Translated by George Theodoridis ã2001 All Rights Reserved
This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose, except for theatrical or cinematic use where permission must be sought.
Contents
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The Characters:
Dicaeopolis: a mild-mannered farmer
Xanthias: a slave to Dicaeopolis
A second slave to Dicaeopolis
A daughter to Dicaeopolis
A wife to Dicaeopolis
Eurypides: the Athenian tragedian
Kifisophos: a slave to Eurypides
Lamachus: a bombastic general
Four slaves to Eurypides
Four members of the Executive Committee
Maybegod: a peace negotiator
Two ambassadors to the Persian court
Pseudoartabas: “the king’s eye”
Two eunuchs to Pseudoartabas
Theorus: ambassador to Thrace
Five Odomantian soldiers
Megarian: a mild-mannered pauper
Two daughters to the Megarian
Boetian: a mild-mannered merchant
Ismenias: his slave
Informer
Nikarhos: another informer.
Peace
Derketes: a wealthy farmer
Best man
Bridesmaid
Herald A
Herald B
Chorus:
Lacratidis
Marilades
Drakylos
Euforides
Prinides
Other members
Two archers
A crowd at the Pnyx
Two flute players (following the Boetian)
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Scene 1
(The stage is divided into two parts. On
Stage Left is Dicaeopolis’ house. Front door aspect. On Stage Right is a
building which will serve as first, the
Pnyx, then Eurypides’ house –both front door aspect and indoors and finally as Lamachus’ house, front only. Both houses have a window through which the audience may witness indoor business. Next to Dicaeopolis’ house is an altar to Dionysus. The Pnyx has benches around for the people to sit upon and tables for the Executive Committee.)
(Day. The Open Air Assembly [Pnyx]. Dicaeopolis is standing there, waiting all alone. Next to him is a sack of garlic that he has brought from his farm. He keeps moving it about to be near him, whenever he moves. He’s now slowly pacing up and down, shaking his head, despondency slowly giving way to anger. He's now slowly pacing up and down, shaking his head, despondency slowly giving away to anger and, between comedic pauses, he farts, scratches now his bum now his inguinal area, picks his nose, stares tearfully into the distance, scratches the ground with his feet, sits down, stands up.)
Dicaeopolis: (Sighs several times before he speaks and when he does so, his speech is ponderous, agonised and peppered with more sighs.)
God, there are so many things that eat away at my poor little ticker! Oh, yes! So many worries! And the pleasures?
(Shakes his head despondently)
So few pleasures!
(Thinks while counting on his fingers. First in one hand, then in the other, then back to the first hand… Drops his hands to his side in despair.)
Four, to be utterly precise! Four! Whereas my pains!
(Shows his two hands –that’s what he was
counting after all!)
The pains I’ve suffered were… b’zillions! Heaps and heaps of them!
(More sighs)
Let me see, now. Which of these pleasures were really worthy of the name? Oh, yes!
(Laughs)
I remember now! This was a real delectation this one! It gave my soul something to be really chirpy about. That was when our leader, Cleon had to vomit back the five talents
(shows the fingers on his hand again)
– count them – five talents, to the Treasury! Five talents – that’s
(Back to counting his fingers again.)
That’s… let’s see, six thousand drachs to a talent… that makes… Oooooh, a lot! Hahaha! He had ripped off our allies by promising them that he could persuade our council to lower their taxes, so they gave him a neat little bribe of all these drachmas. But the Knights sniffed out the job and so they made him cough it all up again. Hahaha! What a beautiful job the Knights did on him! I love them for that! Men and deed, worthy of Greece!
(Thinks for a little while and a thought
saddens him.)
But then, there was this tragic torture I had to endure. While I was at the theatre, expecting some brilliant Aeschylean thing, I hear the words, “Permission granted for Theognis to direct his chorus!” Grrr! Theognis! Cold, cold-hearted creep. That’s why they call him “Snowy, Old Snowy,” they call him! My God! Can you imagine how that froze my heart?
(Back to thinking. This time it’s a happy thought.)
But then again, what a joy it was to have that crap lyre-player, Moschus, followed by divine Dexitheus! Oh, what a delightful voice that boy has! He came on to sing some lovely Boetian songs. Absolute delight!
(Back to thinking. Sigh of sadness again.) Completely the opposite of what happened this year! Disgusting! Damn near killed myself trying to look away when that gruesome sight of a flute player, sneaked onto the stage to play his martial airs. Tararam, tararam, tarararararram! Horrible, stuff, just horrible…believe me, it was horrible!
(Looks around him, anger swelling.) But, my God! My eyes have never burned so much as they do now at the sight of this. Not since mummy gave me my first bath, did they burn so much!
(Waving his arms about, indicating the emptiness of the place)
Look at this! You wouldn’t believe it but this is a proper, normal day for the
sitting of the Assembly. Yet, look at it! The place is deserted! Totally! They’re all at the market, gossiping as usual or running up and down the place trying to avoid the staining rope of the cops when they try to round them up. Even the Executive isn’t here yet. They’ll come late - as per always! – all in one go, preferring to push and shove each other to get to the front row, rather than to talk about peace. Oh, Athens, Athens! My poor little country! What are you doing? What are you on about these days?
Here I am, as per always the first one here and as per always, I sit and wait. And wait, and wait! And, what can I do with myself? All alone, here? (Groans)
I groan, and groan and I yawn and I gork…
(Stretches his limbs) and I stretch and I scratch and…
(Farts loudly, then chuckles) and I fart and fart – pooh, stinky garlic farts! Then I don’t know what else to do…
(Scratches his groin)
.... so I start scratching…pictures on the ground, start tearing at my pubes… I ponder about life… I look far towards my fields and I long for peace! Peace! How I long for peace!
(Deep sigh.) I hate the city… but I love the village! I love the village! None of this, “I need to buy coal,” or “I need to buy vinegar” or oil or… or anything! We know nothing of “buying” up there. We supply everything ourselves – we gave “buying” the axe! Peace! Here I am then, absolutely determined to scream and shout and swear at the speakers if any of them want to talk about anything else but peace.
(Enter the Executive Committee, a Herald, two archers and a crowd, jostling for the front seats.)
Ah! Here they are. It must be midday! What did I tell you? They’re pushing and shoving each other to get to the front planks. Pushing, pushing, pushing!
Everyone is pushing!
Herald: (Directing everyone) This way! This way please! Come in through, into the consecrated area, please! This way!
(Enter Maybegod, last of all and looking concerned.)
45 Maybegod: (To Dicaeopolis) Has anyone spoken yet?
(Dicaeopolis shakes his head.)
Herald: Right! Is there anyone who wishes to speak?
Maybegod: I do!
Herald: Who are you?
Maybegod: I am Maybegod:
Herald: Maybegod? You mean, you are not a mortal?
Maybegod: No, no, not a mortal. I am immortal! Because Maybegod senior married Demeter and they gave birth to Triptolemos. By him was born Keleos who wedded grandma – that’s Faenarete – from whom emerged Lycinos and from Lycinos came I! That’s me! Immortal Maybegod! And as such, the gods have entrusted me – me alone – with the peace negotiations with Sparta! But, men, though I am immortal, I still need financial support but (pleads) The Executive will just not give me that support!
Herald: Archers! Out with this idiot!
(The archers come and grab Maybegod.)
55 Maybegod: Oh Triptolemos and Keleos, have you forsaken me?
(Maybegod is thrown out of the Pnyx by the archers.)
Dicaeopolis: Unfair! Unfair! The Committee is being unfair to the Assembly by throwing out a man who wants to negotiate peace and to rid us of our war shields!
Herald: You, sit down and shut up!
Dicaeopolis: I will not sit down and shut up until you start discussing peace!
Herald: Our ambassadors from The King’s Court!
Dicaeopolis: Which King’s Court? I hate all these wanky, peacocky feathery, crappy ambassadors!
Herald: Quiet!
(From Stage right enter slowly and, pompously feigning dignity, the Persian ambassadors dressed in overdone Persian garb. Their phalluses protrude through their many feathers.)
Dicaeopolis: Oh, Ekvatana, baby! Look at those posers!
65 Ambassador: (Addressing the Executive Committee. Angrily.)
Gentlemen! You have sent us to the Great King on a salary of two drachmas per day. That was over ten years ago, during the archonship of Euthymenes!
Dicaeopolis: Ah, the poor little drachmas!
Ambassador: And we have suffered terribly. We were thoroughly bored as we strolled under the sun umbrellas along the plains of Carystros, lying in those luxurious coaches… we nearly died of it all!
Dicaeopolis: While I was taking it easy, sleeping on crap beds on the battlements!
Ambassador: And wherever we dined, the hosts would always force us to drink out of golden goblets and crystal cups! All that sweet, unmixed wine!
75 Dicaeopolis: Oh, Athens, great city of Kranaos! Can you feel how these ambassadors are mocking you?
Ambassador: That’s because the barbarians consider real men only those who drink and eat a great deal.
Dicaeopolis: Whereas we, here in Athens consider real men those who fuck or get fucked a great deal!
80 Ambassador: At the end of the fourth year, we arrived at the Great King’s Court but he had to vacate… he took his army and went off looking for a dunny. And there they all sat and shat, for eight months! Made
huge mountains of gold! Mountains and mountains of it!
Dicaeopolis: Affluent effluence! Hahaha! Eight months, hey?
(Yells so that the ambassador may hear him)
I wonder how long it took him to gather this huge… bum-hole of his, back together again?
Ambassador: (Responding to Dicaeopolis)
A full moon! Then he came back home and made us eat oxen, roasted whole in the bread oven!
Dicaeopolis: Buuuull- shit! Who ever saw oxen roasted in bread ovens?
Ambassador: (Still with Dicaeopolis)
Swear to Zeus and hope to die! Then he served us a huge bird… Real huge, it was, three times the size of Cleonymus’ bum! This bird was called… (Trying to remember) Lyre, no, Ripper!
90 Dicaeopolis: You’re the liar! You’re the one who’s ripped us off with shitful lies like this – ripped us off of our two drachs per day! Per every day!
Ambassador: And now, we have come here bringing with us, Pseudoartabas, who’s called. “The King’s Spy,” errr, I mean, “Eye.”
Dicaeopolis: I wish the crows would rip your eye out mister Ambassador!
Herald: (Yells) The King’s Eye! All stand for the King’s Eye!
(Enter “The King’s Eye” [Pseudoartabas] with his two eunuchs. Their attire is even more contrived than that of the Ambassadors’ and the manner and air of Pseudoartabas is even more pompous and condescending. He is wearing a frightening mask upon which is painted a huge eye, much like those one sees at the sides of the front of old Persian ships.)
Dicaeopolis: Great Hercules! Oh my, oh my, oh my, oh my God! Man what an eye! What do you use it for, as a look out? Are you the one on the ship who shouts out the warning, “warship ahoy!” or are you the eye on the ship’s nose searching for a shit house, I mean, ship house? And what a piece of beaten hide surrounds it!
Ambassador: Right! Pseudoartabas, now please tell the Athenians what the Great King has sent you to say.
100 Pseudoartabas:
(Makes rude gestures, swinging and pointing first at his bum, then at his phallus)
Artaman exarzan colo megalo, holo satra!
Ambassador: (To the people)
Did you all get what he said?
Dicaeopolis: Not me, no!
Ambassador: He said that the Great King will be sending you all a great deal of gold
(Leans to Pseudo and whispers in his ear)
Say the word “gold” loudly and clearly.
Pseudoartabas: Greeks him muchy bummy hole not get him muchy goldy.
Dicaeopolis: Now, that was clear enough all right! Damned idiot!
Ambassador: Yeah? What did he say?
Dicaeopolis: What did he say? He says we’ve got overused bum holes and so we won’t get any gold from the damned barbarians!
Ambassador: No, you’re wrong. He didn’t say “bums,” he said “tons!” He means the King is going to send us tons of gold!
109 Dicaeopolis: Tons my bum! You’re just as big a wanker as he is! Ah, forget it! Piss off! I’ll ask the questions from now on.
(To Pseudoartabas)
Come now, you… King’s prick! Talk to me and be clear about it or else I’ll be painting your bum Sardinian red. Now! Is that great king of yours going to send us any gold?
(Pseudoartabas shakes his head)
So… these ambassadors here are lying to us?
(This time he nods. Dicaeopolis is highly surprised.)
Now… that was a real Greek nod that one, wasn’t it? No doubt about it… (Looks closely at him and at the eunuchs)
These wankers are all from around here! These eunuchs… Aha! I recognise one of them! That one there! He’s Cleisthenes, the son of Sybirtius, that one! But…
(Looks closer)
Cleisthenes didn’t have a beard…
(Looks even closer at him until the penny drops)
It is you! You, with your hot, passionate – and smooth-shaved bum! Did you really think you could fool us, pretending to be a eunuch with this monkey beard? And this one? Isn’t he Stratos?
123 Herald: You! Shut up and sit down! Ahem! The Assembly invites The King’s Eye to the Prytaneum!
(Ambassadors, Pseudoartabas and his eunuchs leave the Pnyx. While Dicaeopolis speaks the Executive Committee prepare the next item on the agenda.)
Dicaeopolis: (To the audience)
Doesn’t this sort of stuff make you homicidal? Here I am, straining to survive from one day to the next while the doors to the dining halls are never shut for these crooks!
(Thinks for a moment)
Right! That’s it! I thought me a great and mighty thought! Now where’s my little Maybegod?
(Maybegod pokes his head from behind a wall.)
Maybegod: Here I am! Right here!
130 Dicaeopolis: Here, Maybegod.
(Searches in every pocket and fold of his cloak and tunic and gathers up some coins. Counts them and hands them to Maybegod)
Take these eight drachmas of mine and go and make peace with the Spartans for me, my children and my nearest and dearest!
(To the Executive Committee)
And you, gentlemen, you can go on with your ambassadorising and with your looking like idiotic dorks!
(Maybegod chuckles with sly joy and runs off.)
Herald: Let Theorus, ambassador from the court of Sitalces, King of Thrace, approach!
(Enter Theorus. He’s dressed in equally exaggerated Thracian clothes.)
Dicaeopolis: (To the audience)
Here we go again! Another costume, another wanker!
Theorus: We would have not stayed in Thrace for so long…
Dicaeopolis: …if your salary wasn’t so great!
Theorus: If the whole of Thrace wasn’t covered with snow…
Dicaeopolis: (To the audience)
That’s the time when Theognis, old “snowy,” I told you about, produced his
tragedy. Sure brings on the winter with his tragedies, that boy! Brrrr!
141 Theorus: I was drinking with Sitalces during all that time. He loves the Athenians so much! He adores them, you know! He lusts after them! So much so that he had covered all his walls with graffiti, saying, “Athenians are beautiful!” And his son, the one we made an Athenian citizen, he was eager to come to Athens and eat some of our sausages during our Cheater’s festivals, so he begged his father to come to the aid of his newly adopted country. To which his father agreed and took an oath and swore that he would help the Athenians by sending them so huge an army that when they saw it they’d think a plague of locusts had descended upon them!
151 Dicaeopolis: (To the audience)
Well, I’d be buggered if I believe any of this… except the locusts bit!
Theorus: (Indicating behind the curtain)
So he has sent you these here soldiers. They are from one of the most genuine war-loving tribes in Thrace.
Dicaeopolis: (To the audience)
Now this will be good! We’ll get to see the real colour of their money!
Herald: Ahem! The Thracians whom Theorus has brought – please approach!
(A motley band of soldiers, ill equipped, ill dressed, looking as if they’re starved and not at all “war loving” are ushered in. Their phalluses look “strange.”)
Dicaeopolis: (Laughs heartily as he mocks them)
What is this ugly lot of Dickskins? In fact…
(He approaches them for closer scrutiny)
......talking about dicks...
Theorus: You are looking at the Odomantian Army, sir!
Dicaeopolis: Odomantian what?
(Pointing at their phalluses)
And who snipped off the flippers from their Odomantian floppers?
Theorus: (Like an insulted salesman)
These here soldiers – if you give them a mere two drachs a day they’ll have the whole of Boetia conquered!
(Some soldiers have discovered Dicaeopolis’garlic and they’re furtively eating it.)
161 Dicaeopolis: Two drachs for these half-cocks? Oh,God! What tears would flow from the eyes of those true soldiers, those rowers who fought the really great battles, our city savers, if they heard of this outrage. Two drachs a day – for snipped dicks!…
(Sees the soldiers tearing hungrily at his garlic)
Oi! Shit! Stop that you rotten buggers! Leave my garlic alone!
(Grabs a garlic from the teeth of one of the soldiers)
Give it back!
Theorus: Oh no! Oh, no! Poor fool. Don’t go near them, now, you idiot! Once they get a bit of garlic into them they get so horny they turn into fighting cocks!
Dicaeopolis: (At the Executive Committee. Fuming with anger)
Are you lot going to sit there and watch as a bunch of barbarians do this to me, in my own country?
(No response from the Committee)
Right! Then I insist that no discussion should take place about the salary
of these… Thracians… The Assembly should be dismissed – right now! Zeus has spoken. He has sent us a signal. I have felt a drop of rain on my head!
Herald: Right! The Assembly is dismissed! The Thracians may come back the day after tomorrow.
(All stand up and leave, while Dicaeopolis is fighting with one of the starving Thracians over his garlic.)
(The Pnyx is cleared [Of people, benches and tables] and turned into the front of Eurypides’ house, perhaps during the following:)
(Outside Dicaeopolis’ house Dicaeopolis is examining the strings of garlic hanging from the eves of his house. He is shaking his head at the small number of them remaining.)
174 Dicaeopolis: Damned thieves! Odomantian soldiers! Thieves, damned thieves the lot of them! Half-cocks and thieves! They’ve eaten all my garlic! I’ve hardly got any left.
(Sees Maybegod approaching, out of breath)
Maybegod! You’re back from Sparta already!
Maybegod: Quick, Dicaeopolis, I’ve got to run! The Acharnians are chasing me.
Dicaeopolis: Why, what’s up?
Maybegod: I was on my way here, bringing you the peace treaties I’ve signed for you with Sparta, and I was running as fast as I could but then, somehow, some old Acharnians, tough bits of stick the lot of them, hearts of oak, twisted old soldiers from the days of Marathon, tough as maple and steel and rock, sniffed me out and they all came after me, yelling at me, “you, most god-cursed creature. You’re bringing peace treaties from Sparta while our vines are lying there, destroyed by them?” Then I saw they were gathering stones and putting them in their cloaks, so I ran. They’re still following me with shouts.
186 Dicaeopolis: Never mind their shouting. Have you brought me the treaties?
Maybegod: Of course!
(Brings out of his cloak three small wine bottles)
I brought you three types to try.
(Hands him one)
Here! This one here is a five-year one. Taste it!
Dicaeopolis: (Takes the top off and takes a sniff)
Yuk! Poh!
Maybegod: What’s wrong?
Dicaeopolis: It’s awful! Stinks of tar and ship building!
191 Maybegod: (Hands him another bottle)
All right, taste this one, then. It’s a ten-year treaty. What do you think?
Dicaeopolis: (Smells this one also and is still unsatisfied)
Naaaah! Very sour! It really smells strongly of delegates going around the cities urging their allies to get a move on with the war preparation.
Maybegod: (Anxious that the Acharnians might appear any second, hands him a third bottle)
Well, this one is a thirty-year treaty. Both for sea and land. Quick, have a taste!
Dicaeopolis: (Smells it and finds it most agreeable.)
Mmmmm! What a delicious, scrumptious aroma.
(Smells again)
Ah, yes! This is the scent of Dionysiac festivals, of nectar and of…
(Takes another whiff)
.... let me see, subtle but assertive traces of… of ambrosia!This truce here does not utter words like, “take three days’ provisions and head to the front!” No this…
(Takes yet another whiff, then puts his ear to the mouth of the bottle)
This says, “you may go wherever you wish!” Mmmmm!Yes! I’ll take this one and pour libations and drink it to the very last drop and wish the Acharnians all the joy in the world.
(Loud shouting of the approaching Acharnians.)
And I, now that I’ve excluded myself from the war, I shall go to my fields to celebrate the Dionysiac festival.
Maybegod: (Aware of the noises)
And I shall rush off before the Acharnians get me!
(Exit Maybegod, stage Left and Dicaeopolis goes into his house. A moment later the chorus rushes in, Stage Right. They are the Acharnians who are pursuing Maybegod. Very old and out of breath. They are running all around the stage looking for him.)
204 Lacratides:
(Out of breath)
Ask every one, everywhere! Ask all the people ask them about this traitor. Come on, this way. The city needs to capture him. Tell me if you see this evil truce bearer anywhere.
(Overtaken by despondency.)
Ach! He has run off! Escaped! We’ve lost him! God, I am so old! I hate my old age!
(He’s being overwhelmed by nostalgia.)
There was a time when… when I could run so fast – even with a sack of coals on my back, I could and did outrun real athletes. Kept up with Phaylos once. Pythian champion! This traitor here wouldn’t have a hope in Hades back in the old days. I don’t care how fast he can run! He wouldn’t be escaping me so lightly back then. But now!
Marilades: But now, now, poor old Lacratides! You’ve lost your limbs, and your legs are getting heavier and heavier by the day and the traitor has escaped us!
Lacratidis: No! Let’s go after him, Acharnians. No one should be able to boast that they’ve escaped us! Us, Acharnians, even at our age.
225 Drakylos: (Despairing) Zeus, almighty! Who would dare sign treaties with the enemy now? We need the war to continue so as to avenge our ruined farms!
Prinides: And I won’t stop fighting until I plunge – full vengeance! – like a sharp, painful rod deep into their flesh. That should stop them from ever setting foot on our vineyards again!
Lacratides: I shall seek this man out from place to place even if I have to go all the way to Palene, and when I find him I shall enjoy stoning the traitor –to death!
Dicaeopolis: (Shouts from within his house)
Quiet! Quiet please, all! Reverence from all of you, please! Reverence!
238 Lacratides: Shushhh. Quiet a minute! Listen friends… Did you hear that?
(They all prick their ears)
He’s after reverence! Listen!
Prinides: That’s the very man we’re after! Let’s get out of the way and hide. I think he’s about to come out for a sacrifice.
(Dicaeopolis comes out of his house, followed by his daughter and two slaves. He’s carrying a pot, his daughter a basket and one of the slaves, Xanthias, a standard, which is a huge phallus and which he is holding rather carelessly, irreverently. Dicaeopolis’ wife is inside the house, standing by the window, watching them.)
Dicaeopolis: Reverence: reverence all! Basket bearer at the front! Xanthias! Hold that cock straight! Put the basket down here, please daughter, so that we can begin the sacrifice.
(They walk to the altar of Dionysos upon which the daughter puts the basket.)
245 Daughter: Mum, bring me the ladle so that I can spread the sacred potion on the bread.
(Mother obeys daughter, who, solemnly pours the potion onto the bread. Dicaeopolis observes and when she’s done he takes up a reverential attitude and, with a supervisory glance all around him, demands attention from all.)
Dicaeopolis: Right!
(Xanthias takes this as a cue to stand straight again and to make sure that the phallus he’s holding stands equally as respectfully. The second slave also adjusts his posture)
We’re all ready! Oh, Great Lord, Dionysos! I’m sending you this offering as thanks for allowing me, along with my own folks, to celebrate the Rural Dionysia and for releasing us from the burdens of war. Through our offerings I ask you, Lord, to let our Thirty-year Peace Treaty be joyous to us all.
(To his daughter)
Now, sweetie, mind how you carry the basket around.
(Daughter picks up the basket)
Hmmm! Darling, you are so beautiful that you’ve got to make yourself look ugly. Pretend you’ve just eaten something sour and make an ugly face. (Daughter tries). That’s it!
(She walks ahead a little and Dicaeopolis talks sarcastically behind her back, as if she can’t hear him)
Oh, yes! Oh, how happy the man who’ll marry you will be, my darling! Oh yes! And, no doubt the two of you will produce a couple of little weasels, just like you: morning farts instead of morning fucks…lazing about all day! Hehehe!
(Louder now, addressing her)
And watch out that no one in the crowd....
(It’s only the four of them but he looks suspiciously at the two slaves) .....pinches your little jewels.
(To Xanthias)
Xanthias! You and I will walk behind her bearing the sacred phallus. (Chides him) Erectly!
(Xanthias adjusts)
I shall now sing the phallic song. You, wife, watch from the house.
(Intones religiously as they start walking around the altar.)
Oh, Phallis, loving boy of Dionysos, orgy lover, night wanderer, seducer of all, pederast! I greet you again, after six long years! I have returned to our village with my heart full of joy because I made a truce with the Spartans, and got myself rid of the bothersome business of war and of all the Lamachuses, war-mongering generals, one and all! Oh, Phallis, Phallis! (Stops singing as he falls deep into a fantasy)
What joy, Phallis, oh Phallis, my Phallis! What a joy it would give me – oh what a joy, if somehow you grant it that, one fine day, I find Strymodorus’ slave, Thraca – oh, that girl who right now is at the peak of her beauty! What joy it would give me, if I, accidentally on purpose, walking around Mount Phelleus, I find her stealing wood and I catch her from behind, grab her tightly under her arms, throw her to the ground, play with her and… take the pip right out of her cherry!
(The other participants are surprised by the lewdness of his ecstasy and Slave 2 taps him on the shoulder. Dicaeopolis snaps out of it and sighs. Then he regains his composure and continues the prayer.)
Oh, Phallis, Phallis, my dear Phallis!Come drink with us now and revel with us and, in the morning you’ll drink a cup of my peace wine and I shall hang my shield over the smoking hearth.
(Suddenly the Acharnians jump out in front of them yelling and throwing stones at them.)
280 Lacratidis: That’s him! That’s the man! Stone him, stone him! Hit the despicable man, hit him! Come on, men, stone him!
(Dicaeopolis’ people drop everything –basket, pot and phallus- and flee into the house, slamming firm the door behind them.)
Dicaeopolis: (From the window)
Great Hercules! What’s this? Watch out, you’ll smash my pot!
Marilades: We’re aiming at your head, you disgraceful droplet of snot!
Dicaeopolis: But why, dear, elderly Acharnians?
Drakylos: You dare ask why? You slimy, disgusting, traitor! You dare look us in the face after you went and signed up a treaty with our enemy, all on your own?
Dicaeopolis: Ohhhh, the Peace treaty! Well, you obviously don’t know why I did that. Listen and let me explain to you why I did that.
Euforides: Listen to you? Listen to a dead man? We’ll bury you with our stones in a minute!
295 Dicaeopolis: Not before you listen to me, you won’t! Please, dear friends, stop and listen to me!
Lacratidis: Forget it! I won’t let you spin us a story. I hate you more than that leather beater leader of ours, Cleon, whose hide I’m going to turn into sandals for our brave, young Knights, one day. As for you, long speeches won’t save you. Not after your treaties with the Spartans!
305 Dicaeopolis: Dear friends! Forget the Spartans for a minute and let’s talk about Peace And then you’ll see if I haven’t done a good deed by getting this treaty.
Marilades: Good deed? Good deed? How could it be a good deed? You’ve signed a truce with a people whose word is not bound by either altar or faith! They’re infidels! No religion to put fear into them. Or Honour to their word. How could that be a good deed?
Dicaeopolis: Because, men, we blame the Spartans too much! I know for certain that the Spartans are not the sole cause of all our problems.
311 Drakylos: Is that right, you sly creep? They are not the cause of our problems? You dare say this to us so blatantly and expect us to spare you?
Dicaeopolis: Not of all our problems, not all! In fact while I’m at it, I can prove to you that they are also the victims of many of our own doings!
Euforides: (Fuming with anger)
Ooooh! You dare defend our enemies like that! This is so awful! So terrible!
(Puts his hand to his heart)
Ohhhh! My heart is boiling!
Dicaeopolis: If I’m not telling the truth and I can’t convince the people, (Indicating the audience)
I’ll put my head on the chopping block!
Lacratidis: Let’s hurl our stones at this traitor, neighbours and beat him till he’s as red as our necks!
321 Dicaeopolis: What black anger is burning your heart, Acharnians! Will you not listen to me? Will you really not listen to me?
Marilades: Absolutely not!
Dicaeopolis: Oh well, then, it looks like I’ve had it!
Drakylos: Kill me if I ever listen to you!
Dicaeopolis: No, Acharnians, I beg you!
Euforides: You’re already dead, boy! You’re gone, now!
(More stones thrown at them)
Dicaeopolis: Right! That’s it! Now I’m going to show you! My blood for yours! I have here as hostage the dearest of your friends!
(He disappears into the house)
Lacratidis: What does this threat mean, neighbours? Does he have one of our children inside? Is that what’s giving him this courage?
(Dicaeopolis comes back to the window. He’s holding a pannier full of charcoal in one hand and a threatening dagger in the other. He’s black all over from the coal dust. The Acharnians are horror-struck by this.)
331 Dicaeopolis: All right then. Cast your stones at me if you wish. Butyou’ll never see this baby again! Now we’ll see if you love your coals as much as you all say you do! Come on: let’s see! How much do you love your coals?
Lacratidis: (To his friends) Oh, no! We’re stuffed! We’ve had it now, men!
(Examines more closely the pannier and recognises it)
And that pannier! I recognise it. It’s from my village.
(Shouts at Dicaeopolis)
No, don’t! Don’t do it! No! Your thinking is all wrong! Nonononononono!
Dicaeopolis: (Feigns a murderous disposition)
I will! I’ll kill this baby and you can scream all you like! I won’t listen to your crap any longer!
336 Marilades: No, please! This dear little basket is as old as we are. We grew up together… and we’re from the same village… and we’re both coal lovers. Don’t kill it!
Dicaeopolis: You wouldn’t listen to me before, would you? Well now –
Drakylos: No, no! Speak, if you want. Tell us whatever you like… that you love the Spartans…I’ll let you say anything… I won’t forsake my little coal basket!
Dicaeopolis: First chuck away your stones!
(The Acharnians do so.)
Acharnians together: There! Now put your dagger down!
Dicaeopolis: Oh yeah? Check your cloaks please and see that there are no stones hiding in there!
(The Acharnians all shake their cloaks to give proof that there are no stones “hiding.” One last stone is heard dropping noisily.)
Lacratidis: See? They’re all on the ground. See?
Prinides: All shaken out. Stop stuffing around. At the count of three, put your dagger down.
(All together)
One… two… and three!
(Dicaeopolis drops his dagger and comes out of the house.)
347 Dicaeopolis: Right! Well done! You’ve just managed to save the lives of some adorable little Parnethian coals, here. Imagine the howling you’d be making if I’d killed them! And if something did happen to them it would be the fault of their own neighbours.
(Shakes the black dust from his body)
Poor little basket. It got so frightened it spat out ink, like a squid. God, you’ve got such awful manners, you Acharnians! All that shouting and stone throwing! So vulgar. You won’t listen to me even when I offer to put my head on the block for my good arguments. I do love my life, you know!
Lacratidis: (Still angry)
Well, come on then! Bring out your block and start talking, you piece of chucked out scum.
Marilades: Let’s hear those great arguments of yours. I want to know what you think there is to say.
Drakylos: You chose the means of judgement so, go get your block!
(Dicaeopolis goes into the house and comes out again with the chopping block which he puts down.)
365 Dicaeopolis: Here we are. One block to act as court.
(Takes up posture as if to make a speech)
Ahem! I am a bad speaker, I know but I just must speak. I shall speak plainly and freely. I’m not one to hide behind my shield, like some cowardly generals. I’ll tell you of my views on the Spartans.
(Looks about him with some trepidation)
But I’m still very afraid though. Because I know for certain what peasants are like. They love it when some damned sycophant comes along and flatters them and their city – rightly or wrongly. The peasants just do not see that these mongrels are traitors who are in it for the money and for nothing more… As for the rest of the men, I know their souls. I know exactly what they’ll do: They’ll just bite my head off with their voting! That’s what they did to poor Aristophanes last year when, in his play, he had a few words to say about Cleon. Well, Cleon immediately rushed him off to the Council and there spat out a whole tongue-torrent of spinning abuses and lies and crap about him that the poor man nearly drowned in all the injustice. So, in view of this, let me dress in the clothes that would draw the most pity from you. I need to look like a real pauper, a real beggar.
385 Lacratidis: Why all these twists and turns and tricky delays? For all we care you can get yourself disguised as The Invisible Man, if you like! Go down to Hades, get Hieronymous’ ugly, hairy helmet and cover your ugly face with it, or go and get one of Sisyphous’ many tricks but this debate is not going to wait any longer!
(The Acharnians recede to the background while the next scene unfolds.)
Dicaeopolis: (To the audience)
This is where I must show what stuff my soul is made off! I know… I shall go over to Eurypides.
(Walks over to Eurypides’ house and knocks on the door.)
Hellooooo!Hey boy, are you there?Slave?Where are you?
Kifisophos: (Through a half-opened door)
Yes?Who is it?
Dicaeopolis: Ah, Kifisophos! Is your master, Eurypides home?
Kifisophos: (Ponderously, pseudo-philosophically, condescendingly)
He is and he isn’t… Work that out if you got the brains!
Dicaeopolis: (Tries to work it out)
He is and he isn’t. How can that be?
Kifisophos: (Feigns exasperation at Dicaeopolis’ lack of intelligence)
Just as I said, old man! In and out…
(Sees that Dicaeopolis is lost)
Look! His mind is wandering around looking for verses, so that’s not in; but his body is there, lying down, constructing a play.
400 Dicaeopolis: Oh, dear Eurypides! How fortunate you are to have such a witty slave who can answer the door with such oh-so-clever remarks! Call him for me, please, Kifisophos!
Kifisophos: That’s impossible!
(Slams the door in Dicaeopolis’ face)
Dicaeopolis: Impossible or not, I’m not leaving, even if I have to smash the door down.
(Shouts)
Hey Eurypides!
(No answer)
Eurypides!
(No answer again)
Hey Eury, boy! Can you hear me? Come on, Eury, you’ve let me in before so let me in again, now! Euryyyyyyy! It’s me, Dicaeopolis Chollidis, your friend!
Eurypides: (From within)
I’ve got no time to waste.
Dicaeopolis: So, don’t waste any time! Make it fast and roll down here!
Eurypides: (From within) Impossible!
Dicaeopolis: No it’s not!
Eurypides: (From within)
All right. I’ll roll down but I’ve got no time to waste!
(Sounds of someone rolling down the stairs.)
410 (Continuing from previous scene. They’ve just entered Eurypides’ house. Eurypides climbs back onto his bed, which is somehow raised precariously well above ground level. At his bedside comes and sits his slave, Kifisophos. On the wall and elsewhere hang various old rags and bits and pieces of theatrical costumes and other props. Both, Eurypides and Kifisophos are wearing ragged clothes. From the scrolls and quills strewn about the bed its obvious Eurypides had been writing.)
Dicaeopolis: (He’s astonished to see the state of Eurypides’ habitat)
Dear Lord! Eurypides!
Eurypides: (Makes himself comfortable in his bed)
Yeah, what’s with you?
Dicaeopolis: Well… you sit yourself up there, in midair like a bird in a straw nest to do your writing! Why… why on earth can’t you do it down here? On solid ground? No wonder all your characters are lame… and look at your clothes! Rags! No wonder your characters are also paupers and beggars…
(Remembers why he’s there and kneels down and begs)
Ah, yes, beggars! Eurypides, I beg you! On my knee-caps. Lend me some rags from some old tragedy of yours so that I can make a long speech to the chorus out there – they’ll kill me if I don’t say it well.
Eurypides: Which rags do you want? The ones I used for Oeneus, that poor, unfortunate hero?
420 Dicaeopolis: No, not Oeneus –someone worse off.
Eurypides: Blind Phoenix?
Dicaeopolis: (Thinks a moment)
No: not Phoenix either. Someone worse still.
Eurypides: (To Kifisophos, angrily)
What rags does the man want?
(Back to Dicaeopolis)
Do you mean those of poor Philoktetes?
Dicaeopolis: No, no, even poorer than him!
Eurypides: Ohhh! I know! You’re after the filthy rags of Bellerophon? That poor lame creature?
Dicaeopolis: No…
(He’s trying to think of the name of the character he’s got in mind).
No… the one I’m thinking of is not only a beggar and lame but also a brilliant orator…
Eurypides: Ah! Now I know who you’re thinking of! It’s Telephos, the Mysian, right?
Dicaeopolis: That’s it! Telephos! The Mysian!
Eurypides:(To Kifisophos)
Boy, give him Telephos’ rags.
(Kifisophos gets up and looks for them.)
They’re there, on top of Thyestis’ rags, amongst those of Inos.
Kifisophos: (Hands them to Dicaeopolis)
Here you are.
Dicaeopolis: (Takes the costume and examines it. Shows it to the public. It’s a true bundle of tatters. He puts his fingers through all the holes and brings the rags close to his face, which the audience can see through the holes.)
Oh, holy Zeus! Zeus, whose eye sees through all things.....
(Struggles to put on the clothes. His phallus is in the way and sticks out from under the tunic)
… and.......
(Indicating his phallus)
.....sees below all things! Oh, Zeus, please dress me up like the most wretched mortal…
(Sees a cap on the wall)
Eurypides, since you were kind enough to lend me these rags, could you also lend me something that will really match them? That little cap there, which Telephos wore on his head. I need to be a real pauper today. “To be, but not to look like what I be!” as your Telephos put it.
(Indicating the audience)
That lot should know who I’ll be but the chorus out there is like one of yours, too stupid to work it out and they’ll be just standing there, gaping at my subtle verbiage and loquacity.
(Chuckles wickedly)
What games, I’ll be able to play with them!
(To the audience)
You lot know I’m Aristophanes, don’t you? The author? Of this play?
445 Eurypides: (To Kifisophos)
Give him the cap.
(Back to Dicaeopolis)
You’ve got a dense and subtle little engine inside that pointy head of yours, haven’t you?
(Kifisophos nods with a chuckle. He’s beginning to enjoy this banter between Dicaeopolis and Eurypides. From now on he behaves like an over-energetic puppy waiting for Dicaeopolis to give him the next command.)
Dicaeopolis: (Takes the cap)
Bless you, friend and to hell with Telephos! Oh, I can feel my brain flooding with all these subtle little phrases of yours.
(Looks about him)
But I think I also need a walking stick.
Eurypides: (Nods to Kifisophos who goes and brings a walking stick to Dicaeopolis)
Take it. Now go! Enough! Get out of my marble abode!
Dicaeopolis: (Feigns hurt soul)
Ooooh!
(Addressing his soul)
Poor soul! See how he’s chucking you out even though you’re still in need of so many items? No, I need to be a bit gluey here. One of those really oily beggars.
(Back to Eurypides)
Eurypides, please give me that little cane lamp holder as well… please! You don’t need it. Look, it’s all smoky and burnt.
Eurypides:What on earth do you want to do with that cane lamp holder?
Dicaeopolis: Do with it? Nothing really. I just need it, that’s all!
Eurypides: (Getting impatient)
You know? You’re being a real bum-ache now. Come on: get out! Out of my house!
Dicaeopolis: Oh, all right, all right and may the gods grand you your mother’s fate.
(Impishly confiding to the audience)
Selling cabbages, hihihihihihi!
Eurypides: (Furious) Piss off!
Dicaeopolis: All right, all right!
(Goes towards the exit but remembers)
What about a little cup… one of those with chipped lips?
460 Eurypides: (Nods to Kifisophos who finds it and hands it to Dicaeopolis)
Take the damned thing and go! You irritating little fly turd! Now get out! Out!
Dicaeopolis: (Takes the cup and examines it. Then remembers.)
Oh, no! How this hurts! Eurypides, you don’t know how this hurts… Darling, dearest Eurypides, friend! One more little, tiny thing… a little potty…you know one of those with a hole broken in them and…a sponge in the hole to keep it from dripping…
Eurypides: Man! You’re ripping the heart right out of my tragedy!
(Kifisophos has the potty ready even before Eurypides tells him.He hands it to Dicaeopolis, smiling sympathetically.)
Now, take the potty and shove off!
465 Dicaeopolis:(Examines the potty)
Right. Now, I’m going!
(Hesitates)
But… Eurypides what can I do? I need something else desperately! I’m dead without it! Sweet, sweet, Eurypides… one more little thing. Just one more. Just give me some of those cabbage leaves your mother throws out. I need to put them in this cane lamp holder.
Eurypides: Grrr!This is really knocking me about this!
(Kifisophos has moved enthusiastically again and produced the leaves) There! Take them! There go all my dramatic props!
Dicaeopolis: (Examines the leaves and puts them in the lamp holder) Right! Don’t worry dear Eurypides. Now I’m really going!
(Moves towards the exit but once again he remembers)
Oh, no! I forgot again! Darling Eurypides… I know I’m a pain, “a pain great enough to rouse the ire of kings,” as your Telephos would say, hey? But I forgot the most important thing, Eurypides. Sweet, sweet, Eurypides. You know how I love you don’t you? Sooooo much! Kill me if I ask you for anything else except… except one more thing… some of those dried up parsley leaves your mother throws out –
Eurypides: (Interrupts him infuriated)
The man is making fun of me!
(To Kifisophos)
Throw him out and bolt the doors!
(Kifisophos is sadly obedient.)
(During the following Eurypides’ house becomes Lamachus’ house and remains so until the end.)
(In front of Dicaeopolis’ house. The chopping block is still there. The chorus is slowly moving in on him.)
480 Dicaeopolis: (To himself) Oh, my poor soul! Poor, poor soul! You’ve got to do the whole thing without the parsley now! Poor soul! Have you any idea what contest you’re going to contest? You’re about to make a speech in favour of the Spartans!
(After a few moments, he sighs and lifts his chin up.)
All right, then. Head erect, my soul and forward march! That’s it!
(Moves to make a speech but sees the chopping block and recoils)
What’s up? What’s stopping you, Dicaeopolis? You shouldn’t have any worries, not while you’re full of Eurypides. How could you go wrong? Courage, my soul! Go ahead! Put your brave head on the block and say what’s in it! Oh, what a brave heart, you’ve got, Dicaeopolis!
(Puts his phallus on the block)
490 Lacratidis: So… what are you doing? What are you going to say? You know you’ve got to be real brave, here don’t you? A real iron man. You’ve put your one and only dick on the chopper, and you’re about to speak against all of us!
(Turns to his colleagues with surprise)
The thing doesn’t bother him at all, men!
(Back to Dicaeopolis)
All right then, speak, if you want!
(During Dicaeopolis’ speech the Acharnians move, one by one as they are being persuaded by the argument, into two camps.)
496 Dicaeopolis: Well, here I am, a pauper and a writer – of comedies, no less! And I am about to speak to you, my dear audience of matters that are important to our city. You all think this is a dreadful thing to do, I know. Well, don’t! Comedians know justice and I’m a comedian, so I’ll speak about justice, no matter how hard it sounds to your ears. The things I will say will be hard but fair. Right. Let’s see now. Ah yes! Firstly, I can see that there’s isn’t a foreigner amongst you, not one, so our leader, Cleon.....
(Spits at the sound of his name)
....he won’t be able to accuse me – as he did last year – that I’m bagging you in front of foreigners. We are here, all on our own, celebrating our own Lenaia festival, no foreigners of any sort, taxpayers or allies. No one! What we have here is thoroughly winnowed wheat. That’s us. No chaff – that’s the foreigners, chaff!
(Chuckles)
I call them “the chaff of the city”
(Resumes his serious posture).
Folks, I really hate the Spartans. I really do, and I hope that Poseidon their own God sends them a damned huge earthquake and sinks all their houses, because the scum have torn down my own vines, as well. But then, speaking to my friends around here, can we really blame the Spartans for this? Because some of our own men, some Athenians – I don’t mean the city
Athens, listen carefully to this, please: I don’t mean Athens the city but Athenians, the men. Some men! Or rather some vile and hateful morons: losers: dishonourable scum. Human forgeries, strange strangers: well they have begun making accusations about some products from Megara, calling them “enemy goods.” First it was those cute little Megarian cloaks, then the cucumbers, and then the rabbits and then the little piggies and then the garlic, and then the rock salt! No sooner would they see anyone selling anything from Megara and straight away they’d shout, “enemy goods!” and they’d confiscate the damned thing and on that very day, you’d see them in the market selling those “enemy goods” themselves and pocketing the money. Well, so far, we might call this a petty crime, the sort that we do ourselves… Frequently! But then these drunken fools, they went to Megara and kidnapped their whore, Simetha. Well, we all know Simetha is Megara’s pride and joy! This was followed by some highly irate Megarians kidnapping our own whores, two of them, belonging to Aspasia, Pericles’ own whore boss. So there you have it! The whole war amongst all the Greeks begins here; because of three whores! Because you see, Pericles – our own, Olympian marvel, our own glorious Pericles – got so angry that he began shooting lightning out of his mouth and making thunder and stirring the whole of Greece with laws which sounded like post-orgy songs:
(Sings)
“Ohhhhh, we shall fight them on the beaches, we shall fight them on the land, we shall fight them in the market, no Megarian any where!”
That’s why, the Megarians after a while were becoming desperately hungry – starving, in fact. So what could they do? They began begging the Spartans to reverse that whore-begotten law! They had asked us, Athenians, many times but we had refused. And it is here that the clamour of the clashing shields begins! One may say that there was no need for that but then
one might also ask, well then, what was it we needed to do? If for example someone discovered that the Spartans sailed over, say to one of our tiny islands, Seriphos, for example and smuggled out of there some little puppy, what would you do, stay at home? Of course you wouldn’t! You’d be out there, launching three hundred ships, immediately, and the city would be drowned under the noise of soldiers choosing their captain and distributing their pay, and you’d be seeing the hustle and bustle as all of the figure heads of Athena were being re-gilded and the Pireas market would be buzzing with crowds distributing wheat at one stall, men buying wine skins and oar straps and wine-brimming jars, at another stall and garlic and oil and sacks of onions at yet another stall and wreaths and anchovies and… there’d be flute girls and… black eyes. And at the docks people would be making oars, banging nails, tying oar straps and oars to the oar holes. And you’d hear flutes, whistles, whistling commands to the oar hands at the oar holes… I know for a fact that that’s what you’d be doing!
(Indicating his costume)
And do we not know that Telephus himself would also be acting thus? If we don’t then we don’t have a brain between us. And with this, I conclude my speech!
(By now the Acharnians are split into
two sides.)
557 Lacratidis: (Sees the split in the ranks and gets very angry)
Is that right, you screwed up piece of disgrace? You – you, a mere beggar dare talk to us like this? So what’s the harm if one of us happens to be an informer, hey? What’s with all the agony?
Marilades: By Zeus! I think that every word Dicaeopolis said was the truth. Not a single lie amongst them all!
Lacratidis:(Charging towards Dicaeopolis, intending to beat him up)
Truth or not, there was no need to mention all this stuff. This boldness of his won’t make him a happier man, I’ll tell you that much!
Marilades: (Trying to stop Lacratidis) Hey, hold it! Hold it! What are you getting angry for? Stop! Stop! Hey listen!
(Lacratidis stops and looks threateningly back at Marilades who suddenly becomes frightened.)
If you try and hit this man… he’ll… he’ll hurt you more.
(Other members of the chorus come and grab Lacratidis noisily round the waist.)
565 Lacratidis: O Lamachus! You, whose eyes are like lightning! Wearer of the terrifying helmet! Friend and relative! Come and help me!
(To the audience)
And you, captains and generals and attackers of walls, come quickly! Hurry, they’ve got me by the waist!
(Noisy, bombastic, martial fanfare introduces Lamachus, who is fully armed, with spear, sword and shield at the ready. He is wearing a helmet with a ludicrous abundance of plumes and feathers. A huge, bright and frightening gorgon is painted on his shield.)
572 Lamachus: Who shouted the war cry? Who needs my help? What clamour must I join? Who stirred the Gorgon on my shield?
Dicaeopolis: Oh,
(Sarcastically)
Here he is! Lamachus! Hero… of the feathered crests and armies!
Lacratidis: (Indicating Di