TRYGAEUS Fair and softly, my beastlet, at first. Start not at once with a violent burst, In the proud delight of your eager might, Ere your joints with sweat are relaxed and wet From the powerful swing of your stalwart wing. And breathe not strong as we soar along; If you can’t refrain, you had best remain Down here in the stalls of your master’s halls.
SERVANT O master of me! why how mad you must be!
TRYGAEUS Keep silence! keep silence!
SERVANT Why where do you try so inanely to fly?
TRYGAEUS My flight for the sake of all Hellas I take, A novel and daring adventure preparing.
SERVANT Why can’t you remain at home, and be sane?
TRYGAEUS O let not a word of ill omen be heard, But greet me with blessings and cheers as I go, And order mankind to be silent below; And please to be sure with bricks to secure All places receptive of dung and manure.
SERVANT No, no; I won’t keep still, unless you tell me Whither you’re flying off.
TRYGAEUS Whither, except To visit Zeus in heaven?
SERVANT Whatever for?
TRYGAEUS I’m going to ask him what he is going to do About the Hellenic peoples, one and all.
SERVANT And if he won’t inform you?
TRYGAEUS I’ll indict him As giving Hellas over to the Medes.
SERVANT (Struggling with Trygaeus.) Not while I live, so help me Dionysus!
TRYGAEUS There is no way but this.
SERVANT Here! children! here! Quick! quick! your father’s stealing off to heaven, Leaving you here deserted and forlorn. Speak to him, plead with him, you ill-starred maidens.
GIRL O father, O father, and can it be true The tale that is come to our ears about you, That along with the birds you are going to go, And to leave us alone and be off to the crow? Is it a fact, O my father? O tell me the truth if you love me.
TRYGAEUS Yes, it appears so, my children: in truth, I am sorry to see you Calling me dearest Papa, and asking me bread for your dinner, When I have got in the house not an atom of silver to buy it; But if I ever return with success, ye shall soon be enjoying Buns of enormous size, with strong fist-sauce to improve them.
GIRL And what’s to be the method of your passage? Ships will not do: they cannot go this journey.
TRYGAEUS I ride a steed with wings: no ships for me.
GIRL But what’s the wit of harnessing a beetle To ride on it to heaven, Papa, Papa?
TRYGAEUS It is the only living thing with wings,
TRYGAEUS So Aesop says, that ever reached the Gods.
GIRL O father, father, that’s too good a story That such a stinking brute should enter heaven!
TRYGAEUS It went to take revenge upon the eagle, And break her eggs, a many years ago.
GIRL But should you not have harnessed Pegasus, And so, in tragic style, approach the Gods?
TRYGAEUS Nay, then I must have had supplies for two; But now the very food I eat myself, All this will presently be food for him.
GIRL What if he fall in wintry watery waves, How will his wings help extricate him then?
TRYGAEUS Oh, I’ve a rudder all prepared for that: My ship’s a beetle-sloop, of Naxian make.
GIRL What bay will land you drifting drifting on?
TRYGAEUS Why, in Peiraeus, there’s the Beetle Bay.
GIRL Yet, O be careful lest you tumble off, And (lame for life) afford Euripides A subject, and become a tragic hero.
TRYGAEUS I’ll see to that: goodbye, goodbye, my dears! But you, for whom I toil and labour so, Do for three days resist the calls of nature; Since, if my beetle in the air should smell it, He’ll toss me headlong off, and turn to graze. Up, up, my Pegasus, merrily, cheerily, With ears complacent, while blithe and bold Your curbs shake out their clatter of gold.
TRYGAEUS
(I wonder what in the world he means By pointing his nose at those foul latrines.) Rise, gallantly rise, from the earth to the skies, And on with the beat of your pinion fleet Till you come to Zeus in his heavenly seat. From all your earthly supplies of dirt, From ordure and muck your nostril avert. Man! man in Peiraeus! you’ll kill me I swear, Committing a nuisance! good fellow, forbear; Dig it down in the ground, scatter perfumes around, Heap, heap up the earth on the top, Plant sweet-smelling thyme to encircle the mound, Bring myrrh on its summit to drop; For if I through your folly shall tumble to-day, And my enterprise fail to succeed in, Five talents the city of Chios shall pay On account of your breach—of good-breeding.
TRYGAEUS I say, scene-shifter, have a care of me. You gave me quite a turn; and if you don’t Take care, I’m certain I shall feed my beetle. But now, methinks, we must be near the Gods; And sure enough there stand the halls of Zeus. O, open! open! who’s in waiting here?
HERMES A breath of man steals o’er me: whence, whence comes it? O Heracles, what’s this?
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