STREPSIADES
O dear! O dear! O Lord! O Zeus! these nights, how long they are. Will they ne’er pass? will the day never come? Surely I heard the cock crow, hours ago. Yet still my servants snore. These are new customs. O’ware of war for many various reasons; One fears in war even to flog one’s servants. And here’s this hopeful son of mine wrapped up Snoring and sweating under five thick blankets. Come, we’ll wrap up and snore in opposition. (Tries to sleep) But I can’t sleep a wink, devoured and bitten By ticks, and bugbears, duns, and race-horses, All through this son of mine. He curls his hair, And sports his thoroughbreds, and drives his tandem; Even in dreams he rides: while I—I’m ruined, Now that the Moon has reached her twentieths, And paying-time comes on. Boy! light a lamp, And fetch my ledger: now I’ll reckon up Who are my creditors, and what I owe them. Come, let me see then. Fifty pounds to Pasias!
STREPSIADES Why fifty pounds to Pasias? what were they for? O, for the hack from Corinth. O dear! O dear! I wish my eye had been hacked out before—
PHEIDIPPIDES (In his sleep) You are cheating, Philon; keep to your own side.
STREPSIADES Ah! there it is! that’s what has ruined me! Even in his very sleep he thinks of horses.
PHEIDIPPIDES (In his sleep) How many heats do the war-chariots run?
STREPSIADES A pretty many heats you have run your father. Now then, what debt assails me after Pasias? A curricle and wheels. Twelve pounds. Amynias.
PHEIDIPPIDES (In his sleep) Here, give the horse a roll, and take him home.
STREPSIADES You have rolled me out of house and home, my boy, Cast in some suits already, while some swear They’ll seize my goods for payment.
PHEIDIPPIDES Good, my father, What makes you toss so restless all night long?
STREPSIADES There’s a bumbailiff from the mattress bites me.
PHEIDIPPIDES Come now, I prithee, let me sleep in peace.
STREPSIADES Well then, you sleep; only be sure of this, These debts will fall on your own head at last. Alas, alas! For ever cursed be that same match-maker, Who stirred me up to marry your poor mother. Mine in the country was the pleasantest life, Untidy, easy-going, unrestrained, Brimming with olives, sheepfolds, honey-bees. Ah! then I married—I a rustic—her
STREPSIADES A fine town-lady, niece of Megacles. A regular, proud, luxurious, Coesyra. This wife I married, and we came together, I rank with wine-lees, fig-boards, greasy woolpacks; She all with scents, and saffron, and tongue-kissings, Feasting, expense, and lordly modes of loving. She was not idle though, she was too fast. I used to tell her, holding out my cloak, Threadbare and worn; Wife, you’re too fast by half.
SERVANT Here’s no more oil remaining in the lamp.
STREPSIADES O me! what made you light the tippling lamp? Come and be whipp’d.
SERVANT Why, what would you whip me for?
STREPSIADES Why did you put one of those thick wicks in? Well, when at last to me and my good woman This hopeful son was born, our son and heir, Why then we took to wrangle on the name. She was for giving him some knightly name, “Callippides, “Xanthippus,” or “Charippus”: I wished “Pheidonides,” his grandsire’s name, Thus for some time we argued: till at last We compromised it in Pheidippides. This boy she took, and used to spoil him, saying, Oh! when you are driving to the Acropolis, clad Like Megacles, in your purple; whilst I said Oh! when the goats you are driving from the fells, Clad like your father, in your sheepskin coat. Well, he cared nought for my advice, but soon
STREPSIADES A galloping consumption caught my fortunes, Now cogitating all night long, I’ve found One way, one marvellous transcendent way, Which if he’ll follow, we may yet be saved. So,—but, however, I must rouse him first; But how to rouse him kindliest? that’s the rub. Pheidippides, my sweet one.
PHEIDIPPIDES Well, my father.
STREPSIADES Shake hands, Pheidippides, shake hands and kiss me.
PHEIDIPPIDES There; what’s the matter?
STREPSIADES Dost thou love me, boy?
PHEIDIPPIDES Ay! by Poseidon there, the God of horses.
STREPSIADES No, no, not that: miss out the God of horses, That God’s the origin of all my evils. But if you love me from your heart and soul, My son, obey me.
PHEIDIPPIDES Very well: what in?
STREPSIADES Strip with all speed, strip off your present habits. And go and learn what I’ll advise you to.
PHEIDIPPIDES Name your commands.
STREPSIADES Will you obey?
PHEIDIPPIDES I will, By Dionysus!
STREPSIADES Well then, look this way. See you that wicket and the lodge beyond?
PHEIDIPPIDES I see: and prithee what is that, my father?
STREPSIADES That is the thinking-house of sapient souls. There dwell the men who teach—aye, who persuade us, That Heaven is one vast fire-extinguisher
STREPSIADES Placed round about us, and that we’re the cinders.
STREPSIADES Aye, and they’ll teach (only they’ll want some money), How one may speak and conquer, right or wrong.
PHEIDIPPIDES Come, tell their names.
STREPSIADES Well, I can’t quite remember, But they’re deep thinkers, and true gentlemen.
PHEIDIPPIDES Out on the rogues! I know them. Those rank pedants, Those palefaced, barefoot vagabonds you mean: That Socrates, poor wretch, and Chaerephon.
STREPSIADES Oh! Oh! hush! hush! don’t use those foolish words; But if the sorrows of my barley touch you, Enter their Schools and cut the Turf for ever.
PHEIDIPPIDES I wouldn’t go, so help me Dionysus, For all Leogoras’s breed of Phasians!
STREPSIADES Go, I beseech you, dearest, dearest son, Go and be taught.
PHEIDIPPIDES And what would you have me learn?
STREPSIADES ’Tis known that in their Schools they keep two Logics,” The Worse, Zeus save the mark,’ the Worse and Better. This Second Logic then, I mean the Worse one, They teach to talk unjustly and—prevail. Think then, you only learn that Unjust Logic, And all the debts, which I have incurred through you,— I’ll never pay, no, not one farthing of them.
PHEIDIPPIDES I will not go. How could I face the knights With all my colour worn and torn away!
STREPSIADES O! then, by Earth, you have eat your last of mine, You, and your coach-horse, and your sigma-brand: Out with you! Go to the crows, for all I care.
PHEIDIPPIDES But uncle Megacles won’t leave me long Without a horse: I’ll go to him: good-bye.
STREPSIADES I’m thrown, by Zeus, but I won’t long lie prostrate. I’ll pray the Gods and send myself to school: I’ll go at once and try their thinking-house. Stay: how can I, forgetful, slow, old fool, Learn the nice hair-splittings of subtle Logic? Well, go I must. ’Twon’t do to linger here. Come on, I’ll knock the door. Boy! Ho there, boy!
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