Frogs (Murray 1912)/Text
THE FROGS
Xanthias
(looking round at his burden with a groan).
Sir, shall I say one of the regular things
That people in a theatre always laugh at?
Dionysus.
Say what you like, except "I'm overloaded."
But mind, not that. That's simply wormwood to me.
Xanthias (disappointed).
Not anything funny?
Dionysus.
Not "Oh, my poor blisters!"
Xanthias.
Suppose I made the great joke?
Dionysus.
Why, by all means.
Don't be afraid. Only, for mercy's sake,
Don't . . .
Xanthias.
Don't do what?
Dionysus.
Don't shift your luggage pole
Across, and say, "I want to blow my nose."
Xanthias (greatly disappointed).
Nor, that I've got such a weight upon my back
That unless some one helps me quickly I shall sneeze?
Dionysus.
Oh, please, no. Keep it till I need emetics.
Xanthias.
Then what's the good of carrying all this lumber
If I mayn't make one single good old wheeze
Like Phrynichus, Ameipsias, and Lykis?
Dionysus.
Ah no ; don't make them.—When I sit down there
[Pointing to the auditorium.
And hear some of those choice products, I go home
A twelvemonth older.
Xanthias (to himself).
Oh, my poor old neck:
Blistered all round, and mustn't say it's blistered,
Because that's funny!
Dionysus.
Airs and insolence!
When I, Dionysus, child of the Great Jug,
Must work and walk myself, and have him riding
Lest he should tire himself or carry things!
Xanthias.
Am I not carrying things?
Dionysus.
They're carrying you.
Xanthias (showing the baggage).
I'm carrying this.
Dionysus.
How?
Xanthias.
With my back half-broken.
Dionysus.
That bag is clearly carried by a donkey.
Xanthias.
No donkey carries bags that I am carrying.
Dionysus.
I suppose you know the donkey's carrying you.
Xanthias (turning cross).
I don't. I only know my shoulder's sore!
Dionysus.
Well, if it does no good to ride the donkey,
Go turns, and let the poor beast ride on you.
Xanthias (aside).
Just like my luck.—Why wasn't I on board
At Arginusae? Then I'd let you have it.
Dionysus.
Dismount, you rascal.—Here's the door close by
Where I must turn in first—and I on foot! (Knocking.
Porter! Hi, porter! Hi!
Heracles (entering from the house).
Who's knocking there?
More like a mad bull butting at the door,
Whoever he is . . . (seeing Dionysus). God bless us, what's all this?
[He examines Dionysus minutely, then chokes
with silent emotion.
Dionysus (aside to Xanthias).
Boy!
Xanthias.
What, sir?
Dionysus.
Did you notice?
Xanthias.
Notice what?
Dionysus.
The man's afraid.
Xanthias.
Yes, sir; (aside) afraid you're cracked!
Heracles (struggling with laughter).
I wouldn't if I possibly could help it:
I'm trying to bite my lips, but all the same . . . (roars with laughter).
Dionysus.
Don't be absurd! Come here. I want something.
Heracles.
I would, but I can't yet shake this laughter off:
The lion-skin on a robe of saffron silk!
How comes my club to sort with high-heeled boots?
What's the idea? Where have you come from now?
Dionysus.
I've been at sea, serving with Cleisthenes.
Heracles.
You fought a battle?
Dionysus.
Yes: sank several ships,
Some twelve or thirteen.
Heracles.
Just you two?
Dionysus.
Of course.
Xanthias (aside).
And then I woke, and it was all a dream!
Dionysus.
Well, one day I was sitting there on deck
Reading the Andromeda, when all at once
A great desire came knocking at my hesrt,
You'd hardly think . . .
Heracles.
A great desire? How big?
Dionysus.
Oh, not so big. Perhaps as large as Molon.
Heracles.
Who was the lady?
Dionysus.
Lady?
Heracles.
Well, the girl?
Dionysus.
Great Heaven, there wasn't one!
Heracles.
Well, I have always
Considered Cleisthenes a perfect lady!
Dionysus.
Don't mock me, brother! It's a serious thing,
A passion that has worn me to a shadow.
Heracles.
Well, tell us all about it.
Dionysus
(with the despair of an artist explaining himself to a common athlete).
No; I can't.
You never . . . But I'll think of an analogy.
You never felt a sudden inward craving
For . . . pease-broth?
Heracles.
Pease-broth? Bless me, crowds of times.
Dionysus.
See'st then the sudden truth? Or shall I put it
Another way?
Heracles.
Oh, not about pease-broth.
I see it quite.
Dionysus.
Well, I am now consumed
By just that sort of restless craving for
Euripides.
Heracles.
Lord save us, the man's dead!
Dionysus.
He is; and no one in this world shall stop me
From going to see him!
Heracles.
Down to the place of shades?
Dionysus.
The place of shades or any shadier still.
Heracles.
What do you want to get?
Dionysus.
I want a poet,
For most be dead; only the false live on.
Heracles.
Iophon's still alive.
Dionysus.
Well, there you have it;
The one good thing still left us, if it is one.
For even as to that I have my doubts.
Heracles.
But say, why don't you bring up Sophocles
By preference, if you must have some one back?
Dionysus.
No, not till I've had Iophon quite alone
And seen what note he gives without his father.
Besides, Euripides, being full of tricks,
Would give the slip to his master, if need were,
And try to escape with me; while Sophocles,
Content with us, will be content in Hell.
Heracles.
And Agathon, where is he?
Dionysus.
Gone far away,
A poet true, whom many friends regret.
Heracles.
Beshrew him! Where?
Dionysus.
To feast with peaceful kings!
Heracles.
And Xenocles?
Dionysus.
Oh, plague take Xenocles!
Heracles.
Pythangelus, then?
Xanthias (to himself).
And no one thinks of me,
When all my shoulder's skinning, simply skinning.
Heracles.
But aren't there other pretty fellows there
All writing tragedies by tens of thousands,
And miles verboser than Euripides?
Dionysus.
Leaves without fruit; trills in the empty air,
And starling chatter, mutilating art!
Give them one chance and that's the end of them,
One weak assault on an unprotected Muse.
Search as you will, you'll find no poet now
With grit in him, to wake a word of power.
Heracles.
How "grit"?
Dionysus.
The grit that gives them heart to risk
Bold things—vast Ether, residence of God,
Or Time's long foot, or souls that won't take oaths
While tongues go swearing falsely by themselves.
Heracles.
You like that stuff?
Dionysus.
Like it? I rave about it.
Heracles (reflecting).
Why, yes; it's devilish tricky, as you say.
Dionysus.
"Ride not upon my soul!" Use your own donkey.
Heracles (apologising).
I only meant it was obviously humbug!
Dionysus.
If ever I need advice about a dinner,
I'll come to you!
Xanthias (to himself).
And no one thinks of me.
Dionysus.
But why I came in these especial trappings—
Disguised as you, in fact—was this. I want you
To tell me all the hosts with whom you stayed
That time you went to fetch up Cerberus:
Tell me your hosts, your harbours, bakers' shops,
Inns, taverns—reputable and otherwise—
Springs, roads, towns, posts, and landladies that keep
The fewest fleas.
Xanthias (as before).
And no one thinks of me!
Heracles (impressively).
Bold man, and will you dare . . .
Dionysus.
Now, don't begin
That sort of thing; but tell the two of us
What road will take us quickest down to Hades.—
And, please, no great extremes of heat or cold.
Heracles.
Well, which one had I better tell you first?—
Which now?—Ah, yes; suppose you got a boatman
To tug you, with a hawser—round your neck. . .
Dionysus.
A chokey sort of journey, that.
Heracles.
Well, then,
There is a short road, quick and smooth, the surface
Well pounded—in a mortar.
Dionysus.
The hemlock way?
Heracles.
Exactly.
Dionysus.
Cold and bitter! Why, it freezes
All your shins numb.
Heracles.
Do you mind one short and steep?
Dionysus.
Not in the least . . . You know I'm no great walker.
Heracles.
Then just stroll down to Cerameicus . . .
Dionysus.
Well?
Heracles.
Climb up the big tower . . .
Dionysus.
Good: and then?
Heracles.
Then watch
And see them start the torch-race down below;
Lean over till you hear the men say "Go,"
And then, go.
Dionysus.
Where?
Heracles.
Why, over.
Dionysus.
Not for me.
It'd cost me two whole sausage bags of brains,
I won't go that way.
Heracles.
Well, how will you go?
Dionysus.
The way you went that time.
Heracles (impressively).
The voyage is long.
You first come to a great mere, fathomless
And very wide.
Dionysus (unimpressed).
How do I get across?
Heracles. (with a gesture).
In a little boat, like that; an aged man
Will row you across the ferry . . . for two obols.
Dionysus.
Those two old obols, everywhere at work!
I wonder how they found their way down there?
Heracles.
Oh, Theseus took them!—After that you'll see
Snakes and queer monsters, crowds and crowds.
Dionysus.
Now don't:
Don't play at bogies! You can never move me!
Heracles.
Then deep, deep mire and everlasting filth,
And, wallowing there, such as have wronged a guest
Or picked a wench's pocket while they kissed her,
Beaten their mothers, smacked their fathers' jaws,
Or sworn perjurious oaths before high heaven.
Dionysus.
And with them, I should hope, such as have learned
Kinesias's latest Battle Dance,
Or copied out a speech of Morsimus!
Heracles.
Then you will find a breath about your ears
Of music, and a light before your eyes
Most beautiful—like this—and myrtle groves,
And joyous throngs of women and of men,
And clapping of glad hands.
Dionysus.
And who will they be?
Heracles.
The Initiated.
Xanthias (aside).
Yes; and I'm the donkey
Holiday-making at the Mysteries!
But I won't stand this weight one moment longer.
Heracles.
And they will forthwith tell you all you seek.
They have their dwelling just beside the road,
At Pluto's very door.—So now good-bye;
And a pleasant journey, brother.
Dionysus.
Thanks; good-bye.
Take care of yourself. (To Xanthias, while Heracles returns into the house) Take up the bags again.
Xanthias.
Before I've put them down?
Dionysus.
Yes, and be quick.
Xanthias.
No, really, sir; we ought to hire a porter.
Dionysus.
And what if I can't find one?
Xanthias.
Then I'll go.
Dionysus.
All right.—Why, here's a funeral, just in time.
[Enter a Funeral on the right.
Here, sir—it's you I'm addressing—the defunct;
Do you care to carry a few traps to Hades?
The Corpse (sitting up).
How heavy?
Dionysus.
What you see.
Corpse.
You'll pay two drachmas?
Dionysus.
Oh, come, that's rather much.
Corpse.
Bearers, move on!
Dionysus.
My good man, wait! See if we can't arrange.
Corpse.
Two drachmas down, or else don't talk to me.
Dionysus.
Nine obols?
Corpse (lying down again).
Strike me living if I will!
Xanthias.
That dog's too proud! He'll come to a bad end.—
Well, I'll be porter.
Dionysus.
That's a good brave fellow.
[They walk on for some time. The scene changes,
a desolate lake taking the place of the house.
Dionysus peers into the distance.
Dionysus.
What is that?
Xanthias.
That? A lake.
Dionysus.
By Zeus, it is!
The mere he spoke of.
Xanthias.
Yes; I see a boat.
Dionysus.
Yes; by the powers!
Xanthias.
And yonder must be Charon.
Dionysus.
Charon, ahoy!
Both.
Ahoy! Charon, ahoy!
Charon
Who is for rest from sufferings and cares?
Who's for the Carrion Crows, and the Dead Donkeys;
Lethe and Sparta and the rest of Hell?
Dionysus.
I!
Charon.
Get in.
Dionysus.
Where do you touch? The Carrion Crows,
You said?
Charon (gruffly).
The Dogs will be the place for you.
Get in.
Dionysus.
Come, Xanthias.
Charon.
I don't take slaves:
Unless he has won his freedom? Did he fight
The battle of the Cold Meat Unpreserved?
Xanthias.
Well, no; my eyes were very sore just then . . .
Charon.
Then trot round on your legs!
Xanthias.
Where shall I meet you?
Charon.
At the Cold Seat beside the Blasting Stone.
Dionysus (to Xanthias, who hesitates).
You understand?
Xanthias.
Oh, quite. (Aside) Just like my luck.
What can have crossed me when I started out?
Charon.
Sit to your oar (Dionysus does his best to obey). Any more passengers?
If so, make haste. (To Dionysus) What are you doing there?
Dionysus.
Why, what you told me; sitting on my oar.
Charon.
Oh, are you? Well, get up again and sit
[Pushing him down.
Down there—fatty!
Dionysus (doing everything wrong).
Like that?
Charon.
Put out your arms
And stretch . . .
Dionysus.
Like that?
Charon.
None of your nonsense here!
Put both your feet against the stretcher.—Now,
In good time, row!
Dionysus (fluently, putting down his oars).
And how do you expect
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Let him fight all alone with his friends, in the far-off fields of his father.