Lines 594–787

DICAEOPOLIS.
A beggar am I, Lamachus?

LAMACHUS.
What else?

DICAEOPOLIS.
An honest townsman, not an office-seekrian,
Since war began, an active-service-seekrian,
But you’re, since war began, a full-pay-seekrian.

LAMACHUS.
The people chose me—

DICAEOPOLIS.
Aye, three cuckoo-birds.
That’s what I loathe; that’s why I made my treaty,
When grey-haired veterans in the ranks I saw,
And boys like you, paltry malingering boys,
Off, some to Thrace—their daily pay three drachmas—
Phaenippuses, Hipparchidreprobatians,
And some with Chares, to Chaonia some,
Geretotheodores, Diomirogues, and some
To Camarina, Gela, and Grineela.

LAMACHUS.
The people chose them—

DICAEOPOLIS.
And how comes it, pray,
That you are always in receipt of pay,
And these are NEVER? Come, Marilades,
You are old and grey; when have you served as envoy?
Never! Yet he’s a steady, active man.
Well then, Euphorides, Prinides, Dracyllus,
Have you Ecbatana or Chaonia seen?
Never! But Coesyra’s son and Lamachus,
They have; to whom, for debts and calls unpaid,
Their friends but now, like people throwing out
Their slops at eve, were crying “Stand away!”

LAMACHUS.
O me! Democracy! can this be borne?

DICAEOPOLIS.
No, not if Lamachus receive no pay.

LAMACHUS.
But I with all the Peloponnesian folk
Will always fight, and vex them everyway,
By land, by sea, with all my might and main.
[Exit]

DICAEOPOLIS.
And I to all the Peloponnesian folk,
Megarians and Boeotians, give full leave
To trade with me; but not to Lamachus.
[Exit]

CHORUS.
The man has the best of the wordy debate, and the hearts of the people is winning
To his plea for the truce. Now doff we our robes, our own anapaestics beginning.
Since first to exhibit his plays he began, our chorus-instructor has never
Come forth to confess in this public address how tactful he is and how clever.
But now that he knows he is slandered by foes before Athens so quick to assent,
Pretending he jeers our City and sneers at the people with evil intent,
He is ready and fain his cause to maintain before Athens so quick to repent.
Let honour and praise be the guerdon, he says, of the poet whose satire has stayed you
From believing the orators’ novel conceits wherewith they cajoled and betrayed you;
Who bids you despise adulation and lies nor be citizens Vacant and Vain.
For before, when an embassy came from the states intriguing your favour to gain,
And called you the town of the VIOLET CROWN, so grand and exalted ye grew,
That at once on your tiptails erect ye would sit, those crowns were so pleasant to you.
And then, if they added the shiny, they got whatever they asked for their praises,
Though apter, I ween, for an oily sardine than for you and your City the phrase is.
By this he’s a true benefactor to you, and by showing with humour dramatic
The way that our wise democratic allies are ruled by our State democratic.
And therefore their people will come oversea, their tribute to bring to the City,
Consumed with desire to behold and admire the poet so fearless and witty,
Who dared in the presence of Athens to speak the thing that is rightful and true.
And truly the fame of his prowess, by this, has been bruited the universe through,
When the Sovereign of Persia, desiring to test what the end of our warfare will be,
Inquired of the Spartan ambassadors, first, which nation is queen of the sea,
And next, which the wonderful Poet has got, as its stern and unsparing adviser;
For those who are lashed by his satire, he said, must surely be better and wiser,
And they’ll in the war be the stronger by far, enjoying his counsel and skill.
And therefore the Spartans approach you to-day with proffers of Peace and Goodwill,
Just asking indeed that Aegina ye cede; and nought do they care for the isle,
But you of the Poet who serves you so well they fain would despoil and beguile.
But be you on your guard nor surrender the bard; for his Art shall be righteous and true.
Rare blessings and great will he work for the State, rare happiness shower upon you;
Not fawning, or bribing, or striving to cheat with an empty unprincipled jest;
Not seeking your favour to curry or nurse, but teaching the things that are best.
AND THEREFORE I say to the people to-day,
Let Cleon the worst of his villainies try,
His anger I fear not, his threats I defy!
For Honour and Right beside me will fight,
And never shall I
In ought that relates to the city be found
Such a craven as he, such a profligate hound.
O Muse, fiery-flashing, with temper of flame, energetic, Acharnian, come to my gaze,
Like the wild spark that leaps from the evergreen oak, when its red-glowing charcoal is fanned to a blaze,
And the small fish are lying all in order for the frying;
And some are mixing Thasian, richly dight, shiny-bright,
And some dip the small fish therein;
Come, fiery-flashing Maid, to thy fellow-burgher’s aid,
With exactly such a song, so glowing and so strong,
To our old rustic melodies akin.
WE the veterans blame the City.
Is it meet and right that we,
Who of old, in manhood’s vigour, fought your battles on the sea,
Should in age be left untended, yea exposed to shame and ill?
Is it right to let the youngsters air their pert forensic skill,
Grappling us with writs and warrants, holding up our age to scorn?
We who now have lost our music, feeble nothings, dull, forlorn,
We whose only “Safe Poseidon” is the staff we lean upon,
There we stand, decayed and muttering, hard beside the Court-house Stone,
Nought discerning all around us save the darkness of our case.
Comes the youngster, who has compassed for himself the accuser’s place,
Slings his tight and nipping phrases, tackling us with legal scraps,
Pulls us up and cross-examines, setting little verbal traps,
Rends and rattles old Tithonus till the man is dazed and blind;
Till with toothless gums he mumbles, then departs condemned and fined;
Sobbing, weeping, as he passes, to his friends he murmurs low,
All I’ve saved to buy a coffin now to pay the fine must go.
How can it be seemly a grey-headed man by the Water-clock’s stream to decoy and to slay,
Who of old, young and bold, laboured hard for the State, who would wipe off his sweat and return to the fray?
At Marathon arrayed, to the battle-shock we ran,
And our mettle we displayed, foot to foot, man to man,
And our name and our fame shall not die.
Aye in youth we were Pursuers on the Marathonian plain,
But in age Pursuers vex us, and our best defence is vain.
To this what can Marpsias reply?
On, THUCYDIDES to witness, bowed with age, in sore distress,
Feebly struggling in the clutches of that Scythian wilderness
Fluent glib Cephisodemus,—
Oh the sorrowful display!
I myself was moved with pity, yea and wiped a tear away,
Grieved at heart the gallant veteran by an archer mauled to view;
Him who, were he, by Demeter, that Thucydides we knew,
Would have stood no airs or nonsense from the Goddess Travel-sore,
Would have thrown, the mighty wrestler, ten Evathluses or more,
Shouted down three thousand archers with his accents of command,
Shot his own accuser’s kinsmen in their Scythian fatherland.
Nay, but if ye will not leave us to our hardly earned repose,
Sort the writs, divide the actions, separating these from those;
Who assails the old and toothless should be old and toothless too;
For a youngster, wantons, gabblers,
Cleinias’ son the trick may do.
So for future fines and exiles, fair and square the balance hold,
Let the youngster sue the youngster, and the old man sue the old.

DICAEOPOLIS.
These are the boundaries of my market-place;
And here may all the Peloponnesian folk,
Megarians and Boeotians, freely trade
Selling to me, but Lamachus may not.
And these three thongs, of Leprous make, I set
As market-clerks, elected by the lot.
Within these bounds may no informer come,
Or any other syco-Phasian man.
But I’ll go fetch the Treaty-Pillar here,
And set it up in some conspicuous place.

MEGARIAN.
Guid day, Athanian market, Megara’s luve!
By Frien’ly Zeus, I’ve miss’t ye like my mither.
But ye, puir bairnies o’ a waefu’ father,
Speel up, ye’ll aiblins fin’ a barley-bannock.
Now listen, bairns; atten’ wi a’ yere painch;
Whilk wad ye liefer, to be sellt or clemmed?

GIRLS.
Liefer be sellt! Liefer be sellt!

MEGARIAN.
An’ sae say I mysel’! But wha sae doited
As to gie aught for you, a sicker skaith?
Aweel, I ken a pawkie Megara-trick,
I’se busk ye up, an’ say I’m bringin’ piggies.
Here, slip these wee bit clooties on yere nieves,
An’ shaw yeresells a decent grumphie’s weans.
For gin’ I tak’ ye hame unsellt, by Hairmes
Ye’ll thole the warst extremities o’ clemmin’.
Ne’est, pit thir lang pig-snowties owre yere nebs,
An’ stech yere bodies in this sackie. Sae.
An’ min’ ye grunt an’ grane an’ g-r-r awa’,
An’ mak’ the skirls o’ little Mystery piggies’
Mysel’ will ca’ for Dicaeopolis.
Hae! Dicaeopolis!
Are ye for buyin’ onie pigs the day?

DICAEOPOLIS.
How now, Megarian?

MEGARIAN.
Come to niffer, guidman.

DICAEOPOLIS.
How fare ye all?

MEGARIAN.
A’ greetin’ by the fire.

DICAEOPOLIS.
And very jolly too if there’s a piper.
What do your people do besides?

MEGARIAN.
Sae sae.
For when I cam’ frae Megara toun the morn,
Our Lairds o’ Council were in gran’ debate
How we might quickliest perish, but an’ ben.

DICAEOPOLIS.
So ye’ll lose all your troubles.

MEGARIAN.
What for no?

DICAEOPOLIS.
What else at Megara? What’s the price of wheat?

MEGARIAN.
Och! high eneugh: high as the Gudes, an’ higher.

DICAEOPOLIS.
Got any salt?

MEGARIAN.
Ye’re maisters o’ our saut.

DICAEOPOLIS.
Or garlic?

MEGARIAN.
Garlic, quotha! when yere sells,
Makin’ yere raids like onie swarm o’ mice,
Howkit up a’ the rooties wi’ a stak’.

DICAEOPOLIS.
What have you got then?

MEGARIAN.
Mystery piggies, I.

DICAEOPOLIS.
That’s good; let’s see them.

MEGARIAN.
Hae! They’re bonnie piggies.
Lift it, an’t please you; ’tis sae sleek an’ bonnie.

DICAEOPOLIS.
What on earth’s this?

MEGARIAN.
A piggie that, by Zeus.

DICAEOPOLIS.
A pig! What sort of pig?

MEGARIAN.
A Megara piggie.

DICAEOPOLIS.
What! no a piggie that?
It doesn’t seem so.

MEGARIAN.
’Tis awfu’! Och the disbelievin’ carle!
Uphaudin’ she’s na piggie! Will ye wad,
My cantie frien’, a pinch o’ thymy saut
She’s no a piggie in the Hellanian use?

DICAEOPOLIS.
A human being’s—

MEGARIAN.
Weel, by Diocles,
She’s mine; wha’s piggie did ye think she was?
Mon? wad ye hear them skirlin’?

DICAEOPOLIS.
By the Powers,
I would indeed.

MEGARIAN.
Now piggies, skirl awa’.
Ye winna? winna skirl, ye graceless hizzies?
By Hairmes then I’se tak’ ye hame again.

SECOND GIRL.
Wee! wee! wee!

MEGARIAN.
This no a piggie?

DICAEOPOLIS.
Faith, it seems so now,
But ’twont remain so for five years I’m thinking.

MEGARIAN.
Trowth, tak’ my word for’t, she’ll be like her mither.

DICAEOPOLIS.
But she’s no good for offerings.

MEGARIAN.
What for no?
What for nae guid for offerins?

DICAEOPOLIS.
She’s no tail.

MEGARIAN.
Aweel, the puir wee thing, she’s owre young yet.
But when she’s auld, she’ll have a gawcie tail.