Euripides.
Songs? Yes, I have materials to show
How bad his are, and always all alike.
Chorus.
What in the world shall we look for next?
Aeschylus' music! I feel perplexed
How he can want it mended.
I have always held that never a man
Had written or sung since the world began
Melodies half so splendid!
(Can he really find a mistake
In the master of inspiration?
I feel some consternation
For our Bacchic prince's sake!)
Euripides.
Wonderful songs they are! You'll see directly;
I'll run them all together into one.
Dionysus.
I'll take some pebbles, then, and count for you.
Euripides (singing).
"O Phthian Achilles, canst hark to the battle's man-slaying shock,
Yea, shock, and not to succour come?
Lo, we of the Mere give worship to Hermes, the fount of our stock,
Yea, shock, and not to succour come!"
Dionysus.
Two shocks to you, Aeschylus, there!
