Aristophanes

The Wasps

Warsaw 2020

Contents

CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY

Philocleon

Bdelycleon, his Son

Sosias, Slave of Philocleon

Xanthias, Slave of Philocleon

Boys

Dogs

A guest

A baker’s wife

An accuser

Chorus of wasps

[Scene:-In the background is the house of Philocleon, surrounded by a huge net. Two slaves are on guard, one of them asleep. On the roof is Bdelycleon.]

Sosias [waking Xanthias up]

Why, Xanthias! what are you doing, wretched man?

Xanthias

I am teaching myself how to rest; I have been awake and on watch the whole night.

Sosias

So you want to earn trouble for your ribs, eh? Don’t you know what sort of animal we are guarding here?

Xanthias

Aye indeed! but I want to put my cares to sleep for a while.

[He falls asleep again.]

Sosias

Beware what you do. I too feel soft sleep spreading over my eyes,

Xanthias.

Are you crazy, like a Corybant?

Sosias

No! It’s Bacchus who lulls me off.

Xanthias

Then you serve the same god as myself. just now a heavy slumber settled on my eyelids like a hostile Mede; I nodded and, faith! I had a wondrous dream.

Sosias

Indeed! and so had I. A dream such as I never had before. But first tell me yours.

Xanthias

I saw an eagle, a gigantic bird, descend upon the market-place; it seized a brazen buckler with its talons and bore it away into the highest heavens; then I saw it was Cleonymus had thrown it away.

Sosias

This Cleonymus is a riddle worth propounding among guests. How can one and the same animal have cast away his buckler both on land, in the sky and at sea?

Xanthias

Alas! what ill does such a dream portend for me?

Sosias

Rest undisturbed! Please the gods, no evil will befall you.

Xanthias

Nevertheless, it’s a fatal omen when a man throws away his weapons. But what was your dream? Let me hear.

Sosias

Oh! it is a dream of high import. It has reference to the hull of the State; to nothing less.

Xanthias

Tell it to me quickly; show me its very keel.

Sosias

In my first slumber I thought I saw sheep, wearing cloaks and carrying staves, met in assembly on the Pnyx; a rapacious whale was haranguing them and screaming like a pig that is being grilled.

Xanthias

Faugh! faugh!

Sosias

What’s the matter?

Xanthias

Enough, enough, spare me. Your dream stinks vilely of old leather.

Sosias

Then this scoundrelly whale seized a balance and set to weighing ox-fat.

Xanthias

Alas! it’s our poor Athenian people, whom this accursed beast wishes to cut up and despoil of their fat.

Sosias

Seated on the ground close to it, I saw Theorus, who had the head of crow. Then Alcibiades said to me in his lisping way, “Do you thee? Theoruth hath a crow’th head.”

Xanthias

Ah! that’s very well lisped indeed!

Sosias

Isn’t this mighty strange? Theorus turning into a crow!

Xanthias

No, it is glorious.

Sosias

Why?

Xanthias

Why? He was a man and now he has suddenly become a crow; does it not foretoken that he will take his flight from here and go to the crows?

Sosias

Interpreting dreams so aptly certainly is worth two obols.

Xanthias [turning to the audience]

Come, I must explain the matter to the spectators. But first a few words of preamble: expect nothing very high-flown from us, nor any jests stolen from Megara; we have no slaves, who throw baskets of nuts to the spectators, nor any Heracles to be robbed of his dinner, nor does Euripides get loaded with contumely; and despite the happy chance that gave Cleon his fame we shall not go out of our way to belabour him again, Our little subject is not wanting in sense; it is well within your capacity and at the same time cleverer than many vulgar comedies.-We have a master of great renown, who is now sleeping up there on the other story. He has bidden us keep guard over his father, whom he has locked in, so. that he may not go out. This father has a curious complaint; not one of you could hit upon or guess it, if I did not tell you.-Well then, try! I hear Amynias, the son of Pronapus, over there, saying, “He is addicted to gambling.” He’s wrong! He is imputing his own malady to others. Yet love is indeed the principal part of his disease. Ah! here Sosias is telling Dercylus, “He loves drinking.” Wrong again! the love of wine is a good man’s failing. “Well then,” says Nicostratus of the Scambonian deme, “he either loves sacrifices or else strangers.” God no! he is not fond of strangers, Nicostratus, for he who says “Philoxenus” means a pederast, It’s mere waste of time, you will not find it out. If you want to know it, keep silence! I will tell your our master’s complaint; of all men, it is he who is fondest of the Heliaea. Thus, to be judging is his hobby, and he groans if he is not sitting on the first seat. He does not close an eye at night, and if he dozes off for an instant his mind flies instantly to the clepsydra. He is so accustomed to hold the balloting pebble, that he awakes with his three fingers pinched together as if he were offering incense to the new moon. If he sees scribbled on some doorway, “How charming is Demos, the son of Pyrilampes!” he will write beneath it, “How charming is Cemos!” His cock crowed one evening; said he, “He has had money from the accused to awaken me too late. As soon as he rises from supper he bawls for his shoes and away he rushes down there before dawn to sleep beforehand, glued fast to the column like an oyster. He is a merciless judge, never failing to draw the convicting line and return home with his nails full of wax like a bumble-bee. Fearing he might run short of pebbles he keeps enough at home to cover a sea-beach, so that he may have the means of recording his sentence. Such is his madness, and all advice is useless; he only judges the more each day. So we keep him under lock and key, to prevent his going out; for his son is broken-hearted over this mania. At first he tried him with gentleness, wanted to persuade him to wear the cloak no longer, to go out no more; unable to convince him, he had him bathed and purified according to the ritual without any greater success, and then handed him over to the Corybantes; but the old man escaped them, and carrying off the kettledrum, rushed right into the midst of the Heliasts. As Cybele could do nothing with her rites, his son took him to Aegina and forcibly made him lie one night in the temple of Asclepius, the God of Healing, but before daylight there he was to be seen at the gate of the tribunal. Since then we let him go out no more, but he escaped us by the drains or by the skylight, so we stuffed up every opening with old rags and made all secure; then he drove short sticks into the wall and sprang from rung to rung like a magpie. Now we have stretched-nets all around the court and we keep watch and ward. The old man’s name is Philocleon, it’s the best name he could have, and the son is called Edelycleon, for he is a man very fit to cure an insolent fellow of his boasting.

Bdelycleon [from the roof]

Xanthias! Sosias! Are you asleep?

Xanthias

Alas!

Sosias

What is the matter?

Xanthias

Why, Bdelycleon is getting up.

Bdelycleon

Will neither of you come here? My father has got into the stove-chamber and is ferreting about like a rat in his hole. Take care he does not escape through the bath drain. You there, put all your weight against the door.

Xanthias

Yes, master.

Bdelycleon

By Zeus! what is that noise in the chimney? Hullo! who are you?

Philocleon [poking his head out of the chimney]

I am the smoke going up.

Bdelycleon

Smoke? smoke of what wood?

Philocleon

Of fig-wood.

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This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.