The Frogs — Aristophanes
The Frogs of Aristophanes, by Aristophanes You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org . If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title : The Frogs Author : Aristophanes Release date : April 1, 2005 [eBook #7998] Most recently updated: May 7, 2013 Language : English Other information and formats : www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7998 Credits : Text file produced by Ted Garvin, Marvin A. Hodges, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team HTML file produced by David Widger *** START OF He is credited with over forty plays, eleven of which survive, along with the names and fragments of some twenty-six others. His satire deal with political, religious, and literary topics, and with all its humor and fancy is evidently the outcome of profound conviction and a genuine patriotism. The Attic comedy was produced at the festivals of Dionysus, which were marked by great license, and to this, rather than to the individual taste of the poet, must be ascribed the undoubted coarseness of many of the jests. Aristophanes seems, indeed, to have been regarded by his contemporaries as a man of noble character. He died shortly after the production of his "Plutus," in 388 B. C. "The Frogs" was produced the year after the death of Euripides, and laments the decay of Greek tragedy which Aristophanes attributed to that writer. It is an admirable example of the brilliance of his style, and of that mingling of wit and poetry with rollicking humor and keen satirical point which is his chief characteristic. Here, as elsewhere, he stands for tradition against innovation of all kinds, whether in politics, religion, or art. The hostility to Euripides displayed here and in several other plays, like his attacks on Socrates, is a result of this attitude of conservatism. The present play is notable also as a piece of elaborate if not over-serious literary criticism from the pen of a great poet. THE FROGS OF ARISTOPHANES DRAMATIS PERSONÆ THE GOD DIONYSUS XANTHIAS, his slave AESCHYLUS EURIPIDES HERACLES PLUTO CHARON AEACUS, house porter to Pluto A CORPSE A MAIDSERVANT OF PERSEPHONE A LANDLADY IN HADES PLATHANE, her servant A CHORUS OF FROGS A CHORUS OF INITIATED PERSONS Attendants at a Funeral; Women worshipping Iacchus; Servants of Pluto, &c. XANTHIAS Shall I crack any of those old jokes, master, At which the audience never fail to laugh? DIONYSUS. Aye, what you will, except I'm getting crushed: Fight shy of that: I'm sick of that already. XAN. Nothing else smart? DIO. Aye, save my shoulder's aching. XAN. Come now, that comical joke? DIO. With all my heart. Only be careful not to shift your pole, And— XAN. What? DIO. And vow that you've a bellyache. XAN. May I not say I'm overburdened so That if none ease me, I must ease myself? DIO. For mercy's sake, not till I'm going to vomit. XAN. What! must I bear these burdens, and not make One of the jokes Ameipsias and Lycis And Phrynichus, in every play they write, Put in the mouths of all their burden-bearers? DIO. Don't make them; no! I tell you when I see Their plays, and hear those jokes, I come away More than a twelvemonth older than I went. XAN. O thrice unlucky neck of mine, which now Is getting crushed , yet must not crack its joke! DIO. Now is not this fine pampered insolence When I myself, Dionysus, son of—Pipkin, Toil on afoot, and let this fellow ride, Taking no trouble, and no burden bearing? XAN. What, don't I bear? DIO. How can you when you're riding? XAN. Why, I bear these. DIO. How? XAN. Most unwillingly. DIO. Does not the donkey bear the load you're bearing? XAN. Not what I bear myself: by Zeus, not he. DIO. How can you bear, when you are borne yourself? XAN. Don't know: but anyhow my shoulder's aching . DIO. Then since you say the donkey helps you not, You lift him up and carry him in turn. XAN. O hang it all! why didn't I fight at sea? You should have smarted bitterly for this. DIO. Get down, you rascal; I've been trudging on Till now I've reached the portal, where I'm going First to turn in. Boy! Boy! I say there, Boy! HERACLES. Who banged the door? How like a prancing Centaur He drove against it! Mercy o' me, what's this? DIO. Boy. XAN. Yes. DIO. Did you observe? XAN. What? DIO. How alarmed He is. XAN. Aye truly, lest you've lost your wits. HER. O by Demeter, I can't choose but laugh. Biting my lips won't stop me. Ha! ha! ha! DIO. Pray you, come hither, I have need of you. HER. I vow I can't help laughing, I can't help it. A lion's hide upon a yellow silk, a club and buskin! What's it all about? Where were you going? DIO. I was serving lately aboard the—Cleisthenes. HER. And fought? DIO. And sank more than a dozen of the enemy's ships. HER. You two? DIO. We two. HER. And then I awoke, and lo! DIO. There as, on deck, I'm reading to myself The Andromeda, a sudden pang of longing Shoots through my heart, you can't conceive how keenly. HER. How big a pang. DIO. A small one, Molon's size. HER. Caused by a woman? DIO. No. HER. A boy? DIO. No, no. HER. A man? DIO. Ah! ah! HER. Was it for Cleisthenes? DIO. Don't mock me, brother; on my life I am In a bad way: such fierce desire consumes me. HER. Aye, little brother? how? DIO. I can't describe it. But yet I'll tell you in a riddling way. Have you e'er felt a sudden lust for soup? HER. Soup! Zeus-a-mercy, yes, ten thousand times. DIO. Is the thing clear, or must I speak again? HER. Not of the soup: I'm clear about the soup. DIO. Well, just that sort of pang devours my heart For lost Euripides. HER. A dead man too. DIO. And no one shall persuade me not to go after the man. HER. Do you mean below, to Hades? DIO. And lower still, if there's a lower still. HER. What on earth for? DIO. I want a genuine poet, "For some are not, and those that are, are bad." HER. What! does not Iophon live? DIO. Well, he's the sole Goo