean tread their rich and costly texture. 
 Of these enough. This stranger, let her find 
 A gentle treatment : from high heaven the god 
 Looks with an eye of favour on the victor 
 That bears his high state meekly ; for none wears 
 Of his free choice the yoke of slavery. 
 And she, of many treasures the prime flower 
 Selected by the troops, has followed me. 
 Well, since I yield me vanquished by thy voice, 
 I go, treading on purple, to my house. 
 
 Cly. Does not the sea, and who shall drain it, yield 
 Unfailing stores of these rich tints, that glow 
 With purple radiance? These this lordly house 
 Commands, blest with abundance, but to want 
 A stranger. I had vowed his foot should tread
 
 AGAMEMNON 79 
 
 On many a vestment, when the victims bled, 
 The hallowed pledge which this fond breast devised 
 For his return. For while the vig'rous root 
 Maintains its grasp, the stately head shall rise, 
 And with its waving foliage screen the house 
 From the fierce dog-star's fiery pestilence. 
 And on thy presence at thy household hearth, 
 Ev'n the cold winter feels a genial warmth. 
 But when the hot sun in the unripe grape 
 Matures the wine, the husband's perfect virtues 
 Spread a refreshing coolness. Thou, O Jove, 
 Source of perfection, perfect all my vows, 
 And with thy influence favour my intents ! 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe i 
 
 What may this mean ? Along the skies 
 
 Why do these dreadful portents roll? 
 
 Visions of terror, spare my aching eyes, 
 
 Nor shake my sad presaging soul ! 
 In accents dread, not tuned in vain, 
 
 Why bursts the free, unbidden strain ? 
 These are no phantoms of the night, 
 That vanish at the faithful light 
 Of steadfast confidence. Thou sober power, 
 Whither, ah, whither art thou gone ? 
 
 For since the long-passed hour, 
 When first for Troy the naval band 
 Unmoored their vessels from the strand, 
 Thou hast not in my bosom fixed thy throne. 
 
 Antistrophe I 
 At length they come : these faithful eyes, 
 
 See them returned to Greece again : 
 Yet, while the sullen lyre in silence lies, 
 
 Erinnys wakes the mournful strain : 
 Her dreadful powers possess my soul, 
 And bid the untaught measures roll ;
 
 go AESCHYLUS 
 
 Swell in rude notes the dismal lay, 
 
 And fright enchanting hope away ; 
 While, ominous of ill, grim-visaged care 
 
 Incessant whirls my tortured heart. 
 Vain be each anxious fear ! 
 
 Return, fair hope, thy seat resume, 
 
 Dispel this melancholy gloom, 
 And to my soul thy gladsome light impart ! 
 
 Strophe 2 
 
 Ah me, what hope ! This mortal state 
 Nothing but cruel change can know. 
 Should cheerful health our vig'rous steps await, 
 
 Enkindling all her roseate glow ; 
 Disease creeps on with silent pace, 
 And withers ev'ry blooming grace. 
 Proud sails the bark ; the fresh gales breathe, 
 And dash her on the rocks beneath. 
 In the rich house her treasures plenty pours; 
 Comes sloth, and from her well-poised sling 
 
 Scatters the piled-up stores. 
 Yet disease makes not all her prey : 
 Nor sinks the bark beneath the sea : 
 And famine sees the heaven-sent harvest spring. 
 
 A ntistrophe 2 
 But when forth-welling from the wound 
 
 The purple-streaming blood shall fall, 
 And the warm tide disdain the reeking ground, 
 
 Who shall the vanished life recall? 
 Nor verse, nor music's magic power, 
 Nor the famed leech's boasted lore ; 
 Not that his art restored the dead, 
 Jove's thunder burst upon his head. 
 But that the Fates forbid, and chain my tongue, 
 My heart, at inspiration's call, 
 
 Would the rapt strain prolong :
 
 AGAMEMNON gl 
 
 Now all is dark ; it raves in vain, 
 And, as it pants with trembling pain, 
 Desponding feels its fiery transports fall. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA, CASSANDRA, CHORUS 
 
 Clytemnestra. Thou too, Cassandra, enter; since high 
 
 Jove, 
 
 Gracious to thee, hath placed thee in this house, 
 With many slaves to share the common rites, 
 And deck the altar of the fav'ring god. 
 Come from that chariot, and let temperance rule 
 Thy lofty spirit : ev'n Alcmena's son, 
 Sold as a slave, submitted to the yoke 
 Perforce ; and if necessity's hard hand 
 Hath sunk thee to this fortune, our high rank, 
 With greatness long acquainted, knows to use 
 Its power with gentleness : the low-born wretch, 
 That from his mean degree rises at once 
 To unexpected riches, treats his slaves 
 With barbarous and unbounded insolence. 
 From us thou wilt receive a juster treatment. 
 
 Chor. These are plain truths : since in the toils of fate 
 Thou art inclosed, submit, if thou canst brook 
 Submission ; haply I advise in vain. 
 
 Cly. If that her language, like the twittering swallow's, 
 Be not all barbarous and unknown, my words 
 Within shall with persuasion move her mind. 
 
 Chor. She speaks what best beseems thy present state; 
 Follow, submit, and leave that lofty car. 
 
 Cly. I have not leisure here before the gates 
 T' attend on her ; for at the inmost altar, 
 Blazing with sacred fires, the victims stand 
 Devoted to the gods for his return 
 So much beyond our hopes. If to comply 
 Thou form thy mind, delay not : if thy tongue 
 Knows not to sound our language, let thy signs 
 Supply the place of words, speak with thy hand.
 
 82 AESCHYLUS 
 
 Chor. Of foreign birth she understands us not : 
 But as new-taken struggles in the net. 
 
 Cly. Tis frenzy this, the impulse of a mind 
 Disordered ; from a city lately taken 
 She comes, and knows not how to bear the curb, 
 Till she has spent her rage in bloody foam. 
 But I no more waste words to be disdained. 
 
 Chor. My words, for much 1 pity her, shall bear 
 No mark of anger. Go, unhappy fair one, 
 Forsake thy chariot, unreluctant learn 
 To bear this new yoke of necessity. 
 
 Cas. Woe, woe ! O Earth ! Apollo, O Apollo ! 
 
 Chor. Why with that voice of woe invoke Apollo? 
 Ill do these notes of grief accord with him. 
 
 Cas. Woe, woe ! O Earth ! Apollo, O Apollo ! 
 
 Chor. Again her inauspicious voice invokes 
 The god, whose ears are not attuned to woe. 
 
 Cas. Apollo, O Apollo, fatal leader, 
 Yet once more, god, thou leadest me to ruin ! 
 
 Chor. She seems prophetic of her own misfortunes, 
 Retaining, though a slave, the divine spirit. 
 
 Cas. Apollo, O Apollo, fatal leader, 
 Ah, whither hast thou led me ? to what house ? 
 
 Chor. Is that unknown ? Let me declare it then ; 
 This is the royal mansion of th' Atridae. 
 
 Cas. It is a mansion hated by the gods, 
 Conscious to many a foul and horrid deed ; 
 A slaughter-house, that reeks with human gore. 
 
 Chor. This stranger seems, like the nice-scented hound, 
 Quick in the trace of blood, which she will find. 
 
 Cas. These are convincing proofs. Look there, look 
 
 there, 
 
 While pity drops a tear, the children butchered, 
 The father feasting on their roasted flesh ! 
 
 Chor. Thy fame, prophetic virgin, we have heard ; 
 We know thy skill ; but wish no prophets now. 
 
 Cas. Ye powers of Heaven, what does she now design ?
 
 AGAMEMNON . 8' 
 
 What new and dreadful deed of woe is this ? 
 What dreadful ill designs she in the house, 
 Intolerable, irreparable mischief, 
 While far she sends the succouring power away ? 
 
 Chor. These prophecies surpass my apprehension ; 
 The first I knew, they echo through the city. 
 
 Cas. Ah ! daring wretch, dost thou achieve this deed, 
 Thus in the bath the partner of thy bed 
 Refreshing? How shall I relate th' event? 
 Yet speedy shall it be. Ev'n now advanced 
 Hand above hand extended threatens high. 
 
 Chor. I comprehend her not ; her words are dark, 
 Perplexing me like abstruse oracles. 
 
 Cas. Ah ! What is this, that I see here before me ? 
 Is it the net of hell ? Or rather hers, 
 Who shares the bed and plans the murderous deed. 
 Let discord, whose insatiable rage 
 Pursues this race, howl through the royal rooms 
 Against the victim destined to destruction. 
 
 Chor. What fury dost thou call within this house 
 To hold her orgies ? The dread invocation 
 Appals me ; to my heart the purple drops 
 Flow back ; a deathlike mist covers my eyes, 
 With expectation of some sudden ruin. 
 
 Cas. See, see there : from the heifer keep the bull ! 
 O'er his black brows she throws th' entangling vest, 
 And smites him with her huge two-handed engine. 
 He falls, amid the cleansing laver falls : 
 I tell thee of the bath, the treach'rous bath. 
 
 Chor. T' unfold the obscure oracles of Heaven 
 Is not my boast ; beneath the shadowing veil 
 Misfortune lies ; when did th' inquirer learn 
 From the dark sentence an event of joy ? 
 From time's first records the diviner's voice 
 Gives the sad heart a sense of misery. 
 
 Cas. Ah me, unhappy ! Wretched, wretched fate ! 
 For my own sufferings joined call forth these wailings.
 
 8 4 
 
 AESCHYLUS 
 
 Why hast thou brought me hither ? Wretched me ! 
 Is it for this, that I may die with him ? 
 
 Chor. This is the frenzy of a mind possessed 
 With wildest ravings. Thy own woes thou wailest 
 In mournful melody ; like the sweet bird, 
 That darkling pours her never-ceasing plaint ; 
 And for her Itys, her lost Itys, wastes 
 In sweetest woe her melancholy life. 
 
 Cas. Ah me ! the fortune of the nightingale 
 Is to be envied : on her light-poised plumes 
 She wings at will her easy way, nor knows 
 The anguish of a tear, while o'er my head 
 Th' impending sword threatens the fatal wound. 
 
 Chor. Whence is this violent, this wild presage 
 Of ill ? Thy fears are vain ; yet with a voice 
 That terrifies, though sweet, aloud thou speakest 
 Thy sorrows. Whence hast thou derived these omens, 
 Thus deeply marked with characters of death ? 
 
 Cas. Alas ! the bed, the bridal bed of Paris, 
 Destructive to his friends ! Paternal stream, 
 Scamander, on thy banks with careless steps 
 My childhood strayed : but now methinks I go, 
 Alas, how soon ! to prophesy around 
 Cocytus, and the banks of Acheron ! 
 
 Chor. Perspicuous this, and clear ! the new-born babe 
 Might comprehend it ; but thy piercing griefs, 
 Bewailing thus the miseries of thy fate, 
 Strike deep ; they wound me to my very soul. 
 
 Cas. Ah, my poor country, my poor bleeding country, 
 Fall'n, fall'n forever ! And you, sacred altars, 
 That blazed before my father's towered palace, 
 Not all your victims could avert your doom ! 
 And on the earth soon shall my warm blood flow. 
 
 Chor. This is consistent with thy former ravings. 
 Or does some god indeed incumbent press 
 Thy soul, and modulate thy voice to utter 
 These lamentable notes of woe and death?
 
 AGAMEMNON 85 
 
 What th' event shall be, exceeds my knowledge. 
 
 Cas. The oracle no more shall shroud its visage 
 Beneath a veil, as, a new bride that blushes 
 To meet the gazing eye ; but like the sun, 
 When with his orient ray he gilds the east, 
 Shall burst upon you in a flood of light, 
 Disclosing deeds of deeper dread. Away, 
 Ye mystic coverings ! And you, reverend men, 
 Bear witness to me, that with steady step 
 I trace foul deeds that smell above the earth. 
 For never shall that band, whose yelling notes 
 In dismal accord pierce th' affrighted ear, 
 Forsake this house. The genius of the feast, 
 Drunk with the blood of men, and fired from thence 
 To bolder daring, ranges through the rooms 
 Linked with his kindred Furies : these possess 
 The mansion, and in horrid measures chant 
 The first base deed ; recording with abhorrence 
 Th'' adulterous lust, that stained a brother's bed. 
 What, like a skilful archer, have I lodged 
 My arrow in the mark ? No trifling this, 
 T' alarm you with false sounds. But swear to me, 
 In solemn attestation, that I know, 
 And speak the old offences of this house. 
 
 Chor. In such a rooted ill what healing power 
 Resides there in an oath ? But much I marvel 
 That thou, the native of a foreign realm, 
 Of foreign tongue, canst speak our language freely, 
 As Greece had been thy constant residence. 
 
 Cas. Apollo graced me with this skill. At first 
 The curb of modesty was on my tongue. 
 
 Chor. Did the god feel the force of young desire ? 
 In each gay breast ease fans the wanton flame. 
 
 Cas. With all the fervour of impatient love 
 He strove to gratify my utmost wish. 
 
 Chor. And didst thou listen to his tempting lures? 
 
 Cas. First I assented, then deceived the god.
 
 86 /ESCHYLUS 
 
 Chor, Wast thou then fraught with these prophetic arts? 
 
 Cas. Even then I told my country all its woes. 
 
 Chor. The anger of the god fell heavy on thee? 
 
 Cas. My voice, for this offence, lost all persuasion. 
 
 Chor. To us it seems a voice of truth divine. 
 
 Cas. Woe, woe is me ! Again the furious power 
 Swells in my lab'ring breast ; again commands 
 My bursting voice ; and what I speak is fate. 
 Look, look, behold those children. There they sit ; 
 Such are the forms, that in the troubled night 
 Distract our sleep. By a friend's hands they died : 
 Are these the ties of blood ? See, in their hands 
 Their mangled limbs, horrid repast, they bear: 
 Th' invited father shares th' accursed feast. 
 For this the sluggard savage, that at ease 
 Rolls on his bed, nor rouses from his lair, 
 'Gainst my returning lord, for I must wear 
 The yoke of slavery, plans the dark design 
 Of death. Ah me ! the chieftain of the fleet, 
 The vanquisher of Troy, but little knows 
 What the smooth tongue of mischief, filed to words 
 Of glozing courtesy, with fate her friend, 
 Like Ate ranging in the dark can do 
 Calmly : such deeds a woman dares : she dares 
 Murder a man. What shall I call this mischief? 
 An Amphisbaena ? or a Scylla rather, 
 That in the vexed rocks holds her residence, 
 And meditates the manner's destruction ? 
 Mother of hell, 'midst friends enkindling discord 
 And hate implacable ! With dreadful daring 
 How did she shout, as if the battle swerved ? 
 Yet with feigned joy she welcomes his return. 
 These words may want persuasion. What of that ? 
 What must come, will come : and ere long with grief 
 Thou shall confess my prophecies are true. 
 
 Chor. Thyestes' bloody feast oft have I heard of, 
 Always with horror; and I tremble now
 
 AGAMEMNON 87 
 
 Hearing th' unaggravated truth. What else 
 She utters, leads my wand'ring thoughts astray 
 In wild uncertainty. 
 
 Cas. Then mark me well, 
 
 Thou shalt behold the death of Agamemnon. 
 
 Ckor. To better omens tune that voice unblessed, 
 Or in eternal silence be it sunk. 
 
 Cas. This is an ill no medicine can heal. 
 
 Chor. Not if it happens : but avert it, Heaven ! 
 
 Cas. To pray be thine ; the murd'rous deed is theirs. 
 
 Chor. What man dares perpetrate this dreadful act? 
 
 Cas. How widely dost thou wander from my words ! 
 
 Chor. I heard not whose bold hand should do the deed. 
 
 Cas. Yet speak I well the language of your Greece. 
 
 Chor. The gift of Phoebus this ; no trivial grace. 
 
 Cas. Ah, what a sudden flame comes rushing on me ! 
 I burn, I burn. Apollo, O Apollo ! 
 This lioness, that in a sensual sty 
 Rolled with the wolf, the generous lion absent, 
 Will kill me. And the sorc'ress, as she brews 
 Her philtred cup, will drug it with my blood. 
 She glories, as against her husband's life 
 She whets the axe, her vengeance falls on him 
 For that he came accompanied by me. 
 Why do I longer wear these useless honours, 
 This laurel wand, and these prophetic wreaths? 
 Away ! before I die I cast you from me ; 
 Lie there and perish ; I am rid of you ; 
 Or deck the splendid ruin of some other. 
 Apollo rends from me these sacred vestments, 
 Who saw me in his rich habiliments 
 Mocked 'midst my friends, doubtless without a cause. 
 When in opprobrious terms they jeered my skill, 
 And treated me as a poor vagrant wretch, 
 That told events from door to door for bread, 
 I bore it all : but now the prophet god, 
 That with his own arts graced me, sinks me down
 
 88 AESCHYLUS 
 
 To this low ruin. As my father fell 
 
 Butchered ev'n at the altar, like the victim's 
 
 My warm blood at the altar shall be shed : 
 
 Nor shall we die unhonoured by the gods. 
 
 He comes, dreadful in punishment, the son 
 
 Of this bad mother, by her death t' avenge 
 
 His murdered father : distant though he roams 
 
 An outcast and an exile, by his friends 
 
 Fenced from these deeds of violence, he comes 
 
 In solemn vengeance for his father laid 
 
 Thus low. But why for foreign miseries 
 
 Does the tear darken in my eye, that saw 
 
 The fall of Ilium, and its haughty conquerors 
 
 In righteous judgment thus received their meed? 
 
 But forward now ; I go to close the scene, 
 
 Nor shrink from death. I have a vow in heaven : 
 
 And further, I adjure these gates of hell, 
 
 Well may the blow be aimed, that while my blood 
 
 Flows in a copious stream, I may not feel 
 
 The fierce, convulsive agonies of death ; 
 
 But gently sink, and close my eyes in peace. 
 
 Chor. Unhappy, in thy knowledge most unhappy, 
 Long have thy sorrows flowed. But if indeed 
 Thou dost foresee thy death, why, like the heifer 
 Led by a heavenly impulse, do thy steps 
 Advance thus boldly to the cruel altar ? 
 
 Cas. I could not by delay escape my fate. 
 
 Chor. Yet is there some advantage in delay. 
 
 Cas. The day is come : by flight I should gain little. 
 
 Chor. Thy boldness adds to thy unhappiness. 
 
 Cas. None of the happy shuns his destined end. 
 
 Chor. True ; but to die with glory crowns our praise. 
 
 Cas. So died my father, so his noble sons. 
 
 Chor. What may this mean? Why backward dost 
 
 thou start? 
 Do thy own thoughts with horror strike thy soul ? 
 
 Cas. The scent of blood and death breathes from this 
 house.
 
 AGAMEMNON 89 
 
 Chor. The victims now are bleeding at the altar. 
 
 Cas. 'Tis such a smell as issues from the tomb. 
 
 Chor. This is no Syrian odour in the house. 
 
 Cas. Such though it be, I enter to bewail 
 My fate, and Agamemnon's. To have lived, 
 Let it suffice. And think not, gen'rous strangers, 
 Like the poor bird that flutters o'er the bough, 
 Through fear I linger. But my dying words 
 You will remember, when her blood shall flow 
 For mine, woman's for woman's : and the man's, 
 For his that falls by his accursed wife. 
 
 Chor. Thy fate, poor sufferer, fills my eyes with tears. 
 
 Cas. Yet once more let me raise my mournful voice. 
 Thou sun, whose rising beams shall bless no more 
 These closing eyes ! You, whose vindictive rage 
 Hangs o'er my hated murderers, oh avenge me, 
 Though, a poor slave, I fall an easy prey ! 
 This is the state of man : in prosperous fortune 
 A shadow, passing light, throws to the ground 
 Joy's baseless fabric : in adversity 
 Comes Malice with a sponge moistened in gall, 
 And wipes each beauteous character away ; 
 More than the first this melts my soul to pity. 
 
 Chor. By nature man is formed with boundless wishes 
 For prosperous fortune ; and the great man's door 
 Stands ever open to that envied person, 
 On whom she smiles ; but enter not with words, 
 Like this poor sufferer, of such dreadful import. 
 His arms the powers of Heaven have graced with con- 
 quest ; 
 
 Troy's proud walls lie in dust; and he returns 
 Crowned by the gods with glory : but if now 
 His blood must for the blood there shed atone, 
 If he must die for those that died, too dearly 
 He buys his triumph. Who of mortal men 
 Hears this, and dares to think his state secure? 
 
 Aga. [within] Oh ! I am wounded with a deadly blow.
 
 00 /ESCHYLUS 
 
 SemicJior. List, list ! What cry is this of wounds and 
 
 death ? 
 Aga. Wounded again, oh, basely, basely murdered ! 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 Tis the king's cry ; the dreadful deed is doing. 
 What shall we do ? What measures shall we form ? 
 
 What if we spread th' alarm, and with our outcries 
 Call at the palace gates the citizens ? 
 
 Nay, rather rush we in, and prove the deed, 
 While the fresh blood is reeking on the sword. 
 
 I readily concur ; determine then ; 
 
 For something must be done, and instantly. 
 
 That's evident. This bloody prelude threatens 
 More deeds of violence and tyranny. 
 
 We linger : those that tread the paths of honour, 
 Late though she meets them, sleep not in their task. 
 
 Perplexity and doubt distract my thoughts : 
 Deeds of high import ask maturest counsel. 
 
 Such are my thoughts, since fruitless were th' attempt 
 By all our pleas to raise the dead to life. 
 
 To save our wretched lives then shall we bow 
 To these imperious lords, these stains of honour? 
 
 That were a shame indeed ! No ; let us die : 
 Death is more welcome than such tyranny. 
 
 Shall we then take these outcries, which we heard, 
 For proofs, and thence conclude the king is slain ? 
 
 We should be well assured ere we pronounce : 
 To know, and to conjecture, differ widely. 
 
 There's reason in thy words. Best enter then, 
 And sec what fate attends the son of Atreus.
 
 AGAMEMNON 91 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA, CHORUS 
 
 Clytemnestra. To many a fair speech suited to the times, 
 If my words now be found at variance, 
 I shall not blush. For when the heart conceives 
 Thoughts of deep vengeance on a foe, what means 
 T' achieve the deed more certain, than to wear 
 The form of friendship, and with circling wiles 
 Inclose him in th' insuperable net? 
 This was no hasty, rash-conceived design ; 
 But formed with deep, premeditated thought, 
 Incensed with wrongs ; and often have I stood, 
 T' assay the execution, where he fell ; 
 And planned it so, for I with pride avow it, 
 He had no power t' escape, or to resist, 
 Entangled in the gorgeous robe, that shone 
 Fatally rich. I struck him twice, and twice 
 He groaned, then died. A third time as he lay 
 I gored him with a wound, a grateful present 
 To the stern god, that in the realms below 
 Reigns o'er the dead : there let him take his seat. 
 He lay ; and spouting from his wounds a stream 
 Of blood, bedewed me with these crimson drops. 
 I glory in them, like the genial earth, 
 When the warm showers of heaven descend, and wake 
 The flow'rets to unfold their vermeil leaves. 
 Come then, ye reverend senators of Argos, 
 Joy with me, if your hearts be tuned to joy ; 
 And such I wish them. Were it decent now 
 To pour libations o'er the dead, with justice 
 It might be done ; for his injurious pride 
 Filled for this house the cup of desolation, 
 Fated himself to drain it to the dregs. 
 
 Chor. We are astonished at thy daring words, 
 Thus vaunting o'er the ruins of thy husband. 
 
 Cly. Me, like a witless woman, wouldst thou fright ? 
 I tell thee, my firm soul disdains to fear. 
 Be thou disposed t' applaud, or censure me,
 
 9 2 AESCHYLUS 
 
 I reck it not : there Agamemnon lies, 
 
 My husband, slaughtered by this hand : I dare 
 
 Avow his death, and justify the deed. 
 
 Chor. What poison hath the baleful teeming earth, 
 Or the chafed billows of the foamy sea, 
 Given thee for food, or mingled in thy cup, 
 To work thee to this frenzy ? Thy cursed hand 
 Hath struck, hath slain. For this thy country's wrath 
 Shall in just vengeance burst upon thy head, 
 And with abhorrence drive thee from the city. 
 
 Cly. And dost thou now denounce upon my head 
 Vengeance, and hate, and exile ? 'Gainst this man 
 Urging no charge? Yet he without remorse, 
 As if a lamb that wantoned in his pastures 
 Were doomed to bleed, could sacrifice his daughter, 
 For whose dear sake I felt a mother's pains, 
 T' appease the winds of Thrace. Should not thy voice 
 Adjudge this man to exile, in just vengeance 
 For such unholy deeds ? Scarce hast thou heard 
 What I have done, but sentence is pronounced, 
 And that with rigour too. But mark me well, 
 I boldly tell thee that I bear a soul 
 Prepared for either fortune ; if thy hand 
 Be stronger, use thy power : but if the gods 
 Prosper my cause, be thou assured, old man, 
 Thou shalt be taught a lesson of discretion. 
 
 Chor. Aspiring are thy thoughts, and thy proud vaunts 
 Swell with disdain ; ev'n yet thy madding mind 
 Is drunk with slaughter ; with a savage grace 
 The thick blood stains thine eye. But soon thy friends 
 Faithless shall shrink from thy unsheltered side, 
 And leave thee to just vengeance, blow for blow. 
 
 Cly. Hear then this solemn oath : By that revenge, 
 Which for my daughter I have greatly taken ; 
 By the dread powers of At6 and Erinnys, 
 To whom my hand devoted him a victim, 
 Without a thought of fear I range these rooms,
 
 AGAMEMNON 
 
 93 
 
 While present to my aid JEgisthus stands, 
 As he hath stood, guarding my social hearth : 
 He is my shield, my strength, my confidence. 
 Here lies my base betrayer, who at Troy 
 Could revel in the arms of each Chryseis ; 
 He, and his captive minion ; she that marked 
 Portents and prodigies, and with ominous tongue 
 Presaged the Fates ; a wanton harlotry, 
 True to the rower's benches; their just meed 
 Have they received. See where he lies ; and she, 
 That like the swan warbled her dying notes, 
 His paranymph lies with him, to my bed 
 Leaving the darling object of my wishes. 
 
 Chor. No slow-consuming pains, to torture us 
 Fixed to the groaning couch, await us now ; 
 But Fate comes rushing on, and brings the sleep 
 That wakes no more. There lies the king, whose vir- 
 tues 
 
 Were truly royal. In a woman's cause 
 He suffered much ; and by a woman perished. 
 Ah, fatal Helen ! in the fields of Troy 
 How many has thy guilt, thy guilt alone, 
 Stretched in the dust ? But now by murd'rous hands 
 Hast thou sluiced out this rich and noble blood, 
 Whose foul stains never can be purged. This ruin 
 Hatl? discord, raging in the house, effected. 
 
 Cly. Wish not for death ; nor bow beneath thy griefs ; 
 Nor turn thy rage on Helen, as if she 
 Had drenched the fields with blood, as she alone 
 Fatal to Greece had caused these dreadful ills. 
 
 Chor. Tremendous fiend, that breathest through this 
 
 house 
 
 Thy baleful spirit, and with equal daring 
 Hast steeled these royal sisters to fierce deeds 
 That rend my soul, now, like the baleful raven, 
 Incumbent o'er the body dost thou joy 
 T' affright us with thy harsh and dissonant notes !
 
 94 ! I VI. US 
 
 Cly. There's sense in this : now hast thou touched 
 
 the key, 
 
 Rousing the fury that from sire to son 
 Hath bade the stream of blood, first poured by her, 
 Descend : one sanguine tide scarce rolled away, 
 Another flows in terrible succession. 
 
 Chor. And dost thou glory in these deeds of death, 
 This vengeance of the fury ? Thus to pride thee 
 In ruin, and the havoc of thy house, 
 Becomes thee ill. Ah ! 'tis a higher power, 
 That thus ordains : we see the hand of Jove, 
 Whose will directs the fate of mortal man. 
 My king, my royal lord, what words can show 
 My grief, my reverence for thy princely virtues ! 
 Art thou thus fall'n, caught in a cobweb snare, 
 By impious murder breathing out thy life? 
 Art thou thus fall'n, ah the disloyal bed ! 
 Secretly slaughtered by a treach'rous hand ? 
 
 Cly. Thou say'st, and say'st aloud, I did this deed : 
 Say not that I, that Agamemnon's wife, 
 Did it : the fury, fatal to this house, 
 In vengeance for Thyestes' horrid feast, 
 Assumed this form, and with her ancient rage 
 Hath for the children sacrificed the man. 
 
 Chor. That thou art guiltless of this blood, what proof, 
 What witness? From the father, in his cause, 
 Rise an avenger ! Stained with the dark streams 
 Of kindred blood fierce waves the bick'ring sword, 
 And points the ruthless boy to deeds of horror. 
 My king, my royal lord, what words can show 
 My grief, my reverence for thy princely virtues ! 
 Art thou thus fall'n, caught in a cobweb snare, 
 By impious murder breathing out thy life? 
 Art thou thus fall'n, ah the disloyal bed ! 
 Secretly slaughtered by a treach'rous hand? 
 
 Cly. No : of his death far otherwise I deem, 
 Nothing disloyal. Nor with secret guile
 
 AGAMEMNON 
 
 95 
 
 Wrought he his murd'rous mischiefs on this house. 
 
 For my sweet flow'ret, opening from his stem, 
 
 My Iphigenia, my lamented child, 
 
 Whom he unjustly slew, he justly died. 
 
 Nor let him glory in the shades below ; 
 
 For as he taught his sword to thirst for blood, 
 
 So by the thirsty sword his blood was shed. 
 
 Chor. Perplexed and troubled in my anxious thought, 
 Amid the ruins of this house, despair 
 Hangs heavy on me. Drop by drop no more 
 Descends the shower of blood ; but the wild storm 
 In one red torrent shakes the solid walls ; 
 While vengeance, ranging through the dreadful scene, 
 For further mischief whets her fatal sword. 
 
 Semichor. O Earth, that I had rested in thy bosom, 
 Ere I had seen him lodged with thee, and shrunk 
 To the brief compass of a silver urn ! 
 Who shall attend the rites of sepulture ? 
 Who shall lament him ? Thou, whose hand has shed 
 Thy husband's blood, wilt thou dare raise the voice 
 Of mourning o'er him? Thy unhallowed hand 
 Renders these honours, should they come from thee, 
 Unwelcome to his shade. What faithful tongue, 
 Fond to recount his great and godlike acts, 
 Shall steep in tears his funeral eulogy ? 
 
 Cly. This care concerns not thee : by us he fell, 
 By us he died : and we will bury him 
 With no domestic grief. But Iphigenia, 
 His daughter, as is meet, jocund and blithe 
 Shall meet him on the banks of that sad stream, 
 The flood of sorrow, and with filial duty 
 Hang fondling on her father's neck, and kiss him. 
 
 Chor. Thus insult treads on insult. Of these things 
 Hard is it to decide. Th' infected stain 
 Communicates th' infection ; murder calls 
 For blood ; and outrage on th' injurious head, 
 At Jove's appointed time, draws outrage down.
 
 9 6 
 
 A:SCHYLUS 
 
 Thus, by the laws of Nature, son succeeds 
 
 To sire ; and who shall drive him from the house ? 
 
 Cly. These are the oracles of truth. But hear me ; 
 It likes me to the genius of the race 
 Of Plisthenes to swear that what is past, 
 Though poor the satisfaction, bounds my wishes. 
 Hither he comes no more : no, let him stain 
 Some other house with gore. For me, some poor, 
 Some scanty pittance of the goods contents me, 
 Well satisfied that from this house I've driven 
 These frantic Furies red with kindred blood. 
 
 ^EGISTHUS, CLYTEMNESTRA, CHORUS 
 JEgisthus. Hail to this joyful day, whose welcome light 
 Brings vengeance ! Now I know that the just gods 
 Look from their skies, and punish impious mortals, 
 Seeing this man rolled in the blood-wove woof, 
 The tissue of the Furies, grateful sight, 
 And suffering for his father's fraudful crimes. 
 Atreus, his father, sovereign of this land, 
 Brooking no rival in his power, drove out 
 My father and his brother, poor Thyestes, 
 A wretched exile : from his country far 
 He wandered ; but at length returned, and stood 
 A suppliant before the household gods, 
 Secure in their protection that his blood 
 Should not distain the pavement. This man's father, 
 The sacrilegious Atreus, with more show 
 Of courtesy than friendship, spread the feast ; 
 Devoting, such the fair pretence, the day 
 To hospitality and genial mirth : 
 Then to my father in that feast served up 
 The flesh of his own sons : their hands and feet 
 Hacked off before, their undistinguished parts 
 He ate, without suspicion ate, a food 
 Destructive to the race. But when he knew 
 Th' unhallowed deed, he raised a mournful cry,
 
 AGAMEMNON 
 
 97 
 
 And starting up with horror spurned to the ground 
 The barb'rous banquet, utt'ring many a curse 
 Of deepest vengeance on the house of Pelops. 
 Thus perish all the race of Plisthenes! 
 And for this cause thou seest him fall'n ! His death 
 With justice I devised ; for me he chased, 
 The thirteenth son, an infant in my cradle, 
 With my unhappy father. Nursed abroad, 
 Vengeance led back my steps, and taught my hand 
 From far to reach him. All this plan of ruin 
 Was mine, reckless of what ensues ; ev'n death 
 Were glorious, now he lies caught in my vengeance. 
 
 Chor. T' embitter ills with insult, this, TEgisthus, 
 I praise not. Thou, of thine own free accord, 
 Hast slain this man ; such is thy boast ; this plan 
 Of ruin, which we mourn, is thine alone. 
 But be thou well assured thou shalt not 'scape, 
 When, roused to justice, the avenging people 
 Shall hurl their stones with curses on thy head. 
 
 sEgis. From thee, who labourest at the lowest oar, 
 This language, and to him that holds the helm ! 
 Thou shalt be taught, old man, what at thy age 
 Is a hard lesson, prudence. Chains and hunger, 
 Besides the load of age, have sovereign virtue 
 To physic the proud heart. Behold this sight ; 
 Does it not ope thine eyes ? Rest quiet then ; 
 Contend not with the strong ; there's danger in it. 
 
 Chor. And could thy softer sex, while the rough 
 
 war 
 
 Demands its chieftain, violate his bed, 
 And on his first return contrive his death ? 
 
 sEgis. No more: this sounds th* alarm to rude com- 
 plaints. 
 
 The voice of Orpheus with its soothing notes 
 Attracted ev'n the savage ; while thy yells 
 To rage inflame the gentle : but take heed ; 
 Dungeons and chains may teach thee moderation. 
 I
 
 9 8 
 
 /KSCHYLUS 
 
 Chor. Shalt thou reign king in Argos ? Thou, whose 
 
 soul 
 
 Plotted this murder ; while thy coward hand 
 Shrunk back, nor dared to execute the deed ? 
 
 sEgis. Wiles and deceit are female qualities : 
 The memory of my ancient enmity 
 Had waked suspicion. Master of his treasures, 
 Be it my next attempt to gain the people : 
 Whome'er I find unwilling to submit, 
 Him, like a high-fed and unruly horse 
 Reluctant to the harness, rigour soon 
 Shall tame : confinement, and her meagre comrade, 
 Keen hunger, will abate his fiery mettle. 
 
 Chor. Did not the baseness of thy coward soul 
 Unman thee to this murder, that a woman, 
 Shame to her country and her country's gods, 
 Must dare the horrid deed ? But when Orestes, 
 Where'er he breathes the vital air, returns, 
 Good fortune be his guide, shall not his hand 
 Take a bold vengeance in the death of both ? 
 
 jEgis. Since such thy thoughts and words, soon shalt 
 thou feel 
 
 Chor. Help, ho ! soldiers and friends ; the danger's 
 
 near ; 
 Help, ho ! advance in haste with your drawn swords ! 
 
 jEgis. My sword is drawn : ^Egisthus dares to die. 
 
 Chor. Prophetic be thy words ! We hail the omen, 
 
 Cly. Dearest of men, do not heap ills on ills : 
 I wish not to exasperate, but to heal, 
 Misfortune's past : enough is given to vengeance ; 
 Let no more blood be spilt. Go then, old men, 
 Each to your homes ; go, while ye may, in peace. 
 What hath been done the rigour of the times 
 Compelled, and hard necessity ; the weight 
 Of these afflictions, grievous as they are, 
 By too severe a doom falls on our heads. 
 Disdain not to be taught, though by a woman.
 
 AGAMEMNON 
 
 99 
 
 is. Ay ; but to hear this vain, tongue-doughty bab- 
 bler, 
 
 Lavish of speech that tempts to desperate deeds, 
 It moves me from the firmness of my temper. 
 
 Chor. An Argive scorns to fawn on guilty greatness. 
 AZgis. My vengeance shall o'ertake thee at the last. 
 Chor. Not if just Heaven shall guide Orestes hither. 
 sEgis. An exile, I well know, feeds on vain hopes. 
 Chor. Go on then, gorge with blood ; thou hast the 
 
 means. 
 
 JEgis. This folly, be assured, shall cost thee dear. 
 Chor. The craven, in her presence, rears his crest. 
 Cly. Slight men, regard them not; but let us enter, 
 Assume our state, and order all things well.
 
 THE 
 ANTIGONE OF SOPHOCLES 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 RICHARD CLAVERHOUSE JEBB
 
 SOPHOCLES was born in 496 B.C. and lived to the age of ninety-one. 
 His father, Sophillus, was a wealthy citizen of Colonos, a fashionable 
 suburb of Athens, and the young dramatist received the best education 
 that Greece could afford. In music, which he studied under Lamprocles, 
 he was particularly apt, and at the age of sixteen he was chosen to lead 
 a chorus of youths in the celebration of the victory of Salamis (480 B. c.). 
 He was frequently employed as ambassador, and in other high offices in 
 the republic, and in the Samian War was given the generalship in joint 
 command with Pericles. This appointment is said to have been influ- 
 enced by the great popular success of "Antigone." At twenty-eight he 
 competed with yEschylus, and was awarded the prize by Cimon and his 
 fellow-generals, who had just returned from Scyros and were the judges 
 for that year (468 B. c.). From that time until the death of ./Eschylus he 
 divided honours about equally with his great predecessor, never taking 
 less than a third prize, and continually growing in popularity. Seven of 
 the eighty or more plays that he is supposed to have written remain for 
 our study and enjoyment, together with many fragments of those less 
 fortunate in the wreck of time. The probable order of their production 
 is as follows: "Ajax," "Antigone," " Electra," " CEdipus Tyrannus," 
 " Trachinise," " CEdipus Coloneus," and " Philoctetes." Cicero voices a 
 popular tradition where he says, in his essay "On Old Age": "Sopho- 
 cles continued in extreme old age to write tragedies. As he seemed to 
 neglect his family affairs while he was wholly intent on his dramatic 
 compositions, his sons instituted a suit against him in a court of judica- 
 ture, suggesting that his understanding was impaired, and praying that 
 he might be removed from the management of his estate. It is said that 
 when the old bard appeared in court on this occasion he desired that he 
 might be permitted to read a play which he had lately finished, and 
 which he then held in his hand; it was his 'CEdipus Coloneus.' His 
 request being granted, after he had finished the recital he appealed to the 
 judges whether they could discover in his performance any symptoms of 
 an insane mind, and the result was that the court unanimously dismissed 
 the complainants' petition." The poet died in 405. "Philoctetes" was 
 produced in 409, and " CEdipus Coloneus" is said not to have been acted 
 until after the poet's death.
 
 I 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 ISMENE. 
 EURYDICE. 
 CREON. 
 
 H.-EMON. 
 
 TEIRESIAS. 
 
 GUARD. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 SECOND MESSENGER. 
 
 CHORUS OF THEBAN ELDERS. 
 
 SCENE : An open space before the Royal Palace (once 
 that of CEdipus) at Thebes. The back-scene represents 
 the front of the palace, with three doors, of which the 
 central is the largest, being the principal entrance to 
 the court of the house.
 
 ANTIGONE 
 
 At daybreak, on the morning after the fall of the two brothers and the 
 flight of the Argives. ANTIGONE calls ISMENB forth from the house, in 
 order to speak with her apart. 
 
 AITIGONE. Ismene, my sister, mine own dear sister, 
 knowest thou what ill there is, of all bequeathed 
 by CEdipus, that Zeus fulfils not for us twain while 
 we live ? Nothing- painful is there, nothing fraught with 
 ruin, no shame, no dishonour, that I have not seen in 
 thy woes and mine. 
 
 And now what new edict is this of which they tell, that 
 our Captain hath just published to all Thebes ? Knowest 
 thou aught ? Hast thou heard ? Or is it hidden from 
 thee that our friends are threatened with the doom of our 
 foes? 
 
 Ismene. No word of friends, Antigone, gladsome or 
 painful, hath come to me, since we two sisters were bereft 
 of brothers twain,- killed in one day by a twofold blow; 
 and since in this last night the Argive host has fled, I 
 know no more, whether my fortune be brighter, or more 
 grievous. 
 
 An. I knew it well, and therefore sought to bring thee 
 beyond the gates of the court, that thou mightest hear 
 alone. 
 
 Is. What is it? Tis plain that thou art brooding on 
 some dark tidings. 
 
 5 105
 
 I0 6 SOPHOCLES 
 
 An. What! hath not Creon destined our brothers, the 
 one to honoured burial, the other to unbtiried shame? 
 Eteocles, they say, with due observance of right and cus- 
 tom, he hath laid in the earth, for his honour among the 
 dead below. But the hapless corpse of Polyneices as 
 rumour saith, it hath been published to the town that 
 none shall entomb him or mourn, but leave unwept, un- 
 sepulchred, a welcome store for the birds, as they espy 
 him, to feast on at will. 
 
 Such, 'tis said, is the edict that the good Creon hath 
 set forth for thee and for me yes, for me and is coming 
 hither to proclaim it clearly to those who know it not ; 
 nor counts the matter light, but, whoso disobeys in aught, 
 his doom is death by stoning before all the folk. Thou 
 knowest it now ; and thou wilt soon show whether thou 
 art nobly bred, or the base daughter of a nobler line. 
 
 Is. Poor sister and if things stand thus, what could I 
 help to do or undo? 
 
 An. Consider if thou wilt share the toil and the deed. 
 
 Is. In what venture? What can be thy meaning? 
 
 An. Wilt thou aid this hand to lift the dead ? 
 
 Is. Thou wouldst bury him when 'tis forbidden to 
 Thebes? 
 
 An. I will do my part and thine, if thou wilt not to 
 a brother. False to him will I never be found. 
 
 Is. Ah, over-bold ! when Creon hath forbidden ? 
 
 An. Nay, he hath no right to keep me from mine own. 
 
 Is. Ah me ! think, sister, how our father perished, 
 amid hate and scorn, when sins bared by his own search 
 had moved him to strike both eyes with self-blinding 
 hand ; then the mother wife, two names in one, with 
 twisted noose did despite unto her life; and last, our two 
 brothers in one day each shedding, hapless one, a kins- 
 man's blood wrought out with mutual hands their com- 
 mon doom. And now nr in turn we two left all alone 
 think how we shall perish, more miserably than all the 
 , if, in defiance of the law, we brave a king's decree or
 
 ANTK 
 
 107 
 
 his powers. Nay, we must remember, first, that we were 
 born women, as who should not strive with men ; next, 
 that we are ruled of the stronger, so that we must obey 
 in these things, and in things yet sorer. I, therefore, ask- 
 ing the spirits infernal to pardon, seeing that force is put 
 on me herein, will hearken to our rulers ; for 'tis witless 
 to be over-busy. 
 
 An. I will not urge thee no, nor, if thou yet shouldst 
 have the mind, wouldst thou be welcome as a worker with 
 me. Nay, be what thou wilt ; but I will bury him : well 
 for me to die in doing that. I shall rest, a loved one with 
 him whom I have loved, sinless in my crime ; for I owe a 
 longer allegiance to the dead than to the living: in that 
 world I shall abide forever. But if thou wilt, be guilty 
 of dishonouring la\vs which the gods have established in 
 honour. 
 
 Is. I do them no dishonour; but to defy the state I 
 have no strength for that. 
 
 An. Such be thy plea: I, then, will go to heap the 
 earth above the brother whom I love. 
 
 Is. Alas, unhappy one ! How I fear for thee ! 
 
 An. Fear not for me : guide thine own fate aright. 
 
 Is. At least, then, disclose this plan to none, but hide 
 it closely and so, too, will I. 
 
 An. Oh, denounce it! Thou wilt be far more hateful 
 for thy silence, if thou proclaim not these things to all. 
 
 Is. Thou hast a hot heart for chilling deeds. 
 
 An. I know that I please where I am most bound to 
 please. 
 
 Is. Ay, if thou canst ; but thgu wouldst what thou 
 canst not. 
 
 An. Why, then, when my strength fails, I shall have 
 done. 
 
 Is. A hopeless quest should not be made at all. 
 
 An. If thus thou speakest, thou wilt have hatred from 
 me, and wilt justly be subject to the lasting hatred of the 
 dead. But leave me, and the folly that is mine alone, to
 
 I0 8 SOPHOCLES 
 
 suffer this dread thing ; for I shall not suffer aught so 
 dreadful as an ignoble death. 
 
 Is. Go, then, if thou must ; and of this be sure that, 
 though thine errand is foolish, to thy dear ones thou art 
 truly dear. 
 
 {Exit ANTIGONE on the spectators left. ISMENE 
 retires into the palace by one of the two side-doors. 
 
 Chorus. Beam of the sun, fairest light that ever dawned 
 on Thebe of the seven gates, thou hast shone forth at last, 
 eye of golden day, arisen above Dirce's streams ! The 
 warrior of the white shield, who came from Argos in his 
 panoply, hath been stirred by thee to headlong flight, in 
 swifter career ; who set forth against our land by reason 
 of the vexed claims of Polyneices ; and, like shrill-scream- 
 ing eagle, he flew over into our land, in snow-white pinion 
 sheathed, with an armed throng, and with plumage of 
 helms. 
 
 He paused above our dwellings ; he ravened around 
 our sevenfold portals with spears athirst for blood ; but 
 he went hence, or ever his jaws were glutted with our 
 gore, or the Fire-god's pine-fed flame had seized our crown 
 of towers. So fierce was the noise of battle raised behind 
 him, a thing too hard for him to conquer, as he wrestled 
 with his dragon foe. 
 
 For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue ; 
 and when he beheld them coming on in a great stream, in 
 the haughty pride of clanging gold, he smote with bran- 
 dished fire one who was now hasting to shout victory at 
 his goal upon our ramparts. 
 
 Swung down, he fell on the earth with a crash, torch 
 in hand, he who so lately, in the frenzy of the mad onset, 
 was raging against us with the blasts of his tempestuous 
 hate. But those threats fared not as he hoped ; and to 
 other foes the mighty War-god dispensed their several 
 dooms, dealing havoc around, a mighty helper at our 
 need. 
 
 For seven captains at seven gates, matched against
 
 ANTIGONE 
 
 109 
 
 seven, left the tribute of their panoplies to Zeus who turns 
 the battle ; save those two of cruel fate, who, born of one 
 sire and one mother, set against each other their twain 
 conquering spears, and are sharers in a common death. 
 
 But since Victory of glorious name hath come to us, 
 with joy responsive to the joy of Thebe whose chariots 
 are many, let us enjoy forgetfulness after the late wars, 
 and visit all the temples of the gods with night-long dance 
 and song ; and may Bacchus be our leader, whose dancing 
 shakes the land of Thebe. 
 
 But lo, the king of- the land comes yonder, Creon, son 
 of Menoeceus, our new ruler by the new fortunes that the 
 gods have given ; what counsel is he pondering, that he 
 hath proposed this special conference of elders, summoned 
 by his general mandate ? 
 
 Enter CREON, from the central doors of the palace, in the 
 garb of king; with two attendants 
 
 Creon. Sirs, the vessel of our state, after being tossed on 
 wild waves, hath once more been safely steadied by the 
 gods : and ye, out of all the folk, have been called apart 
 by my summons, because I knew, first of all, how true and 
 constant was your reverence for the royal power of Laius ; 
 how, again, when OEdipus was ruler of our land, and when 
 he had perished, your steadfast loyalty still upheld their 
 children. Since, then, his sons have fallen in one day by 
 a twofold doom each smitten by the other, each stained 
 with a brother's blood I now possess the throne and all 
 its powers, by nearness of kinship to the dead. 
 
 No man can be fully known, in soul and spirit and 
 mind, until he hath been seen versed in rule and law- 
 giving. For if any, being supreme guide of the state, 
 cleaves not to the best counsels, but, through some fear, 
 keeps kis lips locked, I hold, and have ever held, him 
 most base ; and if any makes a friend of more account 
 than his fatherland, that man hath no place in my regard. 
 For I be Zeus my witness, who sees all things always
 
 IIO SOPHOCLES 
 
 would not be silent if I saw ruin, instead of safety, coming 
 to the citizens ; nor would I ever deem the country's foe 
 a friend to myself ; remembering this, that our country is 
 the ship that bears us safe, and that only while she pros- 
 pers in our voyage can we make true friends. 
 
 Such are the rules by which I guard this city's great- 
 ness. And in accord with them is the edict which I have 
 now published to the folk touching the sons of QEdipus ; 
 that Eteocles, who hath fallen fighting for our city, in all 
 renown of arms, shall be entombed, and crowned with 
 every rite that follows the noblest dead to their rest. But 
 for his brother, Polyneices who came back from exile, 
 and sought to consume utterly with fire the city of his 
 fathers and the shrines of his fathers' gods sought to 
 taste of kindred blood, and to lead the remnant into 
 slavery touching this man, it hath been proclaimed to 
 our people that none shall grace him with sepulture or 
 lament, but leave him unburied, a corpse for birds and 
 dogs to eat, a ghastly sight of shame. 
 
 Such the spirit of my dealing ; and never, by deed of 
 mine, shall the wicked stand in honour before the just ; 
 but whoso hath good-will to Thebes, he shall be honoured 
 of me, in his life and in his death. 
 
 Ch. Such is thy pleasure, Creon, son of Menceceus, 
 touching this city's foe, and its friend ; and thou hast 
 power, 1 ween, to take what order thou wilt, both for the 
 dead and for all of us who live. 
 
 Cr. See, then, that ye be guardians of the mandate. 
 
 Ch. Lav the burden of this task on some younger man. 
 
 Cr. Nay, watchers of the corpse have been found. 
 
 Ch. \Vhat, then, is this further charge that thou 
 wouldst give? 
 
 Cr. That ye side not with the breakers of these com- 
 mands. 
 
 Ch. No man is so foolish that he i^ enamoured of death. 
 
 Cr. In M.oth, thr.t i^ th meed : yd lucre hath oft ruined 
 men through their hoi n
 
 ANTIGONE III 
 
 Enter GUARD 
 
 Guard. My liege, I will not say that I come breathless 
 from speed, or that I have plied a nimble foot ; for often did 
 my thoughts make me pause, and wheel round in my path, 
 to return. My mind was holding large discourse with me : 
 " Fool, why goest thou to thy certain doom ? " " Wretch, 
 tarrying again ? And if Creon hears this from another, 
 must not thou smart for it? " So debating, I went on my 
 way with lagging steps, and thus a short road was made 
 long. At last, however, it carried the day that I should 
 come hither to thee ; and, though my tale be naught, 
 yet will I tell it ; for I come with a good grip on one 
 hope that I can suffer nothing but what is my fate. 
 
 Cr. And what is it that disquiets thee thus? 
 
 Gu. I wish to tell thee first about myself I did not do 
 the deed I did not see the doer it were not right that I 
 should come to any harm. 
 
 Cr. Thou hast a shrewd eye for thy mark ; well dost 
 thou fence thyself round against the blame clearly thou 
 hast some strange thing to tell. 
 
 Gu. Ay, truly ; dread news makes one pause long. 
 
 Cr. Then tell it, wilt thou, and so get thee gone ? 
 
 Gu. Well, this is it. The corpse some one hath just 
 given it burial, and gone away after sprinkling thirsty 
 dust on the flesh with such other rites as piety enjoins. 
 
 Cr. What sayest thou ? What living man hath dared 
 this deed ? 
 
 Gu. I know not ; no stroke of pickaxe was seen there, 
 no earth thrown up by mattock ; the ground was hard 
 and dry, unbroken, without track of wheels ; the doer 
 was one who had left no trace. And when the first day- 
 watchman showed it to us, sore wonder fell on all. The 
 dead man was veiled from us ; not shut within a tomb, 
 but lightly strewn with dust, as by the hand of one who 
 shunned a curse. And no sign met the eye as though 
 any beast of prey or any dog had come nigh to him, or 
 torn him.
 
 112 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Then evil words flew fast and loud among us, guard 
 accusing guard ; and it would e'en have come to blows at 
 last, nor was there any to hinder. Every man was the 
 culprit, and no one was convicted, but all disclaimed 
 knowledge of the deed. And we were ready to take red- 
 hot iron in our hands to walk through fire to make 
 oath by the gods that we had not done the deed that we 
 were not privy to the planning or the doing. 
 
 At last, when all our searching was fruitless, one 
 spake, who made us all bend our faces on the earth in 
 fear ; for we saw not how we could gainsay him, or es- 
 cape mischance if we obeyed. His counsel was that this 
 deed must be reported to thee, and not hidden. And this 
 seemed best ; and the lot doomed my hapless self to win 
 this prize. So here I stand as unwelcome as unwilling, 
 well I wot ; for no man delights in the bearer of bad news. 
 
 Ch. O King, my thoughts have long been whispering, 
 can this deed, perchance, be e'en the work of gods ? 
 
 Cr. Cease, ere thy words fill me utterly with wrath, 
 lest thou be found at once an old man and foolish. For 
 thou sayest what is not to be borne, in saying that the 
 gods have care for this corpse. Was it for high reward 
 of trusty service that they sought to hide his nakedness, 
 who came to burn their pillared shrines and sacred treas- 
 ures, to burn their land, and scatter its laws to the winds? 
 Or dost thou behold the gods honouring the wicked ? It 
 can not be. No ! From the first there were certain in 
 the town that muttered against me, chafing at this edict, 
 wagging their heads in secret ; and kept not their necks 
 duly under the yoke, like men contented with my sway. 
 
 Tis by them, well I know, that these have been be- 
 guiled and bribed to do this deed. Nothing so evil as 
 money ever grew to be current among men. This lays 
 cities low, this drives men from their homes, this trains 
 and warps honest souls till they set themselves to works 
 of shame ; this still teaches folk to practise villanies, and 
 to know every godless deed.
 
 ANTIGONE 113 
 
 But all the men who wrought this thing for hire have 
 made it sure that, soon or late, they shall pay the price. 
 Now, as Zeus still hath my reverence, know this I tell 
 it thee on my oath : If ye find not the very author of this 
 burial, and produce him before mine eyes, death alone 
 shall not be enough for you, till first hung up alive, ye 
 have revealed this outrage that henceforth ye may thieve 
 with better knowledge whence lucre should be won, and 
 learn that it is not well to love gain from every source. 
 For thou wilt find that ill-gotten pelf brings more men to 
 ruin than to weal. 
 
 Gu. May I speak? Or shall I just turn and go? 
 
 Cr. Knowest thou not that even now thy voice of- 
 fends ? 
 
 Gu. Is thy smart in the ears, or in the soul ? 
 
 Cr. And why wouldst thou define tjie seat of my pain ? 
 
 Gu. The doer vexes thy mind, but I, thine ears. 
 
 Cr. Ah, thou art a born babbler, 'tis well seen. 
 
 Gu. May be, but never the doer of this deed. 
 
 Cr. Yea, and more the seller of thy life for silver. 
 
 Gu. Alas ! Tis sad, truly, that he who judges should 
 misjudge. 
 
 Cr. Let thy fancy play with " judgment " as it will 
 but, if ye show me not the doers of these things, ye shall 
 avow that dastardly gains work sorrows. {Exit. 
 
 Gu. Well, may he be found ! so 'twere best. But, be 
 he caught or be he not fortune must settle that truly 
 thou wilt not see me here again. Saved, even now, be- 
 yond hope and thought, I owe the gods great thanks. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Chorus. Wonders are many, and none is more wonder- 
 ful than man ; the power that crosses the white sea, driven 
 by the stormy south wind, making a path under surges 
 that threaten to ingulf him ; and Earth, the eldest of the 
 gods, the immortal, the unwearied, doth he wear, turning 
 the soil with the offspring of horses, as the ploughs go to 
 and fro from year to year.
 
 H 4 SOPHOCLES 
 
 And the light-hearted race of birds, and the tribes of 
 savage beasts, and the sea-brood of the deep, he snares in 
 the meshes of his woven toils, he leads captive man ex- 
 cellent in wit ! And he masters by his arts the beast whose 
 lair is in the wilds, who roams the hills ; he tames the 
 horse of shaggy mane, he puts the yoke upon its neck, he 
 tames the tireless mountain bull. 
 
 And speech, and wind-swift thought, and all the moods 
 that mould a state, hath he taught himself ; and how to 
 flee the arrows of the frost, when 'tis hard lodging under 
 the clear sky, and the arrows of the rushing rain ; yea, he 
 hath resource for all ; without resource he meets nothing 
 that must come : only against Death shall he call for aid 
 in vain ; but from baffling maladies he hath devised es- 
 capes. 
 
 Cunning beyond fancy's dream is the fertile skill which 
 brings him, now to evil, now to good. When he honours 
 the laws of the land, and that justice which he hath 
 sworn by the gods to uphold, proudly stands his city : 
 no city hath he who, for his rashness, dwells with sin. 
 Never may he share my hearth, never think my thoughts, 
 who doth these things ! 
 
 Enter the GUARD, on the spectators' left, leading 
 ANTIGONE 
 
 What portent from the gods is this? my soul is 
 amazed. I know her how can I deny that yon maiden 
 is Antigone? 
 
 O hapless, and child of hapless sire of CEdipus ! 
 What means this? Thou brought a prisoner? thou, dis- 
 loyal to the king's laws, and taken in folly ? 
 
 (in. Here she is, the doer of the deed : we caught this 
 girl burying him but where is Creon ? 
 
 ( //. Lo, he comes forth again from the house, at our 
 need. 
 
 Cr. What is it ? What hath chanced, that makes my 
 coming tinu-ly ?
 
 ANTIGONE 115 
 
 Gu. O King, against nothing should men pledge their 
 word ; for the after-thought belies the first intent. I 
 could have vowed that I should not soon be here again 
 scared by thy threats, with which I had just been lashed: 
 but since the joy that surprises and transcends our hopes 
 is like in fulness to no other pleasure I have come, 
 though 'tis in breach of my sworn oath, bringing this 
 maid ; who was taken showing grace to the dead. This 
 time there was no casting of lots ; no, this luck hath fallen 
 to me, and to none else. And now, Sire, take her thyself, 
 question her, examine her, as thou wilt ; but I have a 
 right to free and final quittance of this trouble. 
 
 Cr. And thy prisoner here how and whence hast 
 thou taken her? 
 
 Gu. She was burying the man ; thou knowest all. 
 
 Cr. Dost 'thou mean what thou sayest ? Dost thou 
 speak aright? 
 
 Gu. I saw her burying the corpse that thou hadst for- 
 bidden to bury. Is that plain and clear? 
 
 Cr. And how was she seen ? how taken in the act ? 
 
 Gu. It befell on this wise : When we had come to the 
 place with those dread menaces of thine upon us we 
 swept away all the dust that covered the corpse, and 
 bared the dank body well ; and then sat us down on the 
 brow of the hill, to windward, heedful that the smell from 
 him should not strike us ; every man was wide awake, 
 and kept his neighbour alert with torrents of threats, if 
 any one should be careless of this task. 
 
 So went it, until the sun's bright orb stood in mid 
 heaven, and the heat began to burn : and then suddenly a 
 whirlwind lifted from the earth a storm of dust, a trouble 
 in the sky, and filled the plain, marring all the leafage of 
 its woods ; and the wide air was choked therewith : we 
 closed our eyes, and bore the plague from the gods. 
 
 And when, after a long while, this storm had passed, 
 the maid was seen ; and she cried aloud with the sharp 
 cry of a bird in its bitterness even as when, within the
 
 Il6 SOPHOCLES 
 
 empty nest, it sees the bed stripped of its nestlings. So 
 she also, when she saw the corpse bare, lifted up a voice 
 of wailing, and called down curses on the doers of that 
 deed. And straightway she brought thirsty dust in her 
 hands ; and from a shapely ewer of bronze, held high, with 
 thrice-poured drink-offering she crowned the dead. 
 
 We rushed forward when we saw it, and at once closed 
 upon our quarry, who was in no wise dismayed. Then 
 we taxed her with her past and present doings ; and she 
 stood not on denial of aught at once to my joy and to my 
 pain. To have escaped from ills one's self is a great joy ; 
 but 'tis painful to bring friends to ill. Howbeit, all such 
 things are of less account to me than mine own safety. 
 
 Cr. Thou thou whose face is bent to earth dost thou 
 avow, or disavow, this deed ? 
 
 An. I avow it; I make no denial. 
 
 Cr. (To GUARD.) Thou canst betake thee whither thou 
 wilt, free and clear of a grave charge. {Exit GUARD. 
 
 (To ANTIGONE.) Now, tell me thou not in many 
 words, but briefly knewest thou that an edict had for- 
 bidden this? 
 
 An, I knew it: could I help it? It was public. 
 
 Cr. 'And thou didst indeed dare to transgress that law ? 
 
 An. Yes ; for it was not Zeus that had published me 
 that edict; not such are the laws set among men by the 
 Justice who dwells with the gods below ; nor deemed I 
 that thy decrees were of such force, that a mortal could 
 override the unwritten and unfailing statutes of Heaven. 
 For their life is not of to-day or yesterday, but from all 
 time, and no man knows when they were first put forth. 
 
 Not through dread of any human pride could I answer 
 to the gods for breaking these. Die I must I knew that 
 well (how should I not?) even without thy edicts. But 
 if I am to die before my time, I count that a gain : for 
 when any one lives, as I do, compassed about with evils, 
 can such a one find aught but gain in death ? 
 
 So for me to meet, lliis doom is trifling grief; but if I
 
 ANTIGONE 
 
 had suffered my mother's son to lie in death an unburied 
 corpse, that would have grieved me ; for this, I am not 
 grieved. And if my present deeds are foolish in thy 
 sight, it may be that a foolish judge arraigns my folly. 
 
 Ch. The maid shows herself passionate child of pas- 
 sionate sire, and knows not how to bend before troubles. " 
 
 Cr. Yet I would have thee know that o'er-stubborn 
 spirits are most often humbled ; 'tis the stiffest iron, baked 
 to hardness in the fire, that thou shalt oftenest see snapped 
 and shivered ; and I have seen horses that show temper 
 brought to order by a little curb ; there is no room for 
 pride, when thou art thy neighbour's slave. This girl was 
 already versed in insolence when she transgressed the 
 laws that had been set forth ; and, that done, lo! a second 
 insult to vaunt of this, and exult in her deed. 
 
 Now verily I am no man, she is the man, if this victory 
 shall rest with her, and bring no penalty. No ! be she 
 sister's child, or nearer to me in blood than any that wor- 
 ships Zeus at the altar of our house she and her kinsfolk 
 shall not avoid a doom most dire ; for indeed I charge 
 that other with a like share in the plotting of this burial. 
 
 And summon her for I saw her e'en now within 
 raving, and not mistress of her wits. So oft, before the 
 deed, the mind stands self-convicted in its treason, when 
 folks are plotting mischief in the dark. But verily this, 
 too, is hateful when one who hath been caught in 
 wickedness then seeks to make the crime a glory. 
 
 An. Wouldst thou do more than take and slay me? 
 
 Cr. No more, indeed ; having that, I have all. 
 
 An. Why then dost thou delay? In thy discourse 
 there is naught that pleases me never may there be ! 
 and so my words must needs be unpleasing to thee. And 
 yet, for glory whence could I have won a nobler, than 
 by giving burial to mine own brother ? All here would 
 own that they thought it well, were not their lips sealed 
 by fear. But royalty, blest in so much besides, hath the 
 power to do and say what it will.
 
 Z1 8 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Cr. Thou differest from all these Thebans in that 
 view. 
 
 An. These also share it ; but they curb their tongues 
 for thee. 
 
 Cr. And art thou not ashamed to act apart from 
 them ? 
 
 An. No ; there is nothing shameful in piety to a 
 brother. 
 
 Cr. Was it not a brother, too, that died in the op- 
 posite cause ? 
 
 An. Brother by the same mother and the same sire. 
 
 Cr. Why, then, dost thou render a grace that is im- 
 pious in his sight ? 
 
 An. The dead man will not say that he so deems it. 
 
 Cr. Yea, if thou makest him but equal in honour with 
 the wicked. 
 
 An. It was his brother, not his slave, that perished. 
 
 Cr. Wasting this land ; while he fell as its champion. 
 
 An. Nevertheless, Hades desires these rites. 
 
 Cr. But the good desires not a like portion with the 
 evil. 
 
 An. Who knows but this seems blameless in the world 
 below ? 
 
 Cr. A foe is never a friend not even in death. 
 
 An. Tis not my nature to join in hating, but in loving. 
 
 Cr. Pass, then, to the world of the dead, and, if thou 
 must needs love, love them. While I live, no woman 
 shall rule me. 
 
 Enter ISMENE from the house, led in by two attendants 
 Ch. Lo, yonder Ismene comes forth, shedding such 
 tears as fond sisters weep ; a cloud upon her brow casts 
 its shadow over her darkly flushing face, and breaks in on 
 her fair cheek. 
 
 Cr. And thou, who, lurking like a viper in my house, 
 wast secretly draining my life-blood, while I knew not 
 that I was nurturing two pests, to rise against my throne
 
 ANTIGONE U 9 
 
 come, tell me now, wilt thou also confess thy part in this 
 burial, or wilt thou forswear all knowledge of it? 
 
 Is. I have done the deed if she allows my claim 
 and share the burden of the charge. 
 
 An. Nay, justice will not suffer thee to do that: thou 
 didst not consent to the deed, nor did I give thee part 
 in it. 
 
 Is. But, now that ills beset thee, I am not ashamed to 
 sail the sea of trouble at thy side. 
 
 An. Whose was the deed, Hades and the dead are wit- 
 nesses : a friend in words is not the friend that I love. 
 
 Is. Nay, sister, reject me not, but let me die with thee, 
 and duly honour the dead. 
 
 An. Share not thou my death, nor claim deeds to which 
 thou hast not put thy hand : my death will suffice. 
 
 Is. And what life is dear to me, bereft of thee? 
 
 An. Ask Creon ; all thy care is for him. 
 
 Is. Why vex me thus, when it avails thee naught? 
 
 An. Indeed, if I mock, 'tis with pain that I mock thee. 
 
 Is. Tell me how can I serve thee, even now ? 
 
 An. Save thyself: I grudge not thy escape. 
 
 Is. Ah, woe is me ! And shall I have no share in thy 
 fate? 
 
 An. Thy choice was to live ; mine, to die. 
 
 Is. At least thy choice was not made without my 
 protest. 
 
 An. One world approved thy wisdom ; another mine. 
 
 Is. Howbeit, the offence is the same for both of us. 
 
 An. Be of good cheer; thou livest ; but my life hath 
 long been given to death, that so I might serve the dead. 
 
 Cr. Lo, one of these maidens hath newly shown her- 
 self foolish, as the other hath been since her life began. 
 
 Is. Yea, O King, such reason as Nature may have given 
 abides not with the unfortunate, but goes astray. 
 
 Cr. Thine did, when thou chosest vile deeds with 
 the vile. 
 
 Is. What life could I endure, without her presence?
 
 I20 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Cr. Nay, speak not of her " presence " ; she lives no 
 more. 
 
 Is. But wilt thou slay the betrothed of thine own son ? 
 
 Cr. Nay, there are other fields for him to plough. 
 
 Is. But there can never be such love as bound him 
 to her. 
 
 Cr. I like not an evil wife for my son. 
 
 An. Hasmon, beloved ! How thy father wrongs thee ! 
 
 Cr. Enough, enough of thee and of thy marriage ! 
 
 Ch. Wilt thou indeed rob thy son of this maiden ? 
 
 Cr. Tis Death that shall stay these bridals for me. 
 
 Ch. 'Tis determined, it seems, that she shall die. 
 
 Cr. Determined, yes, for thee and for me. (To the two 
 attendants^) No more delay servants, take them within ! 
 Henceforth they must be women, and not range at large ; 
 for verily even the bold seek to fly, when they see Death 
 now closing on their life. 
 
 \Exeunt attendants, guarding ANTIGONE and ISMENE. 
 CREON remains 
 
 Ch. Blest are they whose days have not tasted of evil. 
 For when a house hath once been shaken from heaven, 
 there the curse fails nevermpre, passing from life to life 
 of the race ; even as, when the surge is driven over the 
 darkness of the deep by the fierce breath of Thracian sea- 
 winds, it rolls up the black sand from the depths, and 
 there is a sullen roar from wind-vexed headlands that 
 front the blows of the storm. 
 
 I see that from olden time the sorrows in the house of 
 the Labdacidae are heaped upon the sorrows of the dead ; 
 and generation is not freed by generation, but some god 
 strikes them down, and the race hath no deliverance. 
 
 For now that hope of which the light had been spread 
 above the last root of the house of CEdipus that hope, in 
 turn, is brought low by the blood-stained dust due to 
 the gods infernal, and by folly in speech, and frenzy at the 
 heart.
 
 ANTIGONE 121 
 
 * 
 
 Thy power, O Zeus, what human trespass can limit? 
 That power which neither Sleep, the all-ensnaring, nor 
 the untiring- months of the gods can master ; but thou, a 
 ruler to whom time brings not old age, dwellest in the 
 dazzling splendour of Olympus. 
 
 And through the future, near and far, as through the 
 past, shall this law hold good : Nothing that is vast enters 
 into the life of mortals without a curse. 
 
 For that hope whose wanderings are so wide is to many 
 men a comfort, but to many a false lure of giddy desires ; 
 and the disappointment comes on one who knoweth naught 
 till he burn his foot against the hot fire. 
 
 For with wisdom hath some one given forth the fa- 
 mous saying, that evil seems good, soon or late, to him 
 whose mind the god draws to mischief ; and but for the 
 briefest space doth he fare free of woe. 
 
 But lo, Hasmon, the last of thy sons comes he griev- 
 ing for the doom of his promised bride, Antigone, and 
 bitter for the baffled hope of his marriage ? 
 
 Enter H^MON 
 
 Cr. We shall know soon, better than seers could tell 
 us. My son, hearing the fixed doom of thy betrothed, 
 art thou come in rage against thy father? Or have I thy 
 good-will, act how I may ? 
 
 Hce. Father, T am thine ; and thou, in thy wisdom, 
 tracest for me rules which I shall follow. No marriage 
 shall be deemed by me a greater gain than thy good 
 guidance. 
 
 Cr. Yea, this, my son, should be thy heart's fixed law 
 in all things to obey thy father's will. 'Tis for this that 
 men pray to see dutiful children grow up around them in 
 their homes that such may requite their father's foe with 
 evil, and honour, as their father doth, his friend. But he 
 who begets unprofitable children what shall we say that 
 he hath sown, but troubles for himself, and much triumph 
 for his foes? Then do not thou, my son, at pleasure's
 
 122 SOPHOCLES 
 
 beck, dethrone thy reason for a woman's sake; knowing 
 that this is a joy that soon grows cold in clasping arms 
 an evil woman to share thy bed and thy home. For what 
 wound could strike deeper than a false friend ? Nay, with 
 loathing, and as if she were thine enemy, let this girl go 
 to find a husband in the house of Hades. For since I 
 have taken her, alone of all the city, in open disobedi- 
 ence, I will not make myself a liar to my people I will 
 slay her. 
 
 So let her appeal as she will to the majesty of kindred 
 blood. If I am to nurture mine own kindred in naughti- 
 ness, needs must I bear with it in aliens. He who does 
 his duty in his own household will be found righteous in 
 the state also. But if any one transgresses, and does vio- 
 lence to the laws, or thinks to dictate to his rulers, such 
 a one can win no praise from me. No, whomsoever the 
 city may appoint, that man must be obeyed, in little 
 things and great, in just things and unjust ; and I should 
 feel sure that one who thus obeys would be a good ruler 
 no less than a good subject, and in the storm of s'pears 
 would stand his ground where he was set, loyal and 
 dauntless at his comrade's side. 
 
 But disobedience is the worst of evils. This it is that 
 ruins cities ; this makes homes desolate ; by this, the ranks 
 of allies are broken into headlong rout : but, of the lives 
 whose course is fair, the greater part owes safety to obe- 
 dience. Therefore we must support the cause of order, 
 and in no wise suffer a woman to worst us. Better to 
 fall from power, if we must, by a man's hand ; then we 
 should not be called weaker than a woman. 
 
 Ch. To us, unless our years have stolen our wit thou 
 seemest to say wisely what thou sayest. 
 
 H<z. Father, the gods implant reason in men, the 
 highest of all things that we call our own. Not mine 
 the skill far from me be the quest ! to say wherein thou 
 speakest not aright ; and yet another man, too, might have 
 some useful thought. At least, it is my natural office to
 
 ANTIGONE 123 
 
 watch, on thy behalf, all that men say, or do, or find to 
 blame. For the dread of thy frown forbids the citizen to 
 speak such words as would offend thine ear ; but I can 
 hear these murmurs in the dark, these meanings of the 
 city for this maiden; " No woman," they say, "ever mer- 
 ited her doom less none ever was to die so shamefully 
 for deeds so glorious as hers ; who, when her own brother 
 had fallen in bloody strife, would not leave him unburied, 
 to be devoured by carrion dogs, or by any bird : de- 
 serves not she the meed of golden honour? " 
 
 Such is the darkling rumour that spreads in secret. 
 For me, my father, no treasure is so precious as thy wel- 
 fare. What, indeed, is a nobler ornament for children 
 than a prospering sire's fair fame, or for sire than son's ? 
 Wear not, then, one mood only in thyself ; think not that 
 thy word, and thine alone, must be right. For if any man 
 thinks that he alone is wise that in speech, or in mind, 
 he hath no peer such a soul, when laid open, is ever 
 found empty. 
 
 No, though a man be wise, 'tis no shame for him to 
 learn many things, and to bend in season. Seest thou, 
 beside the wintry torrent's course, how the trees that 
 yield to it save every twig, while the stiff-necked perish 
 root and branch? And even thus he who keeps the sheet 
 of his sail taut, and never slackens it, upsets his boat, and 
 finishes his voyage with keel uppermost. 
 
 Nay, forego thy wrath ; permit thyself to change. For 
 if I, a younger man, may offer my thought, it were far 
 best, I ween, that men should be all-wise by nature ; but, 
 otherwise and oft the scale inclines not so 'tis good 
 also to learn from those who speak aright. 
 
 Ch. Sire, 'tis meet that thou shouldst profit by his 
 words, if he speaks aught in season, and thou, Hsemon, 
 by thy father's ; for on both parts there hath been wise 
 speech. 
 
 Cr. Men of my age are we indeed to be schooled, 
 then, by men of his ?
 
 I2 4 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Ihc. In nothing that is not right ; but if I am young, 
 thou shouldst look to my merits, not to my years. 
 
 Cr. Is it a merit to honour the unruly ? 
 
 Ha. I could wish no one to show respect for evil-doers. 
 
 Cr. Then is not she tainted with that malady ? 
 
 Ha. Our Theban folk, with one voice, denies it. 
 
 Cr. Shall Thebes prescribe to me how I must rule ? 
 
 Ha. See, there thou hast spoken like a youth indeed. 
 
 Cr. Am I to rule this land by other judgment than 
 mine own ? 
 
 Ha. That is no city, which belongs to one man. 
 
 Cr. Is not the city held to be the ruler's? 
 
 Ha. Thou wouldst make a good monarch of a desert. 
 
 Cr. This boy, it seems, is the woman's champion. 
 
 Ha. If thou art a woman ; indeed, my care is for thee. 
 
 Cr. Shameless, at open feud with thy father ! 
 
 Ha. Nay, I see thee offending against justice. 
 
 Cr. Do I offend, when I respect rnine own preroga- 
 tives? 
 
 Ha. Thou dost not respect them, when thou tramplest 
 on the gods' honours. 
 
 Cr. O dastard nature, yielding place to a woman ! 
 
 Ha. Thou wilt never find me. yield to baseness. 
 
 Cr. All thy words, at least, plead for that girl. 
 
 Ha. And for thee, and for me, and for the gods below. 
 
 Cr. Thou canst never marry her, on this side the grave. 
 
 Ha. Then she must die, and in death destroy another. 
 
 Cr. How ! doth thy boldness run to open threats? 
 
 Ha. What threat is it, to combat vain resolves? 
 
 Cr. Thou shalt rue thy witless teaching of wisdom. 
 
 Ha. Wert thou not my father, I would have called 
 thee unwise. 
 
 Cr. Thou woman's slave, use not wheedling speech 
 with me. 
 
 If". Thou wouldst speak, and then hear no reply? 
 
 Cr. Sayest thou so? Now, bv the heaven above us 
 be sure of it thou shall smart for taunting me in this
 
 ANTIGONE 125 
 
 opprobrious strain. Bring forth that hated thing, that 
 she may die forthwith in his presence before his eyes 
 at her bridegroom's side! 
 
 HCB. No, not at my side never think it shall she per- 
 ish ; nor shalt thou ever set eyes more upon my face : 
 rave, then, with such friends as can endure thee. 
 
 {Exit HyEMON. 
 
 Ch. The man is gone, O King, in angry haste ; a youth- 
 ful mind, when stung, is fierce. 
 
 Cr. Let him do, or dream, more than man good speed 
 to him ! But he shall not save these two girls from their 
 doom. 
 
 Ch. Dost thou indeed purpose to slay both ? 
 
 Cr. Not her whose hands are pure : thou sayest well. 
 
 Ch. And by what doom mean'st thou to slay the 
 other ? 
 
 Cr. I will take her where the path is loneliest, and 
 hide her, living, in a rocky vault, with so much food set 
 forth as piety prescribes, that the city may avoid a public 
 stain. And there, praying to Hades, the only god whom 
 she worships, perchance she will obtain release from 
 death ; or else will learn, at last, though late, that it is 
 lost labour to revere the dead. {Exit CREON. 
 
 Ch. Love, unconquered in the fight, Love, who makest 
 havoc of wealth, who keepest thy vigil on the soft cheek 
 of a maiden ; thou roamest over the sea, and among the 
 homes of dwellers in the wilds ; no immortal can escape 
 thee, nor any among men whose life is for a day ; and he 
 to whom thou hast come is mad. [ANTIGONE is led in. 
 
 The just themselves have their minds warped by thee 
 to wrong, for their ruin : 'tis thou that hast stirred up this 
 present strife of kinsmen ; victorious is the love-kindling 
 light from the eyes of the fair bride ; it is a power en- 
 throned in sway beside the eternal laws ; for there the 
 goddess Aphrodite is working her unconquerable will. 
 
 But now I also am carried beyond the bounds of 
 loyalty, and can no more keep back the streaming tears,
 
 I2 6 SOPHOCLES 
 
 when I see Antigone thus passing to the bridal chamber 
 where all are laid to rest. 
 
 An. See me, citizens of my fatherland, setting forth on 
 my last way, looking my last on the sunlight that is for 
 me no more ; no, Hades, who gives sleep to all, leads me 
 living to Acheron's shore; who have had no portion in 
 the chant that brings the bride, nor hath any song been 
 mine for the crowning of bridals ; whom the lord of the 
 Dark Lake shall wed. 
 
 Ch. Glorious, therefore, and with praise, thou de- 
 partest to that deep place of the dead : wasting sick- 
 ness hath not smitten thee ; thou hast not found the 
 wages of the sword ; no, mistress of thine own fate, and 
 still alive, thou shalt pass to Hades, as no other of mortal 
 kind hath passed. 
 
 An. I have heard in other days how dread a doom 
 befell our Phrygian guest, the daughter of Tantalus, on 
 the Sipylian heights ; how, like clinging ivy, the growth of 
 stone subdued her ; and the rains fail not, as men tell, 
 from her wasting form, nor fails the snow, while beneath 
 her weeping lids the tears bedew her bosom ; and most 
 like to hers is the fate that brings me to my rest. 
 
 Ch. Yet she was a goddess, thou knowest, and born of 
 gods; we are mortals, and of mortal race. But, 'tis great 
 renown for a woman who hath perished that she should 
 have shared the doom of the godlike, in her life, and 
 afterward in death. 
 
 An. Ah, I am mocked! In the name of our fathers' 
 gods, can ye not wait till I am gone must ye taunt me 
 to ray face, O my city, and ye, her wealthy sons? Ah, 
 fount of Dirce, and thou holy ground of Thebe whose 
 chariots are many ; ye, at least, will bear me witness, in 
 what sort, unwept of friends, and by what laws I pass to 
 the rock-closed prison of my strange tomb, ah me, un. 
 happy ! \vho have no home on the earth or in the shades, 
 no home with the living or with the dead. 
 
 Cli. Thou hast rushed forward to the utmost verge of
 
 ANTIGONE 
 
 127 
 
 daring ; and against that throne where Justice sits on 
 high thou hast fallen, my daughter, with a grievous 
 fall. But in this ordeal thou art paying, haply, for thy 
 father's sin. 
 
 An. Thou hast touched on my bitterest thought 
 awaking the ever-new lament for my sire and for all the 
 doom given to us, the famed house of Labdacus. Alas 
 for the horrors of the mother's bed ! alas for the wretched 
 mother's slumber at the side of her own son and my sire ! 
 From what manner of parents did I take my miserable 
 being ! And to them I go thus, accursed, unwed, to share 
 their home. Alas, my brother, ill-starred in thy marriage, 
 in thy death thou hast undone my life ! 
 
 Ch. Reverent action claims a certain praise for rever- 
 ence ; but an offence against power can not be brooked 
 by him who hath power in his keeping. Thy self-willed 
 temper hath wrought thy ruin. 
 
 An. Unwept, unfriended, without marriage-song, I am 
 led forth in my sorrow on this journey that can be de- 
 layed no more. No longer, hapless one, may I behold yon 
 day-star's sacred eye ; but for my fate no tear is shed, no 
 
 friend makes moan. 
 
 Enter CREON 
 
 Cr. Know ye not that songs and wailings before death 
 would never cease, if it profited to utter them ? Away 
 with her away ! And when ye have inclosed her, ac- 
 cording to my word, in her vaulted grave, leave her 
 alone, forlorn whether she wishes to die, or to live a 
 buried life in such a home. Our hands are clean as touch- 
 ing this maiden. But this is certain she shall be deprived 
 of her sojourn in the light. 
 
 An. Tomb, bridal chamber, eternal prison in the cav- 
 erned rock, whither I go to find mine own, those many 
 who have perished, and whom Persephone hath received 
 among the dead ! Last of all shall I pass thither, and far 
 most miserably of all, before the term of my life is spent. 
 But I cherish good hope that my coming will be welcome
 
 128 SOPHOCLES 
 
 to my father, and pleasant to thee, my mother, and wel- 
 come, brother, to thee; for, when you died, with mine 
 own hands I washed and dressed you, and poured drink- 
 offerings at your graves; and now, Polyneices, 'tis for 
 tending thy corpse that I win such recompense as this. 
 
 [And yet I honoured thee, as the wise will deem, 
 rightly. Never had I been a mother of children, or if a 
 husband had been mouldering in death, would I have 
 taken this task upon me in the city's despite. What law, 
 ye ask, is my warrant for that word ? The husband lost, 
 another might have been found, and child from another, 
 to replace the first-born ; but, father and mother hidden 
 with Hades, no brother's life could ever bloom for me 
 again. Such was the law whereby I held thee first in 
 honour; but Creon deemed me guilty of error therein, 
 and of outrage, ah brother mine ! And now he leads me 
 thus, a captive in his hands; no bridal bed, no bridal song 
 hath been mine, no joy of marriage, no portion in the 
 nurture of children ; but thus, forlorn of friends, unhappy 
 one, I go living to the vaults of death.] 
 
 And what law of Heaven have I transgressed r Why, 
 hapless one, should I look to the gods any more what 
 ally should I invoke when by piety I have earned the 
 name of impious? Nay, then, if these things are pleasing 
 to the gods, when I have suffered my'doom, I shall come 
 to know my sin ; but if the sin is with my judges, I could 
 wish them no fuller measure of evil than they, on their 
 part, mete wrongfully to me. 
 
 Ch. Still the same tempest of the soul vexes this maiden 
 with the same fierce gusts. 
 
 Cr, Then for this shall her guards have cause to rue 
 their slowness. 
 
 An. Ah me! that word hath come very near to death. 
 
 Cr. I can cheer thee with no hope that this doom is 
 not thus to be fulfilled. 
 
 An. O city of my fathers in the land of Thebe ! O ye 
 gods, eldest of our race! they lead me hence now, now
 
 ANTIGONE 
 
 129 
 
 they tarry not ! Behold me, princes of Thebes, the last 
 daughter of the house of your kings see what I suffer, 
 and from whom, because I feared to cast away the fear of 
 Heaven ! [ANTIGONE is led away by the guards. 
 
 Ck. Even thus endured Danae in her beauty to change 
 the light of day for brass-bound walls ; and in that cham- 
 ber, secret as the grave, she was held close prisoner; yet 
 was she of a proud lineage, O my daughter, and charged 
 with the keeping of the seed of Zeus, that fell in the 
 golden rain. 
 
 But dreadful is the mysterious power of fate ; there is 
 no deliverance from it by wealth or by war, by fenced 
 city, or dark, sea-beaten ships. 
 
 And bonds tamed the son of Dryas, swift to wrath, 
 that king of the Edonians ; so paid he for his frenzied 
 taunts, when, by the will of Dionysus, he was pent in a 
 rocky prison. There the fierce exuberance of his madness 
 slowly passed away. That man learned to know the god, 
 whom in his frenzy he had provoked with mockeries ; for 
 he had sought to quell the god-possessed women, and the 
 Bacchanalian fire ; and he angered the Muses that love 
 the flute. 
 
 And by the waters of the Dark Rocks, the waters of 
 the twofold sea, are the shores of Bosporus, and Thracian 
 Salmydessus ; where Ares, neighbour to the city, saw the 
 accursed, blinding wound dealt to the two sons of Phineus 
 by his fierce wife the wound that brought darkness to 
 those vengeance-craving orbs, smitten with her bloody 
 hands, smitten with her shuttle for a dagger. 
 
 Pining in their misery, they bewailed their cruel doom, 
 those sons of a mother hapless in her marriage ; but she 
 traced her descent from the ancient line of the Erech- 
 theidae ; and in far-distant caves she was nursed amid her 
 father's storms, that child of Boreas, swift as a steed over 
 the steep hills, a daughter of gods ; yet upon her also the 
 gray Fates bore hard, my daughter.
 
 '30 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Enter TEIRESIAS, led by a boy, on the spectators right 
 
 Te. Princes of Thebes, we have come with linked steps, 
 both served by the eyes of one ; for thus, by a guide's 
 help, the blind must walk. 
 
 Cr. And what, aged Teiresias, are thy tidings? 
 
 Te. 1 will tell thee ; and do thou hearken to the seer. 
 
 Cr. Indeed, it has not been my wont to slight thy 
 counsel. 
 
 Te. Therefore didst thou steer our city's course aright. 
 
 Cr. I have felt, and can attest, thy benefits. 
 
 Tc. Mark that now, once more, thou standest on fate's 
 fine edge. 
 
 Cr. What means this? How I shudder at thy message! 
 
 Te. Thou wilt learn, when thou hearest the warnings 
 of mine art. As I took my place on mine old seat of 
 augury, where all birds have been wont to gather within 
 my ken, I heard a strange voice among them ; they were 
 screaming with dire, feverish rage, that drowned their 
 language in a jargon ; and I knew that they were rend- 
 ing each other with their talons, murderously ; the whirr 
 of wings told no doubtful tale. 
 
 Forthwith, in fear, I essayed burnt-sacrifice on a duly 
 kindled altar : but from my offerings the Fire-god showed 
 no flame ; a dank moisture, oozing from the thigh-flesh, 
 trickled forth upon the embers, and smoked, and sput- 
 tered ; the gall was scattered to the air ; and the stream- 
 ing thighs lay bared of the fat that had been wrapped 
 round them. 
 
 Such was the failure of the rites by which I vainly 
 asked a sign, as from this boy I learned ; for he is my 
 guide, as I am guide to others. And 'tis thy counsel that 
 hath brought this sickness on our state. For the altars of 
 our city and of our hearths have been tainted, one and 
 all, by birds and dogs, with carrion from the hapless 
 corpse, the son of CEdipus : and therefore the gods no 
 more accept prayer and sacrifice at our hands, or the 
 flame of meat-offering; nor doth any bird give a clear
 
 ANTIGONE 131 
 
 sign by its shrill cry, for they have tasted the fatness of 
 a slain man's blood. 
 
 Think, then, on these things, my son. All men are 
 liable to err ; but when an error hath been made, that 
 man is no longer witless or unblest who heals the ill into 
 which he hath fallen, and remains not stubborn. Self- 
 will, we know, incurs the charge of folly. Nay, allow 
 the claim of the dead ; stab not the fallen ; what prowess 
 is it to slay the slain anew ? I have sought thy good, and 
 for thy good I speak : and never is it sweeter to learn 
 from a good counsellor than when he counsels for thine 
 own gain. 
 
 Cr. Old man, ye all shoot your shafts at me, as archers 
 at the butts ; ye must needs practise on me with seer-craft 
 also; ay, the seer-tribe hath long trafficked in me, and 
 made me their merchandise. Gain your gains, drive 
 your trade, if ye list, in the silver-gold of Sardis and the 
 gold of India ; but ye shall not hide that man in the 
 grave no, though the eagles of Zeus should bear the 
 carrion morsels to their Master's throne no, not for 
 dread of that defilement will I suffer his burial: for well 
 I know that no mortal can defile the gods. But, aged 
 Teiresias, the wisest fall with a shameful fall, when they 
 clothe shameful thoughts in fair words, for lucre's sake. 
 
 Te. Alas ! Doth any man know, doth any consider. . . 
 
 Cr. Whereof ? What general truth dost thou an- 
 nounce ? 
 
 Te. How precious, above all wealth, is good counsel. 
 
 Cr. As folly, I think, is the worst mischief. 
 
 Te. Yet thou art tainted with that distemper. 
 
 Cr. I would not answer the seer with a taunt. 
 
 Te. But thou dost, in saying that I prophesy falsely. 
 
 Cr. Well, the prophet-tribe was ever fond of money. 
 
 Te. And the race bred of tyrants loves base gain. 
 
 Cr. Knowest thou that thy speech is spoken of thy 
 king? 
 
 Te. I know it; for through me thou hast saved Thebes.
 
 132 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Cr. Thou art a wise seer ; but them lovest evil deeds. 
 
 7>. Thou wilt rouse me to utter the dread secret in 
 my soul. 
 
 Cr. Out with it ! Only speak it not for gain. 
 
 7>. Indeed, methinks, I shall not as touching thee. 
 
 Cr. Know that thou shalt not trade on my resolve. 
 
 Te. Then know thou ay, know it well that thou 
 shalt not live through many more courses of the sun's 
 swift chariot, ere one begotten of thine own loins shall 
 have been given by thee, a corpse for corpses ; because 
 thou hast thrust children of the sunlight to the shades, 
 and ruthlessly lodged a living soul in the grave ; but 
 keepest in this world one who belongs to the gods in- 
 fernal, a corpse unburied, unhonoured, all unhallowed. 
 In such thou hast no part, nor have the gods above, 
 but this is a violence done to them by thee. Therefore 
 the avenging destroyers lie in wait for thee, the Furies 
 of Hades and of the gods, that thou mayest be taken in 
 these same ills. 
 
 And mark well if I speak these things as a hireling. 
 A time not long to be delayed shall awaken the wailing 
 of men and of women in thy house. And a tumult of 
 hatred against thee stirs all the cities whose mangled 
 sons had the burial-rite from dogs, or from wild beasts, 
 or from some winged bird that bore a polluting breath 
 to each city that contains the hearths of the dead. 
 
 Such arrows for thy heart since thou provokest me 
 have I launched at thee, archer-like, in my anger sure 
 arrows, of which thou shalt not escape the smart. Boy, 
 lead me home, that he may spend his rage on younger 
 men, and learn to keep a tongue more temperate, and to 
 bear within his breast a better mind than now he bears. 
 
 [Exit TKIKI-:SI.\S. 
 
 Ch. The man hath gone, O King, with dread prophe- 
 cies. And, since the hair on this head, once dark, hath 
 been white, I know that he hath never been a false prophet 
 to our city.
 
 ANTIGONE 133 
 
 Cr. I, too, know it well, and am troubled in soul. Tis 
 dire to yield ; but, by resistance, to smite my pride with 
 ruin this, too, is a dire choice. 
 
 Ch. Son of Menoeceus, it behooves thee to take wise 
 counsel. 
 
 Cr. What should I do, then ? Speak, and I will obey. 
 
 Ch. Go thou, and free the maiden from her rocky 
 chamber, and make a tomb for the unburied dead. 
 
 Cr. And this is thy counsel ? Thou wouldst have me 
 yield ? 
 
 Ch. Yea, King, and with all speed ; for swift harms 
 from the gods cut short the folly of men. 
 
 Cr. Ah me, 'tis hard, but I resign my cherished resolve 
 I obey. We must not wage a vain war with destiny. 
 
 Ch, Go, thou, and do these things ; leave them not to 
 others. 
 
 Cr. Even as I am I'll go. On, on, my servants, each 
 and all of you take axes in your hands, and hasten to 
 the ground that ye see yonder ! Since our judgment 
 hath taken this turn, I will be present to unloose her, as I 
 myself bound her. My heart misgives me, 'tis best to 
 keep the established laws, even to life's end. 
 
 Ch. O thou of many names, glory of the Cadmeian 
 bride, offspring of loud-thundering Zeus ! thou who 
 watchest over famed Italia, and reignest, where all guests 
 are welcomed, in the sheltered plain of Eleusinian Deo ! 
 O Bacchus, dweller in Thebe, mother-city of Bacchants, 
 by the softly-gliding stream of Ismenus, on the soil 
 where the fierce dragon's teeth were sown ! 
 
 Thou hast been seen where torch-flames glare through 
 smoke, above the crests of the twin peaks, where move 
 the Corycian nymphs, thy votaries, hard by Castalia's 
 stream. 
 
 Thou comest from the ivy-mantled slopes of Nysa's 
 hills, and from the shore green with many-clustered vines, 
 while thy name is lifted up on strains of more than mor- 
 tal power, as thou visitest the ways of Thebe :
 
 134 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Thebe, of all cities, thou boldest first in honour, thou, 
 and thy mother whom the lightning smote ; and now, 
 when all our people is captive to a violent plague, come 
 thou with healing feet over ftie Parnassian height, or over 
 the moaning strait ! 
 
 O thou with whom the stars rejoice as they move, the 
 stars whose breath is fire ; O master of the voices of the 
 night; son begotten of Zeus; appear, O king, with thine 
 attendant Thyiads, who in night-long frenzy dance before 
 thee, the giver of good gifts, lacchus ! 
 
 Enter MESSENGER, on the spectators left 
 
 Me. Dwellers by the house of Cadmus and of Am- 
 phion, there is no estate of mortal life that I would ever 
 praise or blame as settled. Fortune raises and Fortune 
 humbles the lucky or unlucky from day to day, and no 
 one can prophesy to men concerning those things which 
 are established. For Creon was blest once, as I count 
 bliss ; he had saved this land of Cadmus from .its foes ; 
 he was clothed with sole dominion in the land ; he 
 reigned, the glorious sire of princely children. And 
 now all hath been lost. For when a man hath forfeited 
 his pleasures, I count him not as living I hold him but a 
 breathing corpse. Heap up riches in thy house, if thou 
 wilt ; live in kingly state ; yet, if there be no gladness 
 therewith, I would not give the shadow of a vapour for 
 all the rest, compared with joy. 
 
 Ch. And what is this new grief that thou hast to tell 
 for our princes ? 
 
 Me. Death ; and the living are guilty for the dead. 
 
 Ch. And who is the slayer ? Who the stricken ? 
 Speak. 
 
 Me. Haemon hath perished ; his blood hath been shed 
 by no stranger. 
 
 Ch. By his father's hand, or by his own? 
 
 Me. By his own, in wrath with his sire for the 
 murder.
 
 ANTIGONE 135 
 
 Ch. O prophet, how true, then, hast thou proved thy 
 word ! 
 
 Me. These things stand thus ; ye must consider of the 
 rest. 
 
 Ch. Lo, I see the hapless Eurydice, Creon's wife, ap- 
 proaching ; she comes from the house by chance, haply 
 or because she knows the tidings of her son. 
 
 Enter EURYDICE 
 
 Eu. People of Thebes, I heard your words as I was 
 going forth, to salute the goddess Pallas with my prayers. 
 Even as I was loosing the fastenings of the gate, to open 
 it, the message of a household woe smote on mine ear : I 
 sank back, terror-stricken, into the arms of my handmaids, 
 and my senses fled. But say again what the tidings were ; 
 I shall hear them as one who is no stranger to sorrow. 
 
 Me. Dear lady, I will witness of what I saw, and will 
 leave no word of the truth untold. Why, indeed, should 
 I soothe thee with words in which I must presently be 
 found false ? Truth is ever best. I attended thy lord as 
 his guide to the farthest part of the plain, where the body 
 of Polyneices, torn by dogs, still lay unpitied. We prayed 
 the goddess of the roads, and Pluto, in mercy to restrain 
 their wrath ; we washed the dead with holy washing ; and 
 with freshly-plucked boughs we solemnly burned such 
 relics as there were. We raised a high mound of his na- 
 tive earth ; and then we turned away to enter the maid- 
 en's nuptial chamber with rocky couch, the caverned 
 mansion of the bride of Death. And, from afar off, one 
 of us heard a voice of loud wailing at that bride's unhal- 
 lowed bower ; and came to tell our master Creon. 
 
 And as the king drew nearer, doubtful sounds of a 
 bitter cry floated around him ; he groaned, and said in 
 accents of anguish : " Wretched that I am, can my fore- 
 boding be true ? Am I going on the wofullest way that 
 ever I went ? My son's voice greets me. Go, my serv- 
 ants haste ye nearer, and when ye have reached the
 
 136 SOPHOCLES 
 
 tomb, pass through the gap, where the stones have been 
 wrenched away, to the cell's very mouth and look, and 
 see if 'tis Haemon's voice that I know, or if mine ear is 
 cheated by the gods." 
 
 This search, at our despairing master's word, we went 
 to make ; and in the farthest part of the tomb we descried 
 her hanging by the neck, slung by a thread-wrought halter 
 of fine linen; while he was embracing her with arms 
 thrown around her waist bewailing the loss of his bride 
 who is with the dead, and his father's deeds, and his own 
 ill-starred love. 
 
 But his father, when he saw him, cried aloud with a 
 dread cry, and went in, and called to him with a voice of 
 wailing : " Unhappy, what a deed hast thou done ! What 
 thought hath come to thee ? What manner of mischance 
 hath marred thy reason ? Come forth, my child ! I pray 
 thee I implore ! " But the boy glared at him with fierce 
 eyes, spat in his face, and, without a word of answer, drew 
 his cross-hiked sword : as his father rushed forth in flight, 
 he missed his aim; then, hapless one, wroth with himself, 
 he straightway leaned with all his weight against his 
 sword, and drove it, half its length, into his side ; and 
 while sense lingered, he clasped the maiden to his faint 
 embrace, and, as he gasped, sent forth on her pale cheek 
 the swift stream of the oozing blood. 
 
 Corpse enfolding corpse he lies ; he has won his nup- 
 tial rites, poor youth, not here, yet in the halls of Death ; 
 and he hath witnessed to mankind that, of all curses which 
 leave to man, ill counsel is the sovereign curse. 
 
 [EURYDlcfc retires into the house. 
 
 Ch. What wouldst thou augur from this? The lady hath 
 turned back, and is gone, without a word, good or evil. 
 
 Me. I, too, am startled ; yet I nourish the hope that, 
 at these sore tidings of her son, she can not deign to give 
 her sorrow public vent, but in the privacy of the house 
 will set her handmaids to mourn the household grief. For 
 she is not untaught of discretion, that she should err.
 
 ANTIGONE 
 
 137 
 
 Ch. I know not ; but to me, at least, a strained silence 
 seems to portend peril, no less than vain abundance of 
 lament. 
 
 Me. Well, I will enter the house, and learn whether 
 indeed she is not hiding some repressed purpose in the 
 depths of a passionate heart. Yea, thou sayest well : ex- 
 cess of silence, too, may have a perilous meaning. 
 
 [Exit MESSENGER. 
 
 Enter CREON, on the spectators left, with attendants, 
 carrying the shrouded body of H^EMON on a bier 
 
 Ch. Lo, yonder the king himself draws near, bearing 
 that which tells too clear a tale the work of no stranger's 
 madness if we may say it but of his own misdeeds. 
 
 Cr. Woe for the sins of a darkened soul, stubborn sins, 
 fraught with death ! Ah, ye behold us, the sire who hath 
 slain, the son who hath perished ! Woe is me, for the 
 wretched blindness of my counsels ! Alas, my son, thou 
 hast died in thy youth, by a timeless doom, woe is me ! 
 thy spirit hath fled not by thy folly, but by mine own ! 
 
 Ch. Ah me, how all too late thou seemest to see the 
 right ! 
 
 Cr. Ah me, I have learned the bitter lesson ! But then, 
 methinks, oh then, some god smote me from above with 
 crushing weight, and hurled me into ways of cruelty, woe 
 is me overthrowing and trampling on my joy ! Woe, 
 woe for the troublous toils of men ! 
 
 Enter SECOND MESSENGER from the house 
 
 Sec. Me. Sire, thou hast come, methinks, as one whose 
 hands are not empty, but who hath store laid up besides ; 
 thou bearest yonder burden with thee ; and thou art soon 
 to look upon the woes within thy house. 
 
 Cr. And what worse ill is yet to follow upon ills ? 
 
 Sec. Me. Thy queen hath died, true mother of yon 
 corpse ah, hapless lady ! by blows newly dealt. 
 
 Cr. O Hades, all-receiving, whom no sacrifice can 
 
 6
 
 138 SOPHOCLES 
 
 appease ! Hast thou, then, no mercy for me ? O thou 
 herald of evil, bitter tidings, what word dost thou utter? 
 Alas ! I was already as dead, and thou hast smitten me 
 anew ! What sayest thou, my son ? What is this new 
 message that thou bringest woe, woe is me ! of a wife's 
 doom of slaughter heaped on slaughter? 
 
 Ch. Thou canst behold : 'tis no longer hidden within. 
 \The doors of the palace are opened, and the 
 corpse of EURYDICE is disclosed. 
 
 Cr. Ah me yonder I behold a new, a second woe ! 
 What destiny, ah what, can yet await me ? I have but 
 now raised my son in my arms and there, again, I see a 
 corpse before me ! Alas, alas, unhappy mother ! Alas, 
 my child ! 
 
 Sec. Me. There, at the altar, self-stabbed with a keen 
 knife, she suffered her darkening eyes to close, when she 
 had wailed for the noble fate of Megareus who died be- 
 fore, and then for his fate who lies there and when, with 
 her last breath, she had invoked evil fortunes upon thee, 
 the slayer of thy sons. 
 
 Cr. Woe, woe! I thrill with dread. Is there none to 
 strike me to the heart with two-edged sword ? Oh, miser- 
 able that I am, and steeped in miserable anguish ! 
 
 Sec. Me. Yea, both this son's doom, and that other's, 
 were laid to thy charge by her whose corpse thou seest. 
 
 Cr. And what was the manner of the violent deed by 
 which she passed away ? 
 
 Sec. Me. Her own hand struck her to the heart, when 
 she had learned her son's sorely lamented fate. 
 
 Cr. Ah me, this guilt can never be fixed on any other 
 of mortal kind, for my acquittal ! I, even I, was thy slayer, 
 wretched that I am I own the truth. Lead me away, O 
 my servants, lead me hence with all speed, whose life is 
 but as death ! 
 
 Ch. Thy counsels are good, if there can be good with 
 ills ; briefest is best, when trouble is in our path. 
 
 Cr. Oh, let it come, let it appear, that fairest of fates
 
 ANTIGONE 
 
 139 
 
 for me, that brings my last day ay, best fate of all ! 
 Oh, let it come, that I may never look upon to-morrow's 
 light ! 
 
 Ch. These things are in the future ; present tasks claim 
 our care : the ordering of the future rests where it should 
 rest. 
 
 Cr. All my desires, at least, were summed in that 
 prayer. 
 
 Ch. Pray thou no more ; for mortals have no escape 
 from destined woe. 
 
 Cr. Lead me away, I pray you ; a rash, foolish man ; 
 who have slain thee, ah my son, unwittingly, and thee, too, 
 my wife unhappy that I am ! I know not which way I 
 should bend my gaze, or where I should seek support ; 
 for all is amiss with that which is in my hands and yon- 
 der, again, a crushing fate hath leapt upon my head. 
 
 \As CREON is being conducted into the house, 
 the Coryph&us speaks the closing verses. 
 
 Ch. Wisdom is the supreme part of happiness ; and 
 reverence toward the gods must be inviolate. Great 
 words of prideful men are ever punished with great blows, 
 and, in old age, teach the chastened to be wise.
 
 THE CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 
 OF SOPHOCLES 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 THOMAS FRANCKLIN
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 OEDIPUS, King of Thebes. 
 
 JOCASTA, Wife of CEdipus. 
 
 CREON, Brother of Jocasta. 
 
 TIRESIAS, a Blind Prophet of Thebes. 
 
 A SHEPHERD, from Corinth. 
 
 A MESSENGER. 
 
 AN OLD SHEPHERD, formerly belonging to Laius. 
 
 HIGH PRIEST OF JUPITER. 
 
 CHORUS, composed of the Priests and Ancient 
 
 Men of Thebes, Theban Youths, Children of 
 
 CEdipus, Attendants, etc. 
 
 SCENE : THEBES, before the PALACE OF CEDIPUS.
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS 
 
 CEDIPUS, HIGH PRIEST OF JUPITER 
 
 OEDIPUS. O my loved sons! the youthful 
 progeny 
 Of ancient Cadmus, wherefore sit you here, 
 And suppliant thus, with sacred boughs adorned, 
 Crowd to our altars ? Frequent sacrifice 
 And prayers and sighs and sorrows fill the land. 
 I could have sent to learn the fatal cause ; 
 But see, your anxious sovereign comes himself 
 To know it all from you ; behold your king, 
 Renowned CEdipus ; do thou, old man, 
 For best that office suits thy years, inform me, 
 Why are you come ; is it the present ill 
 That calls you here, or dread of future woe? 
 Hard were indeed the heart that did not feel 
 For grief like yours, and pity such distress : 
 If there be aught that CEdipus can do 
 To serve his people, know me for your friend. 
 
 Priest. O king ! thou seest what numbers throng thy 
 
 altars ; 
 
 Here, bending sad beneath the weight of years, 
 The hoary priests, here crowd the chosen youth 
 Of Thebes, with these a weak and suppliant train 
 Of helpless infants, last in me behold 
 The minister of Jove : far off thou seest 
 
 145
 
 146 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Assembled multitudes, with laurel crowned, 
 
 To where Minerva's hallowed temples rise 
 
 Frequent repair, or where Ismenus laves 
 
 Apollo's sacred shrine : too well thou knowst 
 
 Thy wretched Thebes, with dreadful storms oppressed, 
 
 Scarce lifts her head above the whelming flood ; 
 
 The teeming earth her blasted harvest mourns, 
 
 And on the barren plain the flocks and herds 
 
 Unnumbered perish ; dire abortion thwarts 
 
 The mother's hopes, and painful she brings forth 
 
 The half-formed infant ; baleful pestilence 
 
 Hath laid our city waste, the fiery god 
 
 Stalks o'er deserted Thebes ; while with our groans 
 
 Enriched, the gloomy god of Erebus 
 
 Triumphant smiles. O GEdipus ! to thee 
 
 We bend ; behold these youths, with me they kneel, 
 
 And suppliant at thy altars sue for aid, 
 
 To thee the first of men, and only less 
 
 Than them whose favour thou alone canst gain, 
 
 The gods above ; thy wisdom yet may heal 
 
 The deep-felt wounds, and make the powers divine 
 
 Propitious to us. Thebes long since to thee 
 
 Her safety owed, when from the Sphinx delivered 
 
 Thy grateful people saw thee, not by man 
 
 But by the gods instructed, save the land : 
 
 Now then, thou best of kings, assist us now. 
 
 ( )h ! by some mortal or immortal aid 
 
 Now succour the distress ! On wisdom oft, 
 
 And prudent counsels in the hour of ill, 
 
 Success awaits. () dearest prince ! support, 
 
 Relieve thy Thebes; on thee, its saviour once, 
 
 A^ain it calls. Now, if thou wotildst not see 
 
 The mem'ry perish of thy former deeds, 
 
 Let it not call in vain, but rise and save ! 
 
 With happiest omens once and fair success 
 
 We saw thee crowned : oh, be thyself again, 
 
 And may thy will and fortune be the same!
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 
 
 If thou art yet to reign, O king! remember 
 A sovereign's riches is a peopled realm ; 
 For what will ships or lofty towers avail 
 Unarmed with men to guard and to defend them? 
 
 Qidi. O my unhappy sons ! too well I know 
 Your sad estate. I know the woes of Thebes ; 
 And yet among you lives not such a wretch 
 As CEdipus ; for oh ! on me, my children, 
 Your sorrows press. Alas! I feel for you 
 My people, for myself, for Thebes, for all! 
 Think not I slept regardless of your ills ; 
 Oh no ! with many a tear I wept your fate, 
 And oft in meditation deep revolved 
 How best your peace and safety to restore : 
 The only medicine that my thoughts could find 
 I have administered : Menceceus* son, 
 The noble Creon, went by my command 
 To Delphos from Apollo's shrine, to know 
 What must be done to save this wretched land : 
 'Tis time he were returned : I wonder much 
 At his delay. If, when he comes, your king 
 Perform not all the god enjoins, then say 
 He is the worst of men. 
 
 Priest. O king ! thy words 
 
 Are gracious, and if right these youths inform me, 
 Creon is here. 
 
 CEdL O Phoebus! grant he come 
 
 With tidings cheerful as the smile he wears ! 
 
 Priest, He is the messenger of good ; for see, 
 His brows are crowned with laurel. 
 
 (Edi. We shall soon 
 
 Be satisfied : he comes. 
 
 CREON, CEDIPUS, PRIEST, CHORUS 
 CEdi. My dearest Creon, 
 
 Oh ! say, what answer bear'st thou from the god ; 
 Or good, or ill? 
 
 147
 
 148 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Crcon. Good, very good ; for know, 
 
 The worst of ills, if rightly used, may prove 
 The means of happiness. 
 
 (Edi. What says my friend ? 
 
 This answer gives me naught to hope or fear. 
 
 Creon. Shall we retire, or would you that I speak 
 In public here ? 
 
 (Edi. Before them all declare it ; 
 
 Their woes sit heavier on me than my own. 
 
 Crcon. Then mark what I have heard : the god com- 
 mands 
 
 That instant we drive forth the fatal cause 
 Of this dire pestilence, nor nourish here 
 The accursed monster. 
 
 (Edi. Who ? What monster ? How 
 
 Remove it? 
 
 Creon. Or by banishment, or death, 
 Life must be given for life ; for yet his blood 
 Rests on the city. 
 
 (Edi. Whose ? What means the god ? 
 
 Crcon. O king ! before thee Laius ruled o'er Thebes. 
 
 (Edi. I know he did, though I did ne'er behold him. 
 
 Crcon. Laius was slain, and on his murderers, 
 So Phoebus says, we must have vengeance. 
 
 (Edi. Where, 
 
 Where are the murderers? Who shall trace the guilt 
 Buried so long in silence? 
 
 Crcon. Here, he said, 
 
 E'en in this land, what's sought for may be found, 
 But truth unsearched for seldom comes to light. 
 
 U-'.di. How did he fall, and where? at home, abroad? 
 Died he at Thebes, or in a foreign land? 
 
 Crcon. He left his palace, fame reports, to seek 
 Some oracle ; since that, we ne'er beheld him. 
 
 (Edi. But did no messenger return ? Not one 
 Of all his train, of whom we might inquire 
 Touching this murder?
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 149 
 
 Creon. One, and one alone, 
 
 Came back, who, flying, 'scaped the general slaughter. 
 But nothing save one little circumstance 
 Or knew, or e'er related. 
 
 (Edi. What was that ? 
 
 Much may be learned from that. A little dawn 
 Of light appearing may discover all. 
 
 Creon. Laius, 'attacked by robbers, and oppressed 
 By numbers, fell. Such is his tale. 
 
 (Edi. Would they 
 
 Would robbers do so desperate a deed, 
 Unbribed and unassisted ? 
 
 Creon. So, indeed, 
 
 Suspicion whispered then. But Laius dead 
 No friend was found to vindicate the wrong. 
 
 (Edi. But what strange cause could stop inquiry thus 
 Into the murder of a king ? 
 
 Creon. The Sphinx. 
 
 Her dire enigma kept our thoughts intent 
 On present ills, nor gave us time to search 
 The past mysterious deed. 
 
 (Edi. Myself will try 
 
 Soon to unveil it. Thou, Apollo, well, 
 And well hast thou, my Creon, lent thy aid. 
 Your CEdipus shall now perform his part. 
 Yes, 1 will fight for Phcebus and my country. 
 And so I ought. For not to friends alone, 
 Or kindred, owe I this, but to myself. 
 Who murdered him, perchance would murder me! 
 His cause is mine. Wherefore, my children, rise ; 
 Take hence your suppliant boughs, and summon here 
 The race of Cadmus my assembled people. 
 Naught shall be left untried. Apollo leads, 
 And we shall rise to joy, or sink forever. 
 
 Priest. Haste, then, my sons, for this we hither came : 
 About it quick, and may the god who sent 
 This oracle, protect, defend, and save us ! [Exeunt.
 
 150 SOPHOCLES 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Strophe I 
 
 O thou great oracle divine ! 
 Who didst to happy Thebes remove 
 
 From Delphi's golden shrine. 
 And in sweet sounds declare the will of Jove. 
 
 Daughter of hope, oh ! soothe my soul to rest, 
 
 And calm the rising tumult in my breast. 
 Look down, O Phoebus ! on thy loved abode. 
 
 Speak, for thou knowst the dark decrees of fate, 
 
 Our present and our future state. 
 O Delian! be thou still our healing god? 
 
 Antistropke i 
 
 Minerva, first on thee I call, 
 Daughter of Jove, immortal maid, 
 
 Low beneath thy feet we fall : 
 Oh ! bring thy sister Dian to our aid. 
 
 Goddess of Thebes, from thy imperial throne 
 
 Look with an eye of gentle pity down ; 
 And thou, far-shooting Phoebus, once the friend 
 
 Of this unhappy, this devoted land, 
 
 Oh ! now, if ever, let thy hand 
 Once more be stretched to save and to defend ! 
 
 Strop/ic 2 
 
 Great Thebes, my sons, is now no more ; 
 She falls and ne'er again shall rise, 
 
 Naught can her health or strength restore, 
 The might)- nation sinks, she droops, she dies. 
 
 Stripped of her fruits, behold the barren earth 
 
 The half-formed infant struggles for a birth. 
 The mother sinks unequal to her pain : 
 
 While quick as birds in airy circles fly, 
 
 Or lightnings from an angry sky, 
 Crowds press on crowds to Pluto's dark domain.
 
 CEDITUS TYRAXXUS 151 
 
 Antistroplic 2 
 
 Behold what heaps of wretches slain, 
 
 Unburied, unlamented lie, 
 
 Nor parents now nor friends remain 
 
 To grace their deaths with pious obsequy. 
 The aged matron and the blooming wife, 
 Cling to the altars sue for added life. 
 
 With sighs and groans united paeans rise ; 
 Re-echoed, still doth great Apollo's name 
 Their sorrows and their wants proclaim. 
 
 Frequent to him ascends the sacrifice. 
 
 Strophe j 
 
 Haste then, Minerva, beauteous maid, 
 Descend in this afflictive hour, 
 
 Haste to thy dying people's aid, 
 Drive hence this baneful, this destructive power! 
 
 Who comes not armed with hostile sword or shield, 
 
 Yet strews with many a corse th' ensanguined field ; 
 To Amphitrite's wide-extending bed 
 
 Oh ! drive him, goddess, from thy favourite land, 
 
 Or let him, by thy dread command, 
 Bury in Thracian waves his ignominious head. 
 
 Antistrophc j 
 
 Father of all, immortal Jove ! 
 Oh ! now thy fiery terrors send ; 
 
 From thy dreadful stores above 
 Let lightnings blast him and let thunders rend ! 
 
 And thou, O Lydian king ! thy aid impart ; 
 
 Send from thy golden bow th' unerring dart ; 
 Smile, chaste Diana, on this loved abode, 
 
 While Theban Bacchus joins the maddening throng, 
 
 O god of wine and mirth and song ! 
 Now with thy torch destroy the base, inglorious god. 
 
 [Exeunt.
 
 152 SOPHOCLES 
 
 CEDIPUS, CHORUS. The People assembled 
 (Edi. Your prayers are heard : and if you will obey 
 Your king, and hearken to his words, you soon 
 Shall find relief ; myself will heal your woes. 
 I was a stranger to the dreadful deed, 
 A stranger e'en to the report till now ; 
 And yet without some traces of the crime 
 I should not urge this matter ; therefore hear me. 
 I speak to all the citizens of Thebes, 
 Myself a citizen observe me well : 
 If any know the murderer of Laius, 
 Let him reveal it ; I command you all. 
 But if restrained by dread of punishment 
 He hide the secret, let him fear no more ; 
 For naught but exile shall attend the crime 
 Whene'er confessed ; if by a foreign hand 
 The horrid deed was done, who points him out 
 Commands our thanks, and meets a sure reward ; 
 But if there be who knows the murderer, 
 And yet conceals him from us, mark his fate, 
 Which here I do pronounce : Let none receive 
 Throughout my kingdom, none hold converse with him, 
 Nor offer prayer, nor sprinkle o'er his head 
 The sacred cup ; let him be driven from all, 
 By all abandoned, and by all accursed, 
 For so the Delphic oracle declared ; 
 And therefore to the gods I pay this duty 
 And to the dead. Oh ! may the guilty wretch, 
 Whether alone, or by his impious friends 
 Assisted, he performed the horrid deed, 
 Denied the common benefits of Nature, 
 Wear out a painful life ! And oh ! if here, 
 Within my palace, I conceal the traitor, 
 On me and mine alight the vengeful curse! 
 To you, my people, I commit the care 
 Of this important business ; 'tis my cause, 
 The cause of Heaven, and your expiring country.
 
 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS 153 
 
 E'en if the god had naught declared, to leave 
 
 This crime unexpiated were most ungrateful. 
 
 He was the best of kings, the best of men ; 
 
 That sceptre now is mine which Laius bore ; 
 
 His wife is mine ; so would his children be 
 
 Did any live ; and therefore am I bound, 
 
 E'en as he were my father, to revenge him. 
 
 Yes, 1 will try to find this murderer, 
 
 I owe it to the son of Labdacus, 
 
 To Polydorus, Cadmus, and the race 
 
 Of great Agenor. Oh ! if yet there are, 
 
 Who will not join me in the pious deed, 
 
 From such may earth withhold her annual store, 
 
 And barren be their bed, their life most wretched, 
 
 And their death cruel as the pestilence 
 
 That wastes our city ! But on you, my Thebans, 
 
 Who wish us fair success, may justice smile 
 
 Propitious, and the gods forever bless ! 
 
 Chor. O king ! t)iy imprecations unappalled 
 I hear, and join thee, guiltless of the crime, 
 Nor knowing who committed it. The god 
 Alone, who gave the oracle, must clear 
 Its doubtful sense, and point out the offender. 
 
 (Edi. 'Tis true. But who shall force the powers divine 
 To speak their hidden purpose ? 
 
 Chor. One thing more, 
 
 If I might speak. 
 
 (Edi. Say on, whate'er thy mind 
 
 Shall dictate to thee. 
 
 Chor. As among the gods 
 
 All-knowing Phoebus, so to mortal men 
 Doth sage Tiresias in foreknowledge sure 
 Shine foVth pre-eminent. Perchance his aid 
 Might much avail us. 
 
 (Edi. Creon did suggest 
 
 The same expedient, and by his advice 
 Twice have I sent for this Tiresias ; much
 
 154 SOPHOCLES 
 
 I wonder that he comes not. 
 
 Chor. 'Tis most fitting 
 
 We do consult him ; for the idle tales 
 Which rumour spreads are not to be regarded. 
 
 (Edi. What are those tales? for naught should we 
 despise. 
 
 Chor. Tis said some travellers did attack the king. 
 
 (Edi. It is ; but still no proof appears. 
 
 Chor. And yet, 
 
 If it be so, thy dreadful execration 
 Will lorce the guilty to confess. 
 
 (Edi. Oh no ! 
 
 Who fears not to commit the crime will ne'er 
 Be frightened at the curse that follows it. 
 
 Chor. Behold he comes, who will discover all, 
 The holy prophet. See! they lead him hither; 
 He knows the truth and will reveal it to us. 
 
 TIRESIAS, CEDIPUS, CHORUS 
 (Edi. O sage Tiresias, thou who knowest all 
 That can be known, the things of heaven above 
 And earth below, whose mental eye beholds, 
 Blind as thou art, the state of dying Thebes, 
 And weeps her fate, to thee we look for aid, 
 On thee alone for safety we depend. 
 This answer, which perchance thou hast not heard, 
 Apollo gave : the plague, he said, should cease 
 When those who murdered Laius were discovered 
 And paid the forfeit of their crime by death 
 Or banishment. Oh ! do not then conceal 
 Aught that thy art prophetic from the flight 
 Of birds or other omens may disclose. 
 Oh ! save thyself, save this afflicted city, 
 Save (Kdipus avenge the guiltless dead 
 1 mm tin's pollution! Thou art all our hope; 
 Remember, 'tis the privilege of man, 
 I I i noble-si function, to assist the wretched.
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 155 
 
 Tir. Alas ! what miser)' it is to know 
 When knowledge is thus fatal ! O Tiresias ! 
 Thou art undone ! Would I had never come ! 
 
 (Edi. What sayst thou ? Whence this strange dejec- 
 tion ? Speak. 
 
 Tir. Let me be gone ; 'twere better for us both 
 That I retire in silence : be advised. 
 
 (Edi. It is ingratitude to Thebes, who bore 
 And cherished thee it is unjust to all, 
 To hide the will of Heaven. 
 
 Tir. 'Tis rash in thee 
 
 To ask, and rash I fear will prove my answer. 
 
 Chor. Oh ! do not, by the gods, conceal it from us, 
 Suppliant we all request, we all conjure thee. 
 
 Tir. You know not what you ask ; I'll not unveil 
 Your miseries to you. 
 
 (Edi. Knowst thou then our fate, 
 
 And wilt not tell it ? Meanst thou to betray 
 Thy country and thy king? 
 
 Tir. I would not make 
 
 Myself and thee unhappy ; why thus blame 
 My tender care, nor listen to my caution ? 
 
 (Edi. Wretch as thou art, thou wouldst provoke a 
 
 stone 
 
 Inflexible and cruel still implored 
 And still refusing. 
 
 Tir. Thou condemn'st my warmth, 
 
 Forgetful of thy own. 
 
 (Edi. Who would not rage 
 
 To see an injured people treated thus 
 With vile contempt ? 
 
 Tir. What is decreed by Heaven 
 
 Must come to pass, though I reveal it not, 
 
 (Edi. Still, 'tis thy duty to inform us of it. 
 
 Tir. I'll speak no more, not though thine anger swell 
 E'en to its utmost. 
 
 (Edi. Nor will I be silent.
 
 156 SOPHOCLES 
 
 I tell thee once for all thou wert thyself 
 Accomplice in this deed. Nav, more, 1 think, 
 But for thy blindness, wouldst with thy own hand 
 Have done it too. 
 
 Tir. 'Tis well. Now hear Tiresias. 
 
 The sentence, which thou didst thyself proclaim, 
 Falls on thyself. Henceforth shall never man 
 Hold converse with thee, for thou art accursed 
 The guilty cause of all this city's woes. 
 
 CEdi. Audacious traitor ! thinkst thou to escape 
 The hand of vengeance ? 
 
 Tir. Yes, I fear thee not ; 
 
 For truth is stronger than a tyrant's arm. 
 
 CEdi. Whence didst thou learn this ? Was it from 
 thy art ? 
 
 Tir. I learned it from thyself. Thou didst compel me 
 To speak, unwilling as I was. 
 
 CEdi. Once more 
 
 Repeat it then, that I may know my fate 
 More plainly still. 
 
 Tir. Is it not plain already ? 
 
 Or meanst thou but to tempt me ? 
 
 CEdi. No, but say, 
 
 Speak it again. 
 
 Tir. Again then I declare 
 
 Thou art thyself the murderer whom thou seekst. 
 
 CEdi. A second time thou shall not pass unpunished. 
 
 Tir. What wouldst thou say, if I should tell thee all? 
 
 CEdi. Say what thou wilt. For all is false. 
 
 Tir. Know then, 
 
 That CEdipus, in shameful bonds united 
 With those he loves, unconscious of his guilt, 
 Is yet most guilty. 
 
 CEdi. Dar'st thou utter more, 
 
 And hope for pardon ? 
 
 Tir. Yes, if there be strength 
 
 In sacred truth.
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 157 
 
 (Edi. But truth dwells not in thee : 
 
 Thy body and thy mind are dark alike, 
 For both are blind. Thy ev'ry sense is lost. 
 
 Tir. Thou dost upbraid me with the loss of that 
 For which thyself ere long shall meet reproach 
 From every tongue. 
 
 (Edi. Thou blind and impious traitor ! 
 
 Thy darkness is thy safeguard, or this hour 
 Had been thy last. 
 
 Tir. It is not in my fate 
 
 To fall by thee. Apollo guards his priest. 
 
 (Edi. Was this the tale of Creon, or thy own? 
 
 Tir. Creon is guiltless, and the crime is thine. 
 
 (Edi. O riches, power, dominion ! and thou far 
 Above them all, the best of human blessings, 
 Excelling wisdom, how doth envy love 
 To follow and oppress you ! This fair kingdom, 
 Which by the nation's choice, and not my own, 
 I here possess, Creon, my faithful friend, 
 For such I thought him once, would now wrest from me, 
 And hath suborned this vile impostor here, 
 This wandering hypocrite, of sharpest sight 
 When interest prompts, but ignorant and blind 
 When fools consult him. Tell me, prophet, where 
 Was all thy art when the abhorred Sphinx 
 Alarmed our city ? Wherefore did not then 
 Thy wisdom save us? Then the man divine 
 Was wanting. But thy birds refused their omens, 
 Thy god was silent. Then came CEdipus, 
 This poor, unlearned, uninstructed sage ; 
 Who not from birds uncertain omens drew, 
 But by his own sagacious mind explored 
 The hidden mystery. And now thou com'st 
 To cast me from the throne my wisdom gained, 
 And share with Creon my divided empire. 
 But you should both lament your ill-got power, 
 You and your bold compeer, For thee, this moment,
 
 158 SOPHOCLES 
 
 But that I bear respect unto thy age, 
 I'd make thee rue thy execrable purpose. 
 
 Chor. You both are angry, therefore both to blame ; 
 Much rather should you join, with friendly zeal 
 And mutual ardour, to explore the will 
 Of all-deciding Heaven. 
 
 Tir. What though thou rul'st 
 
 O'er Thebes despotic, we are equal here : 
 I am Apollo's subject, and not thine, 
 Nor want I Creon to protect me. No ; 
 I tell thee, king, this blind Tiresias tells thee, 
 Seeing thou seest not, knowst not where thou art, 
 What, or with whom. Canst thou inform me who 
 Thy parents are, and what thy horrid crimes 
 'Gainst thy own race, the living and the dead ? 
 A father's and a mother's curse attend thee ; 
 Soon shall their furies drive thee from the land, 
 And leave thee dark like me. What mountain then, 
 Or conscious shore, shall not return the groans 
 Of CEdipus, and echo to his woes ? 
 When thou shalt look on the detested bed, 
 And in that haven where thou hop'st to rest, 
 Shalt meet with storm and tempest, then what ills 
 Shall fall on thee and thine ! Now vent thy rage 
 On old Tiresias and the guiltless Creon ; 
 We shall be soon avenged, for ne'er did Heaven 
 Cut off a wretch so base, so vile as thou art. 
 
 (Edi. Must I bear this from thee ? Away, begone ! 
 Home, villain, home ! 
 
 Tir. I did not come to thee 
 
 Unsent for. 
 
 (Edi. Had I thought thou wouldst have thus 
 Insulted me, I had not called thee hither. 
 
 Tir. Perhaps thou holdst Tiresias as a fool 
 And madman; but thy parents thought me wise. 
 
 (I-:,li. My parents, saidst thou ? Speak, who were my 
 
 parents ?
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 159 
 
 Tir. This day, that gives thee life, shall give thee 
 death. 
 
 (Edi. Still dark, and still perplexing are the words 
 thou utter'st. 
 
 Tir. Tis thy business to unriddle, 
 And therefore thou canst best interpret them. 
 
 (Edi. Thou dost reproach me for my virtues. 
 
 Tir. They, 
 
 And thy good fortune, have undone thee. 
 
 (Edi. Since 
 
 I saved the city, I'm content. 
 
 Tir. Farewell. 
 
 Boy, lead me hence. 
 
 (Edi. Away with him, for here 
 His presence but disturbs us ; being gone, 
 We shall be happier. 
 
 Tir. CEdipus, I go, 
 
 But first inform me, for I fear thee not, 
 Wherefore I came. Know, then, I came to tell thee, 
 The man thou seekst, the man on whom thou pouredst 
 Thy execrations, e'en the murderer 
 Of Laius, now is here a seeming stranger 
 And yet a Theban. He shall suffer soon 
 For all his crimes : from light and affluence driven 
 To penury and darkness, poor and blind, 
 Propped on his staff, and from his native land 
 Expelled, I see him in a foreign clime 
 A helpless wanderer ; to his sons at once 
 A father and a brother; child and husband 
 Of her from whom he sprang. Adulterous, 
 Incestuous parricide, now fare thee well ! 
 Go, learn the truth, and if it be not so, 
 Say I have ne'er deserved the name of prophet.
 
 l6o SOPHOCLES 
 
 CHORUS 
 Strophe I 
 
 When will the guilty wretch appear, 
 Whom Delphi's sacred oracle demands ; 
 
 Author of crimes too black for mortal ear, 
 Dipping- in royal blood his sacrilegious hands? 
 Swift as the storm by rapid whirlwinds driven ; 
 Quick let him fly th' impending wrath of Heaven ; 
 For lo ! the angry son of Jove, 
 Armed with red lightnings from above, 
 Pursues the murderer with immortal hate, 
 And round him spreads the snares of unrelenting fate. 
 
 Anlistrophc I 
 
 From steep Parnassus' rocky cave, 
 Covered with snow, came forth the dread command ; 
 
 Apollo thence his sacred mandate gave, 
 To search the man of blood through every land : 
 Silent and sad, the weary wanderer roves 
 O'er pathless rocks and solitary groves, 
 
 Hoping to 'scape the wrath divine, 
 
 Denounced from great Apollo's shrine ; 
 Vain hopes to 'scape the fate by Heaven decreed, 
 For vengeance hovers still o'er his devoted head. 
 
 Strophe 2 
 
 Tiresias, famed for wisdom's lore, 
 Hath dreadful ills to CEdipus divined ; 
 
 And as his words mysterious I explore, 
 Unnumbered doubts perplex my anxious mind. 
 Now raised by hope, and now with fears oppressed, 
 Sorrow and joy alternate fill my breast : 
 
 1 ln\v should these hapless kings be foes, 
 
 When never strife between them rose? 
 Or why ^Imuld L:iius, slain by hands unknown, 
 Bring foul disgrace on Polybus' unhappy son?
 
 CEDIPUS TYRAXNUS l6l 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 
 From Phoebus and all-seeing Jove 
 Naught can be hid of actions here below ; 
 
 But earthly prophets may deceitful prove, 
 And little more than other mortals know : 
 Though much in wisdom man doth man excel, 
 In all that's human error still must dwell : 
 Could he commit the bloody deed, 
 Who from the Sphinx our city freed ? 
 Oh, no ! he never shed the guiltless blood ; 
 The Sphinx declares him wise, and innocent, and good. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 CREON, CHORUS 
 
 Creon. O citizens ! with grief I hear your king 
 Hath blasted the fair fame of guiltless Creon ! 
 And most unjustly brands me with a crime 
 My soul abhors : while desolation spreads 
 On every side, and universal ruin 
 Hangs o'er the land, if I in word or deed 
 Could join to swell the woes of hapless Thebes, 
 I were unworthy nay, I would not wish- 
 To live another day : alas ! my friends, 
 Thus to be deemed a traitor to my country, 
 To you my fellow-citizens, to all 
 That hear me, 'tis infamy and shame ; 
 I can not, will not bear it. 
 
 Chor. Twas th' effect 
 
 Of sudden anger only what he said 
 But could not think. 
 
 Creon. Who told him I suborned 
 
 The prophet to speak falsely ? What could raise 
 This vile suspicion ? 
 
 Chor. Such he had, but whence 
 
 I know not. 
 
 Creon. Talked he thus with firm composure 
 And confidence of mind ?
 
 1 62 SOPHOCLES 
 
 CJior. I can not say ; 
 
 'Tis not for me to know the thoughts of kings, 
 Or judge their actions ! But behold ! he comes. 
 
 OEDIPUS, CREON, CHORUS 
 
 CEdi. Ha ! Creon here ? And dar'st thou thus ap- 
 proach 
 
 My palace, thou who wouldst have murdered me, 
 And ta'en my kingdom ? By the gods I ask thee ; 
 Answer me, traitor, didst thou think me fool, 
 Or coward, that I could not see thy arts, 
 Or had not strength to vanquish them? What madness, 
 What strange infatuation led thee on, 
 Without or force or friends, to grasp at empire 
 Which only their united force can give? 
 What wert thou doing ? 
 
 Creon. Hear what I shall answer, 
 
 Then judge impartial. 
 
 CEdL Thou canst talk it well, 
 
 But I shall ne'er attend to thee ; thy guilt 
 Is plain ; thou art my deadliest foe. 
 
 Creon. But hear 
 
 What I shall urge. 
 
 (J-ldi. Say not thou art innocent. 
 
 Creon. If self-opinion void of reason seem 
 Conviction to thee, know, thou err'st most grossly. 
 
 CEdi. And thou more grossly, if thou thinkst to pass 
 Unpunished for this injury to thy friend. 
 
 Creon. I should not, were I guilty ; but what crime 
 I lave I committed? Tell me. 
 
 (l-'.di. Wert not thou 
 
 The man who urged me to require the aid 
 Of your all-knowing prophet? 
 
 Creon. True, I was ; 
 
 I did persuade you ; so I would again. 
 
 (I''.(/i. I lu\v long is it since Laius 
 
 Cr< Laius! What?
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 
 
 CEdi. Since Laius fell by hands unknown? 
 
 Creon. 
 Long tract of years. 
 
 CEdi. Was this Tiresias then 
 
 A prophet ? 
 
 Creon. Ay ; in wisdom and in fame 
 As now excelling. 
 
 (Edi. Did he then say aught 
 
 Concerning me ? 
 
 Creon. I never heard he did. 
 
 CEdi. Touching this murder, did you ne'er inquire 
 Who were the authors ? 
 
 Creon. Doubtless ; but in vain. 
 
 CEdi. Why did not this same prophet then inform you? 
 
 Creon. I know not that, and when I'm ignorant 
 I'm always silent. 
 
 CEdi. What concerns thyself 
 
 At least thou knowst, and therefore shouldst declare it. 
 
 Creon. What is it ? Speak ; and if 'tis in my power, 
 I'll answer thee. 
 
 CEdi. Thou knowst, if this Tiresias 
 
 Had not combined with thee, he would not thus 
 Accuse me as the murderer of Laius. 
 
 Creon. What he declares, thou best canst tell : of me, 
 What thou requirest, myself am yet to learn. 
 
 CEdi. Go, learn it then ; but ne'er shalt thou discover 
 That CEdipus is guilty. 
 
 Creon. Art not thou 
 
 My sister's husband ? 
 
 CEdi. Granted. 
 
 Creon. Joined with her, 
 
 Thou rul'st o'er Thebes. 
 
 CEdi. 'Tis true, and all she asks 
 
 Most freely do I give her. 
 
 Creon. Is not Creon 
 
 In honour next to you ? 
 
 CEdi. Thou art ; and therefore
 
 164 SOPHOCLES 
 
 The more ungrateful. 
 
 Creon. Hear what I shall plead, 
 
 And thou wilt never think so. Tell me, prince, 
 Is there a man who would prefer a throne, 
 With all its dangers, to an equal rank 
 In peace and safety ? I am not of those 
 Who choose the name of king before the power; 
 Fools only make such wishes : I have all 
 From thee, and fearless I enjoy it all : 
 Had I the sceptre, often must I act 
 Against my will. Know then, I am not yet 
 So void of sense and reason as to quit 
 A real 'vantage for a seeming good. 
 Am I not happy, am I not revered, 
 Embraced, and loved by all ? To me they come 
 Who want thy favour, and by me acquire it : 
 What then should Creon wish for ; shall he leave 
 All this for empire ? Bad desires corrupt 
 The fairest mind. I never entertained 
 A thought so vile, nor would 1 lend my aid 
 To forward such base purposes. But go 
 To Delphi, ask the sacred oracle 
 If I have spoke the truth ; if there you find 
 That with the prophet I conspired, destroy 
 The guilty Creon ; not thy voice alone 
 Shall then condemn me, for myself will join 
 In the just sentence. But accuse me not 
 On weak suspicion's most uncertain test. 
 Justice would never call the wicked good, 
 Or brand fair virtue with the name of vice, 
 Unmerited : to cast away a friend, 
 Faithful and just, is to deprive ourselves 
 Of life and being, which we hold most dear: 
 But time and time alone revealeth all ; 
 That only shows the good man's excellence: 
 A day sufficeth to unmask the wicked. 
 
 C/ior. O king ! his caution merits your regard ;
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 165 
 
 Who judge in haste do seldom judge aright. 
 
 CEdi. When they are quick who plot against my life, 
 Tis fit I should be quick in my defence ; 
 If I am tame and silent, all they wish 
 Will soon be done, and QEdipus must fall. 
 
 Creon. What wouldst thou have ? my banishment ? 
 
 CEdi. Thy death. 
 
 Creon. But first inform me wherefore I should die. 
 
 CEdi. Dost thou rebel then ? Wilt thou not submit ? 
 
 Creon. Not when I see thee thus deceived. 
 
 CEdi. 'Tis fit 
 
 I should defend my own. 
 
 Creon. And so should I. 
 
 CEdi. Thou art a traitor. 
 
 Creon. What if it should prove 
 
 I am not so ? 
 
 CEdi. A king must be obeyed. 
 
 Creon. Not if his orders are unjust. 
 
 CEdi. O Thebes ! 
 
 O citizens ! 
 
 Creon. I too can call on Thebes ; 
 She is my country. 
 
 Ckor. Oh ! no more, my lords ; 
 
 For see, Jocasta comes in happiest hour 
 To end your contest. 
 
 JOCASTA, CREON, CEDIPUS, CHORUS 
 
 Joe. Whence this sudden tumult? 
 
 O princes ! Is this well, at such a time 
 With idle broils to multiply the woes 
 Of wretched Thebes? Home, home, for shame ! nor thus 
 With private quarrels swell the public ruin. 
 
 Creon. Sister, thy husband hath most basely used me; 
 He threatens me with banishment or death. 
 
 CEdi. I do confess it ; for he did conspire 
 With vile and wicked arts against my life. 
 
 Creon. Oh ! may I never prosper, but accursed,
 
 1 66 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Unpitied, perish if I ever did. 
 
 Joe. Believe him, CEdipus ; revere the gods 
 Whom he contests, if thou dost love Jocasta ; 
 Thy subjects beg it of thee. 
 
 Chor. Hear, O king ! 
 
 Consider, we entreat thee. 
 
 CEdi. What wouldst have? 
 
 Think you I'll e'er submit to him ? 
 
 Chor. Revere 
 
 His character, his oath, both pleading for him. 
 
 (Edi. But know you what you ask? 
 
 Chor. We do. 
 
 CEdi. What is it? 
 
 Chor. We ask thee to believe a guiltless friend, 
 Nor cast him forth dishonoured thus, on slight 
 Suspicion's weak surmise. 
 
 CEdi. Requesting this, 
 
 You do request my banishment, or death. 
 
 Chor. No ; by yon leader of the heavenly host, 
 Th' immortal sun, I had not such a thought ; 
 I only felt for Thebes' distressful state, 
 And would not have it by domestic strife 
 Embittered thus. 
 
 CEdi. Why, let him then depart: 
 
 If CEdipus must die, or leave his country 
 For shameful exile, be it so ; I yield 
 To thy request, not his ; for hateful still 
 Shall Creon ever be. 
 
 Creon. Thy stubborn soul 
 
 Bends with reluctance, and when anger fires it 
 Is terrible ; but natures formed like thine 
 Are their own punishment. 
 
 CEdi. Wilt thou not hence ? 
 
 Wilt not begone ? 
 
 Creon. I go ; thou knowest me not ; 
 
 But these will do me justice. [Exit CREON.
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS 167 
 
 JOCASTA, CEDIPUS, CHORUS 
 
 Chor. Princess, now 
 
 Persuade him to retire. 
 
 Joe. First, let me know 
 
 The cause of this dissension. 
 
 Chor. From reports 
 
 Uncertain, and suspicions most injurious, 
 The quarrel rose. 
 
 Joe. Was th' accusation mutual? 
 
 Chor. It was. 
 
 Joe. What followed then ? 
 
 C/tor. Ask me no more ; 
 
 Enough's already known ; we'll not repeat 
 The woes of hapless Thebes. 
 
 (Edi. You are all blind, 
 
 Insensible, unjust; you love me not, 
 Yet boast your piety. 
 
 Chor. I said before, 
 
 Again I say, that not to love my king 
 E'en as myself, would mark me for the worst 
 Of men. For thou didst save expiring Thebes. 
 Oh ! rise once more, protect, preserve thy country ! 
 
 Joe. O king ! inform me, whence this strange dissen- 
 sion? 
 
 (Edi. I'll tell thee, my Jocasta, for thou knowst 
 The love I bear thee, what this wicked Creon 
 Did artfully devise against me. 
 
 Joe. Speak it, 
 
 If he indeed be guilty. 
 
 (Edi. Creon says 
 
 That I did murder Laius. 
 
 Joe. Spake he this 
 
 As knowing it himself, or from another? 
 
 (Edi. He had suborned that evil-working priest, 
 And sharpens every tongue against his king. 
 
 Joe. Let not a fear perplex thee, (Edipus ; 
 Mortals know nothing of futurity,
 
 168 SOPHOi ! ES 
 
 And these prophetic seers are all impostors ; 
 
 I'll prove it to thee. Know then, Laius once, 
 
 Not from Apollo, but his priests, received 
 
 An oracle, which said it was decreed 
 
 He should be slain by his own son, the offspring 
 
 Of Laius and Jocasta. Yet he fell 
 
 By strangers, murdered, for so fame reports, 
 
 By robbers, in the place where three ways meet. 
 
 A son was born, but ere three days had passed 
 
 The infant's feet were bored. A servant took 
 
 And left him on the pathless mountain's top, 
 
 To perish there. Thus Phoebus ne'er decreed 
 
 That he should kill his father, or that Laius, 
 
 Which much he feared, should by his son be slain. 
 
 Such is the truth of oracles. Henceforth 
 
 Regard them not. What Heaven would have us know, 
 
 It can with ease unfold, and will reveal it. 
 
 (Edi. What thou hast said, Jocasta, much disturbs me 
 I tremble at it. 
 
 Joe. Wherefore shouldst thou fear? 
 
 (Edi. Methought I heard thee say, Laius was slain 
 Where three ways meet. 
 
 Joe. 'Twas so reported then, 
 
 And is so still. 
 
 (Edi. Where happened the misfortune? 
 
 Joe. In Phocis, where the roads unite that lead 
 To Delphi and to Daulia. 
 
 CEdi. How long since? 
 
 Joe. A little time ere you began to rei^n 
 O'er Thebes, we heard it. 
 
 (Edi. O almighty Jove ! 
 
 What wilt thou do with me? 
 
 Joe. Why talkst thou thus? 
 
 (Edi. Ask me no more ; but tell me of this Laius: 
 What was his age and stature ? 
 
 Joe. I lo was tall ; 
 
 IIi> hairs just turning to the silver hue 1 ;
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 169 
 
 His form not much unlike thy own. 
 
 CEdi. Oh me ! 
 
 Sure I have called down curses on myself 
 Unknowing. 
 
 Joe. Ha! what sayst thou, CEdipus? 
 
 I tremble while I look on thee. 
 
 CEdi. Oh! much 
 
 I fear the prophet saw too well ; but say, 
 One thing will make it clear. 
 
 Joe. I dread to hear it ; 
 
 Yet speak, and I will tell thee. 
 
 CEdi. Went he forth 
 
 With few attendants, or a numerous train, 
 In kingly pomp? 
 
 Joe. They were but five in all, 
 
 The herald with them ; but one chariot there, 
 Which carried Laius. 
 
 CEdi. Oh ! 'tis but too plain. 
 
 Who brought the news ? 
 
 Joe. A servant, who alone 
 
 Escaped with life. 
 
 CEdi. That servant, is he here ? 
 
 Joe. Oh, no ! His master slain, when he returned 
 And saw thee on the throne of Thebes, with prayer 
 Most earnest he beseeched me to dismiss him, 
 That he might leave this city, where he wished 
 No longer to be seen, but to retire, 
 And feed my flocks ; I granted his request ; 
 For that and more his honest services 
 Had merited. 
 
 CEdi. I beg he may be sent for 
 
 Immediately. 
 
 Joe. He shall ; but wherefore is it? 
 
 CEdi. I fear thou'st said too much, and therefore wish 
 To see him. 
 
 Joe. He shall come ; but, O my lord ! 
 
 Am I not worthy to be told the cause 
 7
 
 I ;o SOPHOCLES 
 
 Of this distress? 
 
 (Edi. Thou art, and I will tell thee ; 
 
 Thou art my hope to whom should I impart 
 My sorrows, but to thee? Know then, Jocasta, 
 I am the son of Polybus, who reigns 
 At Corinth, and the Dorian Merope 
 His queen ; there long I held the foremost rank, 
 Honoured and happy, when a strange event 
 (For strange it was, though little meriting 
 The deep concern I felt) alarmed me much : 
 A drunken reveller at a feast proclaimed 
 That I was only the supposed son 
 Of Corinth's king. Scarce could I bear that day 
 The vile reproach. The next, I sought my parents 
 And asked of them the truth ; they too, enraged, 
 Resented much the base indignity. 
 I liked their tender warmth, but still I felt 
 A secret anguish, and, unknown to them, 
 Sought out the Pythian oracle. In vain. 
 Touching my parents nothing could I learn ; 
 But dreadful were the miseries it denounced 
 Against me. Twas my fate, Apollo said, 
 To wed my mother, to produce a race 
 Accursed and abhorred ; and last, to slay 
 Mv father who begat me. Sad decree! 
 Lest I should e'er fulfil the dire prediction, 
 Instant I fled from Corinth, by the stars 
 Guiding my hapless journey to the place 
 Where thou report'st this wretched king was slain. 
 But I will tell thee the whole truth. At length 
 I came to where the three ways meet, when, lo! 
 A herald, with another man like him 
 Whom thou describ'st, and in a chariot, met me. 
 Both strove with violence to drive me back ; 
 Enraged, I struck the charioteer, when straight, 
 As I advanced, the old man saw, and twice 
 Smote me o* th' head, but clearly soon repaid
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 171 
 
 The insult on me ; from his chariot rolled 
 Prone on the earth, beneath my staff he fell, 
 And instantly expired ! Th' attendant train 
 All shared his fate. If this unhappy stranger 
 And Laius be the same, lives there a wretch 
 So cursed, so hateful to the gods as I am ? 
 Nor citizen nor alien must receive, 
 Or converse, or communion hold with me, 
 But drive me forth with infamy and shame. 
 The dreadful curse pronounced with my own lips 
 Shall soon o'ertake me. I have stained the bed 
 Of him whom I had murdered; am I then 
 Aught but pollution ? If I fly from hence, 
 The bed of incest meets me, and I go 
 To slay my father Polybus, the best, 
 The tenderest parent. This must be the work 
 Of some malignant power. Ye righteous gods! 
 Let me not see that day, but rest in death, 
 Rather than suffer such calamity. 
 
 Chor. O king ! we pity thy distress ; but wait 
 With patience his arrival, and despair not. 
 
 (Edi. That shepherd is my only hope : Jocasta, 
 Would he were here ! 
 
 Joe, Suppose he were ; what then ? 
 
 What wouldst thou do ? 
 
 (Edi. I'll tell thee : if he says 
 
 The same as thou dost, I am safe and guiltless. 
 
 Joe. What said I then ? 
 
 (Edi. Thou saidst he did report 
 
 Laius was slain by robbers ; if 'tis true 
 He fell by numbers, I am innocent, 
 For I was unattended ; if but one 
 Attacked and slew him, doubtless I am he. 
 
 Joe. Be satisfied it must be as he first 
 Reported it ; he can not change the tale : 
 Not I alone, but the whole city heard it. 
 Or grant he should, the oracle was ne'er
 
 172 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Fulfilled : for Phoebus said, Jocasta's son 
 Should slay his father. That could never be ; 
 For, oh ! Jocasta's son long since is dead. 
 He could not murder Laius ; therefore never 
 Will I attend to prophecies again. 
 
 (Edi. Right, my Jocasta ; but, I beg thee, send 
 And fetch this shepherd ; do not fail. 
 
 Joe. I will 
 
 This moment ; come, my lord, let us go in : 
 I will do nothing but what pleases thee. [Exeunt. 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe i 
 Grant me henceforth, ye powers divine, 
 
 In virtue's purest paths to tread ! 
 
 In every word, in every deed, 
 May sanctity of manners ever shine ! 
 
 Obedient to the laws of Jove, 
 
 The laws descended from above, 
 Which, not like those by feeble mortals given, 
 
 Buried in dark oblivion lie, 
 
 Or worn by time decay, and die, 
 But bloom eternal like their native heaven ! 
 
 Antistrophe i 
 
 Pride first gave birth to tyranny : 
 
 That hateful vice, insulting pride, 
 When, every human power defied, 
 
 She lifts to glory's height her votary ; 
 
 Soon stumbling, from her tottering throne 
 She throws the wretched victim down. 
 
 But may the god indulgent hear my prayer, 
 That god whom humbly I adore ; 
 Oh ! may he smile on Thebes once more, 
 
 And take its wretched monarch to his care ! 
 
 Strophe 2 
 
 Perish the impious and profane, 
 
 Who, void of rev rcntial fear,
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 173 
 
 Nor justice nor the laws revere, 
 Who leave their god for pleasure or for gain ! 
 
 Who swell by fraud their ill-got store, 
 
 Who rob the wretched and the poor ! 
 If vice unpunished virtue's meed obtain, 
 
 Who shall refrain? the impetuous soul, 
 
 The rebel passions who control, 
 Or wherefore do I lead this choral train? 
 
 s 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 
 No more to Delphi's sacred shrine 
 
 Need we with incense now repair, 
 
 No more shall Phocis hear our prayer; 
 
 Nor fair Olympia see her rites divine ; 
 If oracles no longer prove, 
 The power of Phoebus and of Jove. 
 
 Great lord of all, from thy eternal throne 
 Behold, how impious men defame 
 Thy loved Apollo's honoured name ; 
 Oh ! guard his rights, and vindicate thy own. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 JOCASTA, CHORUS 
 
 Jocasta. Sages and rulers of the land, I come 
 To seek the altars of the gods, and there 
 VVith incense and oblations to appease 
 Offended Heaven. My CEdipus, alas ! 
 No longer wise and prudent, as you all 
 Remember once he was, with present things 
 Compares the past, nor judges like himself; 
 Unnumbered cares perplex his anxious mind, 
 And every tale awakes new terrors in him ; 
 Vain is my counsel, for he hears me not. 
 First, then, to thee, O Phoebus! for thou still 
 Art near to help the wretched, we appeal, 
 And suppliant beg thee now to grant thy aid 
 Propitious ; deep is our distress ; for, oh !
 
 I 7 4 SOPHOCLES 
 
 We see our pilot sinking at the helm, 
 And much already fear the vessel lost. 
 
 SHEPHERD FROM CORINTH, JOCASTA, CHORUS 
 
 Shep. Can you instruct me, strangers, which way lies 
 The palace of King CEdipus? llimself 
 I would most gladly see. Can you inform me? 
 
 Chor. This is the palace ; he is now within ; 
 Thou seest his queen before thee. 
 
 Shcp. Ever blest 
 
 And happy with the happy mayst thou live ! 
 
 Joe. Stranger, the same good wish to thee, for well 
 Thy words deserve it ; but say, wherefore com'st thou, 
 And what's thy news? 
 
 Shep. To thee, and to thy husband, 
 
 Pleasure and joy. 
 
 Joe. What pleasure ? And whence art thou ? 
 
 Shep. From Corinth. To be brief, I bring thee tidings 
 Of good and evil. 
 
 Joe. Ha ! what mean thy words 
 
 Ambiguous? 
 
 Shcp. Know then, if report say true, 
 
 The Isthmian people will choose CEdipus 
 Their sovereign. 
 
 Joe. Is not Poly bus their king? 
 
 Shcp. No ; Poly bus is dead. 
 
 Joe. What sayst thou ? Dead? 
 
 Shep. If I speak falsely, may death seize on me! 
 
 Joe. {to one of her ATTENDANTS]. Why fliest thou not 
 
 to tell thy master? Hence! 
 What are you now, you oracles divine? 
 Where is your truth ? The fearful CEdipus 
 From Corinth fled, lest he should slay the king, 
 This Polybus, who perished, not by him, 
 But by the hand of Heaven.
 
 (KDIPUS TYRANNUS 175 
 
 (EDIPUS, JOCASTA, SHEPHERD, CHORUS 
 
 CEdi. My dear Jocasta, 
 
 Why hast thou called me hither? 
 
 j oc . Hear this man, 
 
 And when thou hear'st him, mark what faith is due 
 To your revered oracles. 
 
 CEdi. Who is he ? 
 
 And what doth he report ? 
 
 j oc . He comes from Corinth, 
 
 And says thy father Polybus is dead. 
 
 CEdi. What sayst thou, stranger? Speak to me oh! 
 speak ! 
 
 Shep. If touching this thou first desir'st my answer; 
 Know, he is dead. 
 
 CEdi. How died he ? Say, by treason, 
 
 Or some disease? 
 
 S/tep. Alas ! a little force 
 
 Will lay to rest the weary limbs of age. 
 
 CEdi. Distemper then did kill him ? 
 
 SJiep. That in part, 
 
 And part a length of years that wore him down, 
 
 CEdi. Now, my Jocasta, who shall henceforth trust 
 To prophecies, and seers, and clamorous birds 
 With their vain omens they who had decreed 
 That I should kill my father ? He thou seest 
 Beneath the earth lies buried, while I live 
 In safety here and guiltless of his blood : 
 Unless perhaps sorrow for loss of me 
 Shortened his days, thus only could I kill 
 My father. But he's gone, and to the shades 
 Hath carried with him those vain oracles 
 Of fancied ills, no longer worth my care. 
 
 Joe: Did I not say it would be thus ? 
 
 CEdi. Thou didst ; 
 
 But I was full of fears. 
 
 Joe. Henceforth, no more 
 
 Indulge them.
 
 176 SOPHOCLES 
 
 (Edi. But my mother's bed that still 
 
 Must be avoided. I must fly from that. 
 
 Joe. Why should man fear, whom chance, and chance 
 
 alone, 
 
 Doth ever rule ? Foreknowledge, all is vain, 
 And can determine nothing. Therefore best 
 It is to live as fancy leads, at large, 
 Uncurbed, and only subject to our will. 
 Fear not thy mother's bed. Ofttimes in dreams 
 Have men committed incest. But his life 
 Will ever be most happy who contemns 
 Such idle phantoms. 
 
 (Edi. Thou wert right, Jocasta, 
 
 Did not my mother live. But as it is, 
 Spite of thy words, I must be anxious still. 
 
 Joe. Think on thy father's death ; it is a light 
 To guide thee here. 
 
 (Edi. It is so. Yet I fear 
 
 While she survives him. 
 
 Shep. Who is it you mean ? 
 
 What woman fear you ? 
 
 (Edi. Merope, the wife 
 
 Of Polybus. 
 
 Shep. And wherefore fear you her ? 
 
 (Edi. Know, stranger, a most dreadful oracle 
 Concerning her affrights me. 
 
 Shep. May I know it, 
 
 Or must it be revealed to none but thee ? 
 
 (Edi. Oh, no ! I'll tell thee. Phoebus hath declared 
 That CEdipus should stain his mother's bed, 
 And dip his hands in his own father's blood ; 
 Wherefore I fled from Corinth, and lived here, 
 In happiness indeed. But still thou knowst 
 It is a blessing to behold our parents, 
 And that I had not. 
 
 Shep. Was it for this cause 
 
 Thou wert an exile then ?
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 177 
 
 (Edi. It was. I feared 
 
 That I might one day prove my father's murderer. 
 
 Shep. What if I come, O king ! to banish hence 
 Thy terrors, and restore thy peace ? 
 
 (Edi, Oh, stranger ! 
 
 Couldst thou do this, I would reward thee nobly. 
 
 Shep. Know then, for this I came. I came to serve, 
 And make thee happy. 
 
 (Edi. But I will not go 
 
 Back to my parents. 
 
 Shep. Son, I see thou knowst not 
 
 What thou art doing. 
 
 (Edi. Wherefore thinkst thou so ? 
 
 By Heaven I beg thee then do thou instruct me. 
 
 Shep. If thou didst fly from Corinth for this cause 
 
 (Edi. Apollo's dire predictions still affright me. 
 
 Shep. Fearst thou pollution from thy parents ? 
 
 (Edi. That, 
 
 And that alone I dread. 
 
 Shep. Thy fears are vain. 
 
 (Edi. Not if they are my parents. 
 
 Shep. Poly bus 
 
 Was not akin to thee. 
 
 (Edi. What sayst thou ? Speak, 
 
 Say, was not Polybus my father? 
 
 Shep. . No ; 
 
 No more than he is mine. 
 
 (Edi. Why call me then 
 
 His son ? 
 
 Shep. Because long since I gave thee to him 
 He did receive thee from these hands. 
 
 (Edi. Indeed ! 
 
 And could he love another's child so well ? 
 
 Shep. He had no children ; that persuaded him 
 To take and keep thee. 
 
 (Edi. Didst thou buy me, then, 
 
 Or am I thine, and must I call thee father?
 
 178 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Shep, I found thee in Cithasron's woody vale. 
 
 CEdi. What brought thee there? 
 
 S/icp. I came to feed my flocks 
 
 On the green mountain's side. 
 
 CEdi. It seems thou wert 
 
 A wandering shepherd. 
 
 Shcp. Thy deliverer ; 
 
 I saved thee from destruction. 
 
 CEdi. How ? What then 
 
 Had happened to me? 
 
 Shep. Thy own feet will best 
 
 Inform thee of that circumstance. 
 
 CEdi. Alas ! 
 
 Why callst thou to remembrance a misfortune 
 Of so long date ? 
 
 Shcp. 'Twas I who loosed the tendons 
 
 Of thy bored feet. 
 
 CEdi. It seems in infancy 
 
 I suffered much, then. 
 
 Shep. To this incident 
 
 Thou ow'st thy name. 
 
 CEdi. My father, or my mother, 
 
 Who did it ? Knowst thou ? 
 
 Shep. He who gave thee to me 
 
 Must tell thee that. 
 
 CEdi. Then from another's hand 
 
 Thou didst receive me. 
 
 Shep. Ay, another shepherd. 
 
 CEdi. Who was he ? Canst thou recollect ? 
 
 Shcp. Twas one, 
 
 At least so called, of Laius' family. 
 
 CEdi. Laius, who ruled at Thebes ? 
 
 Shep. The same ; this man 
 
 Was shepherd to King Laius. 
 
 CEdi. Lives he still ? 
 
 And could I see him ? 
 
 Shep. [pointing to the CHORUS]. Some of these perhaps,
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 179 
 
 His countrymen, may give you information. 
 
 CEdi. [to the CHORUS]. Oh ! speak, my friends, if any 
 
 of you know 
 
 This shepherd ; whether still he lives at Thebes, 
 Or in some neighbouring country. Tell me quick, 
 For it concerns us near. 
 
 Chor. It must be he 
 
 Whom thou didst lately send for; but the queen 
 Can best inform thee. 
 
 (Edi. Knowst thou, my Jocasta, 
 
 Whether the man whom thou didst order hither, 
 And whom the shepherd speaks of, be the same ? 
 
 Joe. Whom meant he? for I know not. CEdipus, 
 Think not so deeply of this thing. 
 
 (Edi. Good heaven ! 
 
 Forbid, Jocasta, I should now neglect 
 To clear my birth, when thus the path is marked 
 And open to me. 
 
 Joe. Do not, by the gods 
 
 I beg thee, do not, if thy life be dear, 
 Make further search, for I have felt enough 
 Already from it. 
 
 (Edi. Rest thou satisfied ; 
 
 Were I descended from a race of slaves, 
 'Twould not dishonour thee. 
 
 Joe. Yet hear me ; do not, 
 
 Once more I beg thee, do not search this matter. 
 
 (Edi. I will not be persuaded. I must search 
 And find it too. 
 
 Joe. I know it best, and best 
 
 Advise thee. 
 
 CEdi. That advice perplexes more. 
 
 Joe. Oh ! would to Heaven that thou mayst never know 
 Or who or whence thou art ! 
 
 (Edi. \to the ATTENDANTS]. Let some one fetch 
 That shepherd quick, and leave this woman here 
 To glory in her high descent.
 
 1 80 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Joe. Alas ! 
 
 Unhappy QEdipus ! that word alone 
 I now can speak : remember 'tis my last. 
 
 {Exit JOCASTA. 
 
 CEDIPUS, CHORUS 
 
 Chor. Why fled the queen in such disorder hence ? 
 Sorely distressed she seemed, and much I fear 
 Her silence bodes some sad event. 
 
 (Edi. Whate'er 
 
 May come of that, I am resolved to know 
 The secret of my birth, how mean soever 
 It chance to prove. Perhaps her sex's pride 
 May make her blush to find I was not born 
 Of noble parents ; but I call myself 
 The son of fortune, my indulgent mother, 
 Whom I shall never be ashamed to own, 
 The kindred months that are like me, her children, 
 The years that roll obedient to her will, 
 Have raised me from the lowest state to power 
 And splendour. Wherefore, being what I am, 
 I need not fear the knowledge of my birth. 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe 
 
 If my prophetic soul doth well divine, 
 Ere on thy brow to-morrow's sun shall shine, 
 
 Cithaeron, thou the mystery shalt unfold ; 
 The doubtful CEdipus, no longer blind, 
 Shall soon his country and his father find, 
 And all the story of his birth be told. 
 Then shall we in grateful lays 
 Celebrate our monarch's praise, 
 And in the sprightly dance our songs triumphant raise. 
 
 A ntistropJie 
 
 What heavenly power gave birth to thee, O king ! 
 From fan. the god of mountains, didst thou spring,
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS l8l 
 
 With some fair daughter of Apollo joined ; 
 Art thou from him who o'er Cyllene reigns, 
 Swift Hermes, sporting in Arcadia's plains ? 
 Some nymph of Helicon did Bacchus find 
 Bacchus, who delights to rove 
 Through the forest, hill, and grove 
 And art thou, prince, the offspring of their love ? 
 
 CEDIPUS, CHORUS, SHEPHERD FROM CORINTH 
 
 (Edi. If I may judge of one whom yet I ne'er 
 Had converse with, yon old man, whom I see 
 This way advancing, must be that same shepherd 
 We lately sent for, by his age and mien, 
 E'en as this stranger did describe him to us ; 
 My servants too are with him. But you best 
 Can say, for you must know him well. 
 
 Chor: 'Tis he, 
 
 My lord ; the faithful shepherd of King Laius. 
 
 (Edi. [to the SHEPHERD from Corint1i\, What sayst 
 thou, stranger? is it he? 
 
 Shep. It is. 
 
 OLD SHEPHERD, CEDIPUS, SHEPHERD FROM CORINTH, 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 (Edi. Now answer me, old man ; look this way speak ; 
 Didst thou belong to Laius? 
 
 Old Shep. Sir, I did ; 
 
 No hireling slave, but in his palace bred, 
 I served him long. 
 
 (Edi. What was thy business there ? 
 
 Old Shep. For my life's better part I tended sheep. 
 
 (Edi. And whither didst thou lead them ? 
 
 Old Shep. To Cithseron, 
 
 And to the neighbouring plains. 
 
 (Edi. Behold this man : 
 
 [pointing to the SHEPHERD of Corinth. 
 Dost thou remember to have seen him ?
 
 182 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Old Shep. Whom ? 
 
 What hath he done ? 
 
 CEdi. Him, who now stands before thee, 
 
 Callst thou to mind, or converse or connection 
 Between you in times past ? 
 
 Old Shcp. I can not say 
 
 I recollect it now. 
 
 Shep. of Corinth. I do not wonder 
 He should forget me, but I will recall 
 Some facts of ancient date. He must remember 
 When on Cithaeron we together fed 
 Our several flocks, in daily converse joined 
 From spring to autumn, and when winter bleak 
 Approached, retired. I to my little cot 
 Conveyed my sheep ; he to the palace led 
 His fleecy care. Canst thou remember this? 
 
 Old Shep. I do ; but that is long, long since. 
 
 Skep. of Corinth. It is ; 
 
 But say, good shepherd, canst thou call to mind 
 An infant whom thou didst deliver to me, 
 Requesting me to breed him as my own ? 
 
 Old Shcp. Ha! wherefore askst thou this? 
 
 Shep. of Corinth [pointing to CEDIPUS]. Behold him 
 
 here, 
 That very child. 
 
 Old Shcp. Oh ! say it not : away ! 
 
 Perdition on thee ! 
 
 CEdi. Why reprove him thus? 
 
 Thou art thyself to blame, old man. 
 
 Old Shcp. In what 
 
 Am I to blame, my lord ? 
 
 CEdi. Thou wilt not speak 
 
 Touching this boy. 
 
 Old SJicp. Alas! poor man, he knows not 
 What IK- hath said. 
 
 (J-'.di. If not by softer means 
 
 To be persuaded, force shall wring it from thee.
 
 (KDIl'US TYRANNUS 183 
 
 Old Shep. Treat not an old man harshly. 
 
 CEdi. [to the ATTENDANTS]. Bind his hands. 
 
 Old Shep. Wherefore, my lord? What wouldst thou 
 have me do? 
 
 CEdi. That child he talks of, didst thou give it to 
 him ? 
 
 Old Shep. I did ; and would to Heaven I then had 
 died! 
 
 CEdi. Die soon thou shalt, unless thou tellst it all. 
 
 Old Shep. Say, rather if I do. 
 
 CEdi. This fellow means 
 
 To trifle with us, by his dull delay. 
 
 Old Shep. I do not ; said I not I gave the child ? 
 
 CEdi. Whence came the boy ? Was he thy own, or who 
 Did give him to thee? 
 
 Old Shep. From another hand 
 
 I had received him. 
 
 CEdi. Say, what hand ? From whom ? 
 
 Whence came he? 
 
 Old Shep. Do not by the gods I beg thee, 
 
 Do not inquire ! 
 
 CEdi. Force me to ask again, 
 
 And thou shalt die ! 
 
 Old Shep. In Laius' palace born 
 
 CEdi. Son of a slave, or of the king ? 
 
 Old Shep. Alas ! 
 
 'Tis death for me to speak. 
 
 (Edi. And me to hear ; 
 
 Yet say it. 
 
 Old Shep. He was called the son of Laius ; 
 But ask the queen, for she can best inform thee. 
 
 CEdi. Did she then give the child to thee ? 
 
 Old Shep. She did. 
 
 CEdi. For what? 
 
 Old Shep. To kill him. 
 
 CEdi. Kill her child ! Inhuman 
 
 And barbarous mother !
 
 1 84 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Old SJiep. A dire oracle 
 
 Affrighted, and constrained her to it. 
 
 (Edi. Ha ! 
 
 What oracle ? 
 
 Old She p. Which said, her son should slay 
 His parents. 
 
 (Edi. Wherefore gav'st thou then the infant 
 
 To this old shepherd ? 
 
 Old Shcp. Pity moved me to it : 
 
 I hoped he would have soon conveyed his charge 
 To some far-distant country ; he, alas ! 
 Preserved him but for misery and woe ; 
 For, O my lord ! if thou indeed art he, 
 Thou art of all mankind the most unhappy. 
 
 (Edi. O me ! at length the mystery's unravelled ; 
 Tis plain, 'tis clear ; my fate is all determined. 
 Those are my parents who should not have been 
 Allied to me ; she is my wife, e'en she 
 Whom Nature had forbidden me to wed ; 
 I have slain him who gave me life ; and now 
 Of thee, O light ! I take my last farewell, 
 For CEdipus shall ne'er behold thee more. [Exeunt. 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe i 
 
 O hapless state of human race ! 
 
 How quick the fleeting shadows pass 
 
 Of transitory bliss below, 
 
 Where all is vanity and woe ! 
 By thy example taught, O prince ! we see 
 Man was not made for true felicity. 
 
 AntistropJie I 
 
 Thou, (Edipus, beyond the rest 
 Of mortals wert supremely blest ; 
 Whom every hand conspired to raise, 
 Whom every tongue rejoiced to praise,
 
 OEDIPUS TYRANM S 
 
 I8 5 
 
 When from the Sphinx thy all-preserving hand 
 Stretched forth its aid to save a sinking land. 
 
 Strophe 2 
 
 Thy virtues raised thee to a throne, 
 And grateful Thebes was all thy own ; 
 Alas ! how changed that glorious name ! 
 Lost are thy virtues and thy fame ; 
 
 How couldst thou thus pollute thy father's bed ? 
 
 How couldst thou thus thy hapless mother wed ? 
 
 AntistropJie 2 
 
 How could that bed unconscious bear 
 So long the vile incestuous pair ? 
 But time, of quick and piercing sight, 
 Hath brought the horrid deed to light ; 
 At length Jocasta owns her guilty flame, 
 And finds a husband and a child the same. 
 
 Epode 
 
 Wretched son of Laius, thee 
 
 Henceforth may I never see, 
 
 But absent shed the pious tear, 
 
 And weep thy fate with grief sincere ! 
 For thou didst raise our eyes to life and light, 
 To close them now in everlasting night. 
 
 MESSENGER, CHORUS 
 
 Messenger. Sages of Thebes, most honoured and re- 
 vered, 
 
 If e'er the house of Labdacus was dear 
 And precious to you, what will be your grief 
 When I shall tell the most disastrous tale 
 You ever heard, and to your eyes present 
 A spectacle more dreadful than they yet 
 Did e'er behold ? Not the wide Danube's waves 
 Nor Phasis' streams can wash away the stains
 
 186 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Of this polluted palace ; the dire crimes 
 Long time concealed at length are brought to light ; 
 But those which spring from voluntary guilt 
 Are still more dreadful. 
 
 Chor. Nothing can be worse 
 
 Than that we know already ; bringst thou more 
 Misfortunes to us ? 
 
 Mes. To be brief, the queen, 
 
 Divine Jocasta's dead. 
 
 Chor. Jocasta dead ! Say, by what hand? 
 
 Mes. Her own ; 
 
 And what's more dreadful, no one saw the deed. 
 What I myself beheld you all shall hear. 
 Inflamed with rage, soon as she reached the palace, 
 Instant retiring to the nuptial bed, 
 She shut the door, then raved and tore her hair, 
 Called out on Laius dead, and bade him think 
 On that unhappy son who murdered him 
 And stained his bed ; then turning her sad eyes 
 Upon the guilty couch, she cursed the place 
 Where she had borne a husband from her husband, 
 And children from her child ; what followed then 
 I know not, by the cries of (Edipus 
 Prevented, for on him our eyes were fixed 
 Attentive ; forth he came, beseeching us 
 To lend him some sharp weapon, and inform him 
 Where he might find his mother and his wife, 
 His children's wretched mother and his own. 
 Some ill-designing power did then direct him 
 (For we were silent) to the queen's apartment ; 
 Forcing the bolt, he rushed into the bed, 
 And found Jocasta, where we all beheld her, 
 Entangled in the fatal noose, which soon 
 As he perceived, loosing the pendant rope, 
 Deeply he groaned, and casting on the ground 
 His wretched body, showed a piteous sight 
 To the beholders ; on a sudden, thence
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 187 
 
 Starting, he plucked from off the robe she wore 
 
 A golden buckle that adorned her side, 
 
 And buried in his eyes the sharpened point, 
 
 Crying, he ne'er again would look on her, 
 
 Never would see his crimes or miseries more, 
 
 Or those whom guiltless he could ne'er behold, 
 
 Or those to whom he now must sue for aid. 
 
 His lifted eyelids then, repeating still 
 
 These dreadful plaints, he tore ; while down his cheek 
 
 Fell showers of blood ! Such fate the wretched pair 
 
 Sustained, partakers in calamity, 
 
 Fallen from a state of happiness (for none 
 
 Were happier once than they) to groans and death, 
 
 Reproach and shame, and every human woe. 
 
 Chor. And where is now the poor unhappy man? 
 
 Mes. Open the doors, he cries, and let all Thebes 
 Behold his parents' murderer, adding words 
 Not to be uttered ; banished now, he says, 
 He must be, nor, devoted as he is 
 By his own curse, remain in this sad place. 
 He wants a kind conductor and a friend 
 To help him now, for 'tis too much to bear. 
 But you will see him soon, for lo ! the doors 
 Are opened, and you will behold a sight 
 That would to pity move his deadliest foe. 
 
 CEDIPUS, MESSENGER, CHORUS 
 Chor. Oh ! horrid sight ! more dreadful spectacle 
 
 Than e'er these eyes beheld ! what madness urged thee 
 
 To this sad deed ? What power malignant heaped 
 
 On thy poor head such complicated woe? 
 
 Unhappy man, alas ! I would have held 
 
 Some converse with thee, but thy looks affright me ; 
 
 I can not bear to speak to thee. 
 
 (Edi. O me ! 
 
 Where am I? and whence comes the voice I hear? 
 
 Where art thou, Fortune ?
 
 I 88 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Chor. Changed to misery, 
 
 Dreadful to hear, and dreadful to behold. 
 
 CEdi. O cruel darkness ! endless, hopeless night, 
 Shame, terrors, and unutterable woe ! 
 More painful is the memory of my crimes 
 Than all the wounds my wild distraction made. 
 
 Chor. Thus doubly cursed, O prince ! I wonder not 
 At thy affliction. 
 
 CEdi. Art thou here, my friend ? 
 
 I know thy voice ; thou wouldst not leave the wretched ; 
 Thou art my faithful, kind assistant still. 
 
 Chor. How couldst thou thus deprive thyself of sight? 
 What madness drove thee to the desperate deed ? 
 What god inspired ? 
 
 CEdi. Apollo was the cause ; 
 
 He was, my friends, the cause of all my woes ; 
 But for these eyes myself did quench their light 
 I want not them ; what use were they to me, 
 But to discover scenes of endless woe? 
 
 Chor. Tis but too true. 
 
 CEdi. What pleasure now remains 
 
 For CEdipus? He can not joy in aught 
 To sight or ear delightful. Curse on him, 
 Whoe'er he was, that loosened my bound feet, 
 And saved me, in Cithaeron's vale, from death ! 
 I owe him nothing : had I perished then, 
 Much happier had it been for you, my friends, 
 And for myself. 
 
 Chor. I too could wish thou hadst. 
 
 CEdi. I should not then have murdered Laius ; then 
 I had not ta'en Jocasta to my bed ; 
 But now I am a guilty wretch, the son 
 Of a polluted mother, father now 
 To my own brothers, all that's horrible 
 To Nature is the lot of CEdipus. 
 
 Chor. Yet must I blame this cruel act, for sure 
 The loss of sight is worse than death itself.
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS 189 
 
 (Edi. I care not for thy counsel or thy praise ; 
 For with what eyes could I have e'er beheld 
 My honoured father in the shades below, 
 Or my unhappy mother, both destroyed 
 By me? This punishment is worse than death, 
 And so it should be. Sweet had been the sight 
 Of my dear children them I could have wished 
 To gaze upon ; but I must never see 
 Or them, or this fair city, or the palace 
 Where I was born. Deprived of every bliss 
 By my own lips, which doomed to banishment 
 The murderer of Laius, and expelled 
 The impious wretch, by gods and men accursed: 
 Could I behold them after this ? Oh no ! 
 Would I could now with equal ease remove 
 My hearing too, be deaf as well as blind, 
 And from another entrance shut out woe ! 
 To want our senses, in the hour of ill, 
 Is comfort to the wretched. O Cithasron ! 
 Why didst thou e'er receive me, or received, 
 Why not destroy, that men might never know 
 Who gave me birth ? O Poly bus ! O Corinth ! 
 And thou, long time believed my father's palace, 
 Oh ! what a foul disgrace to human nature 
 Didst thou receive beneath a prince's form ! 
 Impious myself, and from an impious race. 
 Where is my splendour now ? O Daulian path ! 
 The shady forest, and the narrow pass 
 Where three ways meet, who drank a father's blood 
 Shed by these hands, do you not still remember 
 The horrid deed, and what, when here I came, 
 Followed more dreadful ? Fatal nuptials, you 
 Produced me, you returned me to the womb 
 That bare me ; thence relations horrible 
 Of fathers, sons, and brothers came ; of wives, 
 Sisters, and mothers, sad alliance ! all 
 That man holds impious and detestable.
 
 190 
 
 But what in act is vile the modest tongue 
 
 Should never name. Bury me, hide me, friends, 
 
 From every eye ; destroy me, cast me forth 
 
 To the wide ocean let me perish there : 
 
 Do anything to shake off hated life. 
 
 Seize me ; approach, my friends you need not fear, 
 
 Polluted though I am, to touch me ; none 
 
 Shall suffer for my crimes but I alone. 
 
 Chor. In most fit time, my lord, the noble Creon 
 This way advances ; he can best determine 
 And best advise ; sole guardian now of Thebes, 
 To him thy power devolves. 
 
 (Edi. What shall I say ? 
 
 Can I apply to him for aid whom late 
 I deeply injured by unjust suspicion? 
 
 CREON, (EDIPUS, CHORUS 
 
 Creon. I come not, prince, to triumph o'er thy woes 
 With vile reproach ; I pity thy misfortunes. 
 But, O my Thebans ! if you do not fear 
 The censure of your fellow-citizens, 
 At least respect the all-creating eye 
 Of Phoebus, who beholds you thus exposing 
 To public view a wretch accursed, polluted, 
 Whom neither earth can bear, nor sun behold, 
 Nor holy shower besprinkle. Take him hence 
 Within the palace ; those who are by blood 
 United should alone be witnesses 
 Of such calamity. 
 
 (Kdi. O Creon ! thou, 
 
 The best of men, and I the worst, how kind 
 Thou art to visit me ! Oh ! by the gods 
 Let me entreat thee, since beyond my hopes 
 Thou art so good, now hear me ; what I ask, 
 Concerns thee most. 
 
 Creon. What is it thou desirest 
 
 Thus ardently ?
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS 19! 
 
 CEdi. I beg thee, banish me 
 
 From Thebes this moment, to some land remote, 
 Where I may ne'er converse with man again. 
 
 Creon. Myself long since had done it, but the gods 
 Must be consulted first. 
 
 CEdi. Their will is known 
 
 Already, and their oracle declared 
 The guilty parricide should die. 
 
 Creon, It hath ; 
 
 But, as it is, 'twere better to inquire 
 What must be done. 
 
 CEdi. For such a wretch as me 
 
 Wouldst thou again explore the will of Heaven ? 
 
 Creon. Thy hapless fate should teach us to believe, 
 And reverence the gods. 
 
 CEdi. Now, Creon, list ; 
 
 I beg thee, I conjure thee, let a tomb 
 Be raised, and all due honours paid to her 
 Who lies within : she was thy sister, Creon ; 
 It is a duty which thou ow'st: for me, 
 I can not hope this city now will deign 
 To keep me here. O Creon ! let me go, 
 And seek the solitary mountain's top, 
 My own Cithseron, by my parents doomed 
 Long since to be the grave of CEdipus ; 
 Where would I die, as they decreed I should. 
 Alas ! I can not, must not perish yet, 
 Till I have suffered evils worse than death, 
 For I was only saved to be unhappy ; 
 But I must meet my fate, whate'er it be. 
 My sons are men, and wheresoever fortune 
 May place them, can not want the means of life ; 
 They shall not burden thee ; but O my friend ! 
 What will become of my unhappy daughters, 
 With tenderest love, beneath a father's hand, 
 Cherished so long? Oh ! take them to thy care, 
 Thou best of men ! Oh ! might I but embrace them,
 
 192 SOPHOCLES 
 
 But shed a tear o'er their disastrous fate, 
 Might I be suffered but to touch them here, 
 I should rejoice, and think I saw them still. 
 But hark! methinks e'en now I hear the voice 
 Of my dear daughters ; hath the gracious Creon, 
 In pity to my woes, already brought 
 My children to me ? is it so ? 
 
 Creon. It is : 
 
 Thy wishes are prevented ; they are here. 
 
 DAUGHTERS OF GEDIPUS, CEDIPUS, CREON, CHORUS 
 
 (Edi. May Heaven reward thee for this goodness to 
 
 me, 
 
 And give thee much more bliss than I have known ! 
 Now, my dear children, come toward me, come 
 Toward your father and your brother ; see 
 These sightless eyes, pierced by my own mad hands ; 
 Behold that wretched father who begat you 
 Unknowingly on her who gave me birth ; 
 I can not see you now I can but weep 
 Your fate, to think what hours of wretchedness 
 You have to know hereafter. Whither now 
 Must my poor children fly ? From every feast 
 Joyless with grief and shame, shall you return ; 
 And when the time shall come when riper years 
 Should give you to the nuptial bed, who then, 
 Careless of fame, will let his child partake 
 The infamy of my abhorred race, 
 
 Sprung from a wretch accursed, who killed his father, 
 And from the womb that bare him did beget 
 You, my unhappy daughters? Such reproach 
 Must still be yours, to virgin solitude 
 Devoted ever, and a barren bed. 
 Son of Menceceus, thou alone art left 
 Their father now, for, oh ! Jocasta's dead, 
 And I am nothing. Do not then forsake 
 Thy kindred ; nor, deserted and forlorn,
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS 193 
 
 Suffer them still in penury and woe 
 
 To wander helpless, in their tender age : 
 
 Remember they have no support but thee. 
 
 generous prince ! have pity on them ; give me 
 Thy friendly hand in promise of thy aid. 
 
 To you, my daughters, had your early years 
 
 Permitted, I had given my last advice ; 
 
 Too young for counsel, all I ask of you 
 
 Is but to pray the gods that my sad life 
 
 May not be long ; but yours, my children, crowned 
 
 With many days, and happier far than mine. 
 
 Creon. It is enough ; go in thy grief transports thee 
 Beyond all bounds. 
 
 CEdi. Tis hard ; but I submit. 
 
 Creon. The time demands it ; therefore go. 
 
 (Edi. O Creon ! 
 
 Knowst thou what now I wish ? 
 
 Creon. What is it ? Speak. 
 
 (Edi. That I may quit this fatal place. 
 
 Creon. Thou ask'st 
 
 What Heaven alone can grant. 
 
 (Edi. Alas ! to Heaven 
 
 1 am most hateful. 
 
 Creon. Yet shalt thou obtain 
 
 What thou desirest. 
 
 (Edi. Shall I indeed ? 
 
 Creon. Thou shalt ; 
 
 I never say aught that I do not mean. 
 
 (Edi. Then let me go : may I depart ? 
 
 Creon. Thou mayst ; 
 
 But leave thy children. 
 
 (Edi. Do not take them from me ! 
 
 Creon. Thou must not always have thy will. Already 
 Thou'st suffered for it. 
 
 Chor. Thebans, now behold 
 
 The great, the mighty QEdipus, who once 
 The Sphinx's dark enigma could unfold, 
 13
 
 I 9 4 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Who less to fortune than to wisdom owed, 
 
 In virtue as in rank to all superior, 
 
 Yet fallen at last to deepest misery. 
 
 Let mortals hence be taught to look beyond 
 
 The present time, nor dare to say, a man 
 
 Is happy till the last decisive hour 
 
 Shall close his life without the taste of woe.
 
 THE ALCESTIS OF EURIPIDES 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 ARTHUR S. WAY
 
 EURIPIDES, the son of Mnesarchides and Cleito, was born, 480 B. c., in 
 Salamis, whither the Athenians had fled before the invading army of the 
 Persians tradition says upon the eve of the great battle that turned the 
 tide in favour of Grecian liberty. The wealthy father Aristophanes 
 scores him for having made his money in trade intended to train his 
 son for the great national games, but Euripides soon put athletics aside 
 for painting, and that again for literature. He took no part in public 
 life as did both ^Eschylus and Sophocles was scholarly and almost :i 
 recluse, the friend of Socrates, and pupil of Prodicus, Protagoras, and 
 Anaxagoras, and was the first Athenian to own a considerable private 
 library. He married twice, both times unhappily, and left two sons. 
 He is said to have been a bitter woman-hater in his old age. He pro- 
 duced his first play in 455 n. c., at which time ^Eschylus was dead, Sopho- 
 cles had been before the public thirteen years, and Aristophanes, to be 
 his greatest enemy, had not come into the world. But it was 441 
 before he was awarded a first prize in the contest. He received first prize 
 only five times. He wrote ninety-two plays, eighteen of which have 
 survived: "Alcestis," "Medea," " Hippolytus," "Hecuba," "Ion." 
 "Suppliants," "Andromache," " Heraclidae," "Troades," " Ele< ' 
 "Helena," "Hercules Furens," " Phoenissze," "Orestes," " Iphigeneia 
 in Aulis," "Iphigeneia in Taurus," " Baccha-," "Cyclops," a satyr- 
 drama, and the doubtful play " Rhesus." Euripides was the most human 
 of the three great tragedians, and perhaps he makes up in this what he 
 may lose in comparison with vEschylus and Sophocles on the score of 
 grandeur. He was very popular during his life, and at his death, which 
 occurred in 406 B. c., at the court of the great literary patron, Archelaus 
 of Macedonia, Sophocles and all Athens put on mourning for him, and 
 the " Baccha?, " "Iphigeneia in Aulis," and perhaps "Iphigeneia in 
 Taurus," were magnificently played at the theatre. He was Arist- 
 favourite author, and has held a high place in the esteem of many an- 
 cient and modern writers.
 
 APOLLO, being banished for a season from Olympus, and 
 condemned to do service to a mortal, became herdsman of 
 Admetus, King of Pherse in Thessaly. Yet he loathed not his 
 earthly taskmaster, but loved him, for that he was a just man, 
 and hospitable exceedingly. Wherefore he obtained from the 
 Fates this boon for Admetus, that, when his hour of death 
 should come, they should accept in ransom for his life the life 
 of whosoever should have before consented to die in his stead. 
 Now when this was made known, none of them who were 
 nearest by blood to the king would promise to be his ransom 
 in that day. Then Alcestis his wife, the daughter of Pelias, 
 King of lolkos, pledged her to die for him. Of her love she 
 did it, and for the honour of wifehood. And the years passed 
 by, and the tale was told in many lands; and all men praised 
 Alcestis, but Admetus bore a burden of sorrow, for day by day 
 she became dearer to him, a wife wholly true, a mother most 
 loving, and a lady to her thralls gentle exceedingly. But 
 when it was known by tokens that the day was come, Admetus 
 repented him sorely, but it availed not, for no mortal may 
 recall a pledge once given to the gods. And on that day there 
 came to the palace Apollo to plead with Death for Alcestis's 
 sake; and a company of elders of Pherae, to ask of her state 
 and to make mourning for her. And when she was dead, ere 
 she was borne forth to burial, came Herakles, son of Zeus, in 
 his journeying, seeking the guest's right of meat and lodging, 
 but not knowing aught of that which had come to pass. Of 
 him was a great deliverance wrought, which is told herein.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 CHORUS, composed of Elders of Pherse. 
 
 HANDMAID. 
 
 ALCESTIS, Daughter of Pelias, and Wife of Admetus. 
 
 ADMETUS, King of Pherae. 
 
 EUMELUS, Son of Admetus and Alcestis. 
 
 HERAKLE& 
 
 PIIERES, Father of Admetus. 
 
 SERVANT, Steward of the Palace. 
 
 Guards, Attendants, Handmaids, and Mourners. 
 
 The scene throughout is in front of the palace of 
 Admetus at Pherae.
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 Enter APOLLO 
 
 AOLLO. Halls of Admetus, where I stooped my pride 
 To brook the fare of serfs, yea I, a god 
 The fault was fault of Zeus : he slew my son 
 Asklepius hurled the levin through his heart. 
 Wroth for the dead, his smiths of heavenly fire 
 I slew, the Cyclopes ; and, for blood-atonement, 
 Serf to a mortal man my father made me. 
 To this land came I, tended mine host's kine, 
 And warded still his house unto this day. 
 Righteous myself, I lighted on the righteous, 
 The son of Pheres : him I snatched from death, 
 Cozening the Fates : to me the Sisters pledged them 
 That imminent death Admetus should escape 
 If he for ransom 'gave another life. 
 To all he went all near and dear and asked 
 Gray sire, the mother that had given him life ; 
 But, save his wife, found none that would consent 
 For him to die and never more see light. 
 Now in his arms upborne within yon home 
 She gaspeth forth her life : for on this day 
 Her weird it is to die and part from life. 
 I, lest pollution taint me in their house, 
 Go forth of yonder hall's beloved roof. [Enter DEATH. 
 Lo, yonder Death ! I see him nigh at hand, 
 
 199
 
 200 EURIPIDES 
 
 Priest of the dead, who comes to hale her down 
 To Hades' halls well hath he kept his time, 
 Watching this day, whereon she needs must die. 
 
 Death. Ha, thou at the palace ! Wilt not make room, 
 
 Phcebus? thou wrestest the right yet again. 
 Thou removest the landmarks of gods of gloom. 
 
 And thou makest their honours vain. 
 Did this not suffice thee, to thwart that doom 
 
 Of Admetus, when, all by thy cunning beguiled 
 Were the Fates, that thou now must be warding the wife 
 With thine hand made ready the bowstring to strain, 
 Though she pledged her from death to redeem with her 
 life 
 
 Her lord she, Pelias' child ? 
 
 Apollo. Fear not : fair words and justice are with me. 
 Death. Justice with thee! what needeth then the bow? 
 Apollo. This? 'tis my wont to bear it evermore. 
 Death. Yea, and to aid yon house in lawless wise. 
 Apollo. Mine heart is heavy for my friend's mischance. 
 Death. What, wilt thou wrest from me this second 
 
 corpse ? 
 
 Apollo. Nay, not that other did I take by force. 
 Death. Not? why on earth then? why not under- 
 ground ? 
 
 Apollo. She was his ransom, she for whom thou comest. 
 Death. Yea, and will hale her deep beneath the earth. 
 Apollo. Take her and go : I trow I shall not bend thee 
 Death. To slay the victim due? mine office this. 
 Apollo. Nay, but to smite with death the ripe for death. 
 Death. Ay, I discern thy plea thy zeal, good sooth ! 
 Apollo. And may Alcestis never see old age ? 
 Death. Never: should I not love mine honours too? 
 Apollo. Tis soon or late thou canst but take one life. 
 Death. Yet mine the goodlier prize when die the 
 
 young. 
 
 Apollo. Think royal obsequies if old she die! 
 Death. I,o, Phoebus making laws to shield the rich!
 
 ALCESTIS 201 
 
 Apollo. How sayst thou ? thou a sophist unawares ! 
 
 Death. Would wealth not buy the boon of dying 
 old? 
 
 Apollo. So then thou wilt not grant this grace to me ? 
 
 Death. Nay surely dost not know my wonted way ? 
 
 Apollo. Hateful to mortals this, and loathed of gods. 
 
 Death. All things beyond thy rights thou canst not 
 have. 
 
 Apollo. Surely thou shalt forbear, though ruthless thou, 
 So mighty a man to Pheres' halls shall come, 
 Sent of Eurystheus forth, the courser-car 
 From winter-dreary lands of Thrace to bring. 
 Guest-welcomed in Admetus' palace here, 
 By force yon woman shall he wrest from thee. 
 Yea, thou of me shalt have no thank for this, 
 And yet shalt do it, and shalt have mine hate. 
 
 \Exit APOLLO. 
 
 Death. Talk on, talk on : no profit shalt thou win. 
 This woman down to Hades' halls shall pass. 
 For her I go : my sword shall seal her ours : 
 For sacred to the nether gods is he, 
 He from whose head this sword hath shorn the hair. 
 
 \Exit DEATH. 
 
 Enter CHORUS, dividing to right and left, so that the 
 
 sections answer one another 
 Half-Chorus i. What meaneth this hush afront of the 
 
 hall? 
 The home of Admetus, why voiceless all? 
 
 Half-Chorus 2. No friend of the house who should 
 
 speak of its plight 
 
 Is nigh, who should bid that we raise the keen 
 For the dead, or should tell us that yet on the light 
 Alcestis looketh, and liveth the queen, 
 The daughter of Pelias, the noblest, I ween, 
 
 Yea, in all men's sight 
 The noblest of women on earth that have been. 
 
 8
 
 202 EURIPIDES 
 
 Strophe I 
 
 Half-Chorus i. Or hearest thou mourning or sighing 
 
 Or beating of hands, 
 Or the wail of bereaved ones outcrying ? 
 
 No handmaid stands 
 At the palace-gate. 
 
 O Healer, appear for the dying, appear as a bright bird 
 flying 
 
 'Twixt the surges of fate ! 
 Half-Chorus 2, Ah, they would not be hushed, had the 
 
 life of her flown ! 
 Half-Chorus i. Not forth of the door is the death-train 
 
 gone. 
 Half-Chorus 2. Whence cometh thine hope, which I 
 
 boast not mine own ? 
 
 Half-Chorus i. Would the king without pomp of pro- 
 cession have yielded the grave the possession 
 Of so dear, of so faithful a one ? 
 
 AntistropJie i 
 
 Half-Chorus 2. Nor the cup in the gateway appeareth, 
 
 From the spring that they bear 
 To the gate that pollution feareth, 
 
 Nor the severed hair 
 In the porch for the dead, 
 
 Which the mourner in bitterness sheareth, neither beating 
 of hands one heareth 
 
 On maiden's head. 
 
 Half -Chorus i. Yet surely is this the appointed day 
 Half-Chorus 2. Ah ! what wilt thou say ? 
 Half-Chorus i. Whereon of her doom she must pass to 
 
 the tomb. 
 Half-Chorus 2. With a keen pang's smart hast thou 
 
 stabbed mine heart. 
 
 Half-CJiorus i. It is meet, when the good are as flowers 
 plucked away,
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 203 
 
 That in sorrow's gloom 
 Should the breast of the old tried friend have part. 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe 2 
 Though ye voyage all seas, 
 Ye shall light on no lands, 
 Nor on Lycia's leas, 
 
 Nor Ammonian sands, 
 
 Whence redemption shall come for the wretched, or loos- 
 ing of Death's dread bands. 
 
 Doom's imminent slope 
 
 Is a precipice-steep. 
 In no god is there hope, 
 
 Though his altars should weep 
 
 With the crimson atonement, should veil them in clouds 
 of the hecatomb-sheep. 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 Ah, once there was one ! 
 
 Were life's light in the eyes 
 Of Phcebus's son, 
 
 Then our darling might rise 
 
 From the mansions of darkness, through portals of Hades 
 return to our skies ; 
 
 For he raised up the dead, 
 
 Ere flashed from the heaven, 
 From Zeus' hand sped, 
 
 That bolt of the levin. 
 
 But now what remaineth to wait for? what hope of her 
 life is given ? 
 
 No sacrifice more 
 
 Unrendered remaineth : 
 No god, but the gore 
 
 From his altars down-raineth :
 
 204 EURiriUKS 
 
 Yet healing is none for our ills, neither balm that the 
 spirit sustaineth. 
 
 Enter HANDMAID 
 
 But hither cometh of the handmaids one, 
 Weeping the while. What tidings shall I hear? 
 To grieve at all mischance unto thy lords 
 May be forgiven ; but if thy lady lives 
 Or even now hath passed, fain would we know. 
 Handmaid. She liveth, and is dead : both mayst thou say. 
 Chorus. Ay so ? how should the same be dead and live? 
 Handmaid. Even now she droopeth, gasping out her 
 
 life. 
 
 Chorus. Noble and stricken how noble she thou losest! 
 Handmaid. His depth of loss he knows not ere it come. 
 Chorus. And hope is no hope left her life to save ? 
 Handmaid. None for the day foredoomed constrain- 
 
 eth her. 
 
 Chorus. Are all things meet, then, being done for her? 
 Handmaid. Yea, ready is her burial-attire. 
 Chorus. Let her be sure that glorious she dies 
 And noblest woman 'neath the sun's wide way. 
 
 Handmaid. Noblest ? how not ? what tongue will 
 
 dare gainsay ? 
 
 What must the woman be who passeth her? 
 How could a wife give honour to her lord 
 More than by yielding her to die for him? 
 And this yea, all the city knoweth this. 
 But what within she did, hear thou, and marvel. 
 For when she knew that the appointed day 
 Was come, in river-water her white skin 
 She bathed, and from the cedar-chests took forth 
 Vesture and jewels, and decked her gloriously, 
 And stood before the hearth, and prayed, and said : 
 " Queen, for I pass beneath the earth, I fall 
 Before thee now, and nevermore, and pray : 
 Be mother to my orphans : mate with him
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 205 
 
 A loving wife, with her a noble husband. 
 
 Nor, as their mother dieth, so may they, 
 
 My children, die untimely, but with weal 
 
 In the home-land fill up a life of bliss." 
 
 To all the altars through Admetus' halls 
 
 She went, with wreaths she hung them, and she prayed, 
 
 Plucking the while the tresses of the myrtle, 
 
 Tearless, unsighing, and the imminent fate 
 
 Changed not the lovely rose-tint of her cheek. 
 
 Then to her bower she rushed, fell on the bed ; 
 
 And there, oh, there she wept, and thus she speaks : 
 
 " O couch, whereon I loosed the maiden zone 
 For this man, for whose sake I die to-day, 
 Farewell : I hate thee not. Me hast thou lost, 
 Me only : loath to fail thee and my lord 
 I die : but thee another bride shall own, 
 Not more true-hearted ; happier perchance." 
 Then falls thereon, and kisses : all the bed 
 Is watered with the flood of melting eyes. 
 But having wept her fill of many tears, 
 Drooping she goeth, reeling from the couch ; 
 Yet oft, as forth the bower she passed, returned, 
 And flung herself again upon the couch. 
 And the babes, clinging to their mother's robes, 
 Were weeping : and she clasped them in her arms, 
 Fondling now this, now that, as one death-doomed. 
 And all the servants 'neath the roof were weeping, 
 Pitying their lady. But to each she stretched 
 Her right hand forth ; and none there was so mean 
 To whom she spake not and received reply. 
 Such are the ills Admetus' home within. 
 Now, had he died, he had ended : but in 'scaping, 
 He bears a pain that he shall ne'er forget. 
 
 Chorus. Doth not Admetus groan for this affliction 
 Of such a noble wife to be bereft ? 
 
 Handmaid. Ay, weeps, and clasps his dear one in his 
 arms,
 
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 And prays, " Forsake me not ! " asking the while 
 
 The impossible, for still she wanes and wastes, 
 
 Drooping her hand, a misery-burdened weight. 
 
 But yet, albeit hardly breathing now, 
 
 To the sun's rays fain would she lift her eyes, 
 
 As never more, but for the last time then 
 
 Destined to see the sun's beam and his orb. 
 
 But I will go and make thy presence known : 
 
 For 'tis not all that love so well their kings 
 
 As to stand by them, in afflictions loyal. 
 
 But from of old my lords were loved of thee. [Exit. 
 
 Nine members of the CHORUS chant successively: 
 Chorus i. O Zeus, for our lords is there naught but 
 
 despair? 
 No path through the tangle of evils, no loosing of chains 
 
 that have bound them ? 
 
 Chorus 2. No tidings ? remaineth but rending of hair, 
 And the stricken ones turned to the tomb with the gar- 
 ments of sorrow around them ? 
 
 Chorus j. Even so even so ! yet uplift we in prayer 
 Our hands to the gods, for that power from the days 
 
 everlasting hath crowned them. 
 Chorus 4.. O Healer-king, 
 Find thou for Admetus the balm of relief, for the captive 
 
 deliverance ! 
 
 Chorus 5. Vouchsafe it, vouchsafe it, for heretofore 
 Hast thou found out a way ; even now once more 
 Pluck back our beloved from Hades' door, 
 Strike down Death's hand red-reeking with gore ! 
 Chorus 6. Woe's me ! woe's me ! let the woe-dirge 
 
 ring! 
 
 Ah, scion of Pheres, alas for thy lot, for love's long sev- 
 erance ! 
 Chorus 7. For such things on his sword might a man 
 
 not fall, 
 
 Or knit up his throat in the noose 'twixt the heaven and 
 the earth that quivereth ?
 
 ALCESTIS 207 
 
 Chorus 8. For his dear one nay, but his dearest of all 
 Shall he see on this day lying dead, while her spirit by 
 
 Lethe shivereth. 
 
 Chorus 9. O look ! look yonder, where forth of the hall 
 She cometh, and he at her side whose life by her life she 
 delivereth. 
 
 CHORUS, UNITED 
 
 Cry, land Pheraian, shrill the keen ! 
 
 Lift up thy voice to wail thy best 
 
 There dying, and thy queenliest 
 Slow wasting to the gates unseen ! 
 
 Tell me not this, that wedlock brings 
 To them that wed more bliss than woe. 
 I look back to the long-ago ; 
 
 I muse on these unhappiest things. 
 
 Lo, here a king he forfeiteth 
 
 The truest heart, the noblest wife : 
 
 And what shall be henceforth his life ? , 
 
 A darkened day, a living death. 
 
 Enter FEMALE ATTENDANTS bearing ALCESTIS, accom- 
 panied by ADMETUS and CHILDREN 
 
 Alcestis. O Sun, and the day's dear light, 
 And ye clouds through the wheeling heaven in the race 
 
 everlasting flying ! 
 
 Admetus. He seeth thee and me, two stricken ones, 
 Who wrought the gods no wrong, that thou shouldst die. 
 
 Alcestis. O land, O stately height 
 
 Of mine halls, and my bridal couch in lolkos, my father- 
 land, lying ! 
 
 Admetus. Uplift thee, hapless love, forsake me not, 
 And pray the mighty gods in ruth to turn. 
 
 Alcestis. I see the boat with the oars twin-sweeping, 
 And, his hand on the pole as in haste aye keeping,
 
 208 EURIPIDES 
 
 Charon the ferryman calleth, " What ho, wilt thou linger 
 and linger? 
 
 Hasten 'tis thou dost delay me ! " he crieth with beckon- 
 ing finger. 
 Admetus. Ah me ! a bitter ferrying this thou namest ! 
 
 evil-starred, what woes endure we now ! 
 
 Alcestis. One haleth me haleth me hence to the mansion 
 
 Of the dead ! dost thou mark not the darkling expansion 
 
 Of the pinions of Hades, the blaze of his eyes 'neath their 
 
 caverns out-glaring ? 
 What wouldst thou ? Unhand me ! In anguish and pain 
 
 by what path am I faring ! 
 
 Admetus. Woeful to them that love thee : most to me 
 And to thy babes, sad sharers in this grief. 
 
 Alcestis. Let be let me sink back to rest me : 
 There is no strength left in my feet. 
 Hades is near, and the night 
 Is darkening down on my sight. 
 Darlings, farewell : on the lig*ht 
 Long may ye look : I have blessed ye 
 Ere your mother to nothingness fleet. 
 Admetus. Ah me ! for thy word rusheth bitterness o'er me, 
 
 Bitterness passing the anguish of death ! 
 Forsake me not now, by the gods I implore thee, 
 
 By the babes thou wilt orphan, O yield not thy breath ! 
 Look up, be of cheer : if thou diest, before me 
 Is nothingness. Living, we aye live thine, 
 And we die unto thee ; for our hearts are a shrine 
 Wherein for thy love passing word we adore thee ! 
 
 Alcestis. Admetus for thou seest all my plight 
 Fain would I speak mine heart's wish ere I die. 
 I, honouring thee, and setting thee in place 
 Before mine own soul still to see this light, 
 Am dying, unconstrained to die for thee. 
 
 1 might have wed what man Thessalian 
 
 I would, have dwelt wealth-crowned in princely halls ; 
 Yet would not live on, torn away from thee,
 
 ALCESTIS 209 
 
 With orphaned children : wherefore spared I not 
 
 The gifts of youth still mine, wherein I joyed. 
 
 Yet she that bare, he that begat, forsook thee, 
 
 Though fair for death their time of life was come, 
 
 Yea, fair, to save their son and die renowned. 
 
 Their only one wert thou : no hope there was 
 
 To get them sons thereafter, hadst thou died. 
 
 So had I lived, and thou, to after days : 
 
 Thou wert not groaning, of thy wife bereaved, 
 
 Thy children motherless. Howbeit this 
 
 Some god hath brought to pass : it was to be. 
 
 Let be : remember thou what thank is due 
 
 For this : I never can ask full requital ; 
 
 For naught there is more precious than the life 
 
 Yet justly due : for these thy babes thou lovest 
 
 No less than I, if that thine heart be, right. 
 
 Suffer that they have lordship in mine home : 
 
 Wed not a stepdame to supplant our babes, 
 
 Whose heart shall tell her she is no Alcestis, 
 
 Whose jealous hand shall smite them, thine and mine. 
 
 Do not, ah ! do not this I pray thee, I. 
 
 For the new stepdame hateth still the babes 
 
 Of her that's gone with more than viper-venom. 
 
 The boy his father is his tower of strength 
 
 To whom to speak, of whom to win reply : 
 
 But, O my child, what girlhood will be thine ? 
 
 To thee what would she be, thy father's yoke-mate? 
 
 What if with ill report she smirched thy name, 
 
 And in thy youth's flower marred thy marriage-hopes . 
 
 For thee thy mother ne'er shall deck for bridal, 
 
 Nor hearten thee in travail, O my child, 
 
 There, where naught gentler than the mother is. 
 
 For I must die, nor shall it be to-morn, 
 
 Nor on the third day comes on me this bane: 
 
 Straightway of them that are not shall I be. 
 
 Farewell, be happy. Now for thee, my lord, 
 
 Abides the boast to have won the noblest wife,
 
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 For you, my babes, to have sprung- from noblest mother. 
 
 Chorus. Fear not ; for I am bold to speak for him 
 This will he do, an if he be not mad. 
 
 Admctus. It shall, it shall be, dread not thou : for thee 
 Living I had ; and dead, mine only wife 
 Shalt thou be called : nor ever in thy stead 
 Shall bride Thessalian hail me as her lord. 
 None is there of a father so high-born, 
 None so for beauty peerless among women. 
 Children enough have I : I pray the gods 
 For joy in these our joy in thee is naught. 
 Not for a year's space will I mourn for thee, 
 But long as this my life shall last, dear wife, 
 Loathing my mother, hating mine own sire, 
 For in word only, not in deed, they loved me. 
 Thou gav'st in ransom for my life thine all 
 Of precious, and didst save. Do I not well 
 To groan, who lose such yokefellow in thee ? 
 Revels shall cease, and gatherings at the wine, 
 Garlands, and song, which wont to fill mine house. 
 For never more mine hand shall touch the lyre : 
 Nor will I lift up heart to sing to flute 
 Of Libya : thou hast robbed my life of mirth. 
 And, wrought by craftsmen's cunning hands, thy form 
 Imaged, upon a couch outstretched shall lie, 
 Falling whereon, and clasping with mine hands, 
 Calling thy name, in fancy shall mine arms 
 Hold my beloved, though I hold her not 
 A chill delight, I wot yet shall I lift 
 The burden from my soul. In dreams shalt thou 
 Haunt me and gladden : sweet to see the loved, 
 Though but a fleeting presence night-revealed. 
 But, were the tongue and strain of Orpheus mine, 
 To witch Demeter's daughter and her lord, 
 And out of Hades by my song to win thee, 
 I had fared clown: nor Pluto's hound had stayed me, 
 Nor spirit-wafter Charon at the oar,
 
 ALCESTIS 211 
 
 Or ever I restored thy life to light. 
 
 Yet there look thou for me, whenso I die; 
 
 Prepare a home, as who shall dwell with me. 
 
 For in the selfsame cedar chest, wherein 
 
 Thou liest, will I bid them lay my bones 
 
 Outstretched beside thee : ne'er may I be severed, 
 
 No, not in death, from thee, my one true friend. 
 
 Chorus. Yea, I withal will mourn, as friend with friend 
 With thee for this thy wife, for she is worthy. 
 
 Alcestis. My children, ye yourselves have hear.d all this, 
 Have heard your father pledge him ne'er to wed 
 For your oppression and for my dishonour. 
 
 Admetus. Yea, now I say it, and I will perform. 
 
 Alcestis. On these terms take the children from mine 
 hand. 
 
 Admetus. I take them precious gift from precious 
 hand. 
 
 Alcestis. Be to these babes a mother in my stead. 
 
 Admetus. Sore is their need, who are bereft of thee. 
 
 Alcestis. Darlings, I should have lived ; and lo, I die. 
 
 Admetus. Ah me ! what shall I do, forlorn of thee ? 
 
 Alcestis. Time shall bring healing but the dead is 
 naught. 
 
 Admetus. Take me, ah, take me with thee to the grave ! 
 
 Alcestis. Suffice it that one dies she dies for thee. 
 
 Admetus. O Death, of what a wife dost thou bereave 
 me ! 
 
 Alcestis. Dark dark mine eyes are drooping, heavy- 
 laden. 
 
 Admetus. Oh, I am lost if thou wilt leave me, wife ! t 
 
 Alcestis. No more I am no more : as naught account 
 me. 
 
 Admetus. Uplift thy face : forsake not thine own chil- 
 dren ! 
 
 Alcestis. Sore loath do I yet oh, farewell, my babes ! 
 
 Admetus. Look unto them oh, look ! 
 
 Alcestis. I am no more.
 
 212 KURII'IDES 
 
 Ailjiictns. Ah, leav'st thou us? 
 
 Alcestis. Farewell. [Dies. 
 
 Admetus. O wretch undone ! 
 
 Chorus. Gone gone ! No more is this Admetus' wife ! 
 Eumelns. Woe for my lot ! to the tomb hath my 
 
 mother descended, descended ! 
 
 Never again, O my father, she seeth the light of the sun ! 
 In anguish she leaves us forsaken : the story is ended, is 
 
 ended, 
 Of her sheltering love, and the tale of the motherless 
 
 life is begun. 
 Look look on her eyelids, her hands drooping nerveless! 
 
 oh, hear me, oh, hear me ! 
 It is I I beseech thee, my mother ! thine own little, 
 
 own little bird ! 
 It is 1 oh, I cast me upon thee thy lips are so near me, 
 
 so near me, 
 Unto mine am I pressing them, mother ! I plead for a 
 
 word but a word ! 
 
 Admetus. With her who heareth not, nor seeth : ye 
 And I are stricken with a heavy doom. 
 
 Eumclus. And I am but a little one, father so young, 
 
 and forsaken, forsaken, 
 Forlorn of my mother O hapless ! a weariful lot shall 
 
 be mine ! 
 And thou, little maiden, my sister x the burden hast taken, 
 
 hast taken, 
 Which thy brother may bear not alone, and a weariful 
 
 lot shall be thine. 
 O father, of long-living love was thy marriage uncher- 
 
 ished, uncherished : 
 Thou hast won not the goal of old age with the love of 
 
 thy youth at thy side ; 
 
 For, or ever she won to the fulness of days she hath per- 
 ished, hath perished ; 
 
 And the home is a wreck and a ruin, for thou, O my 
 mother, hast died !
 
 ALCESTIS 213 
 
 Chorus. Admetus, this mischance thou needs must bear. 
 Nor first of mortals thou, nor shalt be last 
 To lose a noble wife ; and, be thou sure, 
 From us, from all, this debt is due to die. 
 
 Admetus. I know it : nowise unforeseen this ill 
 Hath swooped upon me : long I grieved to know it. 
 But for to burial must I bear my dead 
 Stay ye, and, tarrying, echo back my wail 
 To that dark god whom no drink-offerings move. 
 And all Thessalians over whom I rule 
 I bid take part in mourning for this woman, 
 With shaven head and sable-shrouding robe. 
 And ye which yoke the cars four-horsed, or steeds 
 Of single frontlet, shear with steel their manes. 
 Music of flutes the city through, or lyres, 
 Be none, while twelve moons round their circles out: 
 For dearer dead, nor kinder unto me 
 I shall not bury : worthy of mine honour 
 Is she, for she alone hath died for me. [Exit. 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe i 
 O Pelias' daughter, I hail thee : 
 
 I waft thee eternal farewell 
 To thine home where the darkness must veil thee, 
 
 Where in Hades unsunned thou shalt dwell. 
 Know, Dark-haired, thy gray Spirit-wafter 
 
 Hath sped not with twy-plashing oar 
 
 Woman nobler, nor shall speed hereafter 
 
 To Acheron's shore. 
 
 Antistrophe i 
 For the seven-stringed shell, or for paean 
 
 Unharped, shall thy fame be a song, 
 When o'er Sparta the moon Karnean 
 
 High rideth the whole night long. 
 And in Athens the wealthy and splendid 
 
 Shall thy name on her bards' lips ring,
 
 2 '.4 EURIPIDES 
 
 Such a theme hast thou left to be blended 
 With the lays that they sing. 
 
 Strophe 2 
 O that the power were but in me, 
 
 From the chambers of Hades, to light, 
 And from streams of Cocytus, to win thee 
 
 With the oar of the river of night ! 
 
 dear among women, strong-hearted 
 From Hades to ransom thy lord ! 
 
 Never spirit in such wise departed. 
 
 Light lie on thee, lady, the sward ! 
 And, if ever thine husband shall mate him 
 
 Again with a bride in thy stead, 
 
 1 will loathe him, his children shall hate him, 
 
 The babes of the dead. 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 When his mother would not be contented 
 
 To hide her from him in the tomb, 
 Nor his gray-haired father consented, 
 
 Unholpen he looked on his doom. 
 Whom they bare the hard-hearted ! they cared 
 
 not, 
 
 Though hoary their locks were, to save ! 
 Thou art gone, for thy great love spared not 
 
 Thy blossom of youth from the grave. 
 Ah, may it be mine, such communion 
 
 Of hearts ! 'tis vouchsafed unto few : 
 Then ours should be sorrowless union 
 Our life-days through. 
 
 Enter HEKAKLES 
 
 Herakles. Strangers, who dwell in this Pheraian land, 
 Say, do I find Admetus in his home? 
 
 Chorus, Herakles, in his home is Pheres' son. 
 Yet say, what brings thee to Thessalian land,
 
 ALCESTIS 215 
 
 That thou shouldst come to this Pheraian town? 
 
 Herakles. A toil for King Eurystheus, lord of Tiryns. 
 
 Chorus. And whither journeyest? To what wander- 
 ings yoked ? 
 
 Herakles. For Thracian Diomedes' four-horsed chariot. 
 
 Chorus. How canst thou ? Sure he is unknown to thee ! 
 
 Herakles. Unknown : to land Bistonian fared I never. 
 
 Chorus. Not save by battle may those steeds be won. 
 
 Herakles. Yet flinch I may not from the appointed toils. 
 
 Chorus. Thy life or his a triumph or a grave. 
 
 Herakles. Not this the first time I have run such course. 
 
 Chorus. What profit is it if thou slay their lord ? 
 
 Herakles. Those steeds shall I drive back to Tiryns' king. 
 
 Chorus. Hard task, to set the bit betwixt their jaws. 
 
 Herakles. That shall I, if their nostrils breathe not fire. 
 
 Chorus. Yea, but with ravening jaws do they rend men. 
 
 Herakles. Go to thus banquet mountain beasts, not 
 horses. 
 
 Chorus. Nay, thou shalt see their cribs with gore be- 
 spattered. 
 
 Herakles. Whom boasteth he for father, he that reared 
 them ? 
 
 Chorus. Ares, the king of Thracia's golden shield. 
 
 Herakles. Thousayst: such toil my fate imposeth still, 
 Harsh evermore, uphillward straining aye, 
 If I must still in battle close with sons 
 Gotten of Ares ; with Lykaon first, 
 And Kyknus then : and lo, I come to grapple 
 The third strife this with yon steeds and their lord. 
 But never man shall see Alkmene's child 
 Quailing before the hand of any foe. 
 
 Chorus. Lo, there himself, the ruler of the land, 
 Admetus, cometh forth his palace-hall. 
 
 Enter ADMETUS 
 
 Admetus. Hail, O thou sprung from Zeus' and Perseus' 
 blood !
 
 2i6 EURIPIDES 
 
 Heraklcs. Admetus, hail thou too, Thessalia's king. 
 Admctus. Hale ? Would I were ! Yet thy good heart 
 
 I know. 
 Herakles. Wherefore, for mourning shaven, showst 
 
 thou thus ? 
 
 Admetus. This day must I commit to earth a corpse. 
 Herakles. Now Heaven forefend thou mournst for 
 
 children dead ! 
 
 Admetus. In mine home live the babes whom I begat. 
 Herakles. Sooth, death-ripe were thy sire, if he be gone. 
 Admetus. He liveth, and my mother, Herakles. 
 Herakles. Surely, O surely, not thy wife, Admetus? 
 Admetus. Twofold must be mine answer touching her. 
 Herakles. Or hath she died, sayst thou, or liveth yet? 
 Admetus. She is and she is not: here lies my sorrow. 
 Herakles. Nothing the more I know : dark sayings 
 
 thine. 
 Admetus. Knowst not the doom whereon she needs 
 
 must light? 
 
 Herakles. I know she pledged herself to die for thee. 
 Admetus. How lives she then, if she to this consented ? 
 Herakles. Mourn not thy wife ere dead : abide the hour. 
 Admetus. Dead is the doomed, and no more is the dead. 
 Herakles. Diverse are these to be and not to be. 
 Admctus. This, Herakles, thy sentence : that is mine. 
 Heraklcs. But now, why weep'st thou ? What dear 
 
 friend is dead ? 
 
 Admetus. A woman hers the memory we mourn. 
 Heraklcs. Some stranger born, or nigh of kin to thee? 
 Admctus. A stranger born ; yet near and dear to us. 
 Herakles. How died a stranger then in house of thine ? 
 Admetus. An orphan here she dwelt, her father dead. 
 Herakles. Would we had found thee mourning not, 
 
 Admetus ! 
 Admetus. Ay so ? what purpose lurketh 'neath thy 
 
 word ? 
 Heraklcs. On will I to another host's hearth-welcome.
 
 ALCESTIS 217 
 
 Admetus. It can not be : may no such evil come ! 
 Hcraklcs. A burden unto mourners comes the guest. 
 Admetus.. Dead are the dead but enter thou mine 
 
 house. 
 Herakles. 'Twere shame to banquet in the house of 
 
 weeping. 
 Admetus. Aloof the guest-bowers are where we will 
 
 lodge thee. 
 
 Herakles. Let me pass on, and have my thanks un- 
 measured. 
 
 Admetus. Unto another's hearth thou canst not go. 
 \To an ATTENDANT] Ho thou, lead on: open the' guest- 
 bowers looking 
 
 Away from these our chambers. Tell my stewards 
 To set on meat in plenty. Shut withal 
 The mid-court doors : it fits not that the guests, 
 The while they feast, hear wailings, and be vexed. 
 
 {Exit HERAKLES. 
 
 Chorus. What dost thou? such affliction at the door, 
 And guests for thee, Admetus? Art thou mad ? 
 
 Admetus. But had I driven him from my home and 
 
 city 
 
 Who came my guest, then hadst thou praised me more ? 
 Nay, sooth ; for mine affliction so had grown 
 No less, and more inhospitable I ; 
 And to mine ills were added this beside, 
 That this my home were called " Guest-hating Hall." 
 Yea, and myself have proved him kindliest host 
 Whene'er to Argos' thirsty plain I fared. 
 
 Chorus. Why hide then the dread Presence in the 
 
 house, 
 
 When came a friend ? Thyself hast named him friend. 
 'Admetus. Never had he been won to pass my doors, 
 Had he one whit of mine afflictions known. 
 To some, I wot, not wise herein I seem, 
 Nor wilt thou praise : but mine halls have not learned 
 To thrust away nor to dishonour guests.
 
 218 Kl/KII'IDES 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe i 
 Halls thronged of the guests ever welcome, O dwelling 
 
 Of a hero, forever the home of the free, 
 The lord of the lyre-strings sweet beyond telling, 
 
 Apollo hath deigned to sojourn in thee. 
 Amid thine habitations, a shepherd of sheep, 
 The flocks of Admetus he scorned not to keep, 
 While the shepherds' bridal-strains, soft-swelling 
 
 From his pipe, pealed over the slant-sloped lea. 
 
 Antistrophe i 
 And the spotted lynxes for joy of thy singing 
 
 Mixed with thy flocks ; and from Othrys' dell 
 Trooped tawny lions : the witchery-winging 
 
 Notes brought dancing around thy shell, 
 Phcebus, the dappled fawn from the shadow 
 Of the tall-tressed pines tripping forth to the meadow, 
 Beating time to the chime of the rapture-ringing 
 
 Music, with light feet tranced by its spell. 
 
 Strophe 2 
 Wherefore the flocks of my lord unnumbered 
 
 By the Boebian mere fair-rippling stray : 
 Where the steeds of the sun halt, darkness-cumbered, 
 
 By Molossian marches, far away 
 The borders lie of his golden grain, 
 And his rolling stretches of pasture-plain ; 
 And the havenless beach ^Egean hath slumbered 
 
 Under Pelion long 'neath the peace of his sway. 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 And now, with the tears from his eyes fast-raining, 
 
 Thrown wide are his palace-doors to the guest, 
 While newly his heart 'neath its burden is straining, 
 
 For the wife that hath died in his halls distressed. 
 For to honour's heights are the high-born lifted, 
 And the good are with truest wisdom gifted ;
 
 ALCESTIS 219 
 
 And there broods on mine heart bright trust unwaning 
 That the god-reverer shall yet be blest. 
 
 Admetus. O kindly presence of Pheraian men, 
 This corpse even now, with all things meet, my ser- 
 vants 
 
 Bear on their shoulders to the tomb and pyre. 
 Wherefore, as custom is, hail ye the dead, 
 On the last journey as she goeth forth. 
 
 Chorus. Lo, I behold thy sire with aged foot 
 Advancing, and attendants in their hands 
 Bear ornaments to deck the dead withal. 
 
 Enter PHERES, with ATTENDANTS, bearing gifts 
 Pheres. I come in thine afflictions sorrowing, son : 
 
 A noble wife and virtuous hast thou lost, 
 
 None will gainsay : yet these calamities 
 
 We needs must bear, how hard to bear soever. 
 
 Receive these ornaments, and let her pass 
 
 Beneath the earth : well may the corpse be honoured 
 
 Of her who for thy life's sake died, my son ; 
 
 Who made me not unchilded, left me not 
 
 Forlorn of thee to pine in woeful eld. 
 
 In all her sisters' eyes she hath crowned her life 
 
 With glory, daring such a deed as this. 
 
 O saviour of my son, who us upraisedst 
 
 In act to fall, all hail ! May bliss be thine 
 
 Even in Hades. Thus to wed, I say, 
 
 Profiteth men or nothing worth is marriage. 
 
 Admetus. Bidden of me thou com'st not to this burial, 
 
 Nor count I thine the presence of a friend. 
 
 Thine ornaments she never shall put on ; 
 
 She shall be buried needing naught of thine. 
 
 Thou grieve ! thou shouldst have grieved in my death- 
 hour ! 
 
 Thou stoodst aloof the old, didst leave the young 
 
 To die and wilt thou wail upon this corpse?
 
 220 EURIPIDES 
 
 True father of my body thou wast not ; 
 
 Nor she that said she bare me, and was called 
 
 My mother, gave me birth : of bondman blood 
 
 To thy wife's breast was I brought privily, 
 
 Put to the test, thou showedst who thou art, 
 
 And I account me not thy true-born son. 
 
 Peerless of men in soulless cowardice ! 
 
 So old, and standing on the verge of life, 
 
 Yet hadst no will, yet hadst no heart to die 
 
 For thine own son ! Ye suffered her, a woman 
 
 Not of our house, whom I with righteous cause 
 
 Might count alone my mother and my father. 
 
 Yet here was honour, hadst thou dared the strife, 
 
 In dying for thy son. A paltry space 
 
 To cling to life in any wise was left. 
 
 Then had I lived, and she, through days to come, 
 
 Nor I, left lorn, should thus mine ills bemoan. 
 
 Yet all that may the fortunate betide 
 
 Fell to thy lot ; in manhood's prime a king : 
 
 Me hadst thou son and heir unto thine house, 
 
 So that thou wast not, dying, like to leave 
 
 A childless home for stranger folk to spoil. 
 
 Nor canst thou say that flouting thy gray hairs 
 
 I gave thee o'er to death, whose reverence 
 
 For thee was passing word and this the thank 
 
 That thou and she that bear me render me ! 
 
 Wherefore, make haste : beget thee other sons 
 
 To foster thy gray hairs, to compass thee 
 
 With death's observance, and lay out thy corpse. 
 
 Not I with this mine hand will bury thee. 
 
 For thee dead am I. If I see the light 
 
 Another saviour found I call me son 
 
 To her, and loving fosterer of her age. 
 
 For naught the aged pray for death's release, 
 
 Plaining of age and weary-wearing time. 
 
 Let death draw near who then would die? Not one 
 
 No more is eld a burden unt< them.
 
 ALCESTIS 221 
 
 Chorus. Oh, hush ! Suffice the affliction at the doors, 
 O son, infuriate not thy father's soul. 
 
 Pheres. Son, whom, thinkst thou some Lydian slave 
 
 or Phrygian 
 
 Bought with thy money ? thus beratest thou ? 
 What, knowst thou not that I Thessalian am, 
 Sprung from Thessalian sire, free man true-born? 
 This insolence passeth ! hurling malapert words 
 On me, not lightly thus shalt thou come off! 
 Thee I begat and nurtured, of mine house 
 The heir: no debt is mine to die for thee. 
 Not from our sires such custom we received 
 That sires for sons should die : no Greek law this. 
 Born for thyself wast thou, to fortune good 
 Or evil : all thy dues from us thou hast. 
 O'er many folk thou rulest ; wide demesnes 
 Shall I leave thee : to me my fathers left them. 
 What is my wrong, my robbery of thee ? 
 For me die thou not, I die not for thee. 
 Thou joy'st to see light shall thy father joy not? 
 Sooth, I account our time beneath the earth 
 Long, and our life-space short, yet is it sweet. 
 Shamelessly hast thou fought against thy death : 
 Thy life is but transgression of thy doom 
 And murder of thy wife my cowardice ! 
 This from thee, dastard ! worsted by a woman 
 Who died for thee, the glorious-gallant youth ! 
 Cunning device hast thou devised to die 
 Never, cajoling still wife after wife 
 To die for thee ! and dost revile thy friends 
 Who will not so an,d thou the coward, thou ? 
 Peace ! e'en bethink thee, if thou lov'st thy life, 
 So all love theirs. Thou, if thou speakest evil 
 Of us, shalt hear much evil, and that true. 
 
 Chorus. Ye have said too much, thou now, and he 
 
 before. 
 Refrain, old sire, from railing on thy son.
 
 222 EURIPIDES 
 
 Admctus. Say on, say on ; I have said : if hearing truth 
 Gall thee, thou shouldst not have done me wrong. 
 
 Pheres. 1 had done more wrong, had 1 died for thee. 
 
 Admctus. What, for the young and old is death the 
 same? 
 
 Pheres. One life to live, not twain this is our due. 
 
 Admetus. Have thy desire one life outlasting Zeus. 
 
 Pheres. Dost curse thy parents, who hast had no wrong? 
 
 Admetus. Ay, whom I marked love-sick for dateless life. 
 
 Pheres. What ? art not burying her in thine own stead ? 
 
 Admetus. A token, dastard, of thy cowardice. 
 
 Pheres. I did her not to death : thou canst not say it. 
 
 Admetus. Mayst thou feel thy need of me some day ! 
 
 Pheres. Woo many women, that the more may die. 
 
 Admetus. This taunt strikes thee 'tis thou wast loath 
 to die. 
 
 Pheres. Sweet is yon sun-god's light, yea, it is sweet. 
 
 Admetus. Base is thy spirit, and unmeet for men. 
 
 Pheres. No aged corpse thou bearest, inly laughing ! 
 
 Admctus. Yet shalt thou die in ill fame, when thou 
 diest. 
 
 Pheres. Naught reck I of ill-speaking o'er my grave. 
 
 Admctus. Ah me ! how full of shamelessness is eld ! 
 
 Pheres. Not shameless she but senseless hast thou 
 found her. 
 
 Admctus. Begone : leave me to bury this my dead. 
 
 Pheres. I go: her murderer will bury her. 
 Thou shalt yet answer for it to her kin. 
 Surely Akastus is no more a man, 
 If he of thee claim not his sister's blood. [Exit PHERES. 
 
 Admctus. Avaunt, with her that kennelleth with thee ! 
 Childless grow old, as ye deserve, while lives 
 Your child : ye shall not come beneath one roof 
 With me. If need were to renounce by heralds 
 Thy fatherhood, I had renounced it now. 
 Let us for we niiM beat" the present ill 
 Pass on, to lay our dead upon the pyre.
 
 ALCESTIS 223 
 
 CHORUS 
 Alas for the loving and daring ! 
 
 Farewell to the noblest and best ! 
 May Hermes conduct thee down-faring 
 
 Kindly, and Hades to rest 
 Receive thee ! If any atonement 
 
 For ills even there may betide . 
 To the good, O thine be enthronement 
 By Hades' bride ! 
 
 [Exeunt omnes in funeral procession. 
 
 Enter SERVANT 
 Servant. Full many a guest, from many a land which 
 
 came 
 
 Unto Admetus' dwelling, have I known, 
 Have set before them meat : but never guest 
 More pestilent received I to this hearth : 
 Who first, albeit he saw my master mourning, 
 Entered, and passed the threshold unashamed ; 
 Then, nowise courteously received the fare 
 Found with us, though our woeful plight he knew, 
 But, what we brought not, hectoring bade us bring. 
 The ivy cup uplifts he in his hands, 
 And swills the darkling mother's fiery blood, 
 Till the wine's flame enwrapped him, heating him. 
 Then did he wreathe his head with myrtle sprays, 
 Dissonant-howling. Diverse strains were heard ; 
 For he sang on, regardless all of ills 
 Darkening Admetus' house ; we servants wept 
 Our mistress : yet we showed not to the guest 
 Eyes tear-bedewed, for so Admetus bade. 
 And now within the house must I be feasting 
 This guest a lawless thief, a bandit rogue ! 
 She from the house hath passed : I followed not, 
 Nor stretched the hand, nor wailed unto my mistress 
 Farewell, who was to me and all the household 
 A mother, for from ills untold she saved us,
 
 224 EURIPIDES 
 
 Assuaging her lord's wrath. Do I not well 
 To loathe this guest, intruder on our griefs ? 
 
 Enter HERAKLES 
 
 Herakles. Ho, fellow, why this solemn brooding look? 
 The servant should not lower upon the guest, 
 But welcome him with kindly-beaming cheer. 
 Thou, seeing here in presence thy lord's friend, 
 With visage sour and cloud of knitted brows 
 Receiv'st him, fretting o'er an alien grief. 
 Hither to me, that wiser thou mayst grow. 
 The lot of man its nature knowest thou? 
 I trow not : how shouldst thou ? Give ear to me. 
 From all mankind the debt of death is due, 
 Nor of all mortals is there one that knows 
 If through the coming morrow he shall live : 
 For trackless is the way of Fortune's feet, 
 Not to be taught, nor won by art of man. 
 This hearing then, and learning it from me, 
 Make merry, drink : the life from day to day 
 Account thine own, all else in Fortune's power. 
 Honour withal the sweetest of the gods 
 To men, the Cyprian queen a gracious goddess ! 
 These thoughts put by, and hearken to my words, 
 If words of wisdom unto thee they seem. 
 I trow it. Hence with sorrow overwrought ; 
 Pass through yon doors and quaff the wine with me, 
 Thy brows with garlands bound. Full well I wot, 
 From all this lowering spirit prison-pent 
 Thine anchor shall Sir Beaker's plash upheave. 
 What, man ! the mortal must be mortal-minded. 
 So, for your solemn wights of knitted brows, 
 For each and all if thou for judge wilt take me 
 Life is not truly life, but mere affliction. 
 
 Servant. All this we know : but now are we in 
 
 plight 
 Not meet for laughter and for revelry.
 
 ALCESTIS 225 
 
 Herakles. The woman dead is alien-born : grieve not 
 Exceeding much. Yet live the household's lords. 
 
 Servant. Live, quotha ! knowst thou not the house's 
 ills? 
 
 Herakles. Yea, if thy master lied not unto me. 
 
 Servant. Guest-fain he is ah, guest-fain overmuch. 
 
 Herakles. A stranger dead and no guest-cheer for me ? 
 
 Servant. Oh, yea, an alien she o'ermuch an alien ! 
 
 Herakles. Ha! was he keeping some affliction back? 
 
 Servant. Go thou in peace : our lords' ills are for us. 
 
 Herakles. Grief for a stranger such talk heralds not. 
 
 Servant. Else had I not sore vexed beheld thy revelling. 
 
 Herakles. How! have I sorry handling of mine hosts? 
 
 Servant. Thou cam'st in hour unmeet for welcoming, 
 For grief is on us ; and thou see'st shorn hair 
 And vesture of black robes. 
 
 Herakles. But who hath died? 
 
 Not of the children one, or gray-haired sire? 
 
 Servant. Nay, but Admetus' wife is dead, O guest! 
 
 Herakles. How sayst thou? Ha! even then ye gave 
 me welcome? 
 
 Servant. For shame he could not thrust thee from 
 his doors. 
 
 Herakles. O hapless ! what a helpmeet hast thou lost ! 
 
 Servant. We have all perished, and not she alone. 
 
 Herakles. I felt it, when I saw his tear-drowned eyes, 
 His shaven hair, and face : yet he prevailed, 
 Saying he bare a stranger-friend to burial. 
 I passed this threshold in mine heart's despite, 
 And drank in halls of him that loves the guest, 
 When thus his plight ! And am I revelling 
 With head wreath-decked? That thou should'st ne'er 
 
 have told, 
 
 When such affliction lay upon the home! 
 Where doth he bury her? Where shall I find her? 
 
 Servant. By the straight path that leads Larissa-ward 
 Shall see the hewn-stone tomb without the walls. 
 15
 
 22 6 
 
 Hcraklcs. Oh, much-enduring heart and soul of mine, 
 Now show what son the Lady of Tiryns bare 
 Elektryon's child Alkmene, unto Zeus. 
 For I must save the woman newly dead, 
 And set Alcestis in this house again, 
 And render to Admetus good for good. 
 I go. The sable-vestured King of Corpses, 
 Death, will I watch for, and shall find, I trow, 
 Drinking the death-draught hard beside the tomb. 
 And if I lie in, wait, and dart from ambush, 
 And seize, and with mine arms' coil compass him, 
 None is there shall deliver from mine hands 
 His straining sides, or e'er he yields his prey. 
 Yea, though I miss the quarry, and he come not 
 Unto the blood-clot, to the sunless homes 
 Down will I fare of Kore and her king, 
 And make demand. I doubt not I shall lead 
 Alcestis up, and give to mine host's hands, 
 Who to his halls received, nor drave me thence, 
 Albeit smitten with affliction sore, 
 But hid it, like a prince, respecting me. 
 Who is more guest-fain of Thessalians? 
 Who in all Hellas? Oh, he shall not say 
 That one so princely showed a base man kindness. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter ADMETUS, with CHORUS and ATTENDANTS, return- 
 ing from the funeral 
 
 Admetus. Oh, hateful returning! 
 
 Oh, hateful to see 
 Drear halls full of yearning 
 
 For the lost ah me ! 
 
 What aim or what rest have I ? silence or speech, of 
 what help shall they be? 
 
 Would God I were dead ! 
 Oh, I came from the womb
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 227 
 
 To a destiny dread ! 
 
 Ah, those in the tomb 
 
 How I envy them ! How I desire them, and long to abide 
 in their home ! 
 
 To mine eyes nothing sweet 
 Is the light of the heaven, 
 Nor the earth to my feet ; 
 
 Such a helpmeet is riven 
 
 By Death from my side, and my darling to Hades the 
 spoiler hath given. 
 
 Chorus. Pass on thou, and hide thee 
 In thy chambers. 
 
 Admetus. Ah woe ! 
 
 Chorus. Wail the griefs that betide thee : 
 
 How canst thou but so? 
 Admetus. O God ! 
 Chorus. Thou hast passed through deep waters of 
 
 anguish I know it, I know. 
 Admetus. Alas and alas ! 
 Chorus. No help bringeth this 
 
 To thy love in that place. 
 Admetus. Woe ! 
 Chorus. Bitter it is 
 
 The face of a wife well-beloved for ever and ever to miss. 
 Admetus. Thou hast stricken mine heart 
 
 Where the wound will not heal. 
 What is worse than to part 
 From the loving and leal ? 
 
 Would God I had wedded her not, home-bliss with Alces- 
 tis to feel ! 
 
 Oh, I envy the lot 
 
 Of the man without wife, 
 Without child ; single-wrought 
 
 Is the strand of his life :
 
 228 EURIl'li 
 
 No soul-crushing burden of sorrow, no strength-over- 
 mastering strife. 
 
 But that children should sicken, 
 
 That gloom of despair 
 Over bride-beds should thicken, 
 
 What spirit can bear, 
 
 When childless, unwedded, a man through life's calm 
 journey might fare? 
 
 Chorus. Thee Fortune hath met, 
 
 Strong wrestler, and thrown ; 
 Yet no bounds hast thou set 
 Admetus. Woe's me ! 
 Chorus. To thy moan. 
 
 Oh, thy burden is heavy ! 
 Admetus. Alas ! 
 
 Chorus. Yet endure it : thou art not alone. 
 Not thou art the first 
 
 Of bereaved ones. 
 Admetus. Ah me ! 
 Chorus. Such tempest hath burst 
 
 Upon many ere thee. 
 Unto each his mischance, when the surges roll up from 
 
 Calamity's sea. 
 Admetus. Oh, long grief and pain 
 
 For beloved ones passed ! 
 Why didst thou restrain 
 
 When myself I had cast 
 
 Down into her grave, with the noblest to lie peace-lulled 
 at the last ? 
 
 Not one soul, but two 
 
 Had been Hades' prey, 
 Souls utterly true 
 
 Together for aye, 
 
 Which together o'er waves of the underworld mere had 
 passed this day.
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 229 
 
 Chorus. Of my kin was there one, 
 
 And the life's light failed 
 In his halls of a son, 
 
 One meet to be wailed, 
 
 His only beloved : howbeit the manhood within him pre- 
 vailed ; 
 
 And the ills heaven-sent 
 As a man did he bear, 
 Though by this was he bent 
 
 Unto silvered hair, 
 
 Far on in life's path, without son for his remnant of weak- 
 ness to care. 
 Admctus. Oh, how can I tread 
 
 Thy threshold, fair home? 
 How shelter mine head 
 
 'Neath my roof, now the doom 
 
 Of the gods' dice changeth ? ah me, what change upon 
 all things is come ! 
 
 For with torches aflame 
 
 Of the Pelian pine, 
 And with bride-song I came 
 
 In that hour divine, 
 
 Upbearing the hand of a wife thine hand, O darling 
 mine ! 
 
 Followed revellers, raising 
 
 Acclaim : ever broke 
 From the lips of them praising, 
 
 Of the dead as they spoke, 
 
 And -of me, how the noble, the children of kings, Love 
 joined 'neath his yoke. 
 
 But for bridal song 
 
 Is the wail for the dead, 
 And, for white-robed throng, 
 
 Black vesture hath led 
 
 Me to halls where the ghost of delight lieth couched on 
 a desolate bed.
 
 230 
 
 EURIPIDES 
 
 Chorus. To the trance of thy bliss 
 
 Sudden anguish was brought. 
 Never lesson like this 
 
 To thine heart had been taught : 
 
 Yet thy life hast thou won, and thy soul hast delivered 
 from death : is it naught ? 
 
 Thy wife hath departed : 
 
 Love tender and true 
 Hast she left : stricken-hearted, 
 
 Wherein is this new ? 
 
 Hath Death not unyoked from the chariot of Love full 
 many ere you ? 
 
 Admetus. Friends, I account the fortune of my wife 
 Happier than mine, albeit it seems not so. 
 For naught of grief shall touch her any more, 
 And glorious rest she finds from many toils. 
 But I, unmeet to live, my doom outrun, 
 Shall drag out bitter days : I know it now. 
 How shall I bear to enter this mine home ? 
 Speaking to whom, and having speech of whom, 
 Shall I find joy of entering ? whither turn me ? 
 The solitude within shall drive me forth, 
 Whenso I see my wife's couch tenantless, 
 And seats whereon she sat, and, 'neath the roof, 
 All foul the floor ; when on njy knees my babes 
 Falling shall weep their mother, servants moan 
 The peerless mistress from the mansion lost. 
 All this within : but from the world without 
 Shall bridals of Thessalians chase me : throngs 
 Where women gossip ; for I shall not bear 
 On those companions of my wife to look. 
 And, if a fo? I have, thus shall he scoff : 
 " Lo there who basely liveth dared not die, 
 But whom he wedded gave, a coward's ransom, 
 And 'scaped from Hades. Count ye him a man?
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 231 
 
 He hates his parents, though himself was loath 
 To die ! " Such ill report, besides my griefs, 
 Shall mine be. Ah, what profit is to live, 
 O friends, in evil fame, in evil plight? 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe i 
 Chorus. I have mused on the words of the wise, 
 
 Of the mighty in song ; 
 I have lifted mine heart to the skies, 
 I have searched all truth with mine eyes ; 
 
 But naught more strong 
 Than fate have I found : there is naught 
 
 In the tablets of Thrace, 
 Neither drugs whereof Orpheus taught, 
 Nor in all that Apollo brought 
 
 To Asklepius' race, 
 
 When the herbs of healing he severed, and out of their 
 anguish delivered 
 
 The pain-distraught 
 
 Antistrophe I 
 
 There is none other goddess beside, 
 
 To the altars of whom 
 No man draweth near, nor hath cried 
 To her image, nor victim hath died, 
 
 Averting her doom. 
 O goddess, more mighty for ill 
 
 Come not upon me 
 Than in days overpast : for his will 
 Even Zeus may in no wise fulfil 
 
 Unholpen of thee. 
 
 Steel is molten as water before thee, but never relenting 
 came o'er thee, 
 
 Who are ruthless still.
 
 232 
 
 EURIPIDES 
 
 Strophe 2 
 Thee, friend, hath the goddess gripped : from her hands 
 
 never wrestler hath slipped. 
 
 Yet be strong to endure : never mourning shall bring our 
 beloved returning 
 
 From the nethergloom up to the light. 
 Yea, the heroes of gods begotten, 
 They fade into darkness, forgotten 
 
 In death's chill night. 
 Dear was she in days ere we lost her, 
 
 Dear yet, though she lie with the dead. 
 None nobler shall Earth-mother foster 
 Than the wife of thy bed. 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 Not as mounds of the dead which have died, so account 
 
 we the tomb of thy bride, 
 
 But oh, let the worship and honour that we render to 
 gods rest upon her : 
 
 Unto her let the wayfarer pray. 
 As he treadeth the pathway that trendeth 
 Aside from the highway, and bendeth 
 
 At her shrine, he shall say : 
 " Her life for her lord's was given ; 
 
 With the blest now abides she on high. 
 Hail, queen, show us grace from thine 
 
 heaven ! " 
 Even so shall they cry. 
 
 But lo, Alkmene's son, as seemeth, yonder, 
 Admetus, to thine hearth is journeying. 
 
 Enter HERAKLES, leading a woman wholly veiled 
 llerakles. Unto a friend behooveth speech outspoken, 
 Admetus, not to hide within the breast 
 Murmurs unvoiced. I came mid thine affliction. 
 Fair claim was mine to rank amid thy friends.
 
 ALCESTIS 233 
 
 Thou told'st me not how lay thy wife a corpse : 
 Thou gavest me guest-welcome in thine home, 
 Making pretence of mourning for a stranger. 
 I wreathed mine head, I spilled unto the gods 
 Drink-offerings in a stricken house, even thine. 
 I blame thee, thus mishandled, yea, I blame thee. 
 Yet nowise is my will to gall thy grief. 
 But wherefore hither turning back I come, 
 This will I tell. Take, guard for me this maid, 
 Till, leading hitherward the Thracian mares, 
 I come from slaughter of Bistonia's lord. 
 But if not that, for I would fain return 
 I give her then, for service of thine halls. 
 Prize of hard toil unto mine hands she came : 
 For certain men I found but now arraying 
 An athlete-strife, toil-worthy, for all comers, 
 Whence I have won and bring this victor's meed. 
 Horses there were for them to take which won 
 The light foot's triumph ; but for hero-strife, 
 Boxing and wrestling, oxen were the guerdon : 
 A woman made it richer. Shame it seemed 
 To hap thereon, and slip this glorious gain. 
 But, as I said, this woman be thy care : 
 For no thief's prize, but toil-achieved, I bring her. 
 Yea, one day thou perchance shalt say 'twas well. 
 
 Admetus. Not flouting thee, nor counting among foes, 
 My wife's unhappy fate I hid from thee. 
 But this had been but grief uppiled on grief, 
 Hadst thou sped hence to be another's guest ; 
 And mine own ills sufficed me to bewail. 
 But, for the woman if in any wise 
 It may be, prince, bid some Thessalian guard her, 
 I pray thee, who hath suffered not as I. , 
 
 In Pherse many a friend and host thou^hast. 
 Awaken not remembrance of my grief. 
 I could not, seeing her mine halls within, 
 Be tearless : add not hurt unto mine hurt. 
 9
 
 234 
 
 EURIPIDES 
 
 Burdened enough am I by mine affliction. 
 
 Nay, in mine house where should a young maid lodge? 
 
 For vesture and adorning speak her young 
 
 What, 'neath the men's roof shall her lodging be ? 
 
 And how unsullied, dwelling with young men ? 
 
 Not easy is it, Herakles, to curb 
 
 The young : herein do I take thought for thee. 
 
 Or shall I ope to her my dead wife's bower? 
 
 How ! cause her to usurp my lost love's bed ? 
 
 Twofold reproach I dread from mine own folk, 
 
 Lest one should say that, traitor to her kindness, 
 
 I fall upon another woman's bed 
 
 And of the dead, to me most reverence-worthy, 
 
 Needs must I take great heed. But, woman, thou, 
 
 Whoso thou art, know that thy body's stature 
 
 Is as Alcestis, and thy form as hers. 
 
 Ah me ! lead, for the gods' sake, from my sight 
 
 This woman ! Take not my captivity captive. 
 
 For, as I look on her, methinks I see 
 
 My wife : she stirs mine heart with turmoil : fountains 
 
 Of tears burst from mine eyes. O wretched I ! 
 
 Now first I taste this grief's full bitterness. 
 
 Chorus. In sooth thy fortune can I not commend : 
 Yet must we brook a god's gift, whoso cometh. 
 
 Herakles. Oh, that such might I had as back to bring 
 To light thy wife from nethergloom abodes, 
 And to bestow this kindness upon thee ! 
 
 Admetus. Fain wouldst thou, well I know. But where- 
 fore this ? 
 It can not be the dead to light should come. 
 
 Herakles. O'ershoot not now the mark, but bear all 
 bravely. 
 
 Admetus. Easier to exhort than suffer and be strong. 
 
 Herakles. But what thy profit, though for aye thou 
 moan ? 
 
 Admetus. I too know this ; yet love constraineth me. 
 
 Herakles. Love for the lost ay, that draws forth the 
 tear.
 
 ALCESTIS 235 
 
 Admetus. She hath undone me more than words can 
 
 tell. 
 
 Herakles. A good wife hast thou lost, who shall gain- 
 say ? 
 
 Admetus. So that this man hath no more joy in life. 
 Herakles, Time shall bring healing : now is thy grief 
 
 young. 
 Admetus. Time time ? Oh, yea, if this thy Time be 
 
 Death ! 
 Herakles. A wife, and yearning for new love, shall calm 
 
 thee. 
 . Admetus. Hush ! what sayst thou ? I could not think 
 
 thereon ! 
 Herakles. How ? wilt not wed, but widowed keep thy 
 
 couch ? 
 Admetus. Lives not the woman that shall couch with 
 
 me. 
 Herakles. Lookst thou that this shall profit aught the 
 
 dead ? 
 
 Admetus. I needs must honour her where'er she be. 
 Herakles. Good good yet one with folly so might 
 
 charge thee. 
 
 Admetus. So be it, so thou call me bridegroom never. 
 Herakles. I praise thee for that leal thou art to her. 
 Admetus. Death be my meed, if I betray her dead. 
 Herakles. Receive this woman now these halls within. 
 Admetus. Nay ! I beseech by Zeus that did beget 
 
 thee! 
 
 Herakles. Yet shalt thou err if thou do not this thing. 
 Admetus. Yet shall mine heart be grief-stung, if I do it. 
 Herakles. Yield thou ! this grace may prove perchance 
 
 a duty. 
 Admetus. Oh, that in strife thou ne'er hadst won this 
 
 maid ! 
 
 Herakles. Yet thy friend's victory is surely thine. 
 Admetus. Well said : yet let the woman hence depart. 
 Herakles. Yea if need be. First look well need it be ?
 
 236 EURIPIDKS 
 
 Admetus. Needs must save thou wilt else be wroth 
 
 with me. 
 
 Herakles. I too know what I do, insisting thus. 
 Admetus. Have then thy will : thy pleasure is my 
 
 pain. 
 
 Herakles. Yet one day shalt thou praise me : only yield. 
 Admetus [to ATTENDANTS]. Lead ye her, if mine halls 
 
 must needs receive. 
 
 Herakles. Not to thy servants' hands will I commit her. 
 Admetus. Thou lead her in then, if it seems thee good. 
 Herakles. Nay, but in thine hands will I place her 
 
 thine. 
 
 Admetus. I will not touch her! Open stand my doors. 
 Herakles. Unto thy right hand only trust I her. 
 Admetus. O king, thou forcest me : 1 will not this ! 
 Herakles. Be strong: stretch forth thine hand and 
 
 touch thy guest. 
 
 Admetus. I stretch it forth, as to a headless Gorgon. 
 Herakles. Hast her ? 
 Admetus. 1 have. 
 
 Herakles. Yea, guard her. Thou shalt call 
 
 The child of Zeus one day a noble guest. 
 
 [Raises tJie veil, and discloses ALCESTIS. 
 Look on her, if in aught she seems to thee 
 Like to thy wife. Step forth from grief to bliss. 
 
 Admetus. What shall I say ? Gods ! Marvel this un- 
 hoped for ! 
 
 My wife do I behold in very sooth, 
 Or doth some god-sent mockery -joy distract me ? 
 Herakles. Not so ; but this thou seest is thy wife. 
 Admetus. What if this be some phantom from the 
 
 shades? 
 
 Herakles. No ghost-upraiser hast thou ta'en for guest. 
 Admetus. How? whom I buried do I see my wife? 
 Herakles. Doubt not : yet might'st thou well mistrust 
 
 thy fortune. 
 Admetus. As wife, as living, may I touch, address her?
 
 ALCESTIS 237 
 
 Herakles. Speak to her : all thou didst desire thou 
 
 hast. 
 
 Admetus. O face, O form of my beloved wife, 
 Past hope I have thee, who ne'er thought to see thee ! 
 Herakles. Thou hast : may no god of thy bliss be 
 
 jealous. 
 
 Admetiis. O scion nobly-born of Zeus most high, 
 Blessings on thee ! The Father who begat thee 
 Keep thee ! Thou only hast restored my fortunes. 
 How didst thou bring her from the shades to light? 
 
 Herakles. I closed in conflict with the Lord of Spirits. 
 Admetus. Where, sayst thou, didst thou fight this 
 
 fight with Death ? 
 
 Herakles. From ambush by the tomb mine hands en- 
 snared him. 
 Admetus. Now wherefore speechless standeth thus my 
 
 wife? 
 Herakles. 'Tis not vouchsafed thee yet to hear her 
 
 voice, 
 
 Ere to the powers beneath the earth she be 
 Unconsecrated, and the third day come. 
 But lead her in, and, just man as thou art, 
 Henceforth, Admetus, reverence still the guest. 
 Farewell. But I must go, and work the work 
 Set by the king, the son of Sthenelus. 
 
 Admetus. Abide with us, a sharer of our hearth. 
 Herakles. Hereafter this : now must I hasten on. 
 Admetus. Oh, prosper thou, and come again in peace! 
 Through all my realm I publish to my folk 
 That, for these blessings, dances they array, 
 And that atonement-fumes from altars rise. 
 For now to happier days than those o'erpast 
 Have we attained. I own me blest indeed. 
 
 Chorus. Oh, the works of the gods in manifold forms 
 
 they reveal them : 
 
 Manifold things unhoped-for the gods to accomplishment 
 bring.
 
 238 EURIPIDES 
 
 And the things that we looked for, the gods deign not to 
 
 fulfil them ; 
 And the paths undiscerned of our eyes, the gods unseal 
 
 them. 
 So fell this marvellous thing. 
 
 \_Exeunt omnes.
 
 THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 ARTHUR S. WAY
 
 WHEN the Heroes, who sailed in the ship Argo to bring 
 home the Golden Fleece, came to the land of Kolchis, they 
 found that to win that treasure was a deed passing the might 
 of mortal man, so terribly was it guarded by monsters magi- 
 cal, even fire-breathing bulls and an unsleeping dragon. But 
 Aphrodite caused Medea the sorceress, daughter of Aietes the 
 king of the land, to love Jason their captain, so that by her 
 magic he overcame the bulls and the dragon. Then Jason 
 took the Fleece, and Medea withal, for that he had pledged 
 him to wed her in the land of Greece. But as they fled, Absyr- 
 tus her brother pursued them with a host of war, yet by Me- 
 dea's devising was he slain. So they came to the land of 
 lolkos, and to Pelias, who held the kingdom which was Jason's 
 of right. But Medea by her magic wrought upon Pelias's 
 daughters so that they slew their father. Yet by reason of 
 men's horror of the deed might not Jason and Medea abide in 
 the land, and they came to Corinth. And there all men re- 
 joiced for the coming of a hero so mighty in war and a lady 
 renowned for wisdom unearthly, for that Medea was grand- 
 child of the Sun-god. But after ten years, Kreon the king of 
 the land spake to Jason, saying, " Lo, I will give thee my 
 daughter to wife, and thou shall reign after me, if thou wilt 
 put away thy wife Medea ; but her and her two sons will I 
 banish from the land." So Jason consented. And of this be- 
 fell things strange and awful, which are told herein.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 NURSE OF MEDEA'S CHILDREN. 
 
 CHILDREN'S GUARDIAN/ 
 
 MEDEA. 
 
 CHORUS OF CORINTHIAN LADIES. 
 
 KREON, King of Corinth. 
 
 JASON. 
 
 AIGEUS, King of Athens. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 CHILDREN OF MEDEA. 
 
 The Scene is in front of Jason's House at Corinth. 
 
 1 Padagogus. A trusted servant, responsible for keeping the boys out 
 of harm's way : he was present at their sports, accompanied them to and 
 from school, and never let them be out of his sight. A similar institution 
 is familiar to Englishmen resident in India.
 
 MEDEA 
 
 Enter NURSE of Medea s Children 
 
 NURSE. Would God that Argo's hull had never 
 flown 
 Through those blue Clashing Rocks to Kolchis-land ! 
 Nor that in Pelion's glens had fallen ever 
 The axe-hewn pine, nor filled with oars the hands 
 Of hero-princes, who at Pelias' hest 
 Quested the Golden Fleece ! My mistress then, 
 Medea, to lolkos' towers had sailed not ' 
 With love for Jason thrilled through all her soul, 
 Nor had on Pelias' daughters wrought to slay 
 Their sire, nor now in this Corinthian land 
 Dwelt with her lord and children, gladdening 
 By this her exile them whose land received her; 
 Yea, and in all things serving Jason's weal, 
 Which is the chief salvation of the home, 
 When wife stands not at variance with her lord. 
 Now all is hatred : love is sickness-stricken. 
 For Jason, traitor to his babes and her, 
 My mistress, weddeth with a child of kings, 
 Daughter of Kreon ruler of the land. 
 And, slighted thus, Medea, hapless wife, 
 Cries on the oaths, invokes that mightiest pledge 
 Of the right hand, and calls the gods to witness 
 From Jason what requital she receives. 
 
 243
 
 244 EURIPIDES 
 
 Foodless she lies, her frame to griefs resigned, 
 
 Wasting in tears all those long, weary hours 
 
 Since first she knew her outraged by her lord, 
 
 Never uplifting eye, nor turning ever 
 
 From earth her face ; but like a rock or sea-wave 
 
 So hearkens she to friends that counsel her ; 
 
 Saving at whiles, when, turning her white neck, 
 
 All to herself she wails her sire beloved, 
 
 Her land, her home, forsaking which she came 
 
 Hither with him who holds her now dishonoured. 
 
 Now knows she, hapless, by affliction's teaching, 
 
 How good is fatherland unforfeited. 
 
 She loathes her babes, joys not beholding them. 
 
 I fear her, lest some mischief she devise. 
 
 Grim is her spirit, one that will not brook 
 
 Mishandling : yea, I know her, and I dread 
 
 Lest through her heart she thrust the whetted knife, 
 
 Through the halls stealing silent to her bed, 
 
 Or slay the king and him that weds his child, 
 
 And get herself therefrom some worse misfortune ; 
 
 For dangerous is she : who begins a feud 
 
 With her, not soon shall sing the triumph-song. 
 
 But lo, her boys, their racing-sport put by, 
 
 Draw near, unwitting of their mother's ills, 
 
 For the young heart loves not to brood in grief. 
 
 Enter CHILDREN'S GUARDIAN, with boys 
 Children s Guardian. O ancient chattel of my mistress' 
 home, 
 
 Why at the gates thus lonely standest thou, 
 
 Thyself unto thyself discoursing ills ? 
 
 How wills Medea to be left of thee? 
 
 Nurse. O gray attendant of the sons of Jason, 
 
 The hearts of faithful servants still are touched 
 
 By ill-betiding fortunes of their lords. 
 
 For I have come to such a pass of grief, 
 
 That yearning took me hit her ward to come
 
 MEDEA 
 
 245 
 
 And tell to earth and heaven my lady's fortunes. 
 
 Children s Guardian. CeasetH not yet the hapless one 
 from moan ? 
 
 Nurse. Cease ! her pain scarce begun, the midst far off ! 
 
 Children s Guardian. Ah, fool ! if one may say it of his 
 
 lords 
 Little she knoweth of the latest blow. 
 
 Nurse. What is it, ancient? Grudge not thou to tell me. 
 
 Children's Guardian. Naught : I repent me of the word 
 that 'scaped me. 
 
 Nurse. Nay, by thy beard, from fellow-thrall hide not 
 Silence, if need be, will I keep thereof. 
 
 Children's Guardian. I heard one saying feigning not 
 
 to hear, 
 
 As t l drew near the marble thrones, 1 where sit 
 The ancients round Peirene's hallowed fount 
 That Kreon, this land's lord, will shortly drive 
 These boys from soil Corinthian with their mother ? 
 Howbeit, if the tale I heard be true 
 I know not ; fain were I it were not so. 
 
 Nurse. Will Jason brook his children suffering this, 
 What though he be estranged from their mother? 
 
 Children's Guardian. The old ties in the race lag far 
 
 behind 
 The new : no friend is he unto this house. 
 
 Nurse. We are undone then, if we add fresh ill 
 To old, ere lightened be our ship of this. 
 
 Children's Guardian. But thou for 'tis not season that 
 
 thy lady 
 Should know keep silence, and speak not the tale. 
 
 Nurse. Hear, babes, what father this is unto you ! 
 I curse him not : he is my master still : 
 But to his friends he stands convict of baseness. 
 
 Children's Giiardian. What man is not ? hast learned 
 
 this only now, 
 That each man loves self better than his neighbour, 
 
 1 So Mahaffy, adopted by Paley.
 
 246 EURIPIDES 
 
 For just cause some, and some for greed of gain? 
 So, for a bride's sake, these their father loves not. 
 
 Nurse. Pass in, dear children, for it shall be well. 
 But thou, keep these apart to the uttermost : 
 Bring them not nigh their mother angry-souled. 
 For late I saw her glare, as glares a bull 
 On these, as 'twere for mischief ; nor her wrath, 
 I know, shall cease, until its lightning strike. 
 To foes may she work ill, and not to friends ! 
 
 Medea (behind the scenes). O hapless I ! O miseries 
 
 heaped on mine head ! 
 Ah me ! ah me ! would God I were dead K 
 
 Nurse. Lo, darlings, the thing that I told you ! 
 
 Lo the heart of your mother astir ! 
 And astir is her anger : withhold you 
 
 From her sight, come not nigh unto her. 
 Haste, get you within : O beware ye 
 
 Of the thoughts as a wild-beast brood, 
 Of the nature too ruthless to spare ye 
 In its desperate mood. 
 
 Pass ye within now, departing 
 
 With all speed. It is plain to discern 
 How a cloud of lamenting, upstarting 
 
 From its viewless beginnings, shall burn 
 In lightnings of fury yet fiercer. 
 
 What deeds shall be dared of that soul, 
 So haughty, when wrong's goads pierce her, 
 So hard to control ? 
 
 {Exeunt CHILDREN with GUARDIAN. 
 
 Medea (behind the scenes). Woe! I have suffered, have suf- 
 fered, foul wrongs that may waken, may waken, 
 Mighty lamentings full well! () ye children accursed 
 
 from I he- womb,
 
 MEDEA 247 
 
 Hence to destruction, ye brood of a loathed one forsaken, 
 
 forsaken ! 
 
 Hence with your father, and perish our home in the 
 blackness of doom ! 
 
 Nurse. Ah me, in the father's offences 
 
 What part have the babes, that thine hate 
 Should blast them ? forlorn innocences, 
 
 How sorely I fear for your fate ! 
 Ah, princes how fearful their moods are ! 
 
 Long ruling, unschooled to obey 
 Unforgiving, unsleeping their feuds are. 
 Better life's level way. 
 
 Be it mine, if in greatness I may not, 
 
 In quiet and peace to grow old. 
 Sweeter name than " The Mean " shall ye say not ; 
 
 But to taste it is sweetness untold. 
 But to men never weal above measure 
 
 Availed : on its perilous height 
 The gods in their hour of displeasure 
 The heavier smite. 
 
 Enter CHORUS of Corinthian Ladies 
 Chorus. 1 have hearkened the voice of the daughter of 
 
 Kolchis, the sound of the crying 
 Of the misery-stricken ; nor yet is she stilled. Now 
 
 the tale of her tell, 
 Gray woman ; for moaned through the porch from her 
 
 chamber the wail of her sighing ; 
 
 And I can not, I can not be glad while the home in afflic- 
 tion is lying, 
 
 The house I have loved so well. 
 
 Nurse. Home? home there is none: it hath vanished 
 
 away ; 
 For my lord to a bride of the princes is thrall ;
 
 248 EURIPIDES 
 
 And my lady is pining the livelong day 
 In her bower, and for naught that her friends' lips say 
 On her heart may the dews of comfort fall. 
 
 Medea (behind the scenes). Would God that the flame of the 
 
 lightning from heaven descending, descending, 
 Might burn through mine head ! for in living wherein 
 
 any more is my gain ? 
 Alas and alas ! Would God I might bring to an ending, 
 
 an ending, 
 
 The life that I loathe, and behind me might cast all its 
 burden of pain ! 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe 
 
 O Zeus, Earth, Light, did ye hear her, 
 How waileth the woe-laden breath 
 Of the bride in unhappiest plight? 
 What yearning for vanished delight, 
 O passion-distraught, should have might 
 To cause thee to wish death nearer 
 The ending of all things, death ? 
 
 Make thou not for this supplication ! 
 
 If thine husband hath turned and adored 
 New love, that estranged he is, 
 O harrow thy soul not for this. 
 It is Zeus that shall right thee, I wis. 
 Ah, pine not in over-vexation 
 Of spirit, bewailing thy lord ! 
 
 Medea (behind the scenes). O Lady of Justice, O Artemis' 
 
 Majesty, see it, O see it 
 Look on the wrongs that I suffer, my oaths everlasting 
 
 who tied 
 The soul of mine husband, that ne'er from the curse he 
 
 might free it, nor free it 
 
 From your vengeance ! O may I behold him at last, 
 even him and his bride,
 
 MEDEA 249 
 
 Them, and these halls therewithal, all shattered in ruin, 
 
 in ruin ! 
 
 Wretches, who dare unprovoked to do to Medea de- 
 spite ! 
 
 O father, O city, whom erst I forsook, for undoing, un- 
 doing, . 
 
 And for shame, when the blood of my brother I spilt 
 on the path of my flight ! 
 
 Nurse. Do ye hear what she saith, and uplifteth her cry 
 
 Unto Themis and Zeus, to the Suppliant's King, 
 Oath-steward of men that be born but to die ? 
 Oh, my lady will lay not her anger by 
 Soon, making her vengeance a little thing. 
 
 I 
 
 CHORUS. Antistrophe 
 
 If she would but come forth where we wait her, 
 If she would but give ear to the sound 
 Of our speech, that her spirit would learn 
 From its fierceness of anger to turn, 
 And her lust for revenge not burn ! 
 Oh, ne'er may my love prove traitor, 
 Never false to my friends be it found ! 
 
 But go thou, and forth of the dwelling 
 Thy mistress hitherward lead. 
 Say to her that friends be we all. 
 O hasten, ere mischief befall 
 The lords of the palace-hall ! 
 For her grief, like a tempest upswelling, 
 Resistless shall ruinward speed. 
 
 Nurse. I will do it ; but almost my spirit despaireth 
 To win her ; yet labour of love shall it be. 
 But my queen on her thralls as a mad bull glareth, 
 Or a lioness couched mid her whelps, whoso dareth 
 With speech to draw near her, so tameless is she.
 
 250 
 
 EURIPIDES 
 
 He should err not, who named the old singers in 
 
 singing 
 
 Not cunning, but left-handed bards, for their lays 
 Did they frame for the mirth-tide, the festal in- 
 bringing 
 Of the wine, and the feast, when the harp-strings are 
 
 ringing 
 To sweeten with melody life's sweet days : 
 
 But the dread doom of mortals, the anguish heart- 
 rending 
 Never minstrel by music hath breathed on them 
 
 peace, 
 
 Nor by song with his harp-notes in harmony blend- 
 ing ; 
 Albeit of these cometh death's dark ending 
 
 Unto many a home that is wrecked of these. 
 
 And yet were it surely a boon to bring healing 
 Of sorrow to mortals with song : but in vain 
 Mid the fulness of feasting ring voices clear-pealing, 
 And the banquet itself hath a glamour, concealing 
 From mortals their doom, flinging spells over pain. 
 
 [Exit NURSE. 
 
 Chorus. I have heard it, the sigh-laden cry of the daughter 
 
 Of Kolchis, the woe-shrilling anguish of wailing 
 For the traitor to love who with false vows caught 
 
 her, 
 Who in strength of her wrongs chideth Heaven, 
 
 assailing 
 
 The Oath-queen of Zeus, who with cords all- 
 prevailing 
 Forth haled her, and brought her o'er star-litten 
 
 water, 
 
 Where the brine-mists hover o'er Pontus' Key, 
 Unto Hellas far over the boundless sea.
 
 MEDEA 251 
 
 Enter MEDEA 
 
 Medea. Corinthian dames, I have come forth my doors 
 Lest ye should blame me. Many folk I know 
 Accounted haughty, some, for proud staid mien, 1 
 Some, stranger-shy : * and some, that softly go, 
 Have gotten ill repute of indolence. 
 For justice sits not in the eyes of man, 
 Who, ere he hath discerned his neighbour's heart, 
 Hates him at sight, albeit nowise wronged. 
 The sojourner must learn the city's wont ; 
 Nor praise I citizens-born, law to themselves, 
 Mannerless churls, which flout their fellow-folk. 
 But me unlooked-for fell this blow on me, 
 And brake mine heart. Undone I am ; have lost 
 All grace of life, and long to die, my friends. 
 For he that was mine all thou know'st it well 9 
 My lord, of all men basest hath become. 
 Surely, of creatures that have life and wit, 
 We women are of all things wretchedest, 
 Who, first, must needs, as buys the highest bidder, 
 Thus buy a husband, and our body's master 
 So win for deeper depth of ill is this. 
 Nay, risk is dire herein or shall we gain 
 An evil lord or good ? For change is shame 
 To woman, nor may she renounce her spouse. 
 And, coming to new customs, habits new, 
 Seer need she be, to know the thing unlearned, 
 What manner of man her couch's mate shall be. 
 But if we learn our lesson, if our lord 
 Dwell with us, plunging not against the yoke, 
 Happy our lot: if not no help but death. 
 For the man, when at home they fret his soul, 
 Goes forth, and stays his loathing heart's disgust, 
 Unto a friend or age-mate turning him. 
 
 1 Lit. " from their looks." 
 
 * Lit. "as being <r(/ju>ol (reserved) when among strangers." 
 
 3 Or, reading yiyi><a<TKftt> " For he, to know whom rightly was mine all."
 
 252 
 
 EURIPIDES 
 
 We have but one, one heart to seek for comfort. 
 
 But we, say they, live an unperilled life 
 
 At home, while they do battle with the spear. 
 
 Falsely they deem : twice would I under shield 
 
 Stand, rather than bear childbirth peril once. 
 
 Yet thee and me the selfsame reasons touch not. 
 
 Thine is this city, thine a father's home ; 
 
 Hast bliss of life and fellowship of friends. 
 
 But I, lone, cityless, and outraged thus 
 
 Of him who kidnapped me from foreign shores, 
 
 Mother nor brother have I, kinsman none, 
 
 For port of refuge from calamity. 
 
 Wherefore I fain would win of thee this boon : 
 
 If any path be found me, or device, 
 
 Whereby to avenge these wrongs upon mine husband, 
 
 On her who weds, on him who gives the bride, 
 
 Keep silence. Woman quails at every peril, 
 
 Faint-heart to face the fray and look on steel ; 
 
 But when in wedlock-rights she suffers wrong, 
 
 No spirit more bloodthirsty shall be found. 
 
 Chorus. This will I ; for 'tis just that thou, Medea, 
 Requite thy lord : no marvel thou dost grieve. 
 But I see Kreon, ruler of this land, 
 Advancing, herald of some new decree. 
 
 Enter KREON 
 
 Kreon. Thee the black-lowering, wroth against thy lord, 
 Medea, bid I forth this land to fare 
 An exile, taking thy two sons with thee, 
 And make no tarrying: daysman of this cause 
 Am I, and homeward go I not again 
 Ere from the land's bounds I have cast thee forth. 
 
 Medea. Ah me ! undone am I in utter ruin ! 
 My foes crowd sail pursuing : landing-place 
 Is none from surges of calamity. 
 Yet, howso wronged, one question will 1 ask 
 For what cause, Kreon, dost thou banish me?
 
 MEDEA 253 
 
 Kreon. I fear thee need is none to cloak my words 
 Lest on my child thou wreak some ill past cure. 
 And to this dread do many things conspire. 
 Wise art thou, cunning in much evil lore ; 
 Chafed art thou, of thine husband's couch bereft : 
 I hear thou threatenest, so they bring me word, 
 To wreak on sire, on bridegroom, and on bride 
 Mischief. I guard mine head ere falls the blow. 
 Better be hated, woman, now of thee, 
 Than once relent, and sorely groan too late. 
 
 Medea. Not now first, Kreon many a time ere now 
 Rumour hath wronged and wrought me grievous harm. 
 Ne'er should the man whose heart is sound of wit 
 Let teach his sons more wisdom than the herd. 
 They are burdened with unprofitable lore, 
 And spite and envy of other folk they earn. 
 For, if thou bring strange wisdom unto dullards, 
 Useless shalt thou be counted, and not wise : 
 And, grant thy name o'ertop the self-extolled 
 Wits, in the city odious shalt thou be. 
 Myself too in this fortune am partaker. 
 Of some my wisdom wins me jealousy, 
 Some count me idle ; some, o'erbusy ; some 
 Unsocial : yet not over-wise am I. 
 And thou, thou fear'st me, lest I mar thy music. 
 Not such am I O Kreon, dread not me 
 That against princes I should dare transgress. 
 How hast thou wronged me ? Thou hast given thy child 
 To whomso pleased thee. But I hate mine husband : 
 And, doubtless, this in prudence hast thou done ? 
 Nay, but I grudge not thy prosperity. 
 Wed ye, and prosper. But in this your land 
 Still let me dwell : for I, how wronged soe'er, 
 Will hold my peace, o'ermastered by the strong. 
 
 Kreon. Soft words to hear : Ibut lurks mine heart 
 
 within 
 Dread lest thou plottest mischief all the while ;
 
 254 
 
 EURIPIDES 
 
 And all the less I trust thee than before. 
 
 The vehement-hearted woman yea, or man 
 
 Is easier watched for than the silent-cunning. 
 
 But forth with all speed : plead me pleadings none. 
 
 For this is stablished : no device hast thou 
 
 To bide with us, who art a foe to me. 
 
 Medea. Nay by thy knees, and by the bride, thy 
 child! 
 
 Kreon. Thou wastest words ; thou never shalt prevail. 
 
 Medea. Wilt drive me forth, respecting naught my 
 prayers ? 
 
 Kreon. Ay : more I love not thee than mine own 
 house. 
 
 Medea. Oh, how I call thee now to mind, my country ! 
 
 Kreon. Ay, dear to me is Corinth, next my children. 
 
 Medea. Alas ! to mortals what a curse is love ! 
 
 Kreon. Blessing or curse, I trow, as fortune falls. 
 
 Medea. Zeus, may the cause of this 'scape not thy ken ! 
 
 Kreon. Hence, passionate fool, and rid me of my 
 trouble. 
 
 Medea. Troubled am I, nor need I troubles new. 
 
 Kreon. Soon shalt thou be by servants' hands thrust 
 out. 
 
 Medea. Nay nay not this, O Kreon, I beseech thee ! 
 
 Kreon. A coil thou wilt make, woman, as it seems. 
 
 Medea. I will flee forth not this the boon I crave. 
 
 Kreon. Why restive then ? why rid not Corinth of 
 thee? 
 
 Medea. Suffer me yet to tarry this one day, 
 And somewhat for our exile to take thought, 
 And find my babes a refuge, since their sire 
 Cares naught to make provision for his sons. 
 Compassionate these : a father^too art thou 
 Of children : meet it is thou show these grace. 
 Not for myself I fret, if I be banished : 
 For them in their calamity I mourn. 
 
 Kreon. My spirit least of all is tyrannous.
 
 MEDEA 
 
 255 
 
 Many a plan have my relentings marred : 
 
 And, woman, now I know I err herein, 
 
 Yet shalt thou win this boon. But I forewarn thee, 
 
 If thee the approaching Sun-god's torch behold 
 
 Within this country's confines with thy sons, 
 
 Thou diest the word is said that shall not lie. 
 
 Now, if remain thou must, remain one day 
 
 Too short for thee to do the deeds I dread. [Exit. 
 
 Chorus. O hapless thou ! 
 
 Woe's me for thy misery, woe for the trouble and an- 
 guish that meet thee ! 
 Whitherward wilt thou turn thee ? what welcoming 
 
 hand mid the strangers shall greet thee ? 
 What home or what land to receive thee, deliverance 
 from evils to give thee, 
 
 Wilt thou find for thee now ? 
 
 How mid surge of despair to o'erwhelm thee in ruin 
 God's hand on thine helm 
 
 Hath steered, O Medea, thy prow ! 
 
 Medea. 'Tis ill done every way ; who shall gainsay ? 
 Yet nowise ill in this ; deem not so yet. 
 Bridegroom and bride grim conflicts yet await ; 
 Nor troubles light abide these marriage-makers. 
 Think'st thou that I had cringed to yon man ever, 
 Except to gain some gain, or work some wile ? 
 Nor word nor touch of hand had I vouchsafed him. 
 But to such height of folly hath he come, 
 That, when he might forestall mine every plot 
 By banishment, this day of grace he grants me 
 To stay, wherein three foes will I lay dead, 
 The father, and the daughter, and mine husband. 
 And, having for them many paths of death, 
 Which first to take in hand I know not, friends ; 
 Whether to set the bridal bower aflame, 
 Or through the heart to thrust the whetted knife, 
 Through yon halls stealing silent to their couch.
 
 256 EUR1PIDKS 
 
 Yet one thing bars the \vay if I be found 
 
 Crossing the threshold of the house and plotting, 
 
 Die shall I, and make mirth unto my foes. 
 
 Best the straight path, wherein my nature's cunning 
 
 Excels, by poisons to destroy them yea. 
 
 Now, grant them dead : what city will receive me, 
 
 What host vouchsafe a land of refuge, home 
 
 Secure, and from the avenger shield my life? 
 
 There is none. Tarrying then a little space, 
 
 If any tower of safety shall appear, 
 
 These deaths by guile and silence will I compass; 
 
 But if misfortune drive me desperate forth, 
 
 Myself will grip the sword yea, though I die 
 
 And slay, and dare the strong hand's reckless deed : 
 
 For, by the Queen of Night, whom I revere 
 
 Above all, and for fellow-worker chose, 
 
 Hekate, dweller by mine hearth's dark shrine, 
 
 Not one shall vex my soul, and rue it not. 
 
 Bitter and woeful bridal will I give them, 
 
 Bitter troth-plight and banishing of me. 
 
 Up, then ! spare naught of all thy sorcery-lore, 
 
 Medea, of thy plotting and contriving ; 
 
 On to the dread deed ! Now is need of daring. 
 
 Look on my wrongs : thou must not make derision 
 
 For sons of Sisyphus, for Jason's bride 
 
 Thou, sprung from royal father, from the Sun ! 
 
 Thou know'st means. Yea, our woman-nature 'tis 
 
 Say they to be most helpless for all good, 
 
 But fashioners most cunning of all ill. 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe I 
 Upward aback to their fountains the sacred rivers are 
 
 stealing ; 
 
 Justice is turned to injustice, the order of old to con- 
 fusion : 
 
 The thoughts of the hearts of men are treachery wholly, 
 and reeling
 
 MEDEA 257 
 
 From its ancient foundations, the faith of the gods is 
 
 become a delusion. 
 Changes and changes ! the voice of the people shall 
 
 crown me with honour : 
 
 My life shall be sunlit with glory ; for woman the old- 
 time story 
 
 Is ended, the slanders hoary no more shall as chains be 
 upon her. 
 
 Antistrophe i 
 
 And the strains of the singers of old generations for 
 
 shame shall falter, 
 Which sang evermore of the treason of woman, her 
 
 faithlessness ever. 
 Alas, that our lips are not touched with the fire of song 
 
 from the altar 
 
 Of Phcebus, the Harper-king, of the inspiration-giver ! 
 Else had I lifted my voice in challenge of song high- 
 ringing 
 Unto men : for the roll of the ages shall find for the 
 
 poet-sages 
 
 Proud woman-themes for their pages, heroines worthy 
 their singing. 
 
 Strophe 2 
 But thou from the ancient home didst sail over leagues 
 
 of foam, 
 
 On-sped by a frenzied heart, and the sea-gates sawest 
 dispart, 
 
 The Twin Rocks. Now, in the land 
 Of the stranger, thy doom is to waken 
 To a widowed couch, and forsaken 
 Of thy lord, and woe-overtaken, 
 To be cast forth shamed and banned. 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 
 Disannulled is the spell of the oath : no shame for the 
 broken troth 
 17
 
 258 , EURIPIDES 
 
 In Hellas the wide doth remain, but heavenward its 
 flight hath it ta'en. 
 
 No home of a father hast thou 
 For thine haven when trouble-storms lower. 
 Usurped is thy bridal bower 
 Of another, in pride of her power, 
 Ill-starred, overqueening thee now. 
 
 Enter JASON 
 
 Jason. Not now first, nay, but ofttimes have I marked 
 What desperate mischief is a froward spirit. 
 For in this land, this home, when thou might'st stay 
 Bearing unfractiously thy rulers' pleasure, 
 Banished thou art for wild and whirling words. 
 Me they vex not cease never, an thou wilt, 
 Clamouring, " Jason is of men most base ! " 
 But, for thy words against thy rulers' spoken, 
 Count it all gain mere exile punishing thee. 
 For me still strove I to appease the wrath 
 Of kings incensed : fain would I thou shouldst stay. 
 But thou rein'st not thy folly, speaking still 
 Evil of dignities ; art therefore banished. 
 Yet, for all this, not wearied of my friends, 
 With so much forethought come I for thee, lady, 
 That, banished with thy babes, thou lack not gold, 
 Nor aught beside. Full many an ill is brought 
 In exile's train. Yea, though thou hatest me, 
 Ne'er can I harbour evil thought of thee. 
 
 Medea. Caitiff of caitiffs ! blackest of reproaches 
 My tongue for thine unmanliness can frame 
 Thou com'st to me thou com'st, most hateful proved 
 To Heaven, to me, to all the race of men ! 
 This is not daring, no, nor courage this, 
 To wrong thy friends, and blench not from their eyes, 
 But, of all plagues infecting men, the worst, 
 Even shamelessness. And yet 'tis well thou cam'st, 
 For I shall ease the burden of mine heart
 
 MEDEA 
 
 259 
 
 Reviling thee, and thou be galled to hear. 
 
 And with the first things first will I begin. 
 
 I saved thee, as they know, what Greeks soe'er 
 
 Entered with thee the selfsame Argo's hull, 
 
 Thee, sent to quell the flame-outbreathing bulls 
 
 With yoke-bands, and to sow the tilth of death. 
 
 The dragon, warder of the Fleece of Gold, 
 
 That sleepless kept it with his manifold coils, 
 
 I slew, and raised deliverance-light for thee. 
 
 Myself forsook my father and mine home, 
 
 And to lolkos under Pelion came 
 
 With thee, more zealous in thy cause than wise, 
 
 And Pelias slew by his own children's hands 
 
 Of all deaths worst so cast out all thy ' fear. 
 
 And thus of me, basest of men, entreated, 
 
 For a new bride hast thou forsaken me, 
 
 Though I had borne thee children. Wert thou childless, 
 
 Not past forgiving were this marriage-craving. 
 
 But faith of oaths hath vanished. I know not 
 
 Whether thou deem'st the olden gods yet rule, 
 
 Or that new laws are now ordained for men ; 
 
 For thine heart speaks thee unto me forsworn. 
 
 Out on this right hand, which thou oft wouldst clasp 
 
 These knees ! how vainly have we been embraced 
 
 By a base man, thus frustrate of our hopes ! 
 
 Come, as a friend will I commune with thee 
 
 Yet what fair dealing should I hope from thee ? 
 
 Yet will I : questioned, baser shalt thou show. 
 
 Now, whither turn I ? to my father's house, 
 
 Which, with my country, I for thee cast off? 
 
 To Pelias' hapless daughters ? Graciously 
 
 Their father's slayer would they welcome home ! 
 
 For thus it is : a foe am I become 
 
 To mine own house. Whom I should ne'er have harmed, 
 
 For grace to thee I made mine enemies. 
 
 So then midst Hellas' daughters hast thou made me 
 
 1 Or " Yea, cast out all their fear."
 
 260 EURIPIDES 
 
 Blest in return for all : in thee have I 
 
 O wretched I ! a wondrous spouse and leal, 1 
 
 If from the land cast forth I pass to exile 
 
 Forlorn of friends, alone with children lone. 
 
 A proud reproach for our new bridegroom this 
 
 In poverty thy babes, thy saviour, wander ! 
 
 O Zeus, ah, wherefore hast thou given to men 
 
 Plain signs for gold which is but counterfeit, 
 
 But no assay-mark Nature-graven shows 
 
 On man's form, to discern the base withal ? 
 
 Chorus. Awful is wrath, and past all balm of healing, 
 When they that once loved clash in feud of hate. 
 
 Jason. Needs must I be not ill at speech, meseems, 
 But, like the careful helmsman of a ship, 
 With close-reefed canvas run before the gale, 
 Woman, of thy tempestuous-railing tongue. 
 I for thy kindness tower-high thou pilest 
 Deem Kypris saviour of my voyaging, 
 Her, and none other or of gods or men. 
 A subtle wit thou hast what need to force me 
 To tell the tale how Love, by strong compulsion 
 Of shafts unerring, made thee save my life ? 
 Yet take I not account too strict thereof ; 
 For, in that thou didst save me, thou didst well. 
 Howbeit, more hast thou received than given 
 Of this my safety, as my words shall prove : 
 First, then, in Hellas dwell'st thou, in the stead 
 Of land barbaric, knowest justice, learnest 
 To live by law without respect of force. 
 And all the Greeks have heard thy wisdom's fame. 
 Renown is thine : but if on earth's far bourn 
 Thou dwelledst yet, thou hadst not lived in story. 
 Now mine be neither gold-mine halls within, 
 Nor sweeter song be mine than Orpheus sang, 
 If my fair fortune be to fame unknown. 
 
 'Or, reading K&irurrov, "Woe's me ! a marvellous spouse beyond 
 belief."
 
 MEDEA 26l 
 
 Thus far of my great labours have I spoken 
 
 Since thou flung'st down this challenge to dispute 
 
 But, for thy railings on my royal marriage, 
 
 Herein will I show, first, that wise I was ; 
 
 Then, temperate ; third, to thee the best of friends 
 
 And to my children nay, but hear me out. 
 
 When I came hither from lolkos-land 
 
 With many a desperate fortune in my train, 
 
 What happier treasure-trove could I have found 
 
 Than to wed I, an exile with a princess ? 
 
 Not where it galls thee loathing couch of thine, 
 
 And for a new bride smitten with desire, 
 
 Nor eager I to multiply mine offspring 
 
 Suffice these born to me : no fault in them 
 
 But that we might with honour live grave import 
 
 And be not straitened for I know full well 
 
 How all friends from the poor man stand aloof 
 
 And I might nurture as beseems mine house 
 
 Our sons, and to these born of thee beget 
 
 Brethren, and, knitting in one family all, 
 
 Live happy days. Thou, what wouldst thou of children ? 
 
 But me it profits, through sons to be born 
 
 To help the living. Have I planned so ill? 
 
 Not thou wouldst say it, but the lost couch galls thee. 
 
 But ye ye women so unreasoning are 
 
 That, wedlock-rights unmarred, ye count all well ; 
 
 But to the couch if aught untoward hap, 
 
 With the best, fairest lot are ye at feud 
 
 Most bitter. Would that mortals otherwise 
 
 Could get them babes, that womankind were not, 
 
 And so no curse had lighted upon men. 
 
 Chorus. Words, Jason, words, tricked out full cun- 
 ningly : 
 
 Yet to me though I speak not to thy mind 
 Unjust thou seem'st, betraying thus thy wife. 
 
 Medea. Of many things I think not as think many. 
 For in my sight the villain subtle-tongued
 
 262 EURIPIDES 
 
 Getteth himself for gain exceeding loss, 
 
 Who, confident his tongue can gloze the wrong, 
 
 Becomes a bold knave no great wisdom this. 
 
 So be not thou, as touching me, fair-seeming 
 
 And crafty-tongued : one word shall overthrow thee : 
 
 Thou shouldest, if not base, have wed this bride 
 
 With my consent, not hid it from thy friends. 
 
 Jason. Ay, nobly hadst thou helped in this my purpose, 
 Had I a marriage named, who even now 
 Canst not refrain thy heart's exceeding wrath ! 
 
 Medea. Not this thine hindrance, but the alien wife 
 No crown of honour was as eld drew on. 
 
 Jason. Now know this well not for the woman's sake 
 I wed the royal bride whom I have won, 
 But, as I said, of my desire to save 
 Thee, and beget seed royal, to my sons 
 Brethren, and for mine house a tower of strength. 
 
 Medea. No prosperous life 'neath sorrow's cloud for me, 
 Nor weal, with thorns of conscience in mine heart ! 
 
 Jason. Know'st how to change thy prayer, and show 
 
 the wiser ? 
 
 May thy good never seem to thee thy sorrow ; 
 Nor in fair fortune deem thy lot misfortune. 
 
 Medea. Oh, yea, insult ! Thou hast a refuge, thou ; 
 But desolate I am banished from this land. 
 
 Jason. Thyself hast chosen this : none other blame. 
 
 Medea. I ? sooth, by wedding and betraying thee ! 
 
 Jason. By cursing princes with an impious curse. 
 
 Medea. Even so and thus am cursing now thine house ? 
 
 Jason. With thee no more I wrangle touching this. 
 But if, or for the children or thyself, 
 For help in exile thou wilt take my gold, 
 Speak: ready am I to give with hand ungrudging, 
 And send guest-tokens which shall find thee friends. 
 If tin's thou wilt not, foolish shalt thou be: 
 Refrain wrath, and advantaged shalt thou be. 
 
 Medea. Thy friends ! nothing will I of friends of thine.
 
 MEDEA 263 
 
 No whit will I receive, nor offer thou. 
 No profit is there in a villain's gifts. 
 
 Jason. In any wise I call the gods to witness 
 That all help would I give thee and thy sons ; 
 But thy good likes thee not: thy stubborn pride 
 Spurns friends : I the more thy grief shall therefore be. 
 
 Medea. Away ! impatience for the bride new-trapped 
 Consumes thee while thou loiterest at the doors ! 
 Wed : for perchance and God shall speed the word 
 Thine shall be bridal thou wouldst fain renounce. 
 
 {Exit JASON. 
 CHORUS. Strophe i 
 Love bringeth nor glory nor honour to men when it 
 
 cometh restraining 
 
 Not its unscanted excess ; but if Kypris, in measure raining 
 Her joy, cometh down, there is none other goddess so 
 
 winsome as she. 
 Not upon me, O queen, do thou aim from thy bow all- 
 
 golden 
 
 The arrow desire-envenomed that none may avoid 
 not on me ! 
 
 Antistrophe i 
 But let Temperance shield ' me, the fairest of gifts of the 
 
 gods ever-living : 
 Nor ever with passion of jarring contention, nor feuds 
 
 unforgiving, 
 In her terrors may Love's Queen visit me, smiting with 
 
 maddened unrest 
 For a couch mismated my soul ; but the peace of the 
 
 bride-bed be holden 
 
 In honour of her, and her keen eyes choose for us bonds 
 that be best. 
 
 Strophe 2 
 
 O fatherland, O mine home, 
 Not mine be the exile's doom ! 
 
 1 oTryo (Verrall), vice manuscript arrtpyoi, " befriend."
 
 264 KL'RIl'IDKS 
 
 Into poverty's pathways hard to be trod may my feet not 
 be guided ! 
 
 Most piteous anguish were this. 
 By death oh, by death ere then may the conflict of life 
 
 be decided, 
 
 Ended be life's little day ! To be thus from the home- 
 land divided 
 
 No pang more bitter there is. 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 
 We have seen, and it needeth naught 
 That of others herein we be taught : 
 
 For thee not a city, for thee not a friend hath compas- 
 sionated 
 
 When affliction most awful is thine. 
 But he, who regardeth not friends, accursed may he perish, 
 
 and hated, 
 
 Who opes not his heart with sincerity's key to the hapless- 
 fated 
 
 Never such shall be friend of mine ! 
 
 Enter AlGEUS. 
 
 Aigeus. Medea, hail ! for fairer greeting-word 
 None knoweth to accost his friends withal. 
 
 Medea. All hail thou also, wise Pandion's son, 
 Aigeus. Whence art thou journeying through this land ? 
 
 Aigeus. Leaving the ancient oracle of Phoebus. 
 
 Medea. Why didst thou fare to earth's prophetic navel? 
 
 Aigeus. To ask how seed of children might be mine. 
 
 Medea. 'Fore Heaven ! aye childless is thy life till 
 now ? 
 
 Aigeus. Childless I am, by chance of some god's will. 
 
 Medea. This, with a wife, or knowing not the couch ? 
 
 Aigeus. Nay, not unyoked to wedlock's bed am I. 
 
 Medea. Now what to thee spake Phoebus touching issue ? 
 
 Aigeus. Deep words of wisdom not for man to inter- 
 pret.
 
 MEDKA 265 
 
 Medea, Without sin might I know the god's reply ? 
 Aigcus. O yea good sooth, it needs the wise heart 
 
 most. 
 
 Medea. What said he ? Say, if sin be not to hear. 
 Aigeus. The wine-skin's prominent foot I should not 
 
 loose. 
 Medea. Till thou shouldst do what thing, or reach 
 
 what land ? 
 
 Aigeus. Till to the hearth ancestral back I came. 
 Medea. And thou, what wouldst thou sailing to this 
 
 shore ? 
 
 Aigeus. There is one Pittheus, King of Trcezen he 
 Medea. A man most pious, Pelops' son, they say. 
 Aigeus. To him the god's response I fain would tell. 
 Medea. Yea a wise man, and having skill herein. 
 Aigeus. Yea, and my best-beloved spear-ally. 
 Medea. Now prosper thou, and win thine heart's 
 
 desire. 
 Aigeus. Why droops thine eye? why this wan-wasted 
 
 hue ? 
 
 Medea. Aigeus, of all men basest is mine husband. 
 Aigeus. What say'st thou ? Clearly tell me thine 
 
 heart's pain. 
 Medea. He wrongs me Jason, nothing wronged of 
 
 me. 
 
 Aigeus. What hath he done? More plainly tell it out. 
 Medea. Another wife he takes, his household's mis- 
 tress. 
 
 Aigeus. Ha! hath he dared in truth this basest deed? 
 Medea. Yea : I am now dishonoured, once beloved. 
 Aigcus. Another love was this ? or hate of thee ? 
 Medea. Love? yea, of the highest traitor he to 
 
 love ! 
 
 Aigeus. Away with him, if he be base as this ! 
 Medea. His love was for affinity with princes. 
 Aigeus. Who giveth him his daughter ? End the tale. 
 
 Medea. Kreon, who ruleth this Corinthian land. 
 10
 
 2 66 EURIPIDES 
 
 Aigeus. Sooth, lady, reason was that thou shouldst 
 grieve. 
 
 Medea. Tis death to me! Yea, also am I banished. 
 
 Aigcus. Of whom ? A new ill this thou namest is. 1 
 
 Medea. Kreon from Corinth driveth me an exile. 
 
 Aigcns. Doth Jason suffer this? I praise it not. 
 
 Medea. In pretence, no : but to stand firm not he ! 
 But I beseech thee, touching this thy beard, 
 Clasping thy knees, and so become thy suppliant 
 Pity, O pity me the evil-starred, 
 And see me not cast forth to homelessness : 
 Receive to a hearth-place in thy land and homes. 
 So by Heaven's blessing fruitful be thy love 
 In children, and in death thyself be blest. 
 Thou know'st not what good fortune thou hast found : 
 For I will end thy childlessness, will cause 
 Thy seed to grow to sons; such drugs I know. 
 
 Aigcus. For many causes am I minded, lady, 
 This grace to grant thee : for the gods' sake first ; 
 Then, for the seed of children thou dost promise ; 
 For herein wholly extinct is Aigeus' name. 
 But thus it is if to my land thou come, 
 I thy defence essay, in bounds of justice. 
 IIo\vbeit of this do I forewarn thee, lady, 
 From this land will I not consent to lead thee. 
 But if thou readiest of thyself mine homes, 
 Safe shalt thou bide : to no man will I yield thee. 
 But from this land thou must thyself escape ; 
 For blameless will I be to allies too. 
 
 Medea. So be it. Yet, were oath-pledge given for this 
 To me, then had I all I would of thee. 
 
 Aigcus. Ha! dost not trust me? or at what dost 
 stumble? 
 
 Medea. I trust thee : but my foes are Pelias' house 
 And Kreon. Oath-bound, thou couldst never yield me 
 
 'Or, "Another's crime thou namest now," reading &\\ov vice &\\o 
 ill).
 
 MEDEA 267 
 
 To these, when they would drag me from the land. 
 Hadst thou but promised, to the gods unpledged, 1 
 Thou mightest turn their friend, might'st lightly yield 
 To herald-summons. Strengthless is my cause: 
 Wealth is on their side, and a princely house. 
 
 Aigeus. Foresight exceeding, lady, in thy words! 3 
 Yet, if this be thy will, I draw not back ; 
 Since for myself is this the safest course, 
 To have a plea to show unto thy foes ; 
 And surer is thy part. The Oath-gods name. 
 
 Medea. Swear by Earth's plain, and by my father's father 
 The Sun, and join the gods' whole race thereto. 
 
 Aigeus. That I will do or not do what? Say on. 
 
 Medea. That from thy land thyself wilt never cast me, 
 Nor, if a foe of mine would hale me thence, 
 Wilt, while thou liv'st, consenting yield me up. 
 
 Aigeus. By Earth, the Sun's pure majesty, and all 
 The Gods, I swear to abide by this thou hast said. 
 
 Medea. Enough. For broken troth what penalty? 
 
 Aigeus. Whatso befalleth god-despising men. 
 
 Medea. Pass on thy way rejoicing : all is well. 
 I too will come with all speed to thy burg, 
 When mine intent is wrought, my wish attained.. 
 
 [Exit AIGEUS. 
 
 Chorus. Now the Scion of Maia, the Wayfarer's King, 
 Bring thee safe to thine home, and the dream of thine 
 
 heart, 
 
 The sweet visions that wing thy feet, mayst thou bring 
 To accomplishment, Aigeus, for now this thing 
 Hath taught me how noble thou art. 
 
 Medea. Zeus, Justice child of Zeus, and Light of the Sun, 
 Over rny foes triumphant now, my friends, 
 Shall we become : our feet are on the path. 
 Now is there hope of vengeance on my foes. 
 For this man, there where lay my chiefest weakness, 
 
 1 Reading eu/cSjuoros (737) and rdx' (739). 
 
 * v.l. rpoOvplw ; " Much eagerness to help thy words imply ! " (ironical),
 
 268 I-' RIPIDES 
 
 Hath for my plots a haven in storm appeared. 
 
 To him my bark's stern-hawser make I fast, 
 
 To Pallas' burg and fortress when I go. 
 
 And all my plots to thee now will I tell ; 
 
 Nor look I that my words should pleasure thee 
 
 One of mine household will I send to Jason, 
 
 And will entreat him to my sight to come ; 
 
 And soft words, when he cometh, will I speak, 
 
 Saying, " Thy will is mine," and, " It is well." 
 
 How that his royal marriage, my betrayal, 
 
 Is our advantage, and right well devised. 
 
 I will petition that my sons may stay 
 
 Not for that I would leave on hostile soil 
 
 Children of mine for foes to trample on, 
 
 But the king's daughter so by guile to slay. 
 
 For I will send them bearing gifts in hand 
 
 Unto the bride, that they may not be banished, 
 
 A robe fine-spun, a golden diadem. 
 
 If she receive and don mine ornaments, 
 
 Die shall she wretchedly, and all who touch her, 
 
 With drugs so dread will I anoint my gifts. 
 
 Ilowbeit here I pass this story by, 
 
 And wail the deed that yet for me remains 
 
 To bring to pass; for I will slay my children, 
 
 Yea, mine: no man shall pluck them from mine hand. 
 
 Then, having brought all Jason's house to wrack, 
 
 I leave the land, fleeing my dear babes' blood, 
 
 And having dared a deed most impious. 
 
 For unendurable are mocks of foes. 
 
 Let all go : what is life to me ? Nor country 
 
 Nor home have I, nor refuge from mine ills. 
 
 Then erred I, in the day when I forsook 
 
 Mv father's halls, by yon Greek's words beguiled, 
 
 Who with God's help shall render me requital. 
 
 never living shall he see hereafter 
 The sons I hare him, nor shall he beget 
 Of his new bride a son, for douined is she,
 
 MEDEA 269 
 
 Wretch, to die wretchedly by drugs of mine. 
 Let none account me impotent, nor weak, 
 Nor meek of spirit ! Nay, in other sort, 
 Grim to my foes, and kindly to my friends, 
 For of such is the life most glorious. 
 
 Cliorus. Since thou hast made me partner of this tale 
 Wishing to help thee, championing withal 
 The laws of men, I say, do thou not this. 
 
 Medea. It can not be but so : yet reason is 
 That thou say this, who art not wronged as I. 
 
 Chorus. Woman, wilt have the heart to slay thy sons? 
 
 Medea. Yea : so mine husband's heart shall most be 
 wrung. 
 
 Chorus. But thou of wives most wretched shouldst 
 become. 
 
 Medea. So be it : wasted are all hindering words. 
 But ho ! [to the NURSE] go thou and Jason bring to me 
 Thou whom I use for every deed of trust. 
 And look thou tell none aught of mine intent, 
 If thine is loyal service, thou a woman. 
 
 {Exit MEDEA and NURSE. 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe i 
 Oh, happy the race in the ages olden 
 
 Of Erechtheus, the seed of the blest gods' line, 
 In a land unravaged, peace-enfolden, 
 
 Aye quaffing of Wisdom's glorious wine, 
 Ever through air clear-shining brightly 
 As on wings uplifted pacing lightly, 
 Where they tell how Harmonia of tresses golden 
 
 Bare the Pierid Muses, the stainless Nine. 
 
 Antistrophe I 
 And the streams of Cephisus the lovely-flowing 
 
 They tell how the Lady of Cyprus drew, 
 Anc} in zephyr-wafts of the winds sweet-blowing 
 
 Breathed far over the land their dew.
 
 270 EUR I TIDES 
 
 And she scndcth her Loves which, throned in glory 
 By Wisdom, fashion all virtue's story, 
 Over her tresses throwing, throwing, 
 Roses in odorous wreaths aye new. 
 
 Re-enter MEDEA. 
 
 Strophe 2 
 
 How then should the hallowed city, 
 The city of sacred waters, 
 
 Which shields with her guardian hand 
 All friends that would fare through her land, 
 Receive a murderess banned, 
 Who had slaughtered her babes without pity, 
 A pollution amidst of her daughters ? 
 
 In thine heart's thoughts set it before thee 
 To murder the fruit of thy womb ! 
 O think what it meaneth to slay 
 Thy sons what a deed this day 
 Thou wouldst do ! By thy knees we pray, 
 By heaven and earth we implore thee, 
 Deal not to thy babes such a doom ! 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 
 O whence, and O whence wilt thou gain thee 
 Such desperate hardihood 
 That for spirit so fiendish shall serve, 
 That shall strengthen thine heart, that shall nerve 
 Thine hand, that it shall not swerve 
 From the ruthless deed that shall stain thee 
 With horror of children's blood ? 
 
 O how, when thine eyes thou art turning 
 On thy little ones, wilt thou refrain 
 The motherhood in thee, to feel 
 No upwelling of tears ? Canst, thou steel 
 Thy breast when thy children kneel,
 
 MEDEA 271 
 
 To crimson thine hand, with unyearning 
 Heart for thy darlings slain? 
 
 Enter JASON 
 
 Jason. Summoned I come : for, though thou be my foe, 
 This grace thou shalt not miss ; but I will hear 
 What new thing, lady, thou dost wish of me. 
 
 Medea. Jason, I ask thee to forgive the words 
 Late-spoken, and' to bear with that my mood : 
 Well mayst thou, for remembrance of old loves. 
 Now have I called myself to account, and railed 
 Upon myself: " Wretch, wherefore am I mad? 
 And wherefore rage against good counsellors, 
 And am at feud with rulers of the land, 
 And with my lord, who works my veriest good, 
 Wedding a royal house, to raise up brethren 
 Unto my sons ? Shall I not cease from wrath ? 
 What aileth me, when the gods proffer boons? 
 Have I not children ? Know I not that we 
 Are exiles from our own land, lacking friends?" 
 Thus musing, was I 'ware that I had nursed 
 Folly exceeding, anger without cause. 
 Now then I praise thee ; wise thou seem'st to me 
 In gaining us this kinship, senseless I, 
 Who in these counsels should have been thine ally, 
 Have furthered all, have decked the bridal couch, 
 And joyed to minister unto the bride. 
 But we are women : needs not harsher word. 
 Yet evil shouldst thou not for evil render, 
 Nor pit against my folly folly of thine. 
 1 yield, confessing mine unwisdom then, 
 But unto better counsels now am come. 
 Children, my children, hither : leave the house. 
 
 Enter CHILDREN 
 
 Come forth, salute your father, and with me 
 Bid him farewell : be reconciled to friends
 
 272 
 
 Yc, u-ith your mother, from the hate o'erpast. 
 Truce is between us, rancour hath given place. 
 Clasp ye his right hand. Woe for ambushed ills ! 
 I am haunted by the shadow of hidden things ! 
 Ah, children, will ye thus, through many a year 
 Living, still reach him loving arms ? Ah me, 
 How v s\vift to weep am I, how full of fear! 
 Feuds with your father ended ah, so late ! 
 Have filled with tears these soft-relenting eyes. 
 
 Chorus. And from mine eyes start tears of pale dismay. 
 Ah, may no evil worse than this befall ! 
 
 Jason. Lady, I praise this mood, yet blame not that : 
 Tis nothing strange that womankind should rage 
 When the spouse trafficketh in alien marriage. 
 But now to better thoughts thine heart hath turned, 
 And thou, though late, upon the victor side 
 Hast voted : a wise woman's deed is this. 
 And for you, children, not unheedfully 
 Your sire hath ta'en much forethought, so help Heaven. 
 For ye, 1 ween, in this Corinthian land 
 Shall with your brethren stand the foremost yet. 
 Grow ye in strength : the rest shall by your sire, 
 And whatso God is gracious, be wrought out. 
 You may I see to goodly stature grown, 
 In manhood's prime, triumphant o'er my foes. 
 Thou, why bedew 'st thou with wan tears thine eyes, 
 Turning aback from them thy pallid cheek, 
 And dost not hear with gladness this my speech ? 
 
 Mt-ttt-a. Tis naught : but o'er these children broods 
 mine heart. 
 
 Jason. Fear not : all will I order well for them. 
 
 Mti/cd. This will I : 'Tis not I mistrust thy words; 
 But woman is but woman born for tears. 
 
 Jason. Why, helpless one, dost make moan over these? 
 
 Medea. I bare them. When thou prayedst life for 
 
 them, 
 Pity stole o'er me, whispering, " Shall this, be?"
 
 MEDI.A 
 
 273 
 
 But that for which thou cam'st to speech of me 
 In part is said ; to speak the rest is mine : l 
 Since the king pleaseth forth the land to send me, 
 For me too this is best I know it well 
 That I bide not, a stumbling-block to thee 
 And the land's lords, whose house's foe I seem, 
 So fare I forth to exile from this land. 
 But, that my sons by thine hand may be reared, 
 Entreat thou Kreon that they be not banished. 
 
 Jason. Prevail I may not, yet must I essay. 
 
 Medea. Nay then, thy bride bid thou to pray her sire 
 That thy sons be not banished from this land. 
 
 Jason. Yea, surely ; and, I trow, her shall I win, 
 If of her sister women she is one. 
 
 Medea. I too will bear a part in thine endeavour ; 
 For I will send her gifts unmatched for beauty 
 Of all that men see now, I know, by far, 
 A robe fine-spun, a golden diadem ; 
 Our sons to bear them. Now must an attendant 
 With all speed hither bring the ornaments. 
 Blessings shall hers be, not one, but untold, 
 Who winneth thee for lord, a peerless spouse, 
 Who owneth ornaments which once the Sun, 
 My father's father, gave unto his offspring ! 
 Take in your hands, my sons, these bridal gifts, 
 And to the happy princess-bride bear ye 
 And give: with gifts shall she be satisfied. 
 
 Jason. But, fond one, why make void thine hands of 
 
 these ? 
 
 Deem'st thou a royal house hath lack of robes, 
 Or gold, deem'st thou? Keep these and give them not. 
 For, if my wife esteems me aught, my wish 
 Will she prefer to treasures, well I wot. 
 
 1 Verrall here says, "There is no apparent reason for the emphatic 
 pronoun " (iyia). Is it not that the object of the interview was twofold, 
 first, to ask Jason's pardon that had now been spoken by him ; secondly, 
 to introduce a proposal of her own, involving independent action on her 
 part? 
 
 18
 
 2/4 
 
 EURIPIDES 
 
 Medea. Nay, speak not so : gifts sway the gods, they 
 
 say. 
 
 Gold weigheth more with men than words untold. 
 Hers fortune is; God favoureth now her cause ; 
 Young is her power. Life would I give for ransom 
 Of my sons' banishment, not gold alone. 
 Now, children, enter ye the halls of wealth. 
 Unto your sire's new wife, my lady-queen, 
 Make supplication, pray ye be not exiled, 
 Giving mine ornaments. Most importeth this, 
 That she into her hands receive my gifts. 
 Haste ye, and to your mother bring glad tidings 
 Of good success in that she longs to win. 
 
 [Exeunt JASON and CHILDREN. 
 
 CHORUS. Strophe i 
 Now for the life of the children mine hope hath been 
 
 turned to despairing. 
 No hope any more ! On the slaughterward path even 
 
 now are they faring ! 
 
 The bride shall receive it, the diadem-garland that beareth 
 enfolden 
 
 Doom for the hapless mid glittering sheen: 
 And to set the adorning of Hades about her tresses golden 
 She shall take it her hands between. 
 
 Antistrophc i 
 
 For its glamour of beauty, its splendour unearthly, shall 
 
 swiftly persuade her 
 To bedeck her with robe and with gold-wrought crown : 
 
 she shall soon have arrayed her 
 In attire as a bride in the presence of phantoms from 
 
 I lades uprisen ; 
 
 In such dread gin shall her feet be ta'en : 
 In the weird of death shall the hapless be whelmed, and 
 
 from doom's dark prison 
 
 Shall she steal forth never again.
 
 MEDEA 
 
 2/5 
 
 StropJie 2 
 
 And thou, wretch, bridegroom accursed, who art fain of a 
 princely alliance, 
 
 Blasting thou bringest unknowing, unthink- 
 ing ! 
 
 Of life on thy sons, and thy bride shall to foul death plight 
 her affiance. 
 
 How far from thy fortune of old art thou 
 sinking ! 
 
 Antistrophe 2 
 
 And amid my lamentings I mourn for thine anguish, O 
 hapless mother 
 
 Of children, who makest thee ready to slaugh- 
 ter 
 
 Thy babes, to avenge thee on him who would lawlessly 
 wed with another, 
 
 Would forsake thee to dwell with a prince's 
 daughter. 
 
 Enter CHILDREN'S GUARDIAN, with CHILDREN 
 Children s Guardian. Mistress, remission for thy sons 
 
 of exile! 
 
 Thy gift the princess-bride with joy received 
 In hand ; and there is peace unto thy sons. 
 Medea. Alas! 
 Children s Guardian. Why dost thou stand confounded 
 
 mid good hap? 
 
 Now wherefore turnest thou thy face away, 
 And dost not hear with gladness this my speech? 
 Medea. Woe's me ! 
 Children's Guardian. This cry is to the tidings not 
 
 attuned. 
 
 Medea. Woe yet again ! 
 
 Children s Guardian. Can I have brought ill hap 
 
 Unwitting erred in deeming these glad tidings? 
 
 Medea. As they are, are- thy tidings: thee I blame not,
 
 276 EURIPIDES 
 
 Children 's Guardian. Why down-drooped is thine eye? 
 
 Why flow thy tears ? 
 Medea. Needs must they, ancient ; for these things the 
 
 gods 
 And 1 withal O fool ! have ill contrived. 
 
 Children s Guardian. Fear not : thy children yet shall 
 
 bring thee home. 
 
 Medea. Others ere then shall wretched I send home. 
 Children's Guardian. Not thou alone art severed from 
 
 thy sons. 
 Submissively must mortals bear mischance. 
 
 Medea. This will I : but within the house go thou, 
 And for my children's daily needs prepare. 
 
 [Exit CHILDREN'S GUARDIAN. 
 
 children, children, yours a city is, 
 
 And yours a home, where, leaving wretched me, 
 Dwell shall ye, of your mother aye bereft. 
 
 1 shall go exiled to another land, 
 
 Ere I have joyed in you, have seen your bliss, 
 Ere I have decked for you the couch, the bride, 
 The-bridal bower, and held the torch on high. 
 O me accursed in this my ruthless mood ! 
 For naught, for naught, my babes, I nurtured you, 
 And all for naught I laboured, travail-worn, 
 Bearing sharp anguish in your hour of birth. 
 Ah for the hopes unhappy ! all mine hopes 
 Of ministering hands about mine age, 
 Of dying folded round with loving arms, 
 All men's desire ! But now 'tis past 'tis past, 
 That sweet imagining ! Forlorn of you 
 A bitter life and woeful shall I waste. 
 Your mother never more with loving eyes 
 Shall ye behold, passed to another life. 
 Woe ! woe ! why gaze your eyes on me, my darlings? 
 Why smile to me the latest smile of all? 
 Alas! what shall I do? Mine heart is failing 
 \ I behold my children's laughing eyes!
 
 MEDEA 
 
 277 
 
 Women, I can not ! farewell, purposes 
 
 O'erpast ! I take my children from the land. 
 
 What need to wring the father's heart with ills 
 
 Of these, to gain myself ills twice so many ? 
 
 Not I, not I ! Ye purposes, farewell ! 
 
 Yet yet what ails me ? Would I earn derision, 
 
 Letting my foes slip from mine hand unpunished ? 
 
 I must dare this. Out on my coward mood 
 
 That from mine heart let loose relenting words ! 
 
 Children, pass ye within. [Exeunt CHILDREN. 
 
 Now, whoso may not 
 Sinless be present at my sacrifice, 
 On his head be it : mine hand faltereth not. 
 Oh ! oh ! 
 
 heart, mine heart, do not do not this deed ! 
 
 Let them be, wretched heart, spare thou thy babes ! 
 There dwelling with me shall they gladden thee. 
 No ! by the nether fiends that dwell with Hades, 
 Never shall this betide, that I will leave 
 My children for my foes to trample on. 
 They needs must die. And, since it needs must be, 
 Even I will slay them I, who gave them life. 
 All this is utter doom she shall not 'scape ! 
 Yea, on her head the wreath is ; in my robes 
 The princess-bride is perishing I know it. 
 But for I fare on journey most unhappy, 
 And shall speed these on yet unhappier 
 
 1 would speak to my sons. 
 
 Re-enter CHILDREN 
 
 Give, O my babes, 
 
 Give to your mother the right hand to kiss. 
 O dearest hand, O. lips most dear to me, 
 O form and noble feature of my children, 
 Blessing be on you there ! for all things here 
 Your sire hath reft. O sweet, O sweet embrace! 
 O children's rose-leaf skin, O balmy breath ! 
 Away, away ! Strength faileth me to gaze
 
 2/8 EURIPIDES 
 
 On you, but I am overcome of evil. \Excnnt CHILDREN. 
 Now, now, I learn what horrors I intend : 
 But passion overmastered sober thought: 
 And this is cause of direst ills to men. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 i 
 Full oft ere this my soul hath scaled 
 
 Lone heights of thought, empyreal steeps, 
 Or plunged far down the darkling deeps, 
 Where woman's feebler heart hath failed. 
 
 Yet wherefore failed ? Should woman find 
 No inspiration thrill her breast, 
 Nor welcome ever that sweet guest 
 
 Of Song, that uttereth Wisdom's mind? 
 
 Alas! not all! Few, few are they 
 Perchance amid a thousand one 
 Thou shouldest find for whom the sun 
 
 Of poesy makes an inner day. 
 
 II 
 
 Now this I say calm bliss, that ne'er 
 Knew love's wild fever of the blood, 
 The pains, the joys, of motherhood, 
 
 Passeth all parents' joy-blent care. 
 
 The childless, they that never prove 
 If sunshine comes, or cloud, to men 
 With babes, far lie beyond their ken 
 
 The toils, the griefs, of parent-love. 
 
 But they whose halls with laughter sweet 
 Of children ring I mark them aye 
 Care-fretted, travailing alwriv 
 
 To win their loved ones nurture meet.
 
 MEDEA 279 
 
 * 
 
 III 
 One toils with love more strong than death : 
 
 Yet yet who knoweth whether he 
 
 A wise man or a fool shall be 
 To whom he shall his wealth bequeath ? 
 
 But last, but worst, remains to tell : 
 For though ye get you wealth enow, 
 And though your sons to manhood grow, 
 
 Fair sons and good if Death the fell, 
 
 To Hades vanishing, bears down 
 Your children's lives, what profit is 
 That Heaven hath laid, with all else, this 
 
 Upon mankind, this sorrow's crown ? 
 
 Medea. Friends, long have I, abiding Fortune's hap, 
 Expected what from yonder shall befall. 
 And lo ! a man I see of Jason's train 
 Hitherward coming, and my eager heart 
 Foretelleth him the herald of new ills. 
 
 Enter MESSENGER 
 Messenger. O thou who hast wrought an awful deed 
 
 and lawless, 
 
 Flee, O Medea, flee, nor once leave thou 
 The sea-wain, or the car that scours the plain. 
 
 Medea. Now what hath happed that calleth for such 
 
 flight? 
 
 Messenger. Dead is the princess even now, and dead 
 Kreon her father, by thy poison-drugs. 
 
 Medea. A glorious tale thou tellest : thou henceforth 
 Art of my benefactors and my friends. 
 
 Messenger. What say'st? Of sound mind art thou, and 
 
 not mad ? 
 
 Who, hearing of the havoc of the hearth 
 Of kings, art glad, and hast no fear for this ? 
 
 Medea. Oh, yea ; I too with words of controversy
 
 280 EUR 1 TIDES 
 
 Could answer thee yet be not hasty, friend, 
 
 But tell how died they : thou shouldst gladden me 
 
 Doubly, if these most horribly have perished. 
 
 Messenger. When, with their father, came thy children 
 
 twain, 
 
 And passed into the halls for marriage decked, 
 Glad were we thralls who sorrowed for thy woes. 
 And straightway buzzed from ear to ear the tale 
 Of truce to old feuds 'twixt thy lord and thee. 
 The hand one kisseth, one the golden head 
 Of those thy sons : myself by joy on-drawn 
 Followed thy children to the women's bowers. 
 Now she which had our worship in thy stead, 
 Ere she beheld thy chariot-yoke of sons, 
 Aye upon Jason turned her yearning gaze. 
 But then her veil before her eyes she cast, 
 And swept aback the scorn of her white neck, 
 Loathing thy sons' approach : but now thy lord, 
 To turn the maiden's wrath and spite aside, 
 Thus spake : " Nay, be not hostile to thy friends : 
 Cease from thine anger, turn thine head again, 
 Accounting friends whomso thy spouse accounts. 
 Their gifts receive, and plead thou with thy sire 
 To pardon these their exile for my sake." 
 She, when she saw the attire, could not refrain, 
 But yielded her lord all. And ere their father 
 Far from her bower with those thy sons had gone, 
 She took the rich-wrought robes and clad herself, 
 Circling her ringlets with the golden crown, 
 And by a shining mirror ranged her tresses, 
 Smiling at her own phantom image there. 
 Then, rising from her seat, she paced adown 
 The halls with mincing tread of ivory feet, 
 Exulting in the gifts, and oftentimes 
 
 eping her glance from neck to ankle-hem. 
 But then was there a fearful sight to see. 
 Suddenly changed her colour: reeling back
 
 MEDEA 28l 
 
 With trembling limbs she goes; and scarce in time 
 
 Drops on the couch to fall not on the ground. 
 
 Then a gray handmaid, deeming perad venture 
 
 That frenzy was of Pan or some god sent, 
 
 Raised the prayer-cry, before she saw the foam 
 
 White-frothing from her lips, or marked how rolled 
 
 Her eyeballs, and her face's bloodless hue. 
 
 Then a scream, unaccordant, long and loud, 
 
 She shrilled forth. Straight to her father's chambers one 
 
 Darted, and one unto her new-made spouse, 
 
 To tell the bride's mischance : and all the roof 
 
 Echoed with multitudinous-hurrying feet. 
 
 And a swift athlete's straining limbs had won 
 
 By this the goal of the six-plethra course: 
 
 Then she from trance all speechless of closed eyes 
 
 Awoke ah, wretch ! with horrible-shrilling shriek : 
 
 For like two charging hosts her agony came 
 
 The golden coil about her head that lay 
 
 'Gan spurt a marvellous stream of ravening fire ; 
 
 While the fine robes, the gift thy children brought, 
 
 Devoured the white flesh of the unhappy one. 
 
 Upstarting from her seat she flees, all flame, 
 
 Shaking her hair, her head, this way and that, 
 
 To cast from her the crown ; but firmly fixed 
 
 The gold held fast its clasp : the fire, whene'er 
 
 She shook her locks, with doubled fury blazed. 
 
 Then misery-vanquished falls she on the floor, 
 
 Past recognising, save for a father, marred. 
 
 No more was seen her eyes' imperial calm, 
 
 No more her comely features ; but the gore 
 
 Dripped from her head's crown flecked with blended fire. 
 
 The flesh-flakes from her bones, like the pine's tears, 
 
 'Neath that mysterious drug's devourings melted 
 
 Dread sight and came on all folk fear to touch 
 
 The corpse : her hideous fate had we for warning. 
 
 But, ignorant of all, her wretched sire, 
 
 Suddenly entering, falls upon her corpse,
 
 282 EURIPIDES 
 
 And straightway wailed and clasped the body round. 
 
 And kissed it, crying : " Oh, my hapless child, 
 
 What god thus horribly hath thee destroyed ? 
 
 Who maketh this old sepulchre bereft 
 
 Of thee ? Ah me, would I might die with thee ! " 
 
 But, when from wailing and from moans he ceased, 
 
 Fain would he have upraised his aged frame, 
 
 Yet clave, as ivy clings to laurel boughs, 
 
 To those fine robes : then was a ghastly wrestling : 
 
 For, while he laboured to upraise his knee, 
 
 She strained against him : if by force he haled, 
 
 Then from the bones he tare his aged flesh. 
 
 At last refrained he, and gave up the ghost, 
 
 Ill-starred, who could no more withstand his bane. 
 
 There lie the corpses, child by aged sire 
 
 Clasped such affliction tears, not words, must mourn. 
 
 And of thy part no word be said by me 
 
 Thyself from punishment wilt find escape. 
 
 But man's lot now, as oft, I count a shadow, 
 
 Nor fear to say that such as seem to be 
 
 Wise among men and cunning in speech-lore, 
 
 Even these are chargeable with deepest folly ; 
 
 For among mortals happy man is none. 
 
 In Fortune's flood-tide might a man become 
 
 More prosperous than his neighbour : happy ? no ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Chorus. Meseems the gods with many an ill this day 
 Will compass Jason yea, and rightfully. 
 But O the pity of thy calamity, 
 Daughter of Kreon, who to Hades' halls 
 I lust passed, because with thee would Jason wed! 
 
 Medea. Friends, my resolve is taken, with all speed 
 To slay my children, and to flee this land, 
 And not to linger and to yield my sons 
 To death by other hands more merciless. 
 They needs must (lit- : and, since it needs must be, 
 Kveu 1 will give them death, who gave them life.
 
 MEDEA 283 
 
 Up, gird thee for the fray, mine heart ! Why loiter 
 To do the dread ill deeds that must be done ? 
 Come, wretched hand of mine, grasp thou the sword ; 
 Grasp it move toward life's bitter starting-post, 
 And turn not craven : think not on thy babes, 
 How dear they are, how thou didst bear them : nay, 
 For this short day do thou forget thy sons, 
 Thereafter mourn them. For, although thou slay, 
 Yet dear they are, and I a wretched woman. 
 
 {Exit MEDEA. 
 CHORUS. Strophe 
 O Earth, O all-revealing splendour 
 
 Of the Sun, look down on a woman accurst, 
 Or ever she slake the murder-thirst 
 Of a mother whose hands would smite the tender 
 
 Fruit of her womb. 
 
 Look down, for she sprang of thy lineage golden, 
 And by terror of men is the gods' seed holden l 
 
 And the shadow of doom. 
 But thou, O heaven-begotten glory, 
 Restrain her, refrain her : the wretched, the gory 
 Erinnys by demons dogged, we implore thee, 
 Cast forth of the home ! 
 
 A ntistrophe 
 For naught was the childbirth-travail wasted ; 
 
 For naught didst thou bear them, the near and the 
 
 dear, 
 
 O thou who hast fled through the Pass of Fear, 
 From the dark-blue Clashing Crags who hast hasted, 
 
 Speeding thy flight ! 
 
 Alas for her ! wherefore hath grim Wrath stirred her 
 Through depths of her soul, that ruthless murder 
 
 Her wrongs must requite ? 
 For stern upon mortals the vengeance falleth 
 For kin's blood spilt; from the earth it calleth, 
 
 1 Conjecturing irtrvn for manuscript ictrvftv.
 
 284 EURIPI1 
 
 A voice from the gods, and the slayers appallcth 
 On whose homes it shall light. 
 
 [Children 's cries behind t/ie scenes.] 
 
 Child i. What shall I do? How flee my mother's hands? 
 Child 2. I know not, dearest brother. Death is here ! 
 Chorus. Ah, the cry ! dost thou hear it ? the chil- 
 dren's cry ! 
 
 Wretch ! woman of cursed destiny ! 
 Shall I enter? My heart crieth, "Rescue the children 
 
 from murder drawn nigh ! " 
 Child i. Yea, for the gods' sake, help ! Sore is our 
 
 need 
 
 Child 2. For now we are hemmed in by the sword's 
 death-toils ! 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Wretch! of what rock is thy breast? of what steel is 
 
 the heart of thee moulded, 
 
 That the babes thou hast borne, with the selfsame hands 
 that with love have enfolded 
 
 These, thou hast set thee to slay ? 
 Of one have I heard that laid hands on her loved ones of 
 
 old, one only, 
 
 Even Ino distraught of the gods, when Zeus' bride drave 
 her, lonely 
 
 And lost, from her home to stray : 
 And she fell ah, wretch ! on the brink as she stood 
 Of the sea-scaur : guilt of her children's blood 
 Dragged downward her feet to the salt sea-flood, 
 
 And she died with her children twain. 
 What ghastlier horror remains to be wrought? 
 O bride-bed of women, with anguish fraught, 
 What scathe upon mortals ere now hast thou brought, 
 What manifold bane ! 
 
 Enter JASON 
 
 Jason. Women, which stand nneur unto this roof 
 Is she within the halls, she who hath wrought
 
 MEDEA 285 
 
 Dread deeds, Medea, or in flight passed thence ? 
 
 For either must she hide her 'neath the earth, 
 
 Or lift on wings her frame to heaven's far depths, 
 
 Or taste the vengeance of a royal house. 
 
 How, trusts she, having murdered the land's lords, 
 
 Scatheless herself from these halls forth to flee ? 
 
 Yet not for her care I, but for my sons. 
 
 Whom she hath wronged shall recompense her wrong: 
 
 But I to save my childen's life am come, 
 
 Lest to my grief the kinsmen of the dead 
 
 Avenge on them their mother's impious murder. 
 
 Chorus. Wretch, thou know'st not what depth of woe 
 
 thou hast reached, 
 Jason, or thou hadst uttered not such words. 
 
 Jason. What now ? and is she fain to slay me too ? 
 Chorus. Thy sons are dead, slain by the mother's hand. 
 Jason. Ah me ! what sayst thou ? thou hast killed 
 
 me, woman ! 
 
 Chorus. Thy children are no more : so think of them. 
 Jason. How ? slew them ? Where ? withip, without, 
 
 the halls ? 
 Chorus. Open, and thou shalt see thy children's 
 
 corpses. 
 
 Jason. Shoot back the bolts with all speed, serving- 
 men ! 
 
 Unbar, that I may see this twofold woe 
 The dead, and her, with slaughter to requite her. 
 
 MEDEA appears in mid air in a chariot drawn by dragons 
 Medea. Why shakest thou these doors and wouldst 
 
 . unbar, 
 
 Seeking thy dead and me who wrought the deed? 
 Cease this essay. If thou wouldst aught of me, 
 Say what thou wilt : thine hand shall touch me never. 
 Such chariot hath my father's sire, the Sun, 
 Given me, a defence from foeman's hand. 
 
 Jason. O thing abhorred ! O woman hatefullest
 
 286 EURIPIDES 
 
 To gods, to me, to all the race of men, 
 
 Thou that couldst thrust the sword into the babes 
 
 Thou bar'st, and me hast made a childless ruin ! 
 
 Thus hast thou wrought, yet look'st thou on the sun 
 
 And earth, who hast dartd a deed most impious? 
 
 Now ruin seize thee ! clear I see, who saw not 
 
 Then, when from halls and land barbarian 
 
 To a Greek home I bare thee, utter bane, 
 
 Traitress to sire and land that nurtured thee ! 
 
 Thy guilt's curse-bolt on me the gods have launched ; 
 
 For thine own brother by his hearth thou slewest 
 
 Ere thou didst enter fair-prowed Argo's hull. 
 
 With such deeds thou begannest. Wedded then 
 
 To this man, and the mother of my sons, 
 
 For wedlock-right's sake hast thou murdered them. 
 
 There is no Grecian woman that had dared 
 
 This yet I stooped to marry thee, good sooth, 
 
 Rather than these, a hateful bride and fell, 
 
 A tigress, not a woman, harbouring 
 
 A fiercer nature than Tyrrhenian Scylla. 
 
 But for untold revilings would not sting 
 
 Thee, in my nature is such hardihood 
 
 Avaunt, thou miscreant stained with thy babes' blood ! 
 
 For me remains to wail my destiny, 
 
 Who of my new-wed bride shall have no joy, 
 
 And to the sons whom I begat and nurtured 
 
 Living I shall not speak lost, lost to me ! 
 
 Medea, I might have lengthened out long controversy 
 To these thy words, if Father Zeus knew not 
 How I have dealt with thee and thou with me. 
 'Twas not for thee to set my couch at naught 
 And live a life of bliss, bemocking me! 
 Nor for thy princess, and thy marriage-kinsman, 
 Kreon, unscathed to banish me this land ! 
 Wherefore a tigress call me, an thou wilt, 
 Or Scylla, haunter of Tyrrhenian shore ; 
 For thine heart have I wrung, as well behooved,
 
 MEDEA 287 
 
 Jason. Ha ! but thou sorrowest too, thou shar'st mine 
 
 ills! 
 
 Medea. Oh, yea: yet grief is gain, so thou laugh not. 
 Jason. O children mine, what miscreant mother had 
 
 ye ! 
 
 Medea. O sons, destroyed by your own father's lust ! 
 Jason. Sooth, 'twas no hand of mine that murdered 
 
 them. 
 Medea. Nay, but thine insolence and thy new-forged 
 
 bonds. 
 Jason. How, claim the right for wedlock's sake to slay 
 
 them ! 
 
 Medea. A light affliction count'st thou this to woman ? 
 Jason. So she be wise in thy sight naught were good. 
 Medea. These live no more : this, this shall cut thine 
 
 heart ! 
 
 Jason. They live ah me ! avengers on thine head. 
 Medea. The gods know who began this misery. 
 Jasoji. Yea, verily, thy spirit abhorred they know. 
 Medea. Abhorred art thou ; I loathe thy bitter tongue. 
 Jason. And I thine yet were mutual riddance easy. 
 Medea. How then ? what shall I do ? fain would I 
 
 this. 
 
 
 
 Jason. Yield me my dead to bury and bewail. 
 
 Medea. Never : with this hand will I bury them, 
 To Mountain Here's precinct bearing them, 
 That never foe may do despite to them, 
 Rifling their tomb. This land of Sisyphus 
 Will I constrain with solemn festival 
 And rites to atone for this unhallowed murder. 
 But I I go unto Erechtheus' land, 
 With Aigeus to abide, Pandion's son. 
 Thou, as is meet, foul wretch, shalt foully die, 
 By Argo's wreckage smitten on the skull, 
 Now thou hast seen this bridal's bitter ending. 
 
 Jason. Now the Fury-avenger of children smite thee, 
 And Justice that looketh on murder requite thee!
 
 288 Kl'KIl'IDKS 
 
 Medea. What god or what spirit will heed thy request, 
 
 Caitiff forsworn, who betrayest the guest ? 
 Jason. A vaunt, foul thing by whose deed thy children 
 
 have died ! 
 Medea. Go hence to thine halls, thence lead to the 
 
 grave thy bride ! 
 Jason. I go, a father forlorn of the two sons reft from 
 
 his home ! 
 Medea. Not yet dost thou truly mourn : abide till thine 
 
 old age come. 
 
 Jason. O children beloved above all ! 
 Medea. Of their mother beloved, not of thee. 
 
 Jason. Yet she slew them ! 
 Medea. That thou mightest fall in the net that 
 
 thou spreadest for me. 
 Jason. Woe's me ! I yearn with my lips to press 
 
 My sons' dear lips in my wretchedness. 
 Medea. Ha ! now art thou calling upon them, now 
 
 wouldst thou kiss, 
 Who rejectedst them then? 
 
 Jason. For the gods' sake grant me but this, 
 
 The sweet soft flesh of my children to feel ! 
 
 Medea. No wasted in air is all thine appeal. 
 Jason. O Zeus, dost thou hear it, how spurned I am ? 
 What outrage I suffer of yonder abhorred 
 Child-murderess, yonder tigress-dam ? 
 Yet out of mine helplessness, out of my shame, 
 I bewail my beloved, I call to record 
 High Heaven, I bid God witness the word, 
 
 That my sons thou hast slain, and withholdest me 
 Th;.c mine hands may not touch thorn, nor bury their clay ! 
 Would God I had gotten them never, this day 
 To behold them destroyed of thee ! 
 Chorus. All dooms be of Zeus in Olympus; 'tis his to 
 
 reveal them. 
 
 Manifold things unhoped-for the gods to accomplish- 
 ment bring.
 
 MEDEA 289 
 
 And the things that we looked for, the gods deign not to 
 
 fulfil them ; 
 
 And the paths undiscerned of our eyes, the gods unseal 
 them. 
 
 So fell this marvellous thing. 
 
 [Exeunt omnes.
 
 THE CLOUDS OF ARISTOPHANES 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 WILLIAM JAMES HICKIE
 
 ARISTOPHANES, the greatest of Attic comedians, and one of the great- 
 est of all times, was born about 450 H. c. Very little is known of his life. 
 He is supposed not to have been of pure Attic blood, and his father is 
 said to have been a property-holder of /F.gina. He had three sons 
 Philippus, Araros, and Nicostratos who were all comic poets. Through- 
 out his life Aristophanes championed the cause of the aristocratic ele- 
 ment of Athenian society. He bitterly opposed, and in turn held up to 
 the highest ridicule, everything that savoured in the least of demagogism 
 or popular sophistry. lie began his career with "The Banqueters," in 
 427 is. C., and continued to produce popular plays until his death, about 
 3*5 H. c. Of the fifty or more plays that he is said to have written, ele\en 
 M preserved: " The Acharnians," " The Knights," "The ('ha: 
 
 " The Wasps," " The Peace," " The Birds," " I.ysistiata, I In 
 
 phoria/usa.-," "The Frogs," "The Kc< -lesiaxusa-," and " 1'lutus." From 
 the beginning of his public career Aristophanes was the sworn enemy of 
 Euripides, and after the death of the latter "The Frogs" was written 
 (405 n. c.) to extol ^Eschylus by belittling the life and art of Kunpides.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 STREPSIADES. 
 
 PHIDIPPIDES. 
 
 SERVANT OF STREPSIADES. 
 
 DISCIPLES OF SOCRATES. 
 
 SOCRATES. 
 
 CHORUS OF CLOUDS. 
 
 JUST CAUSE. 
 
 UNJUST CAUSE. 
 
 PASTAS. 
 
 AMYNIAS. 
 
 WITNESS. 
 
 CH/EREPHON. 
 
 SCENE : The interior of a sleeping-apartment ; STREP- 
 SIADES, PHIDIPPIDES, and two servants are in their beds; 
 a small house is seen at a distance. Time: midnight.
 
 THE CLOUDS 
 
 STREPSIADES (sitting up in his bed}. Ah me! ah me ! 
 O King Jupiter, of what a terrible length the nights 
 are ! Will it never be day ? And yet long since I 
 heard the cock. My domestics are snoring ; but they 
 would not have done so heretofore ! May you perish 
 then, O war ! for many reasons ; because I may not even 
 punish my domestics. Neither does this excellent youth 
 awake through the night; but takes his ease, wrapped up 
 in five blankets. Well, if it is the fashion, let us snore 
 wrapped up. [Lies down, and then almost immediately 
 starts up again. ~\ 
 
 But I am not able, miserable man, to sleep, being tor- 
 mented by my expenses, and my stud of horses, and my 
 debts, through this son of mine. He, with his long hair, 
 is riding horses and driving curricles, and dreaming of 
 horses ; while I am driven to distraction, as I see the 
 moon bringing on the twentieths ; for the interest is run- 
 ning on. Boy ! light a lamp, and bring forth my tablets, 
 that I may take them and read to how many I am indebt- 
 ed, and calculate the interest. [Enter boy with a light and 
 tablets^} Come, let me see ; what do I owe ? Twelve 
 minas to Pasias. Why twelve minae to Pasias ? Why did 
 I borrow them? When I bought the blood-horse. Ah 
 me, unhappy ! Would that it had had its eye knocked 
 out with a stone first ! 
 
 295
 
 296 AKlSToni. \NF.S 
 
 Phidippides (talking in his sleep}. You are acting unfairly, 
 Philo ! Drive on your own course. 
 
 Strep. This is the bane that has destroyed me ; for 
 even in his sleep he dreams about horsemanship. 
 
 Phid. How many courses will the war-chariots 
 run? 
 
 Strep. Many courses do you drive me, your father. 
 But what debt came upon me after Pasias? Three minae 
 to Amynias for a little chariot and pair of wheels. 
 
 Phid. Lead the horse home, after having given him a 
 good rolling. 
 
 Strep. O foolish youth, you have rolled me out of 
 my possessions ; since I have been cast in suits, and 
 others say that they will have surety given them for the 
 interest. 
 
 Phid. (awaking). Pray, father, why are you peevish, and 
 toss about the whole night? 
 
 Strep. A bailiff out of the bedclothes is biting me. 
 
 Phid. Suffer me, good sir, to sleep a little. 
 
 Strep. Then, do you sleep on ; but know that all these 
 debts will turn on your head. [PHIDIPPIDES falls asleep 
 again.'} Alas! would that the match-maker had perished 
 miserably, who induced me to marry your mother. For 
 a country life used to be most agreeable to me, dirty, un- 
 trimmed, reclining at random, abounding in bees, and 
 sheep, and oil-cake. Then I, a rustic, married a niece of 
 Megacles, the son of Megacles, from the city, haughty, 
 luxurious, and Ccesyrafied. When I married her, I lav 
 with her redolent of new wine, of the cheese-crate, and 
 abundance of wool ; but she, on the contrary, of ointment, 
 saffron, wanton-kisses, extravagance, gluttony, and of 
 Colias and Genetyllis. I will not indeed say that she was 
 idle ; but she wove. And I used to show her this cloak 
 by way of pretext, and say, " Wife, you weave at a great 
 rate." 
 
 SERVANT re-enters 
 
 Servant. We have no oil in the lamp.
 
 THE CLOUDS 597 
 
 Strep. Ah me ! why did you light the thirsty lamp ? 
 Come hither, that you may weep ! 
 
 Scr. For what, pray, shall I weep ? 
 
 Strep. Because you put in one of the thick wicks. [SER- 
 VANT runs oittJ] After this, when this son was born to us, 
 to me, forsooth, and to my excellent wife, we squabbled 
 then about the name : for she was for adding tV-Tro? to the 
 name, Xanthippus, or Charippus, or Callippides ; but I 
 was for giving him the name of his grandfather, Phido- 
 nides. For a time therefore we disputed ; and then at 
 length we agreed, and called him Phidippides. She used 
 to take this son and fondle him, saying, " When you, being 
 grown up, shall drive your chariot to the city, like Meg- 
 acles, with a xystis." But I used to say, " Nay, rather, 
 when dressed in a leathern jerkin, you shall drive your 
 goats from Phelleus, like your father. He paid no atten- 
 tion to my words, but poured a horse-fever over my prop- 
 erty. Now, therefore, by meditating the whole night, I 
 have discovered one path for my course extraordinarily 
 excellent ; to which if I persuade this youth I shall be 
 saved. But first I wish to awake him. How then can I 
 awake him in the most agreeable manner? How? Phidip- 
 pides, my little Phidippides? 
 
 Phid. What, father? 
 
 Strep. Kiss me, and give me your right hand ! 
 
 Phid. There. What's the matter? 
 
 Strep. Tell me, do you love me ? 
 
 Phid. Yes, by this Equestrian Neptune. 
 
 Strep. Nay, do not by any means mention this Eques- 
 trian to me, for this god is the author of my misfortunes. 
 But, if you really love me from your heart, my son, 
 obey me. 
 
 Phid. In what then, pray, shall I obey you? 
 
 Strep. Reform your habits as quickly as possible ; and 
 go and learn what I advise. 
 
 Phid. Tell me now, what do you prescribe? 
 
 Strep. And will you obey me at all ?
 
 298 ARISTorilANT.S 
 
 Phid. By Bacchus, I will obey you. 
 
 Strep. Look this way then ! Do you see this little 
 door and little house ? 
 
 Phid. I see it. What then, pray, is this, father ? 
 
 Strep. This is a thinking-shop of wise spirits. There 
 dwell men who in speaking of the heavens persuade 
 people that it is an oven, and that it encompasses us, 
 and that we are the embers. These men teach, if one 
 give them money, to conquer in speaking, right or 
 wrong. 
 
 Phid. Who are they ? 
 
 Strep. I do not know the name accurately. They are 
 minute philosophers, noble and excellent. 
 
 Phid. Bah ! they are rogues ; I know them. You 
 mean the quacks, the pale-faced wretches, the bare-footed 
 fellows, of whose number are the miserable Socrates and 
 Cha^rephon. 
 
 Strep. Mold ! hold ! be silent ! Do not say anything 
 foolish. But, if you have any concern for your lather's 
 patrimony, become one of them, having given up vour 
 horsemanship. 
 
 PJiid. \ would not, by Bacchus, if even you were to 
 give me the pheasants which Leogoras rears! 
 
 Strep. Go, I entreat you, dearest of men, go and be 
 taught. 
 
 Phid. Why, what shall I learn? 
 
 Strep. They say that among them are both the two 
 causes the better cause, whichever that is, and the 
 worse: they say that the one of these two causes, the 
 worse, prevails, though it speaks on the unjust side. If 
 therefore you learn for me this unjust cause, I would not 
 pay to any one, not even an oboltis of these debts, which 
 I owe at present on your account. 
 
 Pliid. \ can not comply; for I should not dare to look 
 upon the knights, having lost all inv colour. 
 
 Strep. Then, by Ceres, you shall not. eat any of my 
 goods! neither von, nor your draught-horse, nor your
 
 THE CLOUDS 299 
 
 blood-horse ; but I will drive you out of my house to the 
 crows. 
 
 Phid. My uncle Megacles will not permit me to be 
 without a horse. But I'll go in, and pay no heed to you. 
 
 [Exit PlIIDIPPIDES. 
 
 Strep, Though fallen, still I will not lie prostrate : but 
 having prayed to the gods, I will go myself to the think- 
 ing-shop and get taught. How, then, being an old man, 
 and having a bad memory, and dull of comprehension, 
 shall I learn the subtleties of refined disquisitions? I 
 must go. Why thus do I loiter and not knock at the 
 door ? {Knocks at the door.'] Boy ! little boy ! 
 
 Disciple (front withiii). Go to the devil ! Who is it 
 that knocked at the door ? 
 
 Strep. Strepsiades, the son of Phidon, of Cicynna. 
 
 Dis. You are a stupid fellow, by Jove ! who have 
 kicked against the door so very carelessly, and have 
 caused the miscarriage of an idea which I had con- 
 ceived. 
 
 Strep. Pardon me ; for 1 dwell afar in the country. 
 But tell me the thing which has been made to miscarry. 
 
 Dis. It is not lawful to mention it, except to disciples. 
 
 Strep. Tell it, then, to me without fear; for I here am 
 come as a disciple to the thinking-shop. 
 
 Dis. I will tell you ; but you must regard these as 
 mysteries. Socrates lately asked Chserephon about a 
 flea, how many of its own feet it jumped ; for after hav- 
 ing bit the eyebrow of Chasrephon it leaped away on to 
 the head of Socrates. 
 
 Strep. How, then, did he measure this ? 
 
 Dis. Most cleverly. He melted some wax, and then 
 took the flea and dipped its feet in the wax ; and then a 
 pair of Persian slippers stuck to it when cooled. Having 
 gently loosened these, he measured back the distance. 
 
 Strep. O King Jupiter ! what subtlety of thought ! 
 
 Dis. What then would you say if you heard another 
 contrivance of Socrates?
 
 300 ARISTOPIIAXKS 
 
 Strep. Of what kind ? Tell me, I beseech you ! 
 
 Dis. Chaerephon the Sphettian asked him whether he 
 thought gnats buzzed through the mouth or the breech. 
 
 Strep. What, then, did he say about the gnat? 
 
 Dis. He said the intestine of the gnat was narrow, 
 and that the wind went forcibly through it, being slender, 
 straight to the breech ; and then that the rump, being 
 hollow where it is adjacent to the narrow part, resounded 
 through the violence of the wind. 
 
 Strep. The rump of gnats then is a trumpet! Oh, thrice 
 happy he for his sharp-sightedness ! Surely a defendant 
 might easily get acquitted who understands the intestine 
 of the gnat. 
 
 Dis. But he was lately deprived of a great idea by a 
 lizard. 
 
 Strep. In what way ? Tell me. 
 
 Dis. As he was investigating the courses of the moon 
 and her revolutions, then as he was gaping upward a 
 lizard in the darkness dropped upon him from the roof. 
 
 Strep. I am amused at a lizard's having dropped on 
 Socrates. 
 
 Dis. Yesterday evening there was no supper for us. 
 
 Strep. Well. What then did he contrive for provi- 
 sions ? 
 
 Dis. He sprinkled fine ashes on the table, and bent a 
 little spit, and then took it as a pair of compasses and 
 filched a cloak from the Palsestra. 
 
 Strep. Why then do we admire that Thales? Open, 
 open quickly the thinking-shop, and show to me Socrates 
 as quickly as possible. For I desire to be a disciple-. 
 Come, open the door. [ The door of tJie thinking-shop opens, 
 and the pupih of S< >< ]< ATI-is nre seen all with tJicir heads fixed 
 on the ground, while SOCKATKS Jiimselfis seen suspended in fhe 
 air in a basket^} O Hercules, from what country are these 
 wild be;i 
 
 Dis. Wh:it do you wonder at? To what do they seem 
 to you to be like ?
 
 THE CLOUDS 
 
 301 
 
 Strep. To the Spartans who were taken at Pylos. But 
 why in the world do these look upon the ground ? 
 
 Dis. They are in search of the things below the earth. 
 
 Strep. Then they are searching for roots. Do not, 
 then, trouble yourselves about this; for I know where 
 there are large and fine ones. Why, what are these 
 doing, who are bent down so much? 
 
 Dis. These are groping about in darkness under Tar- 
 tarus. 
 
 Strep. Why then does their rump look toward heaven? 
 
 Dis. It is getting taught astronomy alone by itself. 
 [Turning to tJie pupils^\ But go in, lest he meet with us. 
 
 Strep. Not yet, not yet ; but let them remain, that I 
 may communicate to them a little matter of my own. 
 
 Dis. It is not permitted to them to remain without in 
 the open air for a very long time. \The pupils retire. 
 
 Strep, (discovering a variety of mathematical instruments). 
 Why, what is this, in the name of heaven ? Tell me. 
 
 Dis. This is Astronomy. 
 
 Strep. But what is this ? 
 
 Dis. Geometry. 
 
 Strep. What then is the use of this? 
 
 Dis. To measure out the land. 
 
 Strep. What belongs to an allotment ? 
 
 Dis. No, but the whole earth. 
 
 Strep. You tell me a clever notion ; for the contriv- 
 ance is democratic and useful. 
 
 Dis. {pointing to a map}. See, here's a map of the 
 whole earth. Do you see ? this is Athens. 
 
 Strep. What say you? I don't believe you; for I do 
 not see the Dicasts sitting. 
 
 Dis. Be assured that this is truly the Attic territory. 
 
 Strep. Why, where are my fellow-tribesmen of Ci- 
 cynna ? 
 
 Dis. Here they are. And Eubcea here, as you see, is 
 stretched out a long way by the side of it to a great dis- 
 tance.
 
 302 
 
 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Strep. I know that ; for it was stretched by us and 
 Pericles. But where is Lacedsemon? 
 
 Dis. Where is it? Here it is. 
 
 Strep. How near it is to us ! Pay great attention to 
 this, to remove it very far from us. 
 
 Dis. By Jupiter, it is not possible. 
 
 Strep. Then you will weep for it. [Looking up and dis- 
 covering SOCRATES.] Come, who is this man who is in 
 the basket ? 
 
 Dis. Himself. 
 
 Strep. Who's " Himself "? 
 
 Dis. Socrates. 
 
 Strep. O Socrates ! Come, you sir, call upon him 
 loudly for me. 
 
 Dis. Nay, rather, call him yourself ; for I have no 
 leisure. [Exit DISCIPLE. 
 
 Strep. Socrates ! my little Socrates ! 
 
 Socrates. Why callest thou me, thou creature of a day ? 
 
 Strep. First tell me, I beseech you, what you are 
 doing. 
 
 Soc. I am walking in the air, and speculating about 
 the sun. 
 
 Strep. And so you look down upon the gods from 
 your basket, and not from the earth ? 
 
 Soc. For I should never have rightly discovered things 
 celestial if I had not suspended the intellect, and mixed 
 the thought in a subtle form with its kindred air. But if, 
 being on the ground, I speculated from below on things 
 above, I should never have discovered them. For the 
 earth forcibly attracts to itself the meditative moisture. 
 Water-cresses also suffer the very same thing. 
 
 Strep. What do you say? Does meditation attract the 
 moisture to the water-cresses ? Come then, my little Soc- 
 rates, descend to me, that you may teach me those things, 
 for the sake of which I have come. [SOCKATKS lowers 
 himself and gets out of tin- basket. \ 
 
 Soc. And for what did YOU come?
 
 THE CLOUDS 303 
 
 Strep. Wishing- to learn to speak ; for, by reason of 
 usury, and most ill-natured creditors, I am pillaged and 
 plundered, and have my goods seized for debt. 
 
 Soc. How did you get in debt without observing it ? 
 
 Strep. A horse-disease consumed me terrible at eat- 
 ing. But teach me the other one of your two causes, 
 that which pays nothing ; and I will swear by the gods, I 
 will pay down to you whatever reward you exact of me. 
 
 Soc. By what gods will you swear? for, in the first 
 place, gods are not a current coin with us. 
 
 Strep. By what do you swear? By iron money, as in 
 Byzantium ? 
 
 Soc. Do you wish to know clearly celestial matters, 
 what they rightly are ? 
 
 Strep. Yes, by Jupiter, if it be possible ! 
 
 Soc. And to hold converse with the Clouds, our divini- 
 ties ? 
 
 Strep. By all means. 
 
 Soc. (with great solemnity). Seat yourself, then, upon 
 the sacred couch. 
 
 Strep. Well, I am seated ! 
 
 Soc. Take, then, this chaplet. 
 
 Strep. For what purpose a chaplet ? Ah me ! Socra- 
 tes, see that you do not sacrifice me like Athamas ! 
 
 Soc. No ; we do all these to those who get initiated. 
 
 Strep. Then what shall I gain, pray? 
 
 Soc. You shall become in oratory a tricky knave, a 
 thorough rattle, a subtle speaker. But keep quiet. 
 
 Strep. By Jupiter ! you will not deceive me ; for if I 
 am besprinkled, I shall become fine flour. 
 
 Soc. It becomes the old man to speak words of good 
 omen, and to hearken to my prayer. O sovereign King, 
 immeasurable Air, who keepest the earth suspended, and 
 thou bright JEther, and ye august goddesses, the Clouds 
 sending thunder and lightning, arise, appear in the air, O 
 mistresses, to your deep thinker! 
 
 Strep. Not yet, not yet, till I wrap this around me, lest
 
 304 ARISroi'IIA 
 
 I be wet through. To think of my having come from 
 home without even a cap, unlucky man ! 
 
 Soc. Come then, ye highly honoured Clouds, for a dis- 
 play to this man. Whether ye are sitting upon the sacred 
 snow-covered summits of Olympus, or in the gardens of 
 Father Ocean form a sacred dance with the Nymphs, or 
 draw in golden pitchers the streams of the waters of the 
 Nile, or inhabit the Maeotic lake, or the snowy rock of 
 Mimas, hearken to our prayer, and receive the sacrifice, 
 and be propitious to the sacred rites. \TIie following song 
 is heard at a distance, accompanied by loud claps of thunder. ~\ 
 
 Chorus. Eternal Clouds ! let us arise to view with our 
 dewy, clear-bright nature, from loud-sounding Father 
 Ocean to the wood-crowned summits of the lofty moun- 
 tains, in order that we may behold clearly the far-seen 
 watch-towers, and the fruits, and the fostering, sacred 
 earth, and the rushing sounds of the divine rivers, and 
 the roaring, loud-sounding sea ; for the unwearied eye of 
 ^Ether sparkles with glittering rays. Come, let us shake 
 off the watery cloud from our immortal forms and survey 
 the earth with far-seeing eye. 
 
 Soc. O ye greatly venerable Clouds, ye have clearly 
 heard me when 1 called. {Turning to STREPSIADES.] Did 
 you hear the voice, and the thunder which bellowed at 
 the same time, feared as a god ? 
 
 Strep. I too worship you, O ye highly honoured, and 
 am inclined to reply to the thundering, so much do I trem- 
 ble at them and am alarmed. And whether it be lawful, 
 or be not lawful, I have a desire just now to ease myself. 
 
 Soc. Don't scoff, nor do what these poor-devil-poets do, 
 but use words of good omen, for a great swarm of god- 
 desses is in motion with their songs. 
 
 Cho. Ye rain-bringing virgins, let us come to the fruit- 
 ful land of Pallas, to view the much-loved country of 
 Cecrops, abounding in brave men ; where is reverence 
 for sacred rites not to be divulged ; where the house that 
 receives the initiated is thrown open in holy mystic rites;
 
 THE CLOUDS 305 
 
 and gifts to the celestial gods ; and high-roofed temples, 
 and statues ; and most sacred processions in honour of the 
 blessed gods ; and well-crowned sacrifices to the gods, 
 and feasts, at all seasons ; and with the approach of spring 
 the Bacchic festivity, and the rousings of melodious 
 choruses, and the loud-sounding music of flutes. 
 
 Strep. Tell me, O Socrates, I beseech you, by Jupiter, 
 who are these that have uttered this grand song? Are 
 they some heroines? 
 
 Soc. By no means ; but heavenly Clouds, great divinities 
 to idle men ; who supply us with thought and argument, 
 and intelligence, and humbug, and circumlocution, and 
 ability to hoax, and comprehension. 
 
 Strep. On this account therefore my soul, having heard 
 their voice, flutters, and already seeks to discourse sub- 
 tilely, and to quibble about smoke, and having pricked a 
 maxim with a little notion, to refute the opposite argu- 
 ment. So that now I eagerly desire, if by any means it 
 be possible, to see them palpably. 
 
 Soc. Look, then, hither, toward Mount Parnes; for 
 now I behold them descending gently. 
 
 Strep. Pray where ? Show me. 
 
 Soc. See ! there they come in great numbers through 
 the hollows and thickets ; there, obliquely. 
 
 Strep. What's the matter? for I can't see them. 
 
 Soc. By the entrance. 
 
 Enter CHORUS 
 
 
 
 Strep. Now at length with difficulty I just see them. 
 
 Soc. Now at length you assuredly see them, unless you 
 have your eyes running pumpkins. 
 
 Strep. Yes, by Jupiter ! O highly honoured Clouds, 
 for now they cover all things. 
 
 Soc. Did you not, however, know, nor yet consider, 
 these to be goddesses? 
 
 Strep. No, by Jupiter ! but I thought them to be mist, 
 and dew, and smoke.
 
 306 ARISTOI'IIANKS 
 
 Soc. For you do not know, by Jupiter ! that these feed 
 very many sophists, Thurian soothsayers, practisers of 
 medicine, lazy-long-haired-onyx-ring-wearers, song-twist- 
 ers for the cyclic dances, and meteorological quacks. 
 They feed idle people who do nothing, because such men 
 celebrate them in verse. 
 
 Strep. For this reason, then, they introduced into their 
 verses " the dreadful impetuosity of the moist, whirling- 
 bright clouds"; and "the curls of hundred-headed Typho"; 
 and " the hard-blowing tempests " ; and then, " aerial, 
 moist " ; " crooked-clawed birds, floating in air " ; and 
 " the showers of rain from dewy Clouds." And then, in 
 return for these, they swallow " slices of great, fine mul- 
 lets, and bird's-flesh of thrushes." 
 
 Soc. Is it not just, however, that they should have 
 their reward, on account of these? 
 
 Strep. Tell me, pray, if they are really Clouds, what 
 ails them, that they resemble mortal women? For they 
 are not such. 
 
 Soc. Pray, of what nature are they ? 
 
 Strep. I do not clearly know : at any rate they resem- 
 ble spread-out fleeces, and not women, by Jupiter! not a 
 bit ; for these have noses. 
 
 Soc. Answer, then, whatever I ask you. 
 
 Strep. Then say quickly what you wish. 
 
 Soc. Have you ever, when you looked up, seen a cloud 
 like to a centaur, or a panther, or a wolf, or a bull ? 
 
 Strep. By Jupiter, have I ! But what of that? 
 
 Soc. They become all things, whatever they please. 
 And then if they see a person with long hair, a wild one 
 of these hairy fellows, like the son of Xenophantes, in de- 
 rision of his folly, they liken themselves to centaurs. 
 
 Strep. Why, what, if they should see Simon, a plunderer 
 of the public property, what do they do? 
 
 Soc. They suddenly become wolves, showing up his 
 disposition. 
 
 Strep. For this reason, then, for this reason, when they
 
 THE CLOUDS 307 
 
 yesterday saw Cleonymus the recreant, on this account 
 they became stags, because they saw this most cowardly 
 fellow. 
 
 Soc. And now too, because they saw Clisthenes, you 
 observe, on this account they became women. 
 
 Strep. Hail therefore, O mistresses ! And now, if ever 
 ye did to any other, to me also utter a voice reaching to 
 heaven, O all-powerful queens. 
 
 Cho. Hail, O ancient veteran, hunter after learned 
 speeches! And thou, O priest of most subtle trifles! tell 
 us what you require ? For we would not hearken to any 
 other of the present meteorological sophists, except to 
 Prodicus ; to him, on account of his wisdom and intelli- 
 gence ; and to you, because you walk proudly in the 
 streets, and cast your eyes askance, and endure many 
 hardships with bare feet, and in reliance upon us lookest 
 supercilious. 
 
 Strep. O Earth, what a voice ! how holy, and dignified, 
 and wondrous! 
 
 So&. For, in fact, these alone are goddesses ; and all the 
 rest is nonsense. 
 
 Strep. But come, by the Earth, is not Jupiter, .the 
 Olympian, a god ? 
 
 Soc. What Jupiter? Do not trifle. There is no Jupiter. 
 
 Strep. What do you say ? Who rains, then? For 'first 
 of all explain this to me. 
 
 Soc. These, to be sure. I will teach you it by powerful 
 evidence. Come, where have you ever seen him raining 
 at any time without Clouds? And yet he ought to rain in 
 fine weather, and these to be absent. 
 
 Strep. By Apollo, of a truth you have rightly con- 
 firmed this by your present argument. And yet, before 
 this, I really thought that Jupiter caused the rain. But 
 tell me who it is that thunders. This makes me tremble. 
 
 Soc. These, as they roll, thunder. 
 
 Strep. In what way ? you all-daring man ! 
 
 Soc, When they are full of much water, and are
 
 308 ARISTOIMIANKS 
 
 pelled to be borne along, being necessarily precipitated 
 when full of rain, then they fall heavily upon each other 
 and burst and clap. 
 
 Strep. Who is it that compels them to be borne along? 
 is it not Jupiter? 
 
 Soc. By no means, but ^ethereal Vortex. 
 
 Strep. Vortex? It had escaped my notice that Jupiter 
 did not exist, and that Vortex now reigned in his stead. 
 But you have taught me nothing as yet concerning the 
 clap and the thunder. 
 
 Soc. Have you not heard me, that I said that the Clouds, 
 when full of moisture, dash against each other, and clap by 
 reason of their density ? 
 
 Strep. Come, how am I to believe this? 
 
 Soc. I'll teach you from your own case. Were you 
 ever, after being stuffed with broth at the Panathenaic 
 festival, then disturbed in your belly, and did a tumult 
 suddenly rumble through it? 
 
 Strep. Yes, by Apollo ! and immediately the little 
 broth plays the mischief wiHi me, and is disturbed, 
 and rumbles like thunder, and grumbles dreadfully : at 
 first gently pappax, pappax ; and then it adds pnpa- 
 pappax ; and finally, it thunders downright papapap] 
 as they do. 
 
 Soc. Consider, therefore, how you have trumpeted from 
 a little belly so small : and how is it not probable that this 
 air, being boundless, should thunder loudly ? 
 
 Strep. For this reason, therefore, the two names also, 
 Trump and Thunder, are similar to each other. . But teach 
 me this, whence comes the thunderbolt blazing with fire, 
 and burns us to ashes when it smites us, and singes those 
 who survive. For indeed Jupiter evidently hurls this at 
 the perjured. 
 
 Soc. Why, how then, you foolish person, and savouring 
 of the chirk ages and antediluvian, if his manner is to smite 
 the perjured, does he not blast Simon, and Cleonymus 
 and Theorus? And vet thev arc verv perjured. But he
 
 THE CLOUDS 
 
 309 
 
 smites his own temple, and Sunium the promontory of 
 Athens, and the tall oaks. Wherefore ? for indeed an oak 
 does not commit perjury. 
 
 Strep. I do not know ; but you seem to speak well. 
 For what, pray, is the thunderbolt? 
 
 Soc. When a dry wind, having been raised aloft, is 
 inclosed in these Clouds, it inflates them within, like a 
 bladder; and then, of necessity, having burst them, it 
 rushes out with vehemence by reason of its density, set- 
 ting fire to itself through its rushing and impetuosity. 
 
 Strep. By Jupiter, of a truth I once experienced this 
 exactly at the Diasian festival ! I was roasting a haggis 
 for my kinsfolk, and through neglect I did not cut it open ; 
 but it became inflated, and then suddenly bursting, befouled 
 my eyes, and burned my face. 
 
 CJw. O mortal, who hast desired great wisdom from 
 us ! How happy will you become among the Athenians 
 and among the Greeks, if you be possessed of a good 
 memory, and be a deep thinker, and endurance of labour 
 be implanted in your soul, and you be not wearied either 
 by standing or walking, nor be exceedingly vexed at shiv- 
 ering with cold, nor long to break your fast, and you 
 refrain from wine, and gymnastics, and the other follies, 
 and consider this the highest excellence, as is proper a 
 clever man should, to conquer by action and counsel, and 
 by battling with your tongue. 
 
 Strep. As far as regards a sturdy spirit, and care that 
 makes one's bed uneasy, and a frugal and hard-living and 
 savory-eating belly, be of good courage and don't trouble 
 yourself ; I would offer myself to hammer on, for that 
 matter. 
 
 Soc. Will you not, pray, now believe in no god, except 
 what we believe in this Chaos, and the Clouds, and the 
 Tongue these three ? 
 
 Strep. Absolutely I would not even converse with the 
 others, not even if I met them ; nor would I sacrifice to 
 them, nor make libations, nor offer frankincense.
 
 3 io ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Clio. Tell us then boldly, what \ve must do for you? 
 for you shall not fail in getting it, if you honour and 
 admire us, and seek to become clever. 
 
 . Strep. () mistresses, 1 request of you then this very 
 small favour, that I be the best of the Greeks in speaking 
 by a hundred stadia. 
 
 Cho. Well, you shall have this from us, so that hence- 
 forward from this time no one shall get more opinions 
 passed in the public assemblies than you. 
 
 Strep. Grant me not to deliver important opinions ; for 
 I do not desire these, but only to pervert the right for my 
 own advantage, and to evade my creditors. 
 
 Cho. Then you shall obtain what you desire; for you 
 do not covet great things. But commit yourself without 
 fear to our ministers. 
 
 Strep. I will do so in reliance upon you, for necessity 
 oppresses me, on account of the blood-horses, and the 
 marriage that ruined me. Now, therefore, let them 
 use me as they please. I give up this my body to them 
 to be beaten, to be hungered, to be troubled with thirst, 
 to be squalid, to shiver with cold, to flay into a leathern 
 bottle, if I shall escape clear from my debts, and appear 
 to men to be bold, glib of tongue, audacious, impudent, 
 shameless, a fabricator of falsehoods, inventive of words, a 
 practised knave in lawsuits, a law-tablet, a thorough rattle, 
 a fox, a sharper, a slippery knave, a dissembler, a slippery 
 fellow, an impostor, a gallows-bird, a blackguard, a twister, 
 a troublesome fellow, a licker-up of hashes. If they call 
 me this, when they meet me, let them do to me absolutely 
 what they please. And if they like, by Ceres! let them 
 serve up a sausage out of me to the deep thinkers. 
 
 Clio. This man has a spirit not void of courage, but 
 prompt. Know, that if you learn these matters from me, 
 you will possess among mortals a glory as high as heaven. 
 
 Strep. \Vliatshall ! experience? 
 
 Clio. You shall pass with me the most enviable of mor- 
 tal lives the whole time.
 
 THE CLOUDS 31 1 
 
 Strep. Shall I then ever see this ? 
 
 Cho. Yea, so that many be always seated at your 
 gates, wishing to communicate with you and come to a 
 conference with you, to consult with you as to actions 
 and affidavits of many talents, as is worthy of your abili- 
 ties. [To SOCRATES.] But attempt to teach the old man 
 by degrees whatever you purpose, and scrutinize his in- 
 tellect, and make trial of his mind. 
 
 Soc. Come now, tell me your own turn of mind ; in 
 order that, when I know of what sort it is, I may now, 
 after this, apply to you new engines. 
 
 Strep. What? By the gods, do you purpose to be- 
 siege me ? 
 
 Soc. No ; I wish to briefly learn from you if you are 
 possessed of a good memory. 
 
 Strep. In two ways, by Jove ! If anything be owing 
 to me, I have a very good memory ; but if I owe, un- 
 happy man, I am very forgetful. 
 
 Soc. Is the power of speaking, pray, implanted in 
 your nature ? 
 
 Strep. Speaking is not in me, but cheating is. 
 
 Soc. How, then, will you be able to learn ? 
 
 Strep. Excellently, of course. 
 
 Soc. Come, then, take care that, whenever I propound 
 any clever dogma about abstruse matters, you catch it up 
 immediately. 
 
 Strep. What then ? Am I to feed upon wisdom like a 
 dog? 
 
 Soc. This man is ignorant and brutish. I fear, old 
 man, lest you will need blows. Come, let me see ; what 
 do you do if any one beat you ? 
 
 Strep. I take the beating; and then, when I have 
 waited a little while, I call witnesses to prove it ; then, 
 again, after a short interval, I go to law. 
 
 Soc. Come, then, lay down your cloak. 
 
 Strep. Have I done any wrong ? 
 
 Soc. No ; but it is the rule to enter naked.
 
 312 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Strep. But I do not enter to search for stolen goods. 
 
 Soc. Lay it down. Why do you talk nonsense? 
 
 Strep. Now tell me this, pray. If 1 be diligent and 
 learn zealously, to which of your disciples shall I become 
 like? 
 
 Soc. You will no way differ from Chasrephon in intellect. 
 
 Strep. Ah me, unhappy ! I shall become half-dead. 
 
 Soc. Don't chatter ; but quickly follow me hither with 
 smartness. 
 
 Strep. Then give me first into my hands a honeyed 
 cake ; for I am afraid of descending within, as if into the 
 cave of Trophonius. 
 
 Soc. Proceed ; why do you keep poking about the 
 door? {Exeunt SOCRATES and STKKI-SIADES. 
 
 Cho. Well, go in peace, for the sake of this your val- 
 our. May prosperity attend the man, because, being ad- 
 vanced into the vale of years, he imbues his intellect with 
 modern subjects, and cultivates wisdom ! [Turning to the 
 
 Spectators, I will freely declare to you the truth, by 
 Bacchus, who nurtured me ! So may I conquer, and be 
 accounted skilful, as that, deeming you to be clever spec- 
 tators, and this to be the cleverest of my comedies, I 
 thought proper to let you first taste that comedy, which 
 gave me the greatest labour. And then I retired from 
 the contest defeated by vulgar fellows, though I did not 
 deserve it. These things, therefore, I object to you, a 
 learned audience, for whose sake I was expending this 
 labour. But not even thus will I ever willingly desert 
 the discerning portion of you. For since what time my 
 Mildest Man and my Rake were very highly praised here 
 by an audience, with whom it is a pleasure even to hold 
 converse, and I (for I was still a virgin, and it was not 
 lawful for me as yet to have children) exposed my off- 
 spring, and another girl took it up and owned it, and you 
 generously reared and edurafed it, from this time 1 have- 
 had sine pli-dgrs of your good will toward me. Now,
 
 THE CLOUDS 313 
 
 therefore, like that well-known Electra, has this comedy 
 come seeking, if haply it meet with an audience so clever, 
 for it will recognise, if it should see, the lock of its 
 brother. But see how modest she is by nature, who, in 
 the first place, has come, having stitched to her no leath- 
 ern phallus hanging down, red at the top, and thick, to 
 set the boys a laughing ; nor yet jeered the bald-headed, 
 nor danced the cordax ; nor does the old man who speaks 
 the verses beat the person near him with his staff, keep- 
 ing out of sight wretched ribaldry; nor has she rushed in 
 with torches, nor does she shout iou, lov ; but has come re- 
 lying on herself and her verses. And I, although so ex- 
 cellent a poet, do not give myself airs, nor do I seek to 
 deceive you by twice and thrice bringing forward the 
 same pieces ; but I am always clever at introducing new 
 fashions, not at all resembling each other, and all of them 
 clever ; who struck Cleon in the belly when at the height 
 of his power, and could not bear to attack him afterward 
 when he was down. But these scribblers, when once 
 Hyperbolus has given them a handle, keep ever tram- 
 pling on this wretched man and his mother. Eupolis, in- 
 deed, first of all craftily introduced his Maricas, having 
 basely, base fellow, spoiled by altering my play of the 
 Knights, having added to it, for the sake of the cordax, a 
 drunken old woman, whom Phrynichus long ago poetized, 
 whom the whale was for devouring. Then again Her- 
 mippus made verses on Hyperbolus ; and now all others 
 press hard upon Hyperbolus, imitating my simile of the 
 eels. Whoever, therefore, laughs at these, let him not 
 take pleasure in my attempts ; but if you are delighted 
 with me and my inventions, in times to come you will 
 seem to be wise. 
 
 I first invoke, to join our choral band, the mighty 
 Jupiter, ruling on high, the monarch of gods ; and the 
 potent master of the trident, the fierce upheaver of earth 
 and briny sea ; and our father of great renown, most au- 
 gust JEther, life-supporter of all : and the horse-guider,
 
 314 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 who fills the plain of the earth with exceeding bright 
 beams, a mighty deity among gods and mortals. 
 
 Most clever spectators, come, give us your attention ; 
 for having been injured, we blame you to your faces. For 
 though we benefit the state most of all the gods, to us 
 alone of deities you do not offer sacrifice nor yet pour 
 libations, who watch over you. For if there should be 
 any expedition without prudence, then we either thunder 
 or drizzle small rain. And then, when you were for 
 choosing as your general the Paphlagonian tanner, hate- 
 ful to the gods, we contracted our brows and were en- 
 raged ; and thunder burst through the lightning ; and the 
 Moon forsook her usual paths; and the Sun immediately 
 drew in his wick to himself, and declared he would not 
 give you light, if Cleon should be your general. Never- 
 theless you chose him. For they say that ill counsel is 
 in this city ; that the gods, however, turn all these your 
 mismanagements to a prosperous issue. And how this 
 also shall be advantageous, we will easily teach you. 
 If you should convict the cormorant Cleon of bribery and 
 embezzlement, and then make fast his neck in the stocks, 
 the affair will turn out for the state to the ancient form 
 again, if you have mismanaged in any way, and to a pros- 
 perous issue. 
 
 Hear me again, King Phoebus, Delian Apollo, who in- 
 habitest the high-peaked Cynthian rock ! and thou, blessed 
 goddess, who inhabitest the all-golden house of Ephesus, 
 in which Lydian damsels greatly reverence thee; and 
 thou, our national goddess, swayer of the asgis, Minerva, 
 guardian of the city! and thou, reveller Bacchus, who, 
 inhabiting the Parnassian rock, sparkiest with torches, 
 conspicuous among the Delphic Bacchanals ! 
 
 When we had got ready to set out hither, the Moon 
 met us, and commanded us first to greet the Athenians 
 and their allies ; and then declared that she was angry, 
 for that she had* suffered dreadful things, though she 
 benefits you all, not in words, but openly. In the first
 
 THE CLOUDS . 315 
 
 place, not less than a drachma every month for torches; 
 so that also all, when they went out of an evening, were 
 wont to say, " Boy, don't buy a torch, for the moonlight 
 is beautiful." And she says she confers other benefits on 
 you, but that you do not observe the days at all correctly, 
 but confuse/them up and down ; so that she says the gods 
 are constantly threatening her, when they are defrauded 
 of their dinner, and depart home, not having met with the 
 regular feast according to the number of the days. And 
 then, when you ought to be sacrificing, you are inflicting 
 tortures and litigating. And often, while we gods are 
 observing a fast, when we mourn for Memnon or Sarpe- 
 don, you are pouring libations and laughing. For which 
 reason Hyperbolus, having obtained by lot this year to 
 be Hieromnemon, was afterward deprived by us gods of 
 his crown : for thus he will know better that he ought to 
 spend the days of his life according to the Moon. 
 
 Enter Soc RATES 
 
 Soc. By Respiration, and Chaos, and Air, I have not 
 seen any man so boorish, nor so impracticable, nor so 
 stupid, nor so forgetful ; who, while learning some little 
 petty quibbles, forgets them before he has learned them. 
 Nevertheless I will certainly call him out here to the light. 
 Where is Strepsiades? Come forth with your couch. 
 
 Strep, (from within). The bugs do not permit me to 
 bring it forth. 
 
 Soc. Make haste and lay it down ; and give me your 
 attention. 
 
 Enter STREPSIADES 
 
 Strep. Very well. 
 
 Soc. Come now ; what do you now wish to learn first of 
 those things in none of which you have ever been instructed ? 
 Tell me. About measures, or rhythms, or verses? 
 
 Strep. I should prefer to learn about measures ; for it 
 is but lately I was cheated out of two chcenices by a meal- 
 huckster.
 
 316 A KISTO I'll. \NF.S 
 
 Soc. I do not ask you this, but which you account the 
 most beautiful measure: the trimetre or the tetrametre? 
 
 Strep. I think nothing superior to the semisextarius. 
 
 Soc. You talk nonsense, man. 
 
 Strep. Make a wager then with me, if the semisextarius 
 be not a tetrametre. 
 
 Soc. Go to the devil ! how boorish you are and dull of 
 learning. Perhaps you may be able to learn about rhythms. 
 
 Strep. But what good will rhythms do me for a living? 
 
 Soc. In the first place, to be clever at an entertainment, 
 understanding what rhythm is for the war-dance, and 
 what, again, according to the dactyle. 
 
 Strep. According to the dactyle ? By Jove, but I 
 know it! 
 
 Soc. Tell me, pray. 
 
 Strep. What else but this finger? Formerly, indeed, 
 when I was yet a boy, this here ! 
 
 Soc. You are boorish and stupid. 
 
 Strep. For I do not desire, you wretch, to learn any of 
 these things. 
 
 Soc. What then ? 
 
 Strep. That, that, the most unjust cause. 
 
 Soc. But you must learn other things before these : 
 namely, what quadrupeds are properly masculine. 
 
 Strep. I know the males, if I am not mad tcpios, rpdyof, 
 
 TaO/909, KVO)V, 0\KTpV(i)V. 
 
 Soc. Do you see what you are doing ? You are calling 
 both the female and the male aXeicrpvwv in the same way. 
 
 Strep. How, pray? come, tell me. 
 
 Soc. How ? The one with you is dXeicTpvow, and the 
 other is dXeicrpvaiv also. 
 
 Strep. Yea, by Neptune ! how now ought I to call 
 them ? 
 
 Soc. The one dXefcrpvawa, and the other d\eicT(ap. 
 
 Strep. 'A\KTpvatva? Capital, by the Air! So that, in 
 return for this lesson alone, I will fill your /capSoTro? full of 
 barley-meal on all sides.
 
 THE CLOUDS 317 
 
 Soc. See ! see ! there again 's another blunder ! You 
 make /cdpSoTros, which is feminine, to be masculine. 
 Strep. In what way do I make tcdpSoTros masculine? 
 Soc. Most assuredly ; just as it you were to say 
 
 Strep. How, pray ? Tell me. 
 
 Soc. KdpSoTTo? with you is tantamount to 
 
 Strep. Good sir, Cleonymus had no kneading-trough, 
 but kneaded his bread in a round mortar. How ought I 
 to call it henceforth ? 
 
 Soc. How? Call it Kap8o7rr), as you call 
 
 Strep. Kap&oTrr), in the feminine ? 
 
 Soc. For so you speak it rightly. 
 
 Strep. But that would make it tcapSoTrrj, 
 
 Soc. You must learn one thing more about names, 
 what are masculine, and what of them are feminine. 
 
 Strep. I know what are female. 
 
 Soc. Tell me, pray. 
 
 Strep. Lysilla, Philinna, Clitagora, Demetria. 
 
 Soc. What names are masculine ? 
 
 Strep. Thousands : Philoxenus, Melesias, Amynias. 
 
 Soc. But, you wretch ! these are not masculine. 
 
 Strep. Are they not males with you ? 
 
 Soc. By no means: for how would you call to Amy- 
 nias, if you met him ? 
 
 Strep. How would I call ? Thus : " Come hither, come 
 hither, Amynia ! " 
 
 Soc. Do you see ? you call Amynias a woman. 
 
 Strep. Is it not then with justice, who does not serve 
 in the army? But why should I learn these things, that 
 we all know ? 
 
 Soc. It is no use, by Jupiter ! Having reclined your- 
 self down here 
 
 Strep. What must I do? 
 
 Soc. Think out some of your own affairs. 
 
 Strep. Not here, pray, I beseech you ; but, if I must, 
 suffer me to excogitate these very things on the ground.
 
 318 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Soc. There is no other way. \Exit SOCRATES. 
 
 Strep. Unfortunate man that I am ! what a penalty 
 shall I this day pay to the bugs! 
 
 Clio. Now meditate and examine closely ; and roll 
 yourself about in every way, having wrapped yourself 
 up; and quickly, when you fall into a difficulty, spring to 
 another mental contrivance. But let delightful sleep be 
 absent from your eyes. 
 
 Strep. Attatai ! attatai ! 
 
 Cho. What ails you ? why are you distressed ? 
 
 Strep. Wretched man, I am perishing ! The Corin- 
 thians, coming out from the bed, are biting me, and de- 
 vouring my sides, and drinking up my life-blood, and 
 tearing away my flesh, and digging through my vitals, 
 and will annihilate me. 
 
 Cho. Do not now be very grievously distressed. 
 
 Strep. Why, how, when my money is gone, my com- 
 plexion gone, my life gone, and my slipper gone? And 
 furthermore in addition to these evils, with singing the 
 night-watches, I am almost gone myself. 
 
 Re-enter SOCRATES 
 
 Soc. Ho you! w r hat are you about? Are you not 
 meditating? 
 
 Strep. I ? Yea, by Neptune ! 
 
 Soc. And what, pray, have you thought ? 
 
 Strep. Whether any bit of me will be left by the bugs. 
 
 Soc. You will perish most wretchedly. 
 
 Strep. But, my good friend, I have already perished. 
 
 Soc. You must not give in, but must wrap yourself 
 up ; for you have to discover a device for abstracting, 
 and a means of cheating. \\Valks up and down while 
 S'l KKI'SJADKS wraps himself np in tJic blankets^ 
 
 Strep. Ah me! would, pray, some one would throw 
 over me a swindling contrivance from the sheep-skins. 
 
 Soc. Come now ; I will first see this fellow, what he is 
 about. Ho you ! are you asleep?
 
 THE CLOUDS 
 
 319 
 
 Strep. No ; by Apollo, I am not ! 
 
 Soc. Have you got anything? 
 
 Strep. No ; by Jupiter, certainly not ! 
 
 Soc. Nothing at all ? 
 
 Strep. Nothing, except what I have in my right hand. 
 
 Soc. Will you not quickly cover yourself up, and think 
 of something? 
 
 Strep. About what ? for do you tell me this, O Socrates ! 
 
 Soc. Do you, yourself, first find out and state what 
 you wish. 
 
 Strep. You have heard a thousand times what I wish. 
 About the interest ; so that I may pay no one. 
 
 Soc. Come then, wrap yourself up, and having given 
 your mind play with subtilty, revolve your affairs by 
 little and little, rightly distinguishing and examining. 
 
 Strep. Ah me, unhappy man ! 
 
 Soc. Keep quiet ; and if you be puzzled in any one of 
 your conceptions, leave it and go ; and then set your 
 mind in motion again, and lock it up. 
 
 Strep, (in great glee}. O dearest little Socrates ! 
 
 Soc. What, old man ? 
 
 Strep. I have got a device for cheating them of the 
 interest. 
 
 Soc. Exhibit it. 
 
 Strep. Now tell me this, pray ; if I were to purchase a 
 Thessalian witch, and draw down the moon by night, and 
 then shut it up, as if it were a mirror, in a round crest- 
 case, and then carefully keep it 
 
 Soc. What good, pray, would this do you ? 
 
 Strep. What? If the moon were to rise no longer any- 
 where, I should not pay the interest. 
 
 Soc. Why so, pray ? 
 
 Strep. Because the money is lent out by the month. 
 
 Soc. Capital ! But I will again propose to you an- 
 other clever question. If a suit of five talents should be 
 entered against you, tell me how you would obliterate it. 
 
 Strep. How? how? I do not know; but I must seek.
 
 320 A.R1STOPHA1 
 
 Soc. Do not then always revolve your thoughts about 
 yourself; but slack away your mind into tire air, like a 
 cock-chafer tied with a thread by the foot. 
 
 Strep. I have found a very clever method of getting 
 rid of my suit, so that you yourself would acknowl- 
 edge it. 
 
 Soc. Of what description ? 
 
 Strep. Have you ever seen this stone in the chemists' 
 shops, the beautiful and transparent one, from which they 
 kindle fire? 
 
 Soc. Do you mean the burning-glass? 
 
 Strep. I do. Come, what would you say, pray, if I 
 were to take this, when the clerk was entering the suit, 
 and were to stand at a distance, in the direction of the 
 sun, thus, and melt out the letters of my suit? 
 
 Soc. Cleverly done, by the Graces ! 
 
 Strep. Oh ! how I am delighted, that a suit of five 
 talents has been cancelled ! 
 
 Soc. Come now, quickly seize upon this. 
 
 Strep. What? 
 
 Soc. How, when engaged in a lawsuit, you could over- 
 turn the suit, when you were about to be cast, because 
 you had no witnesses. 
 
 Strep. Most readily and easily. 
 
 Soc. Tell me, pray. 
 
 Strep. Well now, I'll tell you. If, while one suit was 
 still pending, before mine was called on, I were to run 
 away and hang myself. 
 
 Soc. You talk nonsense. 
 
 Strep. By the gods would I ! for no one will bring an 
 action against me when I am dead. 
 
 Soc. You talk nonsense. Begone ; I can't teach you 
 any longer. 
 
 Strep. Why so? Yea, by the gods, O Socrates! 
 
 Soc. You straightway forget whatever you learn. For, 
 what now was the first thing you wrre taught ? Tell me. 
 
 Strep. Come, let me see: nay, what was the first?
 
 THE CLOUDS 321 
 
 What was the first? Nay, what was the thing in which 
 we knead our flour? Ah me ! what was it? 
 
 Soc. Will you not pack off to the devil, you most for- 
 getful and most stupid old man ? 
 
 Strep. Ah me, what then, pray, will become of me, 
 wretched man? For I shall be utterly undone, if I no not 
 learn to ply the tongue. Come, O ye Clouds, give me 
 some good advice. 
 
 C/io. We, old man, advise you, if you have a son grown 
 up, to send him to learn in your stead. 
 
 Strep. Well, I have a fine, handsome son, but he is not 
 willing to learn. What must I do? 
 
 Cho. But do you permit him? 
 
 Strep. Yes, for he is robust in body, and in good health, 
 and is come of the high-plumed dames of Ccesyra. 1 will 
 go for him, and if he be not willing, I will certainly drive 
 him from my house. {To SOCRATES.] Go in and wait 
 for me a short time. {Exit. 
 
 Cho. Do you perceive that you are soon about to ob- 
 tain the greatest benefits through us alone of the gods? 
 For this man is ready to do everything that you bid him. 
 But you, while the man is astounded and evidently elated, 
 having perceived it, will quickly fleece him to the best of 
 your power. {Exit SOCRATES.] For matters of this sort 
 are somehow accustomed to turn the other way. 
 
 Enter STREPSIADES and PHIDIPPIDES 
 
 Strep. By Mist, you certainly shall not stay here any 
 longer ! but go and gnaw the columns of Megacles. 
 
 Phid. My good sir, what is the matter with you, O 
 father? You are not in your senses, by Olympian 
 Jupiter ! 
 
 Strep. See, see ! " Olympian Jupiter ! " What folly ! 
 To think of your believing in Jupiter, as old as you are ! 
 
 Phid. Why, pray, did you laugh at this ? 
 
 Strep. Reflecting that you are a child, and have anti- 
 quated notions. Yet, however, approach, that you may
 
 322 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 know more ; and I will tell you a thing, by learning which 
 you will be a man. But see that you do not teach this to 
 any one. 
 
 Phid. Well, what is it? 
 
 Strep. You swore now by Jupiter. 
 
 Phid. I did. 
 
 Strep. Seest thou, then, how good a thing is learning? 
 There is no Jupiter, O Phidippides ! 
 
 Phid. Who then? 
 
 Strep. Vortex reigns, having expelled Jupiter. 
 
 Phid. Bah ! Why do you talk foolishly? 
 
 Strep. Be assured that it is so. 
 
 Phid. Who says this? 
 
 Strep. Socrates the Melian, and Chasrephon, who knows 
 the footmarks of fleas. 
 
 Phid. Have you arrived at such a pitch of frenzy, 
 that you believe madmen? 
 
 Strep. Speak words of good omen, and say nothing 
 bad of clever men and wise ; of whom, through fru- 
 gality, none ever shaved or anointed himself, or went to 
 a bath to wash himself; while you squander my property 
 in bathing, as if I were already dead. But go as quickly 
 as possible and learn instead of me. 
 
 Pliid. What good could any one learn from them? 
 
 Strep. What, really? Whatever wisdom there is 
 among men. And you will know yourself, how ignorant 
 and stupid you are. But wait for me here a short time. 
 
 | Runs off'. 
 
 Phid. Ah me ! what shall I do, my father being craxed ? 
 Shall I bring him into court and convict him of lunacy, 
 or shall I give information of his madness to the coffin- 
 makers ? 
 
 Re-enter STRKrsiADF.s with n cock under one arm and a 
 hen under the other 
 
 Strep. Come, let me see ; what do you consider this to 
 
 tell me.
 
 THE CLOUDS 323 
 
 Phid. Alectryon. 
 
 Strep. Right. And what this? 
 
 Phid. Alectryon. 
 
 Strep. Both the same? You are very ridiculous. Do 
 not do so, then, for the future; but call this u\eKTpvat,va, 
 and this one dXe/crajp. 
 
 Phid. ' AXefcrpvcuva I Did you learn these clever things 
 by going in just now to the Titans? 
 
 Strep. And many others too ; but whatever I learned 
 on each occasion I used to forget immediately, through 
 length of years. 
 
 Phid. Is it for this reason, pray, you have also lost your 
 cloak ? 
 
 Strep. I have not lost it ; but have studied it away. 
 
 Phid. What have you made of your slippers, you fool- 
 ish man ? 
 
 Strep. I have expended them, like Pericles, for needful 
 purposes. Come, move, let us go. And then if you obey 
 your father, go wrong if you like. I also know that I for- 
 merly obeyed you, a lisping child of six years old, and 
 bought you a go-cart at the Diasia, with the first obolus 
 I received from the Helisea. 
 
 Phid. You will assuredly some time at length be grieved 
 at this. 
 
 Strep. It is well done of you that you obeyed. Come 
 hither, come hither, O Socrates! come forth, for I bring 
 to you this son of mine, having persuaded him against 
 his will. 
 
 Enter SOCRATES 
 
 Soc. For he is still childish, and not used to the baskets 
 here. 
 
 Phid. You would yourself be used to them if you were 
 hanged. 
 
 Strep. A mischief take you ! do you abuse your teacher? 
 
 Soc. " Were hanged " quoth 'a ! how sillily he pro- 
 nounced it, and with lips wide apart ! How can this 
 youth ever learn an acquittal from a trial or a legal sum-
 
 324 
 
 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 mons, or persuasive refutation? And yet Hyperbolus 
 learned this at the cost of a talent. 
 
 Strep. Never mind ; teach him. He is clever by nature. 
 Indeed, from his earliest years, when he was a little fellow 
 only so big, he was wont to form houses and carve ships 
 within-doors, and make little wagons of leather, and 
 make frogs out of pomegranate-rinds, you can't think 
 how cleverly. But see that he learns those two causes ; 
 the better, whatever it may be ; and the worse, which, 
 by maintaining what is unjust, overturns the better. If 
 not both, at any rate the unjust one by all means. 
 
 Soc. He shall learn it himself from the two causes in 
 person. [Exit SOCRATES. 
 
 Strep. I will take my departure. Remember this now, 
 that he is to be able to reply to all just arguments. [ILvit 
 STREPSIADES, and enter JUST CAUSE and UNJUST CAUSK. 
 
 Just Cause. Come hither! show yourself to the specta- 
 tors, although being audacious. 
 
 Unjust Cause. Go whither you please ; for I shall far 
 rather do for you, if I speak before a crowd. 
 
 Just. You destroy me ? Who are you ? 
 
 Unj. A cause. 
 
 Just. Ay, the worse. 
 
 Unj. But I conquer you, who say that you are better 
 than I. 
 
 Just. By doing what clever trick ? 
 
 Unj. By discovering new contrivances. 
 
 Just. For these innovations flourish by the favour of 
 these silly persons. 
 
 Unj. No ; but wise persons. 
 
 Just. I will destroy you miserably. 
 
 Unj. Tell me, by doing what? 
 
 Just. By speaking what is just. 
 
 Unj. But I will overturn them by contradicting them ; 
 for I deny that justice even exists at. all. 
 
 Just. Do you deny that it exists? 
 
 Unj. For come, where is it ?
 
 THE CLOUDS 325 
 
 Just. With the gods. 
 
 Unj. How, then, if justice exists, has Jupiter not 
 perished, who bound his own father ? 
 
 Just, Bah ! this profanity now is spreading ! Give me 
 a basin. 
 
 Unj. You are a dotard and absurd. 
 Just. You are debauched and shameless. 
 Unj. You have spoken roses of me. 
 Just. And a dirty lickspittle. 
 Unj. You crown me with lilies. 
 Just. And a parricide. 
 
 Unj. You don't know that you are sprinkling me with 
 gold. 
 
 Just. Certainly not so formerly, but with lead. 
 Unj. But now this is an ornament to me. 
 Just. You are very impudent. 
 Unj. And you are antiquated. 
 
 Just. And through you, no one of our youths is willing 
 to go to school ; and you will be found out some time or 
 other by the Athenians, what sort of doctrines you teach 
 the simple-minded. 
 
 Unj. You are shamefully squalid. 
 
 Just. And you are prosperous. And yet formerly you 
 were a beggar, saying that you were the Mysian Tele- 
 phus, and gnawing the maxims of Pandeletus out of your 
 little wallet. 
 
 Unj. Oh, the wisdom 
 Just. Oh, the madness 
 Unj. Which you have mentioned. 
 
 Just. And of your city, which supports you who ruin 
 her youths. 
 
 Unj. You sha'n't teach this youth, you old dotard. 
 Just. Yes, if he is to be saved, and not merely to prac- 
 tise loquacity. 
 
 Unj. (to PHIDIPPIDES). Come hither, and leave him to 
 rave. 
 
 Just. You shall howl, if you lay your hand on him.
 
 326 ARISTOI'HANF.S 
 
 CJio. Cease from contention and railing. But show to 
 us, you, what you used to teach the men of former times, 
 and you, the new system of education ; in order that, 
 having heard you disputing, he may decide and go to the 
 school of one or the other. 
 
 Just. I am willing to do so. 
 
 Unj. I also am willing. 
 
 Cho. Come now, which of the two shall speak first? 
 
 Unj. I will give him the precedence ; and then, from 
 these things which he adduces, I will shoot him dead with 
 new words and thoughts. And at last, if he mutter, he 
 shall be destroyed, being stung in his whole face and his 
 two eyes by my maxims, as if by bees. 
 
 Clio. Now the two, relying on very dexterous argu- 
 ments and thoughts, and sententious maxims, will show 
 which of them shall appear superior in argument. For 
 now the whole crisis of wisdom is here laid before them ; 
 about which my friends have a very great contest. But 
 do you, who adorned our elders with many virtuous 
 manners, utter the voice in which you rejoice, and declare 
 your nature. 
 
 Just. I will, therefore, describe the ancient system of 
 education, how it was ordered, when I flourished in the 
 advocacy of justice, and temperance was the fashion. In 
 the first place it was incumbent that no one should hear 
 the voice of a boy uttering a syllable ; and next, that 
 those from the same quarter of the town should march 
 in good order through the streets to the school of the 
 harp-master, naked, and in a body, even if it were to 
 snow as thick as meal. Then again, their master would 
 teach them, not sitting cross-legged, to learn by rote a 
 song, either " TIa\\a8a TrepceTrokw Beivav," or " rr]\e7ropov rt 
 ftoafui," raising to a higher pitch the harmony which our 
 fathers transmitted to us. But if any of them were to 
 play the buffoon, or turn any quavers, like these difficult 
 turns the present artists make after the manner of Phry- 
 uis he used t ) l;c thrashed, being beaten with many
 
 THE CLOUDS 327 
 
 blows, as banishing- the Muses. And it behooved the 
 boys, while sitting in the school of the Gymnastic-master, 
 to cover the thigh, so that they might exhibit nothing in- 
 decent to those outside ; then, again, after rising from the 
 ground, to sweep the sand together, and to take care not 
 to leave an impression of the person for their lovers. 
 And no boy used in those days to anoint himself below 
 the navel ; so that their bodies wore the appearance of 
 blooming health. Nor used he to go to his lover, having 
 made up his voice in an effeminate tone, prostituting him- 
 self with his eyes. Nor used it to be allowed when one 
 was dining to take the head of a radish, or to snatch from 
 their seniors dill or parsley, or to eat fish, or to giggle, or 
 to keep the legs crossed. 
 
 Unj. Aye, antiquated and Dipolia-like, and full of 
 grasshoppers, and of Cecydes, and of the Buphonian 
 festival ! 
 
 Just. Yet certainly these are those principles by which 
 my system of education nurtured the men who fought at 
 Marathon. But you teach the men of the present day, 
 from their earliest years, to be wrapped up in himatia ; 
 so that I am choked, when at the Panathenaia a fellow, 
 holding his shield before his person, neglects Tritogenia, 
 when they ought to dance. Wherefore, O youth, choose, 
 with confidence, me, the better cause, and you will learn 
 to hate the Agora, and to refrain from baths, and to be 
 ashamed of what is disgraceful, and to be enraged if any 
 one jeer you, and to rise up from seats before your seniors 
 when they approach, and not to behave ill toward your 
 parents, and to do nothing else that is base, because you 
 are to form in your mind an image of Modesty : and not 
 to dart into the house of a dancing woman, lest, while 
 gaping after these things, being struck with an apple by 
 a wanton, you should be damaged in your reputation : 
 and not to contradict your father in anything ; nor by 
 calling him lapetus, to reproach him with the ills of age, 
 by which you were reared in your infancy.
 
 328 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 l'nj. If you shall believe him in this, O youth, by Bac- 
 chus, you will be like the sons of Hippocrates, and they 
 will call you a booby. 
 
 Just. Yet certainly shall you spend your time in the 
 gymnastic schools, sleek and blooming; not chattering in 
 the market-place rude jests, like the youths of the present 
 day; nor dragged into court for a petty suit, greedy, 
 pettifogging, knavish ; but you shall descend to the 
 Academy and run races beneath the sacred olives along 
 with some modest compeer, crowned with white reeds, 
 redolent of yew, and careless ease, and of leaf-shedding 
 white poplar, rejoicing in the season of spring, when the 
 plane-tree whispers to the elm. If you do these things 
 which I say, and apply your mind to these, you will ever 
 have a stout chest, a clear complexion, broad shoulders, a 
 little tongue, large hips, little lewdness. But if you prac- 
 tise what the youths of the present day do, you will have, 
 in the first place, a pallid complexion, small shoulders, a 
 narrow chest, a large tongue, little hips, great lewdness, 
 a long psephism ; and this deceiver will persuade you to 
 consider everything that is base to be honourable, and 
 what is honourable to be base ; and, in addition to this, he 
 will fill you with the lewdness of Antimachus. 
 
 Clio. O thou that practisest most renowned high-tower- 
 ing wisdom ! how sweetly does a modest grace attend 
 your words! Happy, therefore, were they who lived in 
 those days, in the times of former men ! In reply, then, 
 to these, O thou that hast a dainty-seeming Muse, it be- 
 hooveth thee to say something new; since the man has 
 gained renown. And it appears you have need of power- 
 ful arguments against him, if you are to conquer the man, 
 and not incur laughter. 
 
 \::<! v t I was choking in my heart, and was 
 longing to confound all these with contrary maxims. For 
 I have been called among the deep thinkers the "worse 
 cause," on this very account, that I first contrived how to 
 speak against both law and justice : and this art is worth
 
 THE CLOUDS 329 
 
 more than ten thousand staters, that one should choose 
 the worse cause, and nevertheless be victorious. But 
 mark how I will confute the system of education on which 
 he relies, who says, in the first place, that he will not per- 
 mit you to be washed with warm water. And yet, on 
 what principle do you blame the warm baths ? 
 
 Just. Because it is most vile, and makes a man cow- 
 ardly. 
 
 Unj. Stop ! For immediately 1 seize and hold you by 
 the waist without escape. Come, tell me, which of the 
 sons of Jupiter do you deem to have been the bravest in 
 soul, and to have undergone most labours ? 
 
 Just. I consider no man superior to Hercules. 
 
 Unj, Where, pray, did you ever see cold Heraclean 
 baths ? And yet, who was more valiant than he ? 
 
 Just. These are the very things which make the bath 
 full of youths always chattering all day long, but the 
 palaestras empty. 
 
 Unj. You next find fault with their living in the mar- 
 ket-place ; but I commend it. For if it had been bad, 
 Homer would never have been for representing Nestor 
 as an orator ; nor all the other wise men. I will return, 
 then, from thence to the tongue, which this fellow says 
 our youths ought not to exercise, while I maintain they 
 should. And, again, he says they ought to be modest : 
 two very great evils. For tell me to whom you have ever 
 seen any good accrue through modesty ; and confute me 
 by your words. 
 
 Just. To many. Peleus, at any rate, received his 
 sword on account of it. 
 
 Unj. A sword ? Marry, he got a pretty piece of luck, 
 the poor wretch ! while Hyperbolus, he of the lamps, got 
 more than many talents by his villainy, but, by Jupiter, no 
 sword ! 
 
 Just. And Peleus married Thetis, too, through his 
 modesty. 
 
 Unj. And then she went off, and left him ; for he was
 
 330 
 
 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 not lustful, not an agreeable bedfellow to spend the night 
 with. Now a woman delights in being wantonly treated. 
 But you are an old dotard. For (to PHIDIPPIDES) consider, 
 O youth, all that attaches to modesty, and of how many 
 pleasures you are about to be deprived of women, of 
 games at cottabus, of dainties, of drinking-bouts, of gig- 
 gling. And yet, what is life worth to you if you be de- 
 prived of these enjoyments? Well, I will pass from thence 
 to the necessities of our nature. You have gone astray, 
 you have fallen in love, you have been guilty of some 
 adultery, and then have been caught. You are undone, 
 for you are unable to speak. But if you associate with 
 me, indulge your inclination, dance, laugh, and think noth- 
 ing disgraceful. For if you should happen to be detected 
 as an adulterer, you will make this reply to him, " that 
 you have done him no injury ": and then refer him to Ju- 
 piter, how even he is overcome by love and women. And 
 yet, how could you, who are a mortal, have greater 
 power than a god ? 
 
 Just. But what if he should suffer the radish through 
 obeying you, and be depillated with hot ashes? What, 
 argument will he be able to state, to prove that he is not a 
 blackguard ? 
 
 [ T nj. And if he be a blackguard, what harm will he suffer? 
 
 Just. Nay, what could he ever suffer still greater than 
 this? 
 
 ("iij. What then will you say, if you be conquered by 
 me in this? 
 
 Just. I will be silent: what else can I do? 
 l : nj. Come now, tell me ; from what class do the ad- 
 vocates come? 
 
 Just. From the blackguards. 
 
 I'nj. I believe you. What then? from what class do 
 tragedians come? 
 
 Just. From the blackguards. 
 
 r///. You say well. But from what class do the pub- 
 ators come?
 
 THE CLOUDS 331 
 
 Just. From the blackguards. 
 
 Unj\ Then have you perceived that you say nothing 
 to the purpose?- And look which class among the audi- 
 ence is the more numerous. 
 
 Just. Well now, I'm looking. 
 
 Unj. What, then, do you see ? 
 
 Just. By the gods, the blackguards to be far more nu- 
 merous. This fellow, at any rate, I know ; and him yon- 
 der ; and this fellow with the long hair. 
 
 Unj. What, then, will you say ? 
 
 Just. We are conquered. Ye blackguards, by the 
 gods, receive my cloak, for I desert to you. {Exeunt the 
 Two CAUSES, and re-enter SOCRATES and STREPSIADES. 
 
 Soc. What then ? Whether do you wish to take and 
 lead away this your son, or shall I teach him to speak ? 
 
 Strep. Teach him, and chastise him : and remember 
 that you train him properly ; on the one side able for 
 petty suits ; but train his other jaw able for the more im- 
 portant causes. 
 
 Soc. Make yourself easy ; you shall receive him back a 
 clever sophist. 
 
 Strep. Nay, rather, pale and wretched. [Exeunt SOC- 
 RATES, STREPSIADES, and PHIDIPPIDES. 
 
 Clio. Go ye, then : but I think that you will repent of 
 these proceedings. We wish to speak about the judges, 
 what they will gain, if at all they justly assist this Chorus. 
 For in the first place, if you wish to plough up your fields 
 in spring, we will rain for you first; but for the others 
 afterward. And then we will protect the fruits, and the 
 vines, so that neither drought afflict them, nor excessive 
 wet weather. But if any mortal dishonour us who are 
 goddesses, let him consider what evils he will suffer at our 
 hands, obtaining neither wine nor anything else from his 
 farm. For when his olives and vines sprout, they shall be 
 cut down ; with such slings will we, smite them. And if 
 we see him making brick, we will rain ; and we will smash 
 the tiles of his roof with round hailstones. And if he him-
 
 332 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 self, or any one of his kindred or friends, at any time 
 marry, we will rain the whole night; so that he will 
 probably wish rather to have been even in Egypt than to 
 have judged badly. 
 
 Enter STREPSIADES with a meal-sack on his shoulder 
 Strep. The fifth, the fourth, the third, after this the 
 second ; and then, of all days what I most fear, and dread, 
 and abominate, immediately after this there is the Old and 
 New. For every one, to whom 1 happen to be indebted, 
 swears, and says he will ruin and utterly destroy me, hav- 
 ing made his deposits against me ; though 1 onlv ask what 
 is moderate and just " My good sir, one part don't take* 
 just now ; the other part put off, I pray ; and the other 
 part remit" ; they say that thus thev will never get back 
 their money, but abuse me, as that I am unjust, and say that 
 they will go to law with me. Now therefore let them go 
 to law, for it little concerns me, if Phidippides has learned 
 to speak well. I shall soon know bv knocking at the 
 thinking-shop. \Knocks at the door.~] Boy, I say! Boy, 
 
 boy ! 
 
 Enter SOCRATES 
 
 Soc. Good-morning, Strepsiades. 
 
 Strep. The same to you. But first accept this present ; 
 for one ought to compliment the teacher with a fee. And 
 tell me about my son, if he has learned that cause, which 
 you just now brought forward. 
 
 Soc. He has learned it. 
 
 Strep. Well done, O Fraud, all-powerful queen ! 
 
 Soc. So that you can get clear off from whatever suit 
 you please. 
 
 Strep. Even if witnesses were present when I borrowed 
 the money? 
 
 Soc. Yea, much more ! even if a thousand be present. 
 
 Strep. Then I will shout with a very loud shout : Ho ! 
 
 p, you petty-usurers, both you and your principals, 
 and your compound interests ! for you can no longer do
 
 THE CLOUDS 333 
 
 me any harm, because such a son is being reared for me 
 in this house, shining with a double-edged tongue, my 
 guardian, the preserver of my house, a mischief to my 
 enemies, ending the sadness of the great woes of his 
 father. Him do thou run and summon from within to 
 me. [SOCRATES goes into the house.] O child ! O son ! 
 come forth from the house ! hear your father ! 
 
 Re-enter SOCRATES leading in PHIDIPPIDES 
 
 Soc. Lo, here is the man ! 
 
 Strep. O my dear, my dear ! 
 
 Soc. Take your son and depart. [Exit SOCRATES. 
 
 Strep. Oh, oh, my child! Huzza! Huzza! how I am 
 delighted at the first sight of your complexion! Now, 
 indeed, you are, in the first place, negative and disputa- 
 tious to look at, and this fashion native to the place plainly 
 appears, the " What do you say ?" and the seeming to be 
 injured when, I well know, you are injuring and inflicting 
 a wrong ; and in your countenance there is the Attic look. 
 Now, therefore, see that you save me, since you have also 
 ruined me. 
 
 Pliid. What, pray, do you fear? 
 
 Strep. The Old and New. 
 
 PJiid. Why, is any day old and new ? 
 
 Strep. Yes ; on which they say that they will make 
 their deposits against me. 
 
 Phid. Then those that have made them will lose them ; 
 for it is not possible that two days can be one day. 
 
 Strep. Can not it ? 
 
 Phid. Certainly not ; unless the same woman can be 
 both old and young at the same time. 
 
 Strep. And yet it is the law. 
 
 Phid. For they do not, I think, rightly understand 
 what the law means. 
 
 Strep. And what does it mean? 
 
 Phid. The ancient Solon was by nature the commons' 
 friend.
 
 334 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Strep. This surely is nothing whatever to the Old and 
 New. 
 
 Phid. He therefore made the summons for two days, 
 for the Old and New, that the deposits might be made on 
 the first of the month. 
 
 Strep. Why, pray, did he add the old day ? 
 
 Phid. In order, my good sir, that the defendants, being 
 present a day before, might compromise the matter of 
 their own accord ; but if not, that they might be worried 
 on the morning of the new moon. 
 
 Strep. Why, then, do the magistrates not receive the 
 deposits on the new moon, but on the Old and New ? 
 
 Phid. They seem to me to do what the forestallers do: 
 in order that they may appreciate the deposits as soon 
 as possible, on this account they have the first pick by 
 one day. 
 
 Strep, (turning to the audience). Bravo ! ye wretches, why 
 do you sit senseless, the gain of us wise men, being blocks, 
 ciphers, mere sheep, jars heaped together? Wherefore I 
 must sing an encomium upon myself and this my son, on 
 account of our good fortune. " O happy Strepsiades ! 
 how wise you are yourself, and how excellent is the son 
 whom you are rearing ! " my friends and fellow-tribes- 
 men will say of me, envying me, when you prove vic- 
 torious in arguing causes. But first I wish to lead 
 you in and entertain you. [Exeunt STREPSIADES and 
 
 PHIDIPPIDES. 
 
 l\isias (entering with his summons-witness). Then, ought 
 a man to throw away any part of his own property? 
 Never! but it were better then at once to put away 
 blushes, rather than now to have trouble ; since I am now 
 dragging you to be a witness, for the sake of my own 
 money; and further, in addition to this, I shall become 
 an enemy to my fellow-tribesman. But never, while I 
 live, will I disgrace my country, but will summon Strep- 
 siades 
 
 Strep, (from within). Who's there?
 
 THE CLOUDS 335 
 
 Enter- STREPSIADES 
 
 Pas. For the Old and New. 
 
 Strep. I call you to witness, that he has named it for 
 two days. For what matter do you summon me? 
 
 Pas. For the twelve minas, which you received when 
 you were buying the dapple-gray horse. 
 
 Strep. A horse? Do you not hear? I, whom you all 
 know to hate horsemanship ! 
 
 Pas. And, by Jupiter! you swore by the gods too, that 
 you would repay it. 
 
 Strep. Ay, by Jove ! for then my Phidippides did not 
 yet know the irrefragable argument. 
 
 Pas. And do you now intend, on this account, to deny 
 the debt? 
 
 Strep. Why, what good should I get else from his in- 
 struction ? 
 
 Pas. And will you be willing to deny these upon oath 
 of the gods? 
 
 Strep. What gods? 
 
 Pas. Jupiter, Mercury, and Neptune. 
 
 Strep. Yes, by Jupiter ! and would pay down, too, a 
 three-obol piece besides to swear. 
 
 Pas. Then may you perish some day for your im- 
 pudence ! 
 
 Strep. This man would be the better for it if he were 
 cleansed by rubbing with salt. 
 
 Pas. Ah me, how you deride me ! 
 
 Strep. He will contain six choae. 
 
 Pas. By great Jupiter and the gods, you certainly shall 
 not do this to me with impunity ! 
 
 Strep. I like your gods amazingly ; and Jupiter, sworn 
 by, is ridiculous to the knowing ones. 
 
 Pas. You will assuredly suffer punishment, some time 
 or other, for this. But answer and dismiss me, whether 
 you are going to repay me my money, or not. 
 
 Strep. Keep quiet now, for I will presently answer you 
 distinctly. [Runs into the house.
 
 336 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Pas. (to his summons-iint ness). What do you think he 
 will do ? 
 
 Witness. I think he will pay you. 
 
 Re-enter STREPSIADKS ivith a kneading-trough 
 
 Strep. Where is this man who asks me for his money ? 
 Tell me what is this? 
 
 Pas. What this is ? a tcdpSoTros. 
 
 Strep. And do you then ask me for your money, being 
 such an ignorant person ? I would not pay, not even an 
 obolus, to any one who called the tcapboTrr) tcdpSoTros. 
 
 Pits. Then won't you pay me ? 
 
 Strep. Not, as far as I know. Will you not then pack 
 off as fast as possible from my door? 
 
 Pas. I will depart ; and be assured of this, that I will 
 make deposit against you, or may I live no longer ! 
 
 Strep. Then you will lose it besides, in addition to your 
 twelve minae. And yet I do not wish you to suffer this, 
 because you named the KapBoTros foolishly. [Exeunt PASIAS 
 and WlTXKSS, and enter AMVNIAS. 
 
 Amynias. Ah me ! ah me ! 
 
 Strep. Ha ! whoever is this, who is lamenting ? Surely 
 it was not one of Carcinus's deities that spoke. 
 
 Amyn. But why do you wish to know this, who I am? 
 a miserable man. 
 
 Strep. Then follow your own path. 
 
 Amyn. O harsh fortune! O Fates, breaking the 
 wheels of my horses ! O Pallas, how you have de- 
 stroyed me ! 
 
 Strep. What evil, pray, has Tlepolemus ever done you? 
 
 Amyn. Do not jeer me, my friend ; but order your son 
 to pay me the money which he received ; especially as I 
 have been unfortunate. 
 
 Strep. What money is this ? 
 
 Amyn. That which he borrowed. 
 
 Strep. Then you were really unlucky, as I think. 
 
 Amyn. By the gods, I fell while driving my horses.
 
 THE CLOUDS 337 
 
 Strep. Why, pray, do you talk nonsense, as if you had 
 fallen from an ass ? 
 
 Amyn. Do I talk nonsense if I wish to recover my 
 money ? 
 
 Strep. You can't be in your senses yourself. 
 
 Amyn. Why, pray ? 
 
 Strep. You appear to me to have had your brains shaken 
 as it were. 
 
 Amyn. And you appear to me, by Hermes, to be going 
 to be summoned, if you will not pay me the money ? 
 
 Strep. Tell me now, whether you think that Jupiter 
 always rains fresh rain on each occasion, or that the sun 
 draws from below the same water back again ? 
 
 Amyn. I know not which ; nor do I care. 
 
 Strep. How then is it just that you should recover 
 your money, if you know nothing of meteorological mat- 
 ters? 
 
 Amyn. Well, if you are in want, pay me the interest of 
 my money. 
 
 Strep. What sort of animal is this interest? 
 
 Amyn. Most assuredly the money is always becoming 
 more and more every month and every day as the time 
 slips away. 
 
 Strep. You say well. What then ? Is it possible that 
 you consider the sea to be greater now than formerly ? 
 
 Amyn. No, by Jupiter, but equal : for it is not fitting 
 that it should be greater. 
 
 Strep. And how then, you wretch, does this become no 
 way greater, though the rivers flow into it, while you seek 
 to increase your money ? Will you not take yourself off 
 from my house ? Bring me the goad. 
 
 Enter SERVANT with a goad 
 
 Amyn. I call you to witness these things. 
 Strep, (beating hint). Go ! why do you delay ? Won't 
 you march, Mr. Blood-horse ? 
 
 Amyn. Is not this an insult, pray ?
 
 338 ARISTnl'HANKS 
 
 Strep. Will you move quickly? [Tricks him behind 
 with the goad.'} I'll lay on you, goading you behind, you 
 outrigger? Do you fly ? [ A.MVMAS rnns off.} I thought 
 I should stir you, together with your wheels and your 
 two-horse chariots. {Exit STRKI-SIAI-KS. 
 
 Cho. What a thing it is to love evil courses! For this 
 old man, having loved them, wishes to withhold the 
 money that he borrowed. And he will certainly meet 
 with something to-day, which will perhaps cause this 
 sophist to suddenly receive some misfortune, in return 
 for the knaveries he has begun. For I think that he will 
 presently find what has been long boiling up, that his son 
 is skilful to speak opinions opposed to justice, so as to 
 overcome all with whomsoever he holds converse, even 
 if he advance most villainous doctrines; and perhaps, per- 
 haps his father will wish that he were even speechless. 
 
 Strep, (running out of (he house pursued by his son}. 
 Hollo ! Hollo ! O neighbours and kinsfolk and fellow- 
 tribesmen, defend me, by all means, who am being 
 beaten ! Ah me, unhappy man, for my head and jaw ! 
 Wretch ! do you beat your father ? 
 
 P/iid. Yes, father. 
 
 Strep. You see him owning that he beats me. 
 
 Phid. Certainly. 
 
 Strep. () wretch, and parricide, and house-breaker! 
 
 Phid. Say the same things of me again, and more. Do 
 you know that I take pleasure in being much abused ? 
 
 Strep. You blackguard ! 
 
 Phid. Sprinkle me with roses in abundance. 
 
 Strep. Do you beat your father? 
 
 Phid. And will prove too, by Jupiter! that I beat you 
 with justice. 
 
 Stn-p. () thou most rascally! Why, how can it be 
 just to beat a father? 
 
 Phid. I will demonstrate it, and will overcome you in 
 
 ument. 
 
 Strep. Will \<m overcome me in this?
 
 THE CLOUDS 339 
 
 Phid. Yea, by much and easily. But choose which of 
 the two Causes you wish to speak. 
 
 Strep. Of what two Causes ? 
 
 PI dd. The better, or the worse ? 
 
 Strep. Marry, I did get you taught to speak against 
 justice, by Jupiter, my friend, if you are going to per- 
 suade me of this, that it is just and honourable for a 
 father to be beaten by his sons ! 
 
 Phid. I think I shall certainly persuade you ; so that, 
 when you have heard, not even you yourself will say any- 
 thing against it. 
 
 Strep. Well, now, I am willing to hear what you have 
 to say. 
 
 Cho. It is your business, old man, to consider in what 
 way you shall conquer the man ; for, if he were not rely- 
 ing upon something, he would not be so licentious. But 
 he is emboldened by something; the boldness of the man 
 is evident. Now you ought to tell to the Chorus from 
 what the contention first arose. And this you must do 
 by all means. 
 
 Strep. Well, now, I will tell you from what we first be- 
 gan to rail at one another. After we had feasted, as you 
 know, I first bade him take a lyre, and sing a song of 
 Simonides, "The Shearing of the Ram." But he imme- 
 diately said it was old-fashioned to play on the lyre, and 
 sing while drinking, like a woman grinding parched 
 barley. 
 
 Phid. For ought you not then immediately to be 
 beaten and trampled on, bidding me sing, just as if you 
 were entertaining cicadae ? 
 
 Strep. He expressed, however, such opinions then too 
 within, as he does now ; and he asserted that Simonides 
 was a bad poet. I bore it at first, with difficulty, indeed, 
 yet nevertheless I bore it. And then I bade him at least 
 take a myrtle-wreath and recite to me some portion of 
 ^Eschylus ; and then he immediately said, "Shall I con- 
 ider Jischylus the first among the poets, full of empty
 
 340 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 sound, unpolished, bombastic, using rugged Words?" 
 And' hereupon you can't think how my heart panted. 
 But, nevertheless, I restrained my passion, and said, " At 
 least recite some passage of the more modern poets, of 
 whatever kind these clever things be." And he imme- 
 diately sang a passage of Euripides, how a brother, O 
 averter of ill ! debauched his uterine sister. And I bore 
 it no longer, but immediately assailed him with many 
 abusive reproaches. And then, after that, as was natural, 
 we hurled word upon word. Then he springs upon me ; 
 and then he was wounding me, and beating me, and throt- 
 tling me, and killing me. 
 
 Phid. Were you not therefore justly beaten, who do 
 not praise Euripides, the wisest of poets? 
 
 Strep. He the wisest ! Oh, what shall I call you ? 
 But I shall get beaten again. 
 
 Phid. Yes, by Jupiter, with justice ! 
 
 Strep. Why, how with justice? Who, O shameless 
 fellow, reared you, understanding all your wishes, when 
 you lisped what you meant? If you said bryn, I, under- 
 standing it, used to give you to drink. And when you 
 asked for mamman, I used to come to you with bread. 
 And you used no sooner to say caccan, than I used to 
 take and carry you out of doors, and hold you before me. 
 But you now, throttling me who was bawling and crying 
 out because I wanted to ease myself, had not the heart to 
 carry me forth out of doors, you wretch ; but I did it 
 there, while I was being throttled. 
 
 Cho. I fancy the hearts of the youths are panting to 
 hear what he will say. For if, after having done such 
 things, he shall persuade him by speaking, I would not 
 take the hide of the old folks, even at the price of a chick- 
 pea. It is thy business, thpu author and upheaver of new 
 words to seek some means of persuasion, so that you shall 
 seem to speak justly. 
 
 Phid. I low pleasant it is to be acquainted with new 
 and clever things, and to In- able to despise the established
 
 THE CLOUDS 34! 
 
 laws ! For I, when I applied my mind to horsemanship 
 alone, used not to be able to utter three words before I 
 made a mistake ; but now, since he himself has made me 
 cease from these pursuits, and I am acquainted with sub- 
 tle thoughts, and arguments, and speculations, I think I 
 shall demonstrate that it is just to chastise one's father. 
 
 Strep. Ride, then, by Jupiter ! since it is better for 
 me to keep a team of four horses, than to be killed with 
 beating. 
 
 Phid. I will pass over to that part of my discourse 
 where you interrupted me ; and first I will ask you this : 
 Did you beat me when I was a boy ? 
 
 Strep. I did, through good-will and concern for you. 
 
 Phid. Pray tell me, is it not just that I also should be 
 well inclined toward you in the same way, and beat you, 
 since this is to be well inclined to give a beating? For 
 why ought your body to be exempt from blows, and mine 
 not? And yet I too was born free. The boys weep, and 
 do you not think it right that a father should weep ? You 
 will say that it is ordained by law that this should be the 
 lot of boys. But I would reply, that old men are boys 
 twice over, and that it is the more reasonable that -the 
 old should weep than the young, inasmuch as it is less 
 just that they should err. 
 
 Strep. It is nowhere ordained by law that a father 
 should suffer this. 
 
 Phid. Was it not then a man like you and me, who 
 first proposed this law, and by speaking persuaded the 
 ancients? Why then is it less lawful for me also in 
 turn to propose henceforth a new law for the sons, that 
 they should beat their fathers in turn ? But as many 
 blows as we received before the law was made, we re- 
 mit ; and we concede to them our having been well 
 thrashed without return. Observe the cocks and these 
 other animals, how they punish their fathers ; and yet, 
 in what do they differ from us, except that they do not 
 write decrees ?
 
 342 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Strep. Why then, since you imitate the cocks in all 
 things, do you not both eat dung and sleep on a perch ? 
 
 Pliid. It is not the same thing, my friend ; nor would 
 it appear so to Socrates. 
 
 Strep. Therefore do not beat me ; otherwise you will 
 one day blame yourself. 
 
 Phi'd. Why, how? 
 
 Strep. Since I am justly entitled to chastise you ; and 
 you to chastise your son, if you should have one. 
 
 Pkid. But if I should not have one, I shall have wept 
 for nothing, and you will die laughing at me. 
 
 Strep. To me, indeed, O comrades, he seems to speak 
 justly ; and I think we ought to concede to them what is 
 fitting. For it is proper that we should weep, if we do 
 not act justly. 
 
 Pliid. Consider still another maxim. 
 
 Strep. No ; for I shall perish if I do. 
 
 Pkid. And yet perhaps you will not be vexed at suffer- 
 ing what you now suffer. 
 
 Strep. I low, pray? for inform me what good you will 
 do me by this. 
 
 Pkid. I will beat my mother, just as I have you. 
 
 Strep. What do you say ? what do you say ? This 
 other, again, is a greater wickedness. 
 
 Pliid. But what if, having the worst. Cause, I shall 
 conquer you in arguing, proving that it is right to beat 
 one's mother ? 
 
 Strep. Most assuredly, if you do this, nothing will 
 hinder you from casting yourself and your Worse Cause 
 into the pit along with Socrates. These evils have I suf- 
 fered through you, () Clouds ! haying intrusted all my 
 affairs to you. 
 
 C/i<>. Nay, rather, you are yourself the cause of these 
 things, having turned yourself to wicked courses. 
 
 Strep. Why. prav, did you not tell me this, then, but 
 excited with hopes a rustic and aged man? 
 
 Cko. We always do this to him whom we perceive to
 
 THE CLOUDS 343 
 
 be a lover of wicked courses, until we precipitate him into 
 misfortune, so that he may learn to fear the gods. 
 
 Strep. Ah me! it is severe, O Clouds! but it is just; 
 for I ought not to have withheld the money which I bor- 
 rowed. Now, therefore, come with me, my dearest son, 
 that you may destroy the blackguard Chserephon and 
 Socrates, who deceived you and me. 
 
 Phid. I will not injure my teachers. 
 
 Strep. Yes, yes, reverence Paternal Jove. 
 
 Phid. " Paternal Jove," quoth'a ! How antiquated you 
 are ! Why, is there any Jove? 
 
 Strep. There is. 
 
 Phid. There is not, no ; for Vortex reigns, having ex- 
 pelled Jupiter. 
 
 Strep. He has not expelled him ; but I fancied this, on 
 account of this Vortex here. Ah me, unhappy man ! 
 when I even took you who are of earthenware for 
 a god. 
 
 Phid. Here rave and babble to yourself. {Exit Pm- 
 DIPPIDES. 
 
 Strep. Ah me, what madness! How mad, then, I was, 
 when I- ejected the gods on account of Socrates ! But, O 
 dear Hermes, by no means be wroth with me, nor destroy 
 me ; but pardon me, since I have gone crazy through 
 prating. And become my adviser, whether I shall bring 
 an action and prosecute them, or whatever you think. 
 You advise me rightly, not permitting me to get up a 
 lawsuit, but as soon as possible to set fire to the house of 
 the prating fellows. Come hither, come hither, Xanthias ! 
 Come forth with a ladder, and with a mattock, and then 
 mount upon the thinking-shop, and dig down the roof, if 
 you love your master, until you tumble the house upon 
 them. [XANTHIAS mounts upon the roof.} But let some 
 one bring me a lighted torch, and I'll make some of them 
 this day suffer punishment, even if they be ever so much 
 impostors. 
 
 ist Dis. (from witJiiti). Hollo ! hollo !
 
 344 
 
 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Strep. It is your business, O torch, to send forth abun- 
 dant flame. [Mounts upon the roof. 
 
 ist Dis. What are you doing, fellow ? 
 
 Strep. What am I doing? why, what else, than chop- 
 ping logic with the beams of your house ? [Sets the house 
 on fire. 
 
 2d Dis. (from within). Ah me! who is setting fire to 
 our house? 
 
 Strep. That man, whose cloak you have taken. 
 
 jd Dis. (from within). You will destroy us ! you will 
 destroy us ! 
 
 Strep. For I also wish this very thing ; unless my mat- 
 tock deceive my hopes, or I should somehow fall first and 
 break my neck. 
 
 Soc. (from within). Hollo you! what are you doing, 
 pray, you fellow on the roof? 
 
 Strep. I am walking on air, and speculating about 
 the sun. 
 
 Soc. Ah me, unhappy ! I shall be suffocated, wretched 
 man ! 
 
 CJucr. And I, miserable man, shall be burnt to death ! ' 
 
 Strep. For what has come into your heads that you 
 acted insolently toward the gods, and pried into the seat 
 of the moon? Chase, pelt, smite them, for many reasons, 
 but especially because you know that they offended against 
 the gods ! \_The thinking-shop is burned di>i<.'n. 
 
 Cho. Lead the way out ; for we have sufficiently acted 
 as chorus for to-day. [Exeunt ownes.
 
 THE PLUTUS OF ARISTOPHANES 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 WILLIAM JAMES HICKIE
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 CHREMYLUS. 
 
 CARIO, Servant of Chremylus. 
 
 CHORUS OF COUNTRY-PEOPLE. 
 
 PLUTUS, the God of Riches. 
 
 BLEPSIDEMUS. 
 
 POVERTY. 
 
 WIFE OF CHREMYLUS. 
 
 JUST MAN. 
 
 INFORMER. 
 
 OLD WOMAN. 
 
 YOUNG MAN. 
 
 MERCURY. 
 
 PRIEST OF JUPITER. 
 
 SCENE : The front of a farm-house with a road leading 
 to it. A blind old man is seen followed at some distance 
 by CHREMYLUS and his servant CARIO.
 
 PLUTUS 
 
 CARIO. How troublesome a thing it is, O Jupiter and 
 ye gods, to be the slave of a crazy master ! For if 
 the servant should happen to have given the best 
 advice, and it should seem fit to his master not to do this, 
 it must be that the servant share the evils ; for fortune 
 suffers not the natural owner to be master of his person, 
 but the purchaser. And so much for this. But Loxias, 
 who prophesies from his tripod of beaten gold, I censure 
 with this just censure, because being a physician and a 
 clever soothsayer, as they say, he has sent away my mas- 
 ter melancholy-mad, who is following behind a blind man, 
 acting contrary to what it became him to do; for we 
 who see lead the blind ; whereas he follows him, and 
 compels me besides ; and that too without even answering 
 a syllable at all. Therefore it is not possible for me to 
 hold my tongue, unless you tell me, master, for what in 
 the world we are following this man, but I will give you 
 trouble ; for you will not beat me while I wear the chaplet. 
 
 Chremylus. No, by Jove ! but if you trouble me in any 
 way, I'll do it when I have taken away your chaplet, that 
 you may grieve the more. 
 
 Ca. Nonsense ! for I will not cease until you tell me 
 who in the world this is ; for I ask it, being exceedingly 
 well disposed to you. 
 
 Chr. Well, then, I will not hide it from you, for I do 
 
 349
 
 350 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 believe you to be the most faithful of my domestics, and 
 the arrantest thief. I, though a religious and just man, 
 was unprosperous and poor. 
 
 Ca. In truth I know it. 
 
 Chr. While others, sacrilegious persons, demagogues, 
 and informers, and villains, were rich. 
 
 Ca. I believe you. 
 
 Chr. So I went to the god to consult him, thinking 
 that my own life, unhappy man, had now nearly been 
 wasted away, but to ask about my son, who is my only 
 one, if he ought to change his habits and be knavish, un- 
 just, nothing good ; since I thought this very thing to be 
 advantageous for life. 
 
 Ca. What then did Phcebus proclaim from among his 
 chaplets? 
 
 Chr. You shall hear ; for the god told me this plainly : 
 whomsoever I should first meet with on going out, him 
 he bid me never let go, but prevail on him to accompany 
 me home. 
 
 Ca. And whom then did you first meet with ? 
 
 Chr. With this man. 
 
 Ca. Then did you not understand the meaning of the 
 god, when it directed you, O most stupid, in the plainest 
 terms, to educate your son after the fashion of the country ? 
 
 Chr. By what do you judge of this? 
 
 Ca. It is evident that even a blind man fancies he 
 knows this, that it is very advantageous to practise no 
 virtue in these times. 
 
 Chr. It is not possible that the oracle inclines to this, 
 but to something else of greater moment. But if this fel- 
 low tell us who in the world he is, and on account of what, 
 and in want of what he came hither with us, we might 
 understand what our oracle means. 
 
 Ca. (to PLUTUS). Come now, do you declare yourself 
 who you are, before I do what comes next? You must 
 be very quick about speaking. 
 A plague take you !
 
 PLUTUS 351 
 
 Ca. (to CIIREMYLUS). Do you understand whom he pro- 
 fesses himself to be ? 
 
 Chr. He says this to you, not to me ; for you inquire 
 of him uncouthly and roughly. But \to PLUTUS] if you 
 take any pleasure in the manners of a man of honour, 
 tell me ! 
 
 Phi. Go, hang yourself ! 
 
 Ca. Take the man, and omen of the god. 
 
 Chr. By Ceres, you certainly shall not any longer escape 
 unpunished ! 
 
 Ca. For unless you will tell us, I will kill you, you 
 wretch, in a wretched way. 
 
 Plu. Good sirs, depart from me. 
 
 Chr. Not a whit. 
 
 Ca. Well, now, what I say is best, master: I'll kill this 
 fellow in a most wretched way ; for I will set him up on 
 some precipice and leave him and go away, that he may 
 fall and break his neck. 
 
 Chr. Well, up with him quickly. 
 
 Plu. By no means. 
 
 Chr. Will you not tell us then? 
 
 Plu. But if you learn who I am, 1 well know that you 
 will do me some mischief, and not let me go. 
 
 Chr. By the gods will we, if you wish it. 
 
 Plu. Then first let me go. 
 
 Chr. Lo ! we let you go. 
 
 Plu. Hear now ; for, as it seems, I must speak what I 
 was prepared to conceal : I am Plutus. 
 
 Chr. O most abominable of all men ! did you hold your 
 tongue then, you Plutus ? 
 
 Ca. You Plutus, so wretchedly circumstanced ? 
 
 Chr. O Phoebus Apollo, and ye gods and demons, and 
 Jove, what do you say ? Are you really he ? 
 
 Plu. Yes. 
 
 Chr. He himself? 
 
 Plu. His very self. 
 
 Chr. Whence then, tell us, come you so squalid?
 
 352 ARISTOPH. \xr.s 
 
 Plu. I come from the house of Patrocles, who has not 
 washed himself since he was born. 
 
 Chr. But how did you suffer this mishap? Declare it 
 to me. 
 
 Pin. Jupiter treated me in this manner through envy 
 toward mankind. For when I was a boy, I threatened 
 that I would go to the just, and wise, and well-behaved 
 alone. So he made me blind, that I might not distinguish 
 any of these. So much does he envy the good, i 
 
 Chr. And yet he is honoured by the good and the just 
 alone. 
 
 Plu. I grant you. 
 
 C/tr. Come, what then ? if you were to recover your 
 sight again, just as formerly, would you now shun the 
 wicked ? 
 
 Plu. Certainly. 
 
 Chr. But would you go to the just? 
 
 Plu. Most assuredly ; for I have not seen them for a 
 long time. 
 
 C/tr. And no wonder too ; for neither have I, who see. 
 
 Plu. Now let me go; for now you know all about me. 
 
 Chr. No, by Jove ! but so much the more will we keep 
 hold of you. 
 
 Plu. Did I not say that you would cause me trouble ? 
 
 Chr. And do you, I beseech you, comply, and do not 
 abandon me ; for you will never find a man better in his 
 morals than I, if you search. No, by Jove ! for there is 
 no other save me. 
 
 Plu. They all say this: but when they actually get 
 possession of me, and become wealthy, they absolutely 
 exceed all bounds in their wickedness. 
 
 Chr. So it is ; yet all are not wicked. 
 
 Plu. No, by Jove ! not all, but all without exception. 
 
 Ca. You shall suffer for it severely. 
 
 Chr. And that you may know how many blessings you 
 will have, if you stay with us, give your attention, that 
 you may hear. For I think, I think with God's permis-
 
 PLUTUS 353 
 
 sion it shall be spoken that I shall free you from this 
 blindness, having made you see. 
 
 Plu. By no means do this ; for I do not wish to recover 
 my sight again. 
 
 C/ir. What do you say ? 
 
 Ca. This fellow is a born miserable. 
 
 Plu. I know indeed that Jupiter would destroy me, if 
 he were to hear of the follies of these men. 
 
 Chr. But does he not do this now, who suffers you to 
 go about stumbling? 
 
 Plu. I know not ; but I dread him exceedingly. 
 
 Chr. What really, O you most cowardly of all deities? 
 For do you suppose the sovereignty of Jove and his thun- 
 derbolts would be worth a three-obol piece, if you should 
 recover your sight, if it were but for a short time ? 
 
 Plu. Ah ! say not so, you wretch ! 
 
 Chr. Be quiet ; for I will demonstrate you to be far 
 more powerful than Jupiter. 
 
 Plu. Me? 
 
 Chr. Ay, by Heaven ! For, for example, through 
 whom does Jupiter rule the gods? 
 
 Ca. Through money, for he has most of it. 
 
 Chr. Come, who then is it that supplies him with 
 this? 
 
 Ca. . This person here. 
 
 Chr. And through whom do men sacrifice to him ? is 
 it not through him ? 
 
 Ca. And, by Jupiter ! they pray openly to be rich. 
 
 Chr. Is not he then the cause, and might he not easily 
 put an end to this, if he wished ? 
 
 Plu. Why so ? why, pray ? 
 
 Chr. Because no man would any longer sacrifice, either 
 ox or barley-cake, or anything else whatever, if you were 
 not willing. 
 
 Plu. How? 
 
 Chr. How ? it is not possible for him to purchase it, I 
 ween, unless you yourself be present and give him the 
 23
 
 354 
 
 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 money; so that you alone will put down the power of 
 Jove, if he annoy you in any way. 
 
 Pin. What do you say ? do they sacrifice to him 
 through me ? 
 
 Chr. Certainly. And, by Jupiter! if there be any- 
 thing magnificent and beautiful or agreeable to men, it is 
 through you: for all things are subservient to riches. 
 
 Ca. I, in truth, have become a slave on account of a 
 trifling sum of money, because I was not equally rich as 
 others. 
 
 Chr. And they say that the Corinthian courtesans, 
 when any poor man tries them, do not even pay any 
 attention to him, but if a rich man try, that they imme- 
 diately turn anything to him. 
 
 Ca. And they say that the boys do this very thing, not 
 for their lovers', but the money's sake. 
 
 Chr. Not the better sort, but the catamites ; for the 
 better sort do not ask for money. 
 
 Ca. What then? 
 
 Chr. One asks for a good horse, another hunting dogs. 
 
 Ca. For, perhaps, being ashamed to ask for money, 
 they gloss over their wickedness by a false name. 
 
 Chr. And all arts and clever contrivances among men 
 have been invented through you. For one of them sits 
 and makes shoes ; and some other one is a smith, and 
 another a carpenter; another is a goldsmith, having 
 received gold from you ; another, by Jove ! steals clothes ; 
 another is a house-breaker ; another is a fuller ; another 
 washes fleeces ; another is a tanner ; another sells onions ; 
 another, having been detected as an adulterer, is depil- 
 lated through you. 
 
 riu. Ah me, miserable ! this has been unknown to me 
 this long while. 
 
 Ca. And does not the Great King pride himself 
 through him? And is not the Assembly held through 
 him? Hut how? do you not man the triremes? tell me. 
 Ami does not he support the mercenaries in Corinth?
 
 PLUTUS 355 
 
 And will not Pamphilus suffer through him ? And will 
 not the "Needle-seller" along with Pamphilus? And 
 does not Agyrrhius spout through him ? And [to PLUTUS] 
 does not Philepsius relate fables on account of you ? And 
 is not the alliance with the Egyptians through you ? And 
 does not Lais, through you, love Philonides? And the 
 tower of Timotheus 
 
 Chr. - - May it fall upon you. And [to PLUTUS] are 
 not all our affairs transacted through you ? For you alone 
 are the cause of all, both of our miseries and our blessings, 
 be well assured. 
 
 Ca. At any rate, in wars also, they always conquer, 
 upon whom he only sits down. 
 
 Plu. Am I able, single as I am, to effect so many 
 things ? 
 
 CJir. And, by Jupiter! far more than these ; so that no 
 one has ever at any time been sated of you. For of all 
 the rest there is a satiety. Of love, 
 
 Ca. Of bread, 
 
 Chr. Of music, 
 
 Ca. Of sweetmeats, 
 
 C/ir. Of honour, 
 
 Ca. Of cheese-cakes, 
 
 Chr. Of manly virtue, 
 
 Ca. Of dried figs, 
 
 CJir. Of ambition, 
 
 Ca. Of barley-cakes, 
 
 C/ir. Of military command, 
 
 Ca. Of lentil-broth. 
 
 Chr. But of you no one has ever at any time 'been 
 sated. But if any one get thirteen talents, so much the 
 more does he desire to get sixteen. And if he accomplish 
 this, he wishes for forty, or he says his life is not worth 
 living. 
 
 Plu. In truth you appear to me to speak exceedingly 
 well ; but one thing only I fear. 
 
 Chr. Tell us, what about.
 
 356 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Pin. Ilo\v I shall become master of this power which 
 you say 1 have. 
 
 Chr. Yes, by Jove, you shall! But even all say that 
 wealth is a most timid thing. 
 
 rin. By no means; but some housebreaker has calum- 
 niated me. For having once crept into the house, he was 
 not able to get anything, having found everything locked 
 up ; so then he called my forethought cowardice. 
 
 Chr. Let nothing trouble you now ; for if you be a 
 zealous man yourself in the business, I'll make you more 
 sharp-sighted than Lynceus. 
 
 Pin. How then will you be able to do this, mortal as 
 you are ? 
 
 Chr. I have some good hope from what Phoebus him- 
 self told me, having shaken the Pythian laurel. 
 
 Plu. And was he then privy to this? 
 
 Chr. Certainly. 
 
 Plu. Take care ! 
 
 Chr. Do not be at all concerned, my good sir; for I, 
 be well assured of this, will accomplish this myself, even 
 if I must die for it. 
 
 Ca. And I too, if you wish it. 
 
 Chr. And many others will be our allies, as many as 
 had no bread, though thev were just. 
 
 Plu. Deary me ! you tell us of miserable allies. 
 
 Chr. Not so, if thev become rich again as before. Hut 
 do you \to CAKIO] go and run quickly 
 
 Ca. What am I to do ? Tell me. 
 
 Chr. Call my fellow-labourers and you will probably 
 find them working hard in the fields that each, being 
 present here, may share an equal portion with us of this 
 Plutus. 
 
 Ca. Well now, I am going. But let some one of the 
 servants from within take and carry in this small bit of 
 meat. 
 
 Chr. (Inking the meat). This shall be mv care: but.Vun 
 quickly. [/:'.r// r.\Kl<>. | And do \ou, () Plutus, most ex-
 
 PLUTUS 357 
 
 cellent of all gods, go in this way with me ; for this is 
 the house which you must to-day fill with riches, by fair 
 means or by foul. 
 
 Pin, But, by the gods, I am exceedingly loath to be 
 always going into other people's houses. For I never at 
 any time got any good from it. For if I chance to go 
 into the house of a miser, he immediately buries me deep 
 in the earth : and if any good man, his friend, come to 
 him asking to get some small sum of money, he denies 
 that he has ever at any time even seen me. But if I 
 chance to go into the house of a mad fellow, I am ex- 
 posed to harlots and dice and driven out of doors naked 
 in a moment of time. 
 
 Ckr. Yes ; for you never at any time met with a mod- 
 erate man. But I am somehow always of this character. 
 For I both take pleasure in saving, as never man did, and 
 again in spending, whenever there is occasion for it. But 
 let us go in ; for I wish both my wife to see you and my 
 only son, whom I love most of all next to you. 
 
 Plu. I believe you. 
 
 Chr. For why should one not tell the truth to you? 
 [Exeunt CHREMYLUS and PLUTUS. 
 
 Ca. Oh, you who have often eaten of the same thyme 
 with my master, his friends, and fellow-tribesmen, and 
 lovers of labour, come, make haste, hurry, since the 
 time does not admit delay, but it is at the very crisis 
 at which you ought to be present and lend your aid. 
 
 Chorus of Country-people. Don't you see then that we 
 have been actively hastening this long while, as is reason- 
 able those should who are now feeble old men? But 
 you, perhaps, expect that I should run, before you even 
 tell me this, on what account your master has called me 
 hither. 
 
 Ca. Have I not then, I ween, been telling you this long 
 while? It is you yourself that don't hear. For my mas- 
 ter says that you shall all of you live pleasantly, freed 
 from your dreary and unpleasant mode of life.
 
 358 ARISTOPHANKS 
 
 Cho. But what, pray, and whence, is this thing- which 
 he speaks of? 
 
 Ca. He has come hither with a certain old man, ye 
 wretches, who is filthy, crooked, miserable, wrinkled, 
 bald, and toothless ; and, by Heaven ! I think he is cir- 
 cumcised, too. 
 
 Cho. O you who have announced golden tidings, how 
 say you ? tell me again ! For you plainly show that he is 
 come with a heap of money. 
 
 Ca. Nay, rather, with a heap of the ills of age. 
 
 Cho. Do you expect, after humbugging us, to get off 
 unpunished, and that, too, when I have a staff? 
 
 Ca. Why, do you consider me to be altogether such 
 a man by nature in all respects, and do you think that I 
 would say nothing true ? 
 
 Cho. How haughty the rascal is ! Your legs are cry- 
 ing out, " Oh ! oh ! " longing for the stocks and fetters. 
 
 Ca. But are you not for going, when now your letter 
 has assigned you to administer justice in the tomb, and 
 Charon gives you your ticket? 
 
 Cho. Split you ! What an impudent fellow 'you are, 
 and arrant knave by nature, who humbug us, and have 
 not yet had the patience to tell us on what account your 
 master has called us hither, who, after labouring much, 
 have come hither readily, though we had no leisure, pass- 
 ing over many roots of thyme ! 
 
 Ca. Well, then, I will not conceal it any longer; for, 
 sirs, my master has come with Plutus, who will make you 
 rich. 
 
 Cho. Why, is it really possible for us all to be rich ? 
 
 Ca. Nay, rather, by the gods, all Midases, if you get 
 ass's ears. 
 
 Cho. How I am delighted and gladdened, and wish to 
 (Jance for joy, if you are really speaking this truly ! 
 
 Ca. Well, now, I should like to lead you, imitating the 
 Cyclops, threttanelo! and moving thus to and fro with 
 my feet. But come, my children, crying out frequently,
 
 PLUTUS 359 
 
 and bleating the strains of sheep and stinking goats, follow 
 me lewdly, and you shall breakfast like goats. 
 
 Clio. And we, on the other hand, bleating, when we 
 have caught you, this Cyclops, threttanelo ! dirty, with a 
 wallet and dewy, wild potherbs, having a drunken head- 
 ache, leading your sheep, and carelessly asleep some- 
 where, will take a great lighted, sharp stake and try to 
 blind you. 
 
 Ca. And I will imitate in all her ways Circe, who 
 mixed up the drugs, who once in Corinth persuaded the 
 companions of Philonides, as if they were boars, to eat 
 kneaded dung; while she herself kneaded it for them. 
 But do you, grunting for delight, follow, like swine, your 
 mother. 
 
 Cho. Therefore we, having caught you, the Circe, who 
 mixed up the drugs and bewitched and denied our com- 
 panions, imitating for delight the son of Laertes, will 
 hang you up and besmear your nostrils with dung, like 
 a goat's; while you, gaping like Aristyllus, shall say, 
 " Follow, like swine, your mother." 
 
 Ca. But come now, do you now have done with your 
 jests and turn yourselves into another shape ; while I 
 should like now to go unknown to my master and take 
 some bread and meat and eat it, and so afterward to join 
 in the work. \Exit CARIO. 
 
 Chrcmylus (entering and addressing the CHORUS). To bid 
 you " hail," my fellow-tribesmen, is now old-fashioned and 
 obsolete ; so I " embrace you," because you have come 
 readily and eagerly, and not tardily. But see that you be 
 my coadjutors in the rest as well, and truly preservers of 
 the god. 
 
 Clio. Be of good courage! for you shall think I look 
 downright martial. For it would be absurd if we con- 
 stantly jostle one another in the Assembly for the sake of 
 three obols, while I were to yield up Plutus himself to any 
 one to take away. 
 
 Chr. Well, now, I see also Blepsidemus here approach-
 
 560 AKISTOl'HANKS 
 
 ing : and 'tis plain from his gait and haste that he has 
 heard something of the affair. 
 
 Enter BLEPSIDKMUS 
 
 Blcpsidennts (talking to himself}. What then can the 
 affair be ? in what way has Chremylus suddenly become 
 rich? I don't believe it: and yet, by Hercules, there was 
 much talk among those who sat in the barbers' shops, that 
 the man has suddenly become wealthy. But this very 
 thing is marvellous to me, that he, being well off, sends for 
 his friends. In truth he does not do a thing fashionable in 
 the country. 
 
 Chr. (aside]. Well then, by the gods, I'll tell him, with- 
 out concealing anything. O Blepsidemus, we are better 
 off than yesterday, so that it is permitted you to share ; for 
 you are of the number of my friends. 
 
 />'/. But have you really become rich, as people 
 say? 
 
 Chr. Nay, but I shall be very soon, if God please ; for 
 there is there is some hazard in the affair. 
 
 />'/. Of what sort? 
 
 Chr. Such as 
 
 />'/. Tell me quickly what in the world you mean. 
 
 C/ir. that, if we succeed, we shall be always well off; 
 but if we be foiled, we shall be utterly undone. 
 
 HI. This load looks bad, and does not please me. For 
 your suddenly becoming so excessively rich, and, again, 
 your fearing, is in character with a man who has done 
 nothing good. 
 
 Chr. I low nothing good? 
 
 HI. If, by Jove! you have come from thence, having 
 stolen any silver or gold from the god, and then, perhaps, 
 repent. 
 
 Chr. O Apollo, averter of evil! not I, by Jove! 
 
 III. Cease talking nonsense, my good sir; for I know 
 it for certain. 
 
 Chr. Do you suspect nothing of the kind of me.
 
 PLUTUS 361 
 
 Bl. Alas ! how there is absolutely no good in any one ! 
 but all are slaves of gain. 
 
 Chr. By Ceres ! you certainly do not appear to me to 
 be in your right senses. 
 
 BL (aside). How much he has altered from the charac- 
 ter he formerly had ! 
 
 Chr. By Heaven, fellow, you are mad ! 
 
 Bl. (aside). But not even does his glance itself keep in 
 its place, but is like to one who has committed some vil- 
 lainy. 
 
 Chr. I know what you are croaking about : you seek to 
 get a share, as if I had stolen something. 
 
 Bl. I seek to get a share ? of what ? 
 
 Chr. Whereas it is not of such nature, but different. 
 
 BL Have you not stolen, but snatched it away ? 
 
 Chr. You are possessed. 
 
 BL But have you, in truth, not even defrauded any one ? 
 
 Chr. Not I, indeed ! 
 
 BL O Hercules, come, whither can one turn himself ? 
 for you will not tell the truth. 
 
 Chr. For you accuse me before you know my case. 
 
 Bl. My good friend, I will settle this for you at a very 
 trifling expense, before the city hear of it, by stopping the 
 orators' mouths with small coin. 
 
 Chr. And verily, by the gods, methinks you would in 
 a friendly way lay out three minas and set down twelve. 
 
 Bl. I see a certain person who will sit at the Bema, 
 holding the suppliant's bough, with his children and his 
 wife ; and who will not differ at all, not even in any way, 
 from the Heraclidae of Pamphilus. 
 
 Chr. Not so, you wretch, but, on the contrary, I will 
 cause the good alone, and the clever and discreet, to be- 
 come rich. 
 
 BL What do you say ? have you stolen so very much ? 
 
 Chr. Ah me, what miseries ! you will destroy me. 
 
 BL Nay, rather, you will destroy yourself, as it seems 
 
 to me. 
 
 13
 
 362 ARISTOl'HANKS 
 
 Chr. Certainly not ; for I have got Plutus, you sorry 
 wretch. 
 
 /.'/. You, Plutus? what Plutus? 
 
 Chr. The god himself. 
 
 HI. Why, where is he? 
 
 Chr. Within. 
 
 />'/. Where? 
 
 Chr. At my house. 
 
 7>7. At your house? 
 
 Chr. Certainly. 
 
 />'/. Go to the devil ! Plutus at your house? 
 
 Chr. Yes, by the gods ! 
 
 BL Are you speaking truth? 
 
 Chr. Yes. 
 
 Bl. By Vesta ? 
 
 Chr. Yea, by Neptune ! 
 
 7>7. Do you mean the sea Neptune? 
 
 Chr. Ay, and t'other Neptune, if there be any other. 
 
 Bl. Then are you not for sending him round to us also 
 your friends? 
 
 Chr. The affair is not yet come to this point. 
 
 />'/. What do you say ? not to the sharing point eh ? 
 
 Chr. No, by Jupiter! for we must first 
 
 Bl. What?' 
 
 Chr. Cause him to see. 
 
 Bl. Whom to see ? tell me. 
 
 Chr. Plutus, as before, in some way or other. 
 
 ///. Why, is he really blind ? 
 
 Chr. Yes, by Heaven ! 
 
 />'/. No wonder, then, he never at any time came to me. 
 
 Chr. But, if the gods please, he shall come now. 
 
 Bl. Ought von not then to call in some physician? 
 
 Chr. What physician then is there now in the city? 
 For neither is the fee of any value, nor the profession. 
 
 ///. Let u^ see. 
 
 Chr. Pint there is none. 
 
 /;/. Neither do 1 think so.
 
 PLUTUS 363 
 
 Chr. No, by Jupiter ! but 'tis best to lay him on a 
 couch in the Temple of yEsculapius, as 1 was intending 
 this long while. 
 
 Bl. Nay, rather, far the best, by the gods. Do not 
 then delay, but make haste and do something or other. 
 
 Chr. Well now, I am going. 
 
 Bl. Hasten then. 
 
 Chr. I am doing this very thing. 
 
 Enter POVERTY 
 
 Poverty. O you pitiful manikins, who dare to do a 
 hasty and unholy and unlawful deed ! whither? whither? 
 why do you fly? will you not remain? 
 
 Bl. O Hercules ! 
 
 Pov. I will destroy you, you wretches, in a wretched 
 way ; for you are venturing on a daring act not to be 
 borne, but such as no other person even at any time, 
 either god or man, has ventured on; therefore you are 
 undone. 
 
 Chr. But who are you ? for you appear to me to be 
 ghastly pale. 
 
 Bl. Perhaps 'tis some Fury from tragedy : at least she 
 certainly looks very mad and tragic. 
 
 Chr. But she has no torches. 
 
 BL Then she shall suffer for it. 
 
 Pov. Whom do you think me to be ? 
 
 Chr. Some hostess or pulse-porridge-seller : for other- 
 wise you would not have cried out so loud against us, 
 having been wronged in no way. 
 
 Pov. What, really ? for have you not acted most 
 shamefully in seeking to banish me from every place ? 
 
 Chr. Is not then the Barathrum left you ? But you 
 ought to tell me immediately who you are. 
 
 Pov. One who will make you to-day give satisfaction, 
 because you seek to expel me from hence. 
 
 Bl. Is it the tavern-keeper of our neighbourhood, who 
 is always cheating me grossly with her half-pints?
 
 364 ARlSToi'IIANI.S 
 
 /}>:. Nay, but I am Poverty, who have been dwelling 
 with you many years. 
 
 />'/. (running aiM} 1 ). O King Apollo, and ye gods! 
 Whither must one fly ? 
 
 Chr. Halloo ! what are you about? O you most cow- 
 ardly beast, will you not stay ? 
 
 BL By no means. 
 
 Chr. Will you not stay ? What ! shall we two men 
 fly from one woman ? 
 
 Bl. Yes, for 'tis Poverty, you wretch, than whom there 
 is no living being anywhere more ruinous. 
 
 Chr. Stand, I beseech you, stand ! 
 
 BL No, by Jove, not I ! 
 
 Chr. Well, now, I tell you, we shall do a deed by far 
 the most shameful of all deeds, if we shall leave the god 
 unprotected and fly any whither, through fear of her, and 
 not fight it out. 
 
 Bl. Relying on what sort of arms or strength ? For 
 what sort of breastplate and what sort of shield does not 
 the most abominable wretch put in pawn ? 
 
 Chr. Be of good courage ; for this god alone, I well 
 know, can set up a trophy over her ways. 
 
 Pov. And do you also dare to mutter, you scoundrels, 
 when you have been detected in the very act of doing 
 shameful things? 
 
 Chr. But why do you, the devil take you, come against 
 us and revile us, being wronged not even in any way ? 
 
 Pov. For do you think, oh, by the gods ! that you 
 wrong me in no way in endeavouring to make Plutus see 
 again ? 
 
 Chr. What wrong then .do we do you in this, if we 
 contrive good for all men? 
 
 But what good could you devise? 
 
 Cho. What ? by banishing you from Greece, in the 
 first place. 
 
 . By banishing me? and what greater evil do you 
 suppose you could do t
 
 H.UTUS 365 
 
 Chr. What, if we were to delay to do this and for- 
 get it? 
 
 Pov. Well, now, 1 wish first to render you an account 
 of this very matter. And if I prove that I am the sole 
 cause of all blessings to you, and that you live through 
 me, it is well ; but if not, now do this, whatever seems 
 good to you. 
 
 Ckr. Do you dare to say this, O most abominable ? 
 
 Pov. Ay, and do you suffer yourself to be taught. 
 For I think I shall very easily prove that you are alto- 
 gether in the wrong, if you say you will make the just 
 wealthy. 
 
 C/ir. O cudgels and pillories, will you not aid me ? 
 
 Pov. You ought not to complain angrily and cry out 
 before you know. 
 
 Bl. Why, who would be able not to cry out " Oh ! 
 oh ! " at hearing such things ? 
 
 Pov. He who is in his right senses. 
 
 Chr. What penalty, then, shall I set down in the title 
 of the suit for you, if you be cast? 
 
 Pov. Whatever seems good to you. 
 
 Ckr. You say well. 
 
 Pov. For you also must suffer the same if you lose 
 your cause. 
 
 Bl. Do you think then twenty deaths sufficient ? 
 
 Chr. Yes, for her ; but two only will suffice for us. 
 
 Pov. You can not be too quick in doing this : for what 
 just plea could any one any longer bring against me ? 
 
 C/io. Well, you ought now to say something clever, by 
 which you shall conquer her, opposing her in argument, 
 and not effeminately give in. 
 
 Chr. I think that this is plain for all alike to under- 
 stand, that it is just that the good men should be pros- 
 perous, but the wicked and the ungodly, I ween, the con- 
 trary of this. We therefore desiring that this should take 
 place, have with difficulty found out a plan, excellent, and 
 noble, and useful for every enterprise. For if Plutus now
 
 366 ARISTOPHANKS 
 
 should have the use of his eyes, and not go about blind, 
 he will go to the good men, and not leave them, but will 
 fly from the wicked and the ungodly ; and then he will 
 make all to be good and rich, I ween, and to reverence 
 things divine. And yet, who could ever devise a better 
 thing than this for men ? 
 
 BL No one ; I am your witness in this ; don't ask her. 
 
 Chr. For as life is at present circumstanced for us men, 
 who would not think it to be madness, or rather still a 
 demoniacal possession ? For many men who are wicked 
 are rich, having accumulated them unjustly ; while many 
 who are very good, are badly off, and suffer hunger, and 
 live with you [to POVERTY] for the most part. I say, 
 then, that there is a way, proceeding upon which a per- 
 son might procure greater benefits for men, namely, if 
 Plutus were ever to have the use of his eyes and put a 
 stop to her. 
 
 Pov. Nay, O you two old dotards, partners in non- 
 sense and folly, of all men the most easily persuaded not 
 to be in your right senses, if this were to happen, which 
 you desire, I deny that it would profit you. For if Plutus 
 were to have the use of his eyes again and portion himself 
 out equally, no man would practise either art or science ; 
 and when both these have disappeared through you, who 
 will be willing to be a smith, or to build ships, or to sew, 
 or to make wheels, or to make shoes, or to make bricks, 
 or to wash, or to tan hides, or who will be willing to break 
 up the soil of the earth with ploughings and reap the fruits 
 of Ceres, if it be possible for you to live in idleness, 
 neglecting all these ? 
 
 Chr. You talk nonsense ; for our servants shall toil at 
 all these things for us, as many as you have now enumer- 
 ated. 
 
 Pov. Whence then will you have servants? 
 
 Chr. We will buy them for money, to be sure. 
 
 /<>'. But first, who will be the seller, when he too has 
 money ?
 
 PLUTUS 367 
 
 Chr. Some one wishing to make gain, having come as 
 a merchant from Thessaly, from among very many kid- 
 nappers. 
 
 Pov. But first of all, there will not even be any one, 
 not even a kidnapper, according to the statement, I ween, 
 which you mention. For who that is wealthy will be 
 willing to do this at the hazard of his own life ? So that, 
 having been compelled to plough, and dig, and toil at the 
 other labours yourself, you will spend a much more pain- 
 ful life than the present one. 
 
 Chr. May it fall on your own head ! 
 
 Pov. Moreover, you will not be able to sleep either in 
 a bed for there will be none or in carpets ; for who will 
 be willing to weave them when he has gold ? Nor, when 
 you lead home a bride, to anoint her with dropping 
 unguents; nor to adorn her with sumptuous garments, 
 dyed, and variegated. And yet, what advantage will it 
 be to you to be rich, when in want of all these? But 
 from me all these which you stand in need of are easily 
 obtained ; for I sit, compelling the artisan, like a mistress, 
 through his want and his poverty, to seek whence he shall 
 have subsistence. 
 
 Chr. Why, what good could you procure, except a 
 swarm of blisters from the bath, and of children begin- 
 ning to be hungry, and of old women ? and the quantity 
 of lice, and gnats, and fleas, I don't even mention to you, 
 by reason of their multitude, which buzz about my head 
 and torment me, wakening me and saying : " You will 
 suffer hunger ; come, get up." Moreover, to have a rag 
 instead of a garment ; and instead of a bed, a mattress of 
 rushes, full of bugs, which wakens the sleepers ; and to 
 have a rotten mat instead of a carpet ; and a good-sized 
 stone against one's head instead of a pillow ; and to eat 
 shoots of mallow instead of bread ; and leaves of withered 
 radish instead of barley-cake ; and to have the head of a 
 broken jar instead of a bench ; and the side of a cask, 
 and that too broken, instead of a kneading-trough. Do
 
 368 ARISTOl'HANES 
 
 I not demonstrate you to be the cause of many blessings 
 to all men? 
 
 Pov. You have not mentioned my way of life, but have 
 attacked that of beggars. 
 
 Chr. Therefore we say, I ween, that poverty is sister 
 of beggary. 
 
 Pov. Ay, you who also say that Dionysus is like 
 Thrasybulus. But my mode of life is not thus circum- 
 stanced, no, by Jove ! nor will it. For a beggar's mode 
 of life, which you describe, is to live possessed of nothing; 
 but that of a poor man to live sparingly, and attentive to 
 his work ; and not to have any superfluity, nor yet, how- 
 ever, to have a deficiency. 
 
 Chr. O Ceres ! how blessed is his life which you have 
 set forth, if after sparing and toiling he shall leave behind 
 him not even wherewith to be buried. 
 
 Pov. You are trying to scoff at and ridicule me, heed- 
 less of being earnest, not knojving that I render men bet- 
 ter both in mind and body than Plutus does. For with 
 him they are gouty in their feet, and pot-bellied, and 
 thick-legged, and extravagantly fat ; but with me they 
 are thin and slender, and grievous to their foes. 
 
 'Chr. For, no doubt, you bring about the slenderness 
 for them by hunger. 
 
 Pov. Now therefore I will discourse to you respecting 
 sobriety, and will demonstrate that orderly behaviour 
 dwells Avith me, but that riotousness belongs to Plutus. 
 
 Chr. In sooth it is very orderly to steal and to dig 
 through walls. 
 
 /'/. Yes, by Jove ! how is it not orderly, if he must 
 escape notice? 
 
 /(><-'. Consider therefore the orators in the states, how, 
 when they are poor, they are just toward the people and 
 the state ; but when they have become rich out of the 
 public purse, they immediately become unjust, and plot 
 against the commons, and make war upon the democracy. 
 
 i'/ir. Well, you don't speak falsely in any of these
 
 PLUTUS 369 
 
 things, although you are exceedingly slanderous. But 
 you shall suffer none the less don't pride yourself on 
 this because you seek to convince us of this, that poverty 
 is better than riches. 
 
 Pov. And you too are not yet able to refute me about 
 this, but talk nonsense and flap your wings. 
 
 Chr. Why, how is it that all shun you? 
 
 Pov. Because I make them better. But you may see 
 it best in children ; for they shun their fathers who are 
 very well-disposed toward them. So difficult a matter is 
 it to distinguish what is right. 
 
 Chr. You will say, then, that Jupiter does not correctly 
 distinguish what is best ; for he too has wealth. 
 
 Bl. And despatches her to us. 
 
 Pov. Nay, O you who are both of you purblind in your 
 minds with old-fashioned prejudices, Jupiter is certainly 
 poor; and I will now teach you this clearly. For if he 
 was rich, how would he, when celebrating the Olympic 
 games himself, where he assembles all the Greeks every 
 fifth year, have proclaimed as conquerors the victorious 
 athletes, having crowned them with a chaplet of wild 
 olive? And yet he ought rather to crown them with 
 gold, if he was rich ? 
 
 Chr. By this therefore he certainly shows that he 
 honours riches. For through parsimony and a wish to 
 spend none of it, he crowns the victors with trifles and 
 lets his wealth remain by him. 
 
 Pov. You seek to fix upon him a much more disgrace- 
 ful thing than poverty, if he, though rich, be so stingy and 
 avaricious. 
 
 Chr. Well, may Jupiter utterly destroy you, having 
 crowned you with a chaplet of wild olive ! 
 
 Pov. To think of your daring to contradict me, that all 
 your blessings are not through poverty ! 
 
 Chr. One may learn this from Hecate, whether to be 
 rich or to suffer hunger is better. For she says that those 
 who have property and are wealthy send a dinner every
 
 370 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 month, while the poor people snatch it away before one 
 has set it down. But go and be hanged, and don't mutter 
 anything more whatever. For you shall not convince me, 
 even if you should convince me. 
 
 Pov. " O city of Argos, you hear what he says ! " 
 
 C/ir. Call Pauson, your messmate. 
 
 Pov. What shall I do, unhappy woman ? 
 
 Chr. Go to the devil quickly from us ! 
 
 Pov. But whither on earth shall I go ? 
 
 Chr. To the pillory ; you ought not to delay, but to 
 make haste. 
 
 Pov. Assuredly you will have to send for me hither 
 some time. 
 
 Chr. Then you shall return ; but now go and be hanged ! 
 For it is better for me to be rich, and to leave you to wail 
 loudly in your head. [Exit POVERTY. 
 
 Bl. By Jove! then I wish, when I am rich, to feast 
 along with my children and my wife ; and going sleek 
 from the bath, after I have bathed, to hoot at the artisans 
 and Poverty. 
 
 Chr. This cursed wretch is gone. But let you and me 
 convey the god as soon as possible to the Temple of - x Es- 
 culapius to put him to bed in it. 
 
 Bl. And let us not delay, lest again some one come and 
 hinder us from doing something useful. 
 
 Chr. Boy Cario, you must bring out the bedclothes, 
 and convey Plutus himself, as is customary, and the other 
 things, as many as are ready prepared in the house. 
 
 [Exeunt CIIRKMVLUS and Bi.EPSIDEMUS. 
 
 Cario (returning front the temple}. O you old men, who 
 very often at the festival of Theseus had sopped up soup 
 to very little bread, how prosperous you are, how happily 
 you are circumstanced, and the rest of you, as many as 
 have any claim to a good character ! 
 
 Cho. But what news is there, O good sir, about your 
 friends? for you appear to have come as a messenger of 
 some good news.
 
 PLUTUS 371 
 
 Ca. My master is most prosperously circumstanced 
 or rather Plutus himself; for instead of being blind, he 
 has been restored to sight, and has been made clear- 
 sighted in the pupils of his eyes, having found ^sculapius 
 a friendly physician. 
 
 Cho. You tell me a matter for joy, you tell me a matter 
 for shouting. 
 
 Ca. Tis your lot to rejoice, whether you wish it or no. 
 
 Cho. I will loudly praise ^Esculapius blessed in his chil- 
 dren, and a great light to mortals. 
 
 Enter WIFE OF CHREMYLUS 
 
 Wife. What in the world means the shout ? Is some 
 good news announced ? for, longing for this, I have 
 been sitting in the house this long while, waiting for this 
 fellow. 
 
 Ca. Quickly, quickly, bring wine, mistress, in order 
 that you yourself also may drink and you are very fond 
 of doing it for I bring you all blessings in a lump. 
 
 Wife. Why, where are they ? 
 
 Ca. You will soon learn by what is said. 
 
 Wife. Be quick and finish then some time or other 
 what you are for saying. 
 
 Ca. Hear, then ; for I will tell you the whole affair from 
 the foot to the head. 
 
 Wife. Nay, not on my head, pray. 
 
 Ca. Not the blessings which have now taken place? 
 
 Wife. Nay, rather, not the troubles. 
 
 Ca. As soon as we came to the god, conveying a man, 
 at that time most miserable, but now blessed and fortu- 
 nate, if there ever was one, we first conveyed him to the 
 sea, and then washed him. 
 
 Wife. By Jupiter, then he was fortunate, an old man 
 washed in the cold sea! 
 
 Ca. Then we went to the temple of the god. And 
 when our wafers and preparatory sacrifices were offered 
 on the altar, and our cake in the flame of Vulcan, we laid
 
 372 
 
 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Plutus on a couch, as was proper, while each of us began 
 putting his mattress in order. 
 
 Wife. And were there any others also in need of the 
 god? 
 
 Ca. Yes, there was one Neoclides, who is indeed 
 blind, but outdoes in stealing those who see: and many 
 others having all sorts of diseases. But when the sacrist 
 of the god put out the lamps and ordered us to sleep, tell- 
 ing us if any one should hear a noise, he must be silent, 
 we all lay down in an orderly manner. And I could not 
 sleep; but a pot of porridge which was lying a little way 
 off from the head of an old woman strongly affected me, 
 toward which I desired exceedingly to creep. Then on 
 looking up I saw the priest snatching away the cakes and 
 dried figs from the sacred table. And after this he went 
 round to all the altars round about, if anywhere a cake 
 might be left ; and then he consecrated these into a sack. 
 And I, supposing there was great piety in the thing, got 
 up toward the pot of porridge. 
 
 Wife. O most daring of men, were you not afraid of 
 the god? 
 
 Ca. Yes, by the gods, lest he might get to the pot 
 before me, with his garlands on ; for his priest taught me 
 that beforehand. But the old woman, when she heard my 
 noise, stretched forth her hand; and then I hissed and 
 seized it with my teeth, as if I were an JEsculapian 
 snake. But she immediately drew back her hand again, 
 and lay down, having wrapped herself up quietly, trem- 
 bling with fear. And then I swallowed greedily the 
 greater part of the porridge : and then, when I was full, 
 I rested. 
 
 Wife. But did not the god come to you? 
 
 Ca. Not yet. 
 
 Wife. Doubtless he was immediately disgusted at you 
 on account of this. 
 
 After this 1 immediately covered mvself up for 
 fear; while he went, round in a circuit inspecting all the
 
 PLUTUS 373 
 
 maladies very regularly. Then a servant set before him 
 a small stone mortar and a pestle and a small chest. 
 
 Wife. Of stone? 
 
 Ca. No, by Jove, certainly not, not the little chest. 
 
 Wife. But how did you see, the devil take you ! who 
 say you were wrapped up ? 
 
 Ca. Through my little threadbare cloak ; for, by Jupi- 
 ter ! it has no few holes. First of all he began to pound up 
 a plaster for Neoclides, having thrown in three heads of 
 Tenian garlic. Then he beat them up in the mortar, 
 mixing along with them gum and squill ; and then he 
 moistened it with Sphettian vinegar, and spread it over, 
 having turned his eyelids inside out, that he might be 
 pained the more. And he crying out and bawling, 
 jumped up and ran away, while the god laughed and 
 said, " Sit there now, plastered over, that I may stop 
 your excusing yourself on oath from the Assembly." 
 
 Wife. How very patriotic and wise the god is ! 
 
 Ca. After this he sat down beside Plutus ; and first he 
 handled his head, and then he took a clean napkin and 
 wiped his eyelids all round : and Panacea covered his 
 head and the whole of his face with a purple cloth. Then 
 the god whistled ; then two snakes rushed forth from the 
 temple, prodigious in size. 
 
 Wife. O ye friendly gods! 
 
 Ca. And these two gently crept under the purple cloth 
 and began to lick his eyelids all round, as it appeared to 
 me. And before you could have drunk up ten half-pints 
 of wine, mistress, Plutus was standing up, having the use 
 of his eyes : and I clapped my hands for joy, and began to 
 wake my master. But the god immediately took himself 
 out of sight, and the snakes took themselves into the tem- 
 ple ; while those who were lying in bed near him, you 
 can't think how they began embracing Plutus, and kept 
 awake the whole night, until day dawned. But I praised 
 the god very much, because he had quickly caused Plutus 
 to see, while he made Neoclides more blind than before.
 
 374 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Wife. How much power you possess, O king and mas- 
 ter ! But [to CARIO] tell me, where is Plutus ! 
 
 Ca. He is coming. But there was a prodigious crowd 
 about him. For all those who were formerly just, and 
 had a scanty subsistence, were embracing him and shak- 
 ing hands with him for joy ; but as many as were rich, 
 and had much property, not having acquired their sub- 
 sistence justly, were contracting their brows, and at the 
 same time looking angry. But the others were follow- 
 ing behind with garlands on, laughing and shouting in 
 triumph ; and the shoe of the old men was resounding 
 with their steps in good time. But come, do you all 
 together with one accord dance, and leap, and form a 
 chorus ; for no one will announce to you when you go 
 in that there is no meal in the bag. x 
 
 Wife. And I, by Hecate, wish to crown you for your 
 good news with a string of cracknels, who have announced 
 such tidings. 
 
 Ca. Do not then delay any longer, for the men are now 
 near to the door. 
 
 Wife. Come, then, let me go in and fetch some sweet- 
 meats to be showered as it were over his newly purchased 
 eyes. {Exit Win: OF CHKKMYI 
 
 Ca. But I wish to go to meet them. {Exit CAKIO. 
 
 Enter PLUTUS, accompanied by CllkKMYi.US and a great 
 
 croivd of people 
 
 Plutns. And first I salute the sun, and then the illus- 
 trious soil of the august Pallas, and the whole land of 
 Cecrops, which received me. I am ashamed of my mis- 
 fortunes, because I associated with such men without my 
 knowing it, but shunned those who were worthv of my 
 society, knowing nothing, oh, unhappy me ! I low wrong- 
 ly I acted both in that case and in this! But I will re- 
 verse them all again, and henceforth show to all men 
 that I unwillingly u r :iye myself up to the wicked. 
 
 Chr. (to some bystander]. do to the devil! How
 
 PLUTUS 375 
 
 troublesome a thing are the friends who appear imme- 
 diately, when one is prosperous ! For they nudge me 
 with their elbows, and bruise my shins, each of them ex- 
 hibiting some good-will. For who did not address me? 
 What a crowd of old men was there not around me in 
 the market-place? 
 
 Enter WIFE OF CHREMYLUS 
 
 Wife. O dearest of men! Welcome, both you, and 
 you ! Come now, for it is the custom, let me take and 
 pour these sweetmeats over you. 
 
 Plu, By no means ; for on my first entry into the 
 house, and when I have recovered my eyesight, it is in 
 no wise becoming to carry out anything, but rather to 
 carry in. 
 
 Wife. Then, pray, will you not accept my sweetmeats ? 
 
 Phi. Yes, in the house, by the fireside, as is the custom. 
 Then also we may avoid the vulgarity of the thing ; for it 
 is not becoming for the dramatic poet to throw dried figs 
 and sweetmeats to the spectators and then 'force them to 
 laugh at this. 
 
 Wife. You say very well ; for see ! there's Dexinicus 
 standing up, with the intention of snatching at the dried 
 figs ! {Exeunt PLUTUS, CHREMYLUS, WIFE, and attendants. 
 
 Cario (coming out of the house'). How delightful it is, 
 sirs, to fare prosperously ! especially if one has brought 
 out nothing from home. For a heap of blessings has 
 rushed into our house, without our committing any in- 
 justice. Under these circumstances wealth is a very de- 
 lightful thing. Our meal-chest is full of wheaten flour, 
 and our wine-jars of dark wine with a high perfume. 
 And all our vessels are full of silver and gold, so that 
 1 wonder. And our oil-jar is full of oil ; and our flasks 
 are full of unguents, and our garret of dried figs. And 
 every vinegar-cruet, and platter, and pot has become of 
 brass ; and our rotten, fishy chargers you may see of 
 silver. And our lantern has suddenly become of ivory.
 
 376 AKISTOl'HANKS 
 
 And we servants play at even and odd with golden 
 staters ; and we no longer wipe ourselves with stones, 
 but always with garlic, through luxury. And at pres- 
 ent my master is sacrificing Avithin a pig, and a goat, 
 and a ram, with a chaplet on: but the smoke drove me 
 out ; for I was not able to remain within ; for it stung my 
 eyelids. 
 
 Enter a JUST MAN attended by his servant 
 Just Man. Follow with me, my little boy, that we may 
 go to the god. 
 
 Enter CHREMYLUS 
 
 Chr. Ha! who is this who approaches? 
 
 J. M. A man, formerly wretched, but now prosperous. 
 
 Chr. It is evident that you are one of the good, as it 
 appears. 
 
 /. M. Most certainly. 
 
 Chr. Then, what do you want? 
 
 J. M. I ha.ve come to the god : for he is the author of 
 great blessings to me. For having received a consider- 
 able property from my father, I used to assist those of 
 my friends who were in want, thinking it to be useful 
 for life. 
 
 Chr. Doubtless your money soon failed you. 
 
 /. M. Just so. 
 
 Chr. Therefore after this you were wretched. 
 
 J. M. Just so. And I thought I should have as really 
 firm friends, if ever I might want them, those whom I 
 had before done kindness to when they were in want: 
 but they began to avoid me, and pretended not to see 
 me any longer. 
 
 Chr. And also laughed at you, I well know. 
 
 J. M. Just so. For the dearth which was in my ves- 
 sels ruined me. 
 
 C/ir. IJut not now. 
 
 /. .]/. \\' here-fore with good reason I have come hither 
 to the L, r 'l, to oiler up inv vows.
 
 I>T 
 
 . ,.1'Tl 
 
 Chr. But what has Lne tlireadbare cloak to do with the 
 god, which this servant is carrying in your retinue ? tell me. 
 
 /. M. This also I am coming to the god to dedicate. 
 
 Chr. Were you initiated, then, in the Great. Mysteries 
 in it? 
 
 J, M. No ; but I shivered in it for thirteen years. 
 
 Chr. But your shoes ? 
 
 J. M. These also have weathered the storm along 
 with me. 
 
 Chr. Then were you bringing these also to dedicate 
 them? 
 
 /. M. Yes, by Jupiter ! 
 
 Chr. You have come with very pretty presents for the 
 
 god. 
 
 Enter an INFORMER attended by Jus witness 
 
 Informer. Ah me, unhappy ! How I am undone, mis- 
 erable man, and thrice unhappy, and four times, and five 
 times, and twelve times, and ten thousand times ! alas ! 
 alas ! with so powerful a fate have I been mingled. 
 
 Chr. O Apollo, averter of evil, and ye friendly gods ! 
 what in the world is the misfortune which the man has 
 suffered ? 
 
 Inf. Why, have I not now suffered shocking things, 
 who have lost everything out of my house through this 
 god, who shall be blind again, unless lawsuits be wanting? 
 
 J. M. I imagine I pretty nearly see into the matter ; 
 for a man is approaching who is badly off; and he seems 
 to be of the bad stamp. 
 
 Chr. By Jupiter, then, he is rightly ruined ! 
 
 Inf. Where, where is this fellow who singly promised 
 he would immediately make us all rich, if he were to re- 
 cover his sight again as before ? On the contrary, he has 
 ruined some much more. 
 
 Chr. And whom, pray, has he treated thus? 
 
 Inf. Me here. 
 
 Chr. Were you of the number of the wicked ones and 
 house-breakers ?
 
 378 AT b-oP 
 
 Inf. By Jove ! there is en rasm * iio good in any of you ; 
 and it must be that you have my money. 
 
 Ca. O Ceres, how insolently the informer has come in ! 
 It is evident that he is ravenously hungry. 
 
 Inf. You can not be too quick in going- speedily to 
 the market-place ; for you must there be racked upon the 
 wheel and declare your villainies. 
 
 Ca. Then you'll suffer for it. 
 
 J. M. By Jupiter the Preserver! this god is of great 
 value to all the Greeks, if he shall utterly destroy the 
 informers, the wretches, in a wretched way. 
 
 Inf. Ah me, miserable ! Are you also laughing at me, 
 who are an accomplice? for whence have you got this 
 garment? But yesterday I saw you with a threadbare 
 cloak on. 
 
 J. M. I care nothing for you : for see ! I wear this 
 ring, having purchased it from Eudemus for a drachma. 
 
 Chr. But it is not possible to wear one against an in- 
 former's bite. 
 
 Inf. Is not this great insolence ? You mock me, but 
 you have not stated what you are doing here. For you 
 are here for no good. 
 
 Chr. Certainly not, by Jove ! for your good ; be well 
 assured. 
 
 /;//. For, by Jove ! you will dine at my cost. 
 
 Chr. For the sake of truth may you burst, together 
 with vour witness, filled with nothing. 
 
 Inf. Do you deny it? There is a great quantity of 
 slices of salt-fish and roast meat within, you most abomi- 
 nable fellows. \Sniffs\ uhu, uhu, uhu, uhu, uhu, uhu. 
 
 Chr. Do you smell anything, you poor wretch ? 
 
 J. M. The cold, perhaps ; since he has on such a 
 threadbare cloak. 
 
 /;//. Is this bearable then, O Jupiter and ye gods, that 
 these should commit outrages upon me? Ah me! how 
 grieved 1 am that, good and patriotic as I am, I fare badly. 
 
 Chr. You patriotic and good?
 
 PLUTUS 379 
 
 /;//. As never man was. 
 
 CJir. Well, now, answer me when asked 
 
 Inf. What? 
 
 C/ir. Are you a husbandman ? 
 
 Inf. Do you suppose me to be so mad ? 
 
 Ckr. Or a merchant? 
 
 Inf. Yes, I pretend to be, upon occasion. 
 
 Chr. Well, then, did you learn any trade ? 
 
 Inf. No, by Jov r e ! 
 
 Ckr. How then, or whence, did you live, if you do 
 nothing? 
 
 /;//. I am manager of all the affairs of the state and 
 private affairs. 
 
 Chr. You ? Wherefore ? 
 
 Inf. I please to do so. 
 
 Chr. How then, you house-breaker, can you be good, 
 if, when it in no wise concerns you, you are then hated ? 
 
 /;//. Why, does it not concern me, you booby, to bene- 
 fit my own city as far as I be able ? 
 
 Chr. Then is to be a meddling busybody to benefit it? 
 
 Inf. Nay, rather, to aid the established laws, and, if 
 any one do wrong, not to permit it. 
 
 Chr. Does not the state, then, purposely appoint judges 
 to preside? 
 
 Inf. But who is the accuser? 
 
 Chr. Any one who pleases. 
 
 Inf. Then I am he ; so that the affairs of the state have 
 devolved on me. 
 
 Chr. Then, by Jove ! it has a sorry patron. But would 
 you not prefer that, to keep quiet and live idle ? 
 
 Inf. Nay, you are describing the life of a sheep, if there 
 shall appear no amusement in life. 
 
 Chr. And would you not learn better? 
 
 Inf. Not even if you were to give me Plutus himself, 
 and the silphium of Battus. 
 
 Chr. Quickly lay down your cloak. 
 
 Ca. (to the INFORMER). Ho you ! he is speaking to you.
 
 380 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 CJir. Next take off your shoes. 
 
 Ca. (to the INFORMER). He says all this to you. 
 
 Inf. Well, now, let any of you that pleases come hither 
 against me. 
 
 Ca. "Then I am he." [Seizes the INFORMER and strips 
 him of his cloak and shoes. 
 
 Inf. Ah me, miserable ! I am stripped in the day- 
 time. 
 
 Ca. For you do not hesitate to get a livelihood by 
 meddling with other people's business. 
 
 /;//. (to his witness). Do you see what he is doing ? I 
 call you to witness this. [His witness runs off. 
 
 Chr. But the witness whom you brought is running 
 away. 
 
 Inf. Ah me, I have been caught alone. 
 
 Ca. Do you bawl now ? 
 
 Inf. Ah me, again and again ! 
 
 Ca. Do you (to the JUST MAN) give me your thread- 
 bare cloak, that I may put it on this informer. 
 
 J. M. Certainly not ; for it has been this long while 
 consecrated to Plutus. 
 
 Ca. Where, then, will it be better dedicated than 
 around a knavish man and house-breaker? But Plutus 
 it is fitting to adorn with grand dresses. 
 
 J. M. But what shall one make of the shoes? tell me. 
 
 Ca. These also I will instantly nail fast to this man's 
 forehead, as if to a wild olive. 
 
 Inf. I'll begone ; for I perceive I am much weaker 
 than you. But if I find a comrade, even of fig-tree wood, 
 I will to-dav make this powerful god give me satisfaction, 
 because he singly and alone is manifestly putting down 
 the democracy, having neither prevailed upon the Senate 
 of the citizens nor the Assembly. 
 
 J. M. Well, now, since you are marching with my 
 panoply on, run to the bath, and then stand there in front 
 and warm yourself. For I also once held this post. 
 
 \Iixit INFORMER.
 
 PLUTUS 381 
 
 Chr. But the bath-man will take and drag him out of 
 doors ; for when he has seen him he will perceive that he 
 is of that bad stamp. But let us two go in, that you may 
 offer up your vows to the god. 
 
 {Exeunt CHREMYLUS and JUST MAX. 
 
 Old Woman (entering and bearing some cakes on a platter]. 
 O dear old men, have we really come to the house of this 
 new god, or have we altogether missed the road ? 
 
 Cho. Nay, know that you have come to the very door, 
 my little girl ; for you ask seasonably. 
 
 Old Worn. Come, then, let me summon some one of 
 those within. 
 
 Enter CHREMYLUS 
 
 Chr. Certainly not ; for I myself have come out. But 
 you must tell me for what in particular you have come. 
 
 Old Worn. O dearest sir, I have suffered dreadful and 
 unjust things : for since what time this god began to 
 have the use of his eyes, he has made my life to be in- 
 supportable. 
 
 Chr. What's the matter? I suppose you also were an 
 informeress among women ? 
 
 Old Worn. No, by Jupiter, not I ! 
 
 Chr. Or did you not drink in your letter, having ob- 
 tained it by lot ? 
 
 Old Worn. You are mocking me ; but I burn with love, 
 unhappy woman. 
 
 Chr. Will you not then quickly tell me what is your 
 love ? 
 
 Old Worn. Hear then ! I had a dear youth, poor, in- 
 deed, but, for the rest, good-looking, and handsome, and 
 good. For if I wanted anything, he used to perform 
 everything for me decently and well, while I assisted him 
 in all his wants in the same manner. 
 
 Chr. But what was it he especially wanted of you, on 
 each occasion? 
 
 Old Worn. Not much ; for he was marvellously respect- 
 ful to me. But he used to ask for twenty drachmas of
 
 382 ARISTOI'HANF.S 
 
 silver for a mantle, and eight, for shoes ; and he used to 
 entreat me to purchase a tunic for his sisters, and a little 
 mantle for his mother ; and he used to beg for four me- 
 dimni of wheat. 
 
 Chr. Certainly, by Apollo ! this is not much which you 
 have mentioned ; but it is evident that he respected you. 
 
 Old Worn. And these, moreover, he said he asked of 
 me, not on account of lewdness, but for affection, that 
 while wearing my mantle he might think on me. 
 
 Chr. You describe a man most marvellously in love 
 with you. 
 
 Old \Voin. But the abominable fellow now no longer 
 has the same mind, but has changed very much. For 
 when I sent him this cheese-cake here and the other 
 sweetmeats which are upon the plate, and whispered that 
 1 would come in the evening 
 
 Chr. What did he do to you ? tell me. 
 
 Old Worn. He sent back to us besides this milk-cake 
 here, on condition that I never came thither any more ; 
 and besides, in addition to this, when sending it off he 
 said, " Once in olden time the Milesians were brave." 
 
 Chr. It is evident that he was not very bad in his 
 character. So then, being rich, he no longer takes pleas- 
 ure in lentil-porridge ; but formerly, through his poverty, 
 he used to eat everything as a relish. 
 
 Old Worn. And yet formerly, by the two goddesses, he 
 used always to come to my door every day. 
 
 Chr. For your burial? 
 
 Old Worn. No, by Jupiter ! but merely through a desire 
 to hear my voice. 
 
 Chr. Nay, rather, for the sake of getting something. 
 
 Old \Vorn. And, by Jove! if he perceived me afflicted, 
 he used to call me coaxingly his little duck and little dove. 
 
 Chr. And then, perhaps, he used to ask you for money 
 for shoes. 
 
 Old Worn. And when any one looked at me when riding 
 in my carriage at the Great Mysteries, I was beaten on
 
 PLUTUS 383 
 
 account of this the whole day ; so very jealous was the 
 young man. 
 
 Chr. For he took pleasure, as it seems, in eating 
 alone. 
 
 Old Worn. And he said I had very beautiful hands. 
 
 Chr. Ay, whenever they offered twenty drachmas. 
 
 Old Worn. And he said I smelt sweet in my skin 
 
 Chr. Ay, like enough, by Jove ! if you poured in Tha- 
 sian wine for him. 
 
 Old Worn. And that I had a gentle and beautiful look. 
 
 Chr. The man was no fool, but knew how to devour 
 the substance of a lustful old woman. 
 
 Old Worn. In this therefore, O dear sir, the god does 
 not act rightly, who professes to succour whoever happen 
 to be wronged. 
 
 Chr. Why, what must he do? speak, and it shall be 
 done immediately. 
 
 Old Worn. It is just, by Jove! to compel him who has 
 been benefited by me to benefit me in turn, for he deserves 
 to possess no blessing whatever. 
 
 Chr. Did he not then repay you every night ? 
 
 Old Worn. But he said he would never desert me while 
 I lived. 
 
 Chr. Ay, rightly ; but now he thinks you no longer 
 alive. 
 
 Old Worn. For I am wasting away through grief, O 
 dearest friend. 
 
 Chr. No, but you have rotted away, as it appears 
 to me. 
 
 Old Worn. Indeed, then, you might draw me through 
 a ring. 
 
 Chr. Yes, if the ring were the hoop of a sieve. 
 
 Old Worn. Well, now, see ! here's the youth approach- 
 ing, whom I have been accusing this long while ; and he 
 seems to be going to a revel. 
 
 Chr. He appears so : at least he is certainly coming 
 with a chaplet and a torch.
 
 584 ARISTOPHA 
 
 Enter a Youx<; MAN with a lighted torch in his hand, 
 followed by a band of revellers. 
 
 Young Alan. I salute you. 
 
 Old Worn, (to CIIKEMYLUS). What says he? 
 
 You. My ancient sweetheart, by Heaven ! you have 
 quickly become gray. 
 
 Old Worn. Unhappy me, for the insult with which I am 
 insulted ! 
 
 Chr. He seems to have seen you after a long time. 
 
 Old Worn. Since what time, O most audacious, who 
 was at my house yesterday ? 
 
 Chr. Then he is affected in a manner opposite to most 
 people; for, as it seems, he sees sharper when he's drunk. 
 
 Old Worn. No, but he is always saucy in his manners. 
 
 You. (holding the torch close to her face}. O Sea- Posei- 
 don and ye elderly gods, how many wrinkles she has in 
 her face ! 
 
 Old Worn. Ah ! ah ! don't bring the torch near me ! 
 
 Chr. Upon my word, she says rightly ; for if only a 
 single spark catch her, it will burn her like an old harvest- 
 wreath. 
 
 You. Will you play with me for a while ? 
 
 Old Worn. Where, wretcli ? 
 
 You. Here, having taken some nuts. 
 
 Old Worn. What game? 
 
 You. How many teeth you have. 
 
 Chr. Come, I also will have a guess ; for she has three, 
 perhaps, or four. 
 
 }'<>/(. Pav up ! for she carries only one grinder. 
 
 Old Woui. Most audacious of men. vou don't appear 
 to me to be in your right senses, who make a wash-pot of 
 me in the presence of so many men. 
 
 You. Upon my word, you'd be the better lor it, if one 
 were to wash you clean. 
 
 Chr. Certainly not, for now she is plaving the cheat; 
 but if this white-lead shall be washed off, you'll see the 
 wrinkles in her face quite plain.
 
 PLUTUS 385 
 
 Old Worn, You don't appear to me to be in your right 
 senses, old man as you are. 
 
 You. Perhaps, indeed, he is tempting you, and is touch- 
 ing your breasts, fancying that he escapes my notice. 
 
 Old Wont. No, by Venus, not mine, you abominable 
 fellow ! 
 
 Chr. No, by Hecate ! certainly not ! for I should be 
 mad. But, young man, I won't suffer you to hate this 
 girl. 
 
 You. Nay, I love her beyond measure. 
 
 Chr. And yet she accuses you. 
 
 Yon. What does she accuse me of? 
 
 Ckr. She says that you are an insolent person, and 
 that you tell her, " Once in olden time the Milesians were 
 brave." 
 
 Yon. I will not quarrel with you about her. 
 
 Chr. Why so? 
 
 Yon. Out of respect for your age ; for I would never 
 have suffered another to do so ; but now go in peace, hav- 
 ing taken the girl along with you. 
 
 Chr. I know, I know your meaning ; perhaps you no 
 longer deign to be with her. 
 
 Old Worn. But who is there to permit him? 
 
 You. I would not have to do with one who has been 
 embraced by thirteen thousand years. 
 
 Chr. But yet, since you thought proper to drink the 
 wine, you must also drink up the dregs. 
 
 You. But the dregs are altogether old and fusty. 
 
 Chr. Then a straining-cloth will cure all this. 
 
 You. Come, go within ! for I wish to go and dedicate 
 to the god these chaplets which I have on. 
 
 Old Worn. And I also wish to say something to him. 
 
 You. But I will not go in. 
 
 Chr. Be of good courage, don't be afraid ! for she 
 sha'n't ravish you. 
 
 You. Now you say very well ; for I have been pitching 
 her up long enough already. 
 25
 
 386 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Old Worn. Go in, and I'll enter after you. 
 
 [Exeunt OLD WOMAN and YOUNG MAN. 
 
 Chr. How forcibly, O King Jove, the old woman sticks 
 
 to the youth like a limpet ! {Exit CIIREMVLUS. 
 
 Enter MERCURY, who knocks at the door and then runs 
 away, frightened at the noise he has made 
 
 Cario (from within}. Who's that knocking at the door? 
 [Comes out and looks about. ,] What's this? It appears to 
 be nobody. Then certainly the door shall suffer for creak- 
 ing without cause. {Retires again. 
 
 Mer. (running out of his hiding-place). Cario ! You, I 
 say ! stop ! 
 
 Ca (coming out again}. Hallo, you ! Tell me, did you 
 knock at the door so violently ? 
 
 Mer. No, by Jove ! but I was going to ; and then you 
 anticipated me by opening it. Come, run quickly and 
 call out your master, then his wife and children, then his 
 servants, then the dog, then yourself, then the sow. 
 
 Ca. Tell me, what's the matter? 
 
 Mer. Jupiter, you rascal, intends to mix you up in the 
 same bowl and cast you all together into the Barathrum. 
 
 Ca. The tongue is given to the herald of these tidings. 
 But on what account, pray, does he purpose to do this 
 to us? 
 
 Mer. Because you have done the most dreadful of all 
 deeds. For since what time Plutus began to have the 
 use of his eyes as before, no one any longer offers to us 
 gods either frankincense, or laurel, or barley-cake, or vic- 
 tim, or anything else. 
 
 Ca. No, by Jupiter! nor will he offer them. For you 
 took bad care of us aforetime. 
 
 Mer. And for the other gods I care less ; but I am un- 
 done, and am ruined. 
 
 Ca. You're wise. 
 
 Mer. For formerly I used to enjoy all good things in 
 the female innkeepers' shops as soon as it was morning-,
 
 PLUTUS 387 
 
 wine-cake, honey, dried figs, as many as 'tis fitting that 
 Mercury should eat; but now I go to bed hungry with 
 my legs lying up. 
 
 Ca. Is it not then with justice, who sometimes caused 
 their loss, although you enjoyed such good things? 
 
 Mcr. Ah me, miserable ! Ah me, for the cheese-cake 
 that was baked on the fourth day ! 
 
 Ca. " You long for the absent, and call in vain." 
 
 Mer. Ah me for the ham which I used to devour ! 
 
 Ca. Leap upon the bottle there in the open. 
 
 Mer. And for the warm entrails which I used to 
 devour! 
 
 Ca. A pain about your entrails seems to torture you. 
 
 Mer. Ah me, for the cup that was mixed half-and-half ! 
 
 Ca. You can not be too quick in drinking this besides 
 and running away. 
 
 Mer. Would you assist your own friend in any way ? 
 
 Ca. Yes ; if you want any of those things in which I 
 am able to assist you. 
 
 Mer. If you were to procure me a well-baked loaf and 
 give it me to eat, and a huge piece of meat from the sac- 
 rifices you are offering within. 
 
 Ca. But there is no carrying out. 
 
 Mer. And yet whenever you stole any little vessel from 
 your master, I always used to cause you to be undetected. 
 
 Ca. On condition that you also shared yourself, you 
 house-breaker. For a well-baked cake used to come to you. 
 
 Mer. And then you used to devour this yourself. 
 
 Ca. For you had not an equal share of the blows with 
 me, whenever I was caught in any knavery. 
 
 Mer. Don't bear malice, if you have got possession of 
 Phyle ; but, by the gods, receive me as a fellow-inmate ! 
 
 Ca. Then will you abandon the gods and stay here? 
 
 Mer. Yes ; for your condition is much better. 
 
 Ca. How then? do you think desertion a fine thing? 
 
 Mcr. Yes; " for his country is every country, wherever 
 a man is well off."
 
 388 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 Ca. What use then would you be to us, if you were 
 here? 
 
 Mer. Post me beside the door as turnkey. 
 
 Ca. As turnkey ? but we have no need of turns. 
 
 Mcr. As merchant, then. 
 
 Ca. But we are rich ; what need then for us to main- 
 tain a huckstering Mercury? 
 
 Mer. Well, as deceiver, then. 
 
 Ca. As deceiver ? By no means. For we have no need 
 of deception now, but of simple manners. 
 
 Mer. As conductor, then. 
 
 Ca. But the god now has the use of his eyes ; so we 
 shall no longer want a conductor. 
 
 Mcr. Then I will be president of the games. And 
 what further will you say? For this is most convenient 
 for Plutus, to celebrate musical and gymnastic contests. 
 
 Ca. What a good thing it is to have many surnames ! 
 for this fellow has found out a scant living for himself by 
 this means. No wonder all the judges often seek eagerly 
 to be inscribed in many letters. 
 
 Mcr. Then shall I go in upon these terms ? 
 
 Ca. Ay, and go yourself to the well and wash the 
 puddings, that you may immediately be thought to be 
 serviceable. [Exeunt MKKCI KY ami CARIO, 
 
 Priest of Jupiter (entering hastily). Who can tell me Un- 
 certain where Chremylus is? 
 
 Enter CIIKI.MVI.US 
 
 Chr. What is the matter, my good sir? 
 
 Priest. Why, what else but bad ? For since what time 
 this I'lutus began to have the use of his eyes. 1 perish 
 with hunger. For I have nothing to eat; and that, too, 
 though 1 am the priest of Jupiter the Preserver. 
 
 Chr. Oh ! by the gods, what is the cause ? 
 
 Priest. No one deigns to sacrifice any longer. 
 
 Chr. ( )n what account ? 
 
 /.-.N/. lie-cause they arc all rich. And yet, at that
 
 PLUTUS 389 
 
 time, when they had nothing, the one, a merchant, used 
 to come and sacrifice some victim for his safety ; and 
 some other one, because he had been acquitted on his 
 trial ; and some other one used to sacrifice with favour- 
 able omens, and invite me too, the priest. But now not 
 even a single person sacrifices anything at all, or enters 
 the temple, except it be more than a myriad to ease them- 
 selves. 
 
 Clir. Do you not, then, receive your lawful share of 
 these ? 
 
 Priest. Therefore I also am resolved to bid farewell to 
 Jupiter the Preserver and stay here in this place. 
 
 Chr. Be of good courage ! for it will be well, if the 
 god please. For Jupiter the Preserver is present here, 
 having come of his own accord. 
 
 Priest. Then you tell me all good news. 
 
 Chr. We will therefore immediately establish but 
 stay here Plutus where he was before established, al- 
 ways guarding the inner cell of the goddess. But let 
 some one give me out here lighted torches, that you may 
 hold them and go before the god. 
 
 Priest. Yes, by all means we must do this. 
 
 Chr. Call Plutus out, some of you. 
 
 Enter OLD WOMAN 
 
 Old Worn. But what am I to do? 
 
 Chr. Take the pots with which we are to establish the 
 god, and carry them on your head in a stately manner, 
 for you came yourself with a party-coloured dress on. 
 
 Old Worn. But on what account I came ? 
 
 Chr. All shall be immediately done for you. For the 
 young man shall come to you in the evening. 
 
 Old Wont. Well, by Jove ! if indeed you promise me 
 that he shall come to me, I'll carry the pots. [Takes up 
 the pots and puts tJicm on her head. 
 
 Chr. (to the spectators). Well, now, these pots act very 
 differently from the other pots. For in the other pots the
 
 390 ARISTOPHANES 
 
 scum is on the top ; but now the pots are on the top of 
 this old woman. 
 
 Cho. Therefore 'tis fitting that we delay no longer, 
 but go back to the rear ; for we must follow after these, 
 singing. {Exeunt omnes. 
 
 (2) 
 
 THE END
 
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