Acharnians?
CHORUS. No, a thousand times, no.
DICAEOPOLIS. This is a hateful injustice.
CHORUS. May I die, if I listen.
DICAEOPOLIS. Nay, nay! have mercy, have mercy, Acharnians.
CHORUS. You shall die.
DICAEOPOLIS. Well, blood for blood! I will kill your dearest friend. I have here the hostages of Acharnae; I shall disembowel them.
CHORUS. Acharnians, what means this threat? Has he got one of our children in his house? What gives him such audacity?
DICAEOPOLIS. Stone me, if it please you; I shall avenge myself on this. (Shows a basket.) Let us see whether you have any love for your coals.
CHORUS. Great gods! this basket is our fellow-citizen. Stop, stop, in heaven’s name!
DICAEOPOLIS. I shall dismember it despite your cries; I will listen to nothing.
CHORUS. How! will you kill this coal-basket, my beloved comrade?
DICAEOPOLIS. Just now, you did not listen to me.
CHORUS. Well, speak now, if you will; tell us, tell us you have a weakness for the Lacedaemonians. I consent to anything; never will I forsake this dear little basket.
DICAEOPOLIS. First, throw down your stones.
CHORUS. There! ’tis done. And you, do you put away your sword.
DICAEOPOLIS. Let me see that no stones remain concealed in your cloaks.
CHORUS. They are all on the ground; see how we shake our garments. Come, no haggling, lay down your sword; we threw away everything while crossing from one side of the stage to the other.
DICAEOPOLIS. What cries of anguish you would have uttered had these coals of Parnes been dismembered, and yet it came very near it; had they perished, their death would have been due to the folly of their fellow-citizens. The poor basket was so frightened, look, it has shed a thick black dust over me, the same as a cuttle-fish does. What an irritable temper! You shout and throw stones, you will not hear my arguments — not even when I propose to speak in favour of the Lacedaemonians with my head on the block; and yet I cling to my life.
CHORUS. Well then, bring out a block before your door, scoundrel, and let us hear the good grounds you can give us; I am curious to know them. Now mind, as you proposed yourself, place your head on the block and speak.
DICAEOPOLIS. Here is the block; and, though I am but a very sorry speaker, I wish nevertheless to talk freely of the Lacedaemonians and without the protection of my buckler. Yet I have many reasons for fear. I know our rustics; they are delighted if some braggart comes, and rightly or wrongly loads both them and their city with praise and flattery; they do not see that such toad-eaters are traitors, who sell them for gain. As for the old men, I know their weakness; they only seek to overwhelm the accused with their votes. Nor have I forgotten how Cleon treated me because of my comedy last year; he dragged me before the Senate and there he uttered endless slanders against me; ’twas a tempest of abuse, a deluge of lies. Through what a slough of mud he dragged me! I nigh perished. Permit me, therefore, before I speak, to dress in the manner most likely to draw pity.
CHORUS. What evasions, subterfuges and delays! Hold! here is the sombre helmet of Pluto with its thick bristling plume; Hieronymus lends it to you; then open Sisyphus’ bag of wiles; but hurry, hurry, pray, for our discussion does not admit of delay.
DICAEOPOLIS. The time has come for me to manifest my courage, so I will go and seek Euripides. Ho! slave, slave!
SLAVE. Who’s there?
DICAEOPOLIS. Is Euripides at home?
SLAVE. He is and he isn’t; understand that, if you have wit for’t.
DICAEOPOLIS. How? He is and he isn’t!
SLAVE. Certainly, old man; busy gathering subtle fancies here and there, his mind is not in the house, but he himself is; perched aloft, he is composing a tragedy.
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh, Euripides, you are indeed happy to have a slave so quick at repartee! Now, fellow, call your master.
SLAVE. Impossible!
DICAEOPOLIS. So much the worse. But I will not go. Come, let us knock at the