Lines 161–336

HERACLES.
Who’ll tell you everything you want to know.
You’ll find them dwelling close beside the road
You are going to travel, just at Pluto’s gate.
And fare thee well, my brother.

DIONYSUS.
And to you
Good cheer. (To Xa.) Now sirrah, pick you up the traps.

XANTHIAS.
Before I’ve put them down?

DIONYSUS.
And quickly too.

XANTHIAS.
No, prithee, no: but hire a body, one
They’re carrying out, on purpose for the trip.

DIONYSUS.
If I can’t find one?

XANTHIAS.
Then I’ll take them.

DIONYSUS.
Good.
And see! they are carrying out a body now.
Hallo! you there, you deadman, are you willing
To carry down our little traps to Hades?

CORPSE.
What are they?

DIONYSUS.
These.

CORPSE.
Two drachmas for the job?

DIONYSUS.
Nay, that’s too much.

CORPSE.
Out of the pathway, you!

DIONYSUS.
Beshrew thee, stop: may-be we’ll strike a bargain.

CORPSE.
Pay me two drachmas, or it’s no use talking.

DIONYSUS.
One and a half.

CORPSE.
I’d liefer live again!

XANTHIAS.
How absolute the knave is! He be hanged!
I’ll go myself.

DIONYSUS.
You’re the right sort, my man.
Now to the ferry.

CHARON.
Yoh, up! lay her to.

XANTHIAS.
Whatever’s that?

DIONYSUS.
Why, that’s the lake, by Zeus,
Whereof he spake, and yon’s the ferry-boat.

XANTHIAS.
Poseidon, yes, and that old fellow’s Charon.

DIONYSUS.
Charon! O welcome, Charon! welcome, Charon!

CHARON.
Who’s for the Rest from every pain and ill?
Who’s for the Lethe’s plain? the Donkey-shearings?
Who’s for Cerberia? Taenarum? or the Ravens?

DIONYSUS.
I.

CHARON.
Hurry in.

DIONYSUS.
But where are you going really?
In truth to the Ravens?

CHARON.
Aye, for your behoof.
Step in.

DIONYSUS.
(To Xa.) Now, lad.

CHARON.
A slave? I take no slave,
Unless he has fought for his bodyrights at sea.

XANTHIAS.
I couldn’t go. I’d got the eye-disease.

CHARON.
Then fetch a circuit round about the lake.

XANTHIAS.
Where must I wait?

CHARON.
Beside the Withering stone,
Hard by the Rest.

DIONYSUS.
You understand?

XANTHIAS.
Too well.
O, what ill omen crossed me as I started!

CHARON.
(To Di.) Sit to the oar. (Calling) Who else for the boat? Be quick.
(To Di.) Hi! what are you doing?

DIONYSUS.
What am I doing? Sitting
On to the oar. You told me to, yourself.

CHARON.
Now sit you there, you little Potgut.

DIONYSUS.
So?

CHARON.
Now stretch your arms full length before you.

DIONYSUS.
So?

CHARON.
Come, don’t keep fooling; plant your feet, and now
Pull with a will.

DIONYSUS.
Why, how am I to pull?
I’m not an oarsman, seaman, Salaminian.
I can’t!

CHARON.
You can. Just dip your oar in once,
You’ll hear the loveliest timing songs.

DIONYSUS.
What from?

CHARON.
Frog-swans, most wonderful.

DIONYSUS.
Then give the word.

CHARON.
Heave ahoy! heave ahoy!

FROGS.
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax,
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax!
We children of the fountain and the lake
Let us wake
Our full choir-shout, as the flutes are ringing out,
Our symphony of clear-voiced song.
The song we used to love in the Marshland up above,
In praise of Dionysus to produce,
Of Nysaean Dionysus, son of Zeus,
When the revel-tipsy throng, all crapulous and gay,
To our precinct reeled along on the holy Pitcher day,
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax.

DIONYSUS.
O, dear! O, dear! now I declare
I’ve got a bump upon my rump,

FROGS.
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax.

DIONYSUS.
But you, perchance, don’t care.

FROGS.
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax.

DIONYSUS.
Hang you, and your ko-axing too!
There’s nothing but ko-ax with you

FROGS.
That is right, Mr. Busybody, right!
For the Muses of the lyre love us well;
And hornfoot Pan who plays
on the pipe his jocund lays;
And Apollo, Harper bright,
in our Chorus takes delight;
For the strong reed’s sake
which I grow within my lake
To be girdled in his lyre’s deep shell.
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax.

DIONYSUS.
My hands are blistered very sore;
My stern below is sweltering so,
’Twill soon, I know, upturn and roar
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax.
O tuneful race, O pray give o’er,
O sing no more.

FROGS.
Ah, no! ah, no!
Loud and louder our chant must flow.
Sing if ever ye sang of yore,
When in sunny and glorious days
Through the rushes and marsh-flags springing
On we swept, in the joy of singing
Myriad-diving roundelays.
Or when fleeing the storm, we went
Down to the depths, and our choral song
Wildly raised to a loud and long
Bubble-bursting accompaniment.

FROGS and DIONYSUS.
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax.

DIONYSUS.
This timing song I take from you.

FROGS.
That’s a dreadful thing to do.

DIONYSUS.
Much more dreadful, if I row
Till I burst myself, I trow.

FROGS and DIONYSUS.
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax.

DIONYSUS.
Go, hang yourselves; for what care I?

FROGS.
All the same we’ll shout and cry,
Stretching all our throats with song,
Shouting, crying, all day long,

FROGS and DIONYSUS.
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax.

DIONYSUS.
In this you’ll never, never win.

FROGS.
This you shall not beat us in.

DIONYSUS.
No, nor ye prevail o’er me.
Never! never! I’ll my song
Shout, if need be, all day long,
Until I’ve learned to master your ko-ax.
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax.
I thought I’d put a stop to your ko-ax.

CHARON.
Stop! Easy! Take the oar and push her to.
Now pay your fare and go.

DIONYSUS.
Here ’tis: two obols.
Xanthias! where’s Xanthias? Is it Xanthias there?

XANTHIAS.
Hoi, hoi!

DIONYSUS.
Come hither.

XANTHIAS.
Glad to meet you, master.

DIONYSUS.
What have you there?

XANTHIAS.
Nothing but filth and darkness

DIONYSUS.
But tell me, did you see the parricides
And perjured folk he mentioned?

XANTHIAS.
Didn’t you?

DIONYSUS.
Poseidon, yes. Why look! (Pointing to the audience) I see them now.
What’s the next step?

XANTHIAS.
We’d best be moving on.
This is the spot where Heracles declared
Those savage monsters dwell.

DIONYSUS.
O hang the fellow.
That’s all his bluff: he thought to scare me off,
The jealous dog, knowing my plucky ways.
There’s no such swaggerer lives as Heracles.
Why, I’d like nothing better than to achieve
Some bold adventure, worthy of our trip.

XANTHIAS.
I know you would. Hallo! I hear a noise.

DIONYSUS.
Where? what?

XANTHIAS.
Behind us, there.

DIONYSUS.
Get you behind.

XANTHIAS.
No, it’s in front.

DIONYSUS.
Get you in front directly.

XANTHIAS.
And now I see the most ferocious monster.

DIONYSUS.
O, what’s it like?

XANTHIAS.
Like everything by turns.
Now it’s a bull: now it’s a mule: and now
The loveliest girl.

DIONYSUS.
O, where? I’ll go and meet her.

XANTHIAS.
It’s ceased to be a girl: it’s a dog now.

DIONYSUS.
It is Empusa!

XANTHIAS.
Well, its face is all
Ablaze with fire.

DIONYSUS.
Has it a copper leg?

XANTHIAS.
A copper leg? yes, one; and one of cow dung.

DIONYSUS.
O, whither shall I flee?

XANTHIAS.
O, whither I?

DIONYSUS.
My priest, protect me, and we’ll sup together.

XANTHIAS.
King Heracles, we’re done for.

DIONYSUS.
O, forbear,
Good fellow, call me anything but that.

XANTHIAS.
Well then, Dionysus.

DIONYSUS.
O, that’s worse again.

XANTHIAS.
(to the Spectre) Aye, go thy way. O master, here, come here.

DIONYSUS.
O, what’s up now?

XANTHIAS.
Take courage; all’s serene.
And, like Hegelochus, we now may say
“Out of the storm there comes a new fine wether.”
Empusa’s gone.

DIONYSUS.
Swear it.

XANTHIAS.
By Zeus she is.

DIONYSUS.
Swear it again.

XANTHIAS.
By Zeus.

DIONYSUS.
Again.

XANTHIAS.
By Zeus.
O dear, O dear, how pale I grew to see her,
But he, from fright has yellowed me all over.

DIONYSUS.
Ah me, whence fall these evils on my head?
Who is the god to blame for my destruction?
Air, Zeus’s chamber, or the Foot of Time?
(A flute is played behind the scenes.)
Hist!

XANTHIAS.
What’s the matter?

DIONYSUS.
Didn’t you hear it?

XANTHIAS.
What?

DIONYSUS.
The breath of flutes.

XANTHIAS.
Aye, and a whiff of torches
Breathed o’er me too; a very mystic whiff.

DIONYSUS.
Then crouch we down, and mark what’s going on.

CHORUS (in the distance).
O Iacchus! O Iacchus! O Iacchus!

XANTHIAS.
I have it, master: ’tis those blessed Mystics,
Of whom he told us, sporting hereabouts.
They sing the Iacchus which Diagoras made.

DIONYSUS.
I think so too: we had better both keep quiet
And so find out exactly what it is.

(The calling forth of Iacchus.)

CHORUS.
O Iacchus! power excelling,
here in stately temples dwelling,
O Iacchus! O Iacchus!
Come to tread this verdant level,
Come to dance in mystic revel,
Come whilst round thy forehead hurtles
Many a wreath of fruitful myrtles,
Come with wild and saucy paces
Mingling in our joyous dance,
Pure and holy, which embraces
all the charms of all the Graces,
When the mystic choirs advance.