THE ASSEMBLYWOMEN

Women Seize the Reins
(Ecclesiazusae)

Translated by David Barrett

Introductory Note to The Assemblywomen

Of the plays written by Aristophanes after the end of the Peloponnesian war only two survive: The Assemblywomen (c. 393-391 B.C.) and Wealth (388 B.C.). A gap of at least a dozen years separates The Assemblywomen from The Frogs. The great war had ended in 405 with the utter defeat of Athens and the loss of her Aegean empire. Under the pro-Spartan oligarchs who then came to power in Athens, a reign of terror ensued: in the course of the year 404 no fewer than 1,500 Athenian citizens were executed, and 5,000 were banished. A force of exiled democrats was raised by Thrasybulus, and after some months of civil war they re-entered the city and the democratic constitution was restored (September, 403). Since then there had been a slow recovery; but since 395, through her defensive alliance with Boeotia and other Greek states, Athens had again been involved in inconclusive hostilities with the Spartans. The state of war dragged on, a drain on money and manpower: the future was obscure, the economy shaky, counsels divided, and the glory of Athens (it seemed) a thing of the past. It is difficult, particularly as the dating of the play is not absolutely certain, to assess the exact situation at the time of its production: but the question asked at the end of The Frogs – what can be done to save the city? – was again sufficiently relevant to serve as the peg for a comedy. In this play the women of Athens have their own solution to this problem: the government must be handed over to them. Disguised as men, they pack the Assembly, which has met to debate this very question, and their proposal is carried – on the grounds that this is the only solution that has not yet been tried.

Once in power, the women introduce a series of measures which bear a very strong resemblance to certain ideas put forward by Plato in The Republic. In the opinion of most scholars, the resemblance is too close to be a mere coincidence. Community of property and of wives and children, communal dwellings and meals, and the abolition of brothels, are all features of Plato’s ideal state; and some of the questions and objections raised by Blepyrus and Chremes in the play (e.g., on the subject of children not recognizing their own fathers) are raised and dealt with by Plato in a very similar way. The two men were almost certainly well acquainted, and possibly close friends. Plato’s Symposium contains a convincing portrayal of the poet; and the attribution to Plato of an admiring epitaph on Aristophanes implies at least a tradition that they were friends. The Republic is not believed to have circulated in its ‘published’ form until some years after the date of The Assemblywomen; but Plato may well have been working out some of his ideas for many years beforehand, and there seems no reason why they should not have been known to his friends and perhaps to wider circles as well. Aristophanes would not have been slow to see the comic possibilities of the Platonic Utopia.

But The Assemblywomen is a disappointing work. It begins promisingly enough, with a skilful opening scene very like that of Lysistrata. The ’rehearsal’ is well handled, and the character of Praxagora better drawn and more interesting than that of Lysistrata in the earlier play: her encounter with her husband, when she has to bluff her way out of an awkward situation, gives her an extra comic dimension which Lysistrata lacks. Her specimen speech is very effective, as is Chremes’ subsequent account of the proceedings in the Assembly. The long exposition of her proposals is broken up and kept amusing by the questions and interpolations of Blepyrus and Chremes. But the second part of the play lacks balance and cohesion. The conversation between Chremes and the cynical Citizen contains a few good satirical touches, but it goes on for at least twice as long as it should: we miss the economy and the brilliant timing of similar scenes in the earlier comedies. The Citizen departs, hinting that he has thought of a way of circumventing the rules; he is determined to enjoy the public banquet without surrendering his property, and we look forward to seeing his efforts frustrated. But he never appears again. The following scene, dealing with the operation of the new sex laws, can doubtless be made very funny in performance, but it completely lacks the wit and sparkle that one expects from Aristophanes. In structure it resembles no other scene in Old Comedy as we know it; with its singing match and love duet (involving three actors who must also be singers), it seems to belong to a different tradition altogether. The finale, which now follows abruptly, deals with a public banquet, but otherwise has no obvious connection with anything else in the play. The manuscripts give no firm identification of the identity of the speakers; and although, at a pinch, the errant husband can be identified as Blepyrus and the tipsy maid’s mistress as Praxagora, the whole scene, as far as internal evidence goes, could just as easily have been lifted from an entirely different play.

The role of the Chorus in The Assemblywomen is curious too. In the opening scene (as in that of Lysistrata) they are incorporated in the action, arriving singly or in small groups to represent the women who are to disguise themselves under Praxagora’s direction and take their places in the Assembly. After the rehearsal they march off, singing in chorus. On their return they remove their disguises to the accompaniment of instructions which are perhaps recited by the Chorus Leader alone. A few lines of encouragement, spoken in unison (or again, perhaps, by the Leader alone) precede Praxagora’s exposition of her plans, at the end of which they leave with her for the Agora. They are not seen again until the finale. Apart from the marching song, the supper cantata and the short final chorus, they have no singing to do; and there is no indication that they do any dancing either. (The songs in the second part are provided by the characters; the dancing in the finale is executed by the ‘Blepyrus’ character and two or more dancing-girls specially introduced for the purpose.) One is reminded of the ending of The Wasps, a play produced at a time when so many men were absent on active service that only older men were available for the Chorus: here too the dancing was provided by one of the actors and a group of professionals, the ‘sons of Carcinus’.

In Wealth, as we shall see, the part played by the Chorus is reduced still further: it is clear that in an impoverished City the lavishly costumed and expensively trained Choruses of earlier days had ceased to be a practical proposition. In the great days of Old Comedy the importance of the Chorus had been paramount: the whole structure and atmosphere of the play, and its relevance to a great national and religious festival, depended upon it. An important feature of the older plays had been the parabasis, in which the Chorus addressed the audience directly, clinching the mood (and message, if any) of the play. The disappearance of such conventions marks the transition to a new kind of comedy altogether. In The Assemblywomen we seem to observe this transition at its most uncomfortable moment: it is almost as though the author had begun his play in the belief that he was to have a Chorus of the old type, and then, discovering that he was not, handed it over to someone else to finish.

We do not know how the judges responded to the final appeal by the Chorus Leader (p. 262), but its suggestion of ‘something for almost everybody’ (wit and wisdom in the first half, knockabout fun in the second) strikes one as fair comment. The play has not lost its power to entertain, as recent productions have shown.

CHARACTERS

PRAXAGORA

FIRST WOMAN

SECOND WOMAN

CHORUS LEADER

CHORUS OF ATHENIAN WOMEN

MAID TO PRAXAGORA
GIRL CRIER

BLEPYRUS husband to Praxagora

CHREMES

NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR husband to First Woman
CITIZEN

GIRL

YOUNG MAN

FIRST HAG

SECOND HAG

THIRD HAG

silent characters:

SICON		slaves to Chremes
PARMENON

GROUP OF DANCING GIRLS for the final

CITIZENS, NEIGHBOURS

SCENE ONE

A street in Athens, somewhere between the Pnyx, where the Assembly meets (offstage and uphill, to the audience’s left), and the Agora or Market Square {offstage and downhill, right). The doors of at least two houses, those of BLEPYRUS (left) and his NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR (right), open on to the street.

It is still dark, but dawn is not far off. A cock crows. The faint glimmer of an oil lamp is seen as PRAXAGORA stealthily lets herself out of BLEPYRUS’ house, letting slip a muttered curse as the door-hinge creaks. Before closing the door she gathers up a number of articles from just inside: it is still too dark for us to see what they are, but they include her husband’s cloak and shoes, a walking-stick, a false beard and a bundle of ceremonial head-wreaths. Her lamp is of the simple Greek type, a small earthenware vessel with a nozzle for the wick.

PRAXAGORA:

Hail, radiant orb (I’m talking to my lamp),
Borne on swift wheel to light this world of ours –
A more appropriate phrase than you might think,
For in an invocation of this kind
It is quite proper to describe the birth
And other details of the god addressed,
And you were born upon a (potter’s) wheel,
And from your nozzle spurts the sacred flame.
Awake, and give the signal as agreed! [She pulls up the wick.]
It’s right that you should be the only one
To overhear our plans, for, after all,
You know so much about our private lives.
You watch while in the ecstasies of love
Our bodies twist and heave, and no one dreams
Of putting you outside; your singeing flame
Has penetrated many a hairy nook
And secret crevice of the female form;
You are at hand when furtive wives unlock
The storehouse door, or siphon off the wine –
And can be trusted not to tell the world.

So we shan’t mind if you overhear the conference which is shortly due to begin. It was all arranged at the Skira Festival.1 But honestly, this is really most annoying: none of them have turned up, and it’s nearly dawn. It’ll soon be time for Assembly; and those of us who are in on the plot – or ’in on the pot’, as Phyromachus once put it² – have got to get to our seats and settle our limbs without being spotted. What’s gone wrong, I wonder? [Cock crows again.] Haven’t they managed to finish sewing the beards they promised to bring? Perhaps they’re finding it difficult to pinch their husbands’ clothes without being caught. Ah! I see a light moving this way, there’s somebody coming. I’d better step back a bit, it might be a man.

[PRAXAGORA, on the point of withdrawing, steps forward again as female voices are heard, and the CHORUS LEADER hurries in (from right) with several other women (members of the CHORUS).]

CHORUS LEADER: We’ll have to look sharp: did you hear our old friend crowing for the second time, as we came up? ’Cock-a-doodle-doo! Last call for Assembly!’

PRAXAGORA [motioning them to make less noise] : And here have I been awake all night, waiting for you. Well, now I can give my neighbour here the signal to come out. I’ll just tap lightly on the door: we don’t want to wake her husband. [She goes over to the other house and gives the signal.]

[FIRST WOMAN, carrying her husband’s cloak, stick and shoes, comes out of the house and closes the door quietly behind her.]

FIRST WOMAN: I was just putting my shoes on, when I heard you scratching at the door. I haven’t slept a wink. That man of mine! He comes from Salamis, do I need to say more? He’s been at me all night, I wonder the bedclothes aren’t torn to shreds. I’ve only just managed to pinch his cloak.³

PRAXAGORA: Ah, here comes Kleinarete and Sostrate – and here’s Philaenete.

[The rest of the women forming the CHORUS are now beginning to arrive; among them are the wives of well-known individuals: most wear costumes or carry objects giving a clue to their husbands’ identity or trade; the tavern-keeper’s wife has brought along the huge torch which serves as a tavern sign.]

CHORUS LEADER [to the newcomers]: Come along, hurry! Don’t forget what Glyce said! She vowed that the last to arrive would pay a forfeit to the rest: three gallons of wine and half a pound of chickpeas.4

FIRST WOMAN: Oh, look at Smicythion’s wife, Melistiche, trying to hurry in those great shoes of his! I reckon she’s the only one of us who’s had time to put them on. No problem for her to get out of the house without her husband knowing!

PRAXAGORA: Aha, that must be Geusistrate, the tavern-keeper’s wife: over there, with the torch.

FIRST WOMAN: And here comes the wives of Philodoretus and Khairetades, and lots of others – my dear, what a distinguished gathering!

PRAXAGORA: Well, sit down, everybody. Now that you’re all here I’d first of all like to check whether you’ve done all the things we decided on at the Festival.

[The last to arrive is the SECOND WOMAN.]

SECOND WOMAN: My dear, I had such a job to get away! My husband had anchovies for supper, he’s done nothing but cough the whole night long.

PRAXAGORA: Well, sit down, everybody. Now that you’re all here I’d like first of all to check whether you’ve done all the things we decided on at the Festival.

FIRST WOMAN: I have. I’ve grown an absolute forest under my armpits, as per instructions. And every day, as soon as my husband went out, I oiled myself all over and stood in the sun all day to get brown.

SECOND WOMAN: So did I. The first thing I did was to throw away my razor, so as to get hairy all over and not look like a woman at all.

PRAXAGORA: And have you all got the beards I asked you to bring?

FIRST WOMAN: Mine’s a beauty!

SECOND WOMAN: I’ve got one Epicrates would envy!

PRAXAGORA: And the rest of you?

[They nod affirmatively.]

FIRST WOMAN: Yes, we’ve all got them.

PRAXAGORA: And i see you’ve done the other things: you’ve all brought outdoor shoes and walking sticks and men’s cloaks, as we agreed.

SECOND WOMAN: Look what i’ve brought! Lamias’s staff! I pinched it while he was asleep.5

PRAXAGORA: My goodness, all that man needs is a sheepskin coat and you might mistake him for Argus. Well now, there’s a lot more preparation to do before it gets light and we have to move off – Assembly starts at dawn, remember.

FIRST WOMAN: Yes, and you must make sure we get seats close to the speakers’ platform, facing the praesidium.

SECOND WOMAN [showing a wool-comb and a basket of wool]: I’ve brought these along, I thought I might as well get on with a bit of wool-combing while the Assembly fills up.

PRAXAGORA: While it fills up? Why, you stupid idiot, don’t you realize–

SECOND WOMAN: What’s wrong with that? i can listen to you just as well while I’m doing my combing. my children are running about naked.

PRAXAGORA: lf you think you’re going to sit here combing wool till the Assembly fills up, you’re very much mistaken. Don’t you realize we mustn’t let anyone see any part of our bodies? If we wait till it’s full we’ll have to clamber over all those men to get to our seats; fine thing if one of us had to hitch her clothes up to get by, and someone got a close-up view. No, if we get to our seats first we can settle down and no one will notice us; we’ll have our cloaks well wrapped round us; and when we’re sitting there, with our beards tied on, there’ll be nothing to show that we’re not men. After all, Agyrrhius⁶ got away with it when he started wearing a beard – he must have borrowed it from Pronomus, he can’t have grown it himself, because up till then he was so obviously a woman. And look at him now, one of the top men in Athens. Which in fact is why we women are embarking on this great venture of ours today: in the hope that we can take over the management of affairs and do a bit of good for the City. Because, as things are at present, the ship’s adrift: we’re not getting anywhere.

FIRST WOMAN: But how can we frail females expect to sway the Assembly?

PRAXAGORA: Nothing easier, I should think. It’s well known that the most successful young orators are the ones who get laid most often. So we start off with certain natural advantages.

FIRST WOMAN: All the same, lack of experience will be a great handicap.

PRAXAGORA: So it’s just as well that we’re having this little meeting here; we can rehearse what we’re going to say. [To FIRST WOMAN] Get that beard of yours tied on. And anyone else who’s prepared to talk, please do the same.

FIRST WOMAN: Oh, we’re all prepared to talk, I’m sure: what woman isn’t?

PRAXAGORA: All right, then; put your beard on. From now on you’re a man. I’ll just put these head-wreaths down and tie my own beard on, in case I want to say something.

[PRAXAGORA, FIRST WOMAN, SECOND WOMAN, and one or two others put on their home-made beards.]

FIRST WOMAN: Oh, Praxagora dear, do look at us all! Isn’t it just too absurd!

PRAXAGORA [in a matter-of-fact masculine voice, pretending not to be amused]: Absurd? Why, whatever do you mean?

FIRST WOMAN [still convulsed]: A lot of grilled cuttlefish with beards tied on!

PRAXAGORA [in the role of Herald]: Silence for the purification ceremony! [To her MAID, who has just opened the door to let the cat out] Officer, perform the lustral round, bearing the sacrificial – [she snatches up the only animal in sight] – cat!7

[PRAXAGORA hands the cat to the MAID, who very solemnly ‘consecrates’ a section of the street by carrying the cat round it.]

PRAXAGORA: Move forward into the lustral area! Ariphrades, stop talking! Come on, you, hurry up and sit down. Who wishes to speak?

FIRST WOMAN: I do.

[The women are now seated in a semicircle. PRAXAGORA hands a wreath to FIRST WOMAN.]

PRAXAGORA [still acting the part of Herald]: Assume the wreath, and may your words bring blessing.

[FIRST WOMAN puts the wreath on her head and steps forward, uncertain what to do next.]

FIRST WOMAN: Well? I’ve done that.

PRAXAGORA: Get on with your speech, then.

FIRST WOMAN: Don’t we drink first?

PRAXAGORA: Drink!! Listen to her!

FIRST WOMAN: Why did I have to put a wreath on, then?8

PRAXAGORA: Oh, go and sit down. You’d have done this at the Assembly and made fools of us all.

FIRST WOMAN: Why, don’t they drink there too?

PRAXAGORA: Drink – I ask you. Really!

FIRST WOMAN: They do, you know – and they don’t water it either. You can’t tell me they’re stone cold sober when they pass those crazy resolutions. And they must have libations too: why do they have all those long prayers, if there’s no wine? And the way they slang each other – it’s quite obvious they’re drunk the whole time. If they get too obstreperous the constables have to carry them out.

PRAXAGORA: Go back to your seat, you’re hopeless.

FIRST WOMAN [returning the wreath and sulkily removing her beard]: If I’d known that wearing a beard meant dying of thirst… [She sits down, and continues muttering to her neighbour.]

PRAXAGORA: Perhaps somebody else would like to speak.

[SECOND WOMAN stands up.]

SECOND WOMAN: Yes, I would.

PRAXAGORA: Come on, then; put on the wreath – we must do everything properly.

[SECOND WOMAN steps forward, takes the wreath and puts it on.] Now let’s have a manly, eloquent speech. Lean on your stick, that’s it.

SECOND WOMAN: Er-hrrm! Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I would have preferred, gentlemen, to keep my seat and listen in silence while more, erm, experienced orators propounded their, erm, views. But I am utterly opposed to the obnoxious practice, adopted by so many tavern-keepers today, of installing water-tanks on their premises. I feel most strongly about this, by Persephone I really do!

PRAXAGORA: By Persephone? You stupid idiot!

SECOND WOMAN: What have I done wrong? I didn’t ask for a drink!

PRAXAGORA: No, but no man ever says ‘by Persephone’! Otherwise your speech was quite good.

SECOND WOMAN: All right, then: by Apollo.

PRAXAGORA: That’s better. But that’s enough from you. [She takes the wreath from SECOND WOMAN, who resumes her seat.] I’m not going a step further in this business unless we can get things absolutely right.

FIRST WOMAN [rising]: Give me the wreath, I’d like to try again. I’ve thought it all out very carefully this time. [She puts on the wreath and steps forward.] It is my opinion, ladies –

PRAXAGORA [icily] : Do you really think members of the Assembly will appreciate being addressed as ‘ladies’?

FIRST WOMAN [pointing into the audience]: Sorry, I caught sight of Epigonus over there, and I really thought for a moment –

PRAXAGORA [snatching the wreath from her]: You go and sit down too. [FIRST WOMAN resumes her seat.]

A fat lot of help I’m getting from you lot. It looks as though I shall have to do the speaking myself. Where did I put that wreath? [She puts it on.] I pray to the gods for success in bringing our plans to fruition. – Gentlemen, my interest in the welfare of this state is no less than yours; but I deeply deplore the way in which its affairs are being handled. The task of speaking for the people is invariably entrusted to crooks and rascals. For every one day they spend doing good they spend another ten doing irreparable harm. If you try somebody new, he turns out to be even worse than the last one. It’s difficult to give advice to men so hard to please as yourselves: you’re frightened of the people who really want to serve you, and you throw yourselves at the feet of those who don’t and won’t. There was a time when we didn’t bother to come to Assembly at all, but in those days at least we knew that Agyrrhius was a scoundrel.9 Now, thanks to him and his bright idea of payment for attendance, it’s full to overflowing; and those who get in and get their money are full of his praises; while those who are turned away merely say that people who go just for the money ought to be executed.

FIRST WOMAN: Well said, by Aphrodite!

PRAXAGORA: Not by Aphrodite, stupid! Fine fools we’d look if you went and said that in the Assembly!

FIRST WOMAN: Oh, I wouldn’t say it there.

PRAXAGORA: Well, don’t say it here, then. You’ve got to get out of the habit. – Now, where were we? Ah, yes – when we were debating the plan for an Anti-Spartan Treaty Organization,10 everyone said the city’s very existence depended on it; yet when ASTO was finally set up, everyone grumbled, and the speaker who had originally proposed it was hounded out of the City. Someone proposes new ships for the navy: the poor say yes, the rich men and the farmers say no. You hate the Corinthians, and they hate you; suddenly they’re good chaps and you fall over yourselves trying to be nice to them. At one moment you think the Argives are fools and Hieronymus has the right idea – to go right ahead and make peace at the first favourable opportunity. Yet when the chance does arise, and salvation lies within your grasp, what do you do? Instead of calling on the only man capable of pulling it off,¹¹; you send him off in a huff.

FIRST WOMAN: What an excellent speaker that fellow is!

PRAXAGORA: That’s better, you’ve got it right at last. – And who is responsible for this state of affairs? You, the people of Athens. Now that you are paid out of public funds, you think of nothing but your own individual pockets, and the state is left to stagger on as best it can, like Aesimus on his way home from a party. But if you will only listen to me, the situation can yet be saved. I propose that we hand over the running of Athens to the women. They are, after all, the people to whom we look for the efficient management of our homes.

ALL [applauding]: Hear, hearl Bravo ! Well done, young man! Go on!

FIRST WOMAN: Oh, Praxagora my sweet, what a magnificent speech. How clever you are? Wherever did you learn to do it so well?

PRAXAGORA: When we had to take refuge inside the City, my husband and I lived up on the Pnyx; you could hear every word. I used to listen to the speakers and study their technique.

FIRST WOMAN: No wonder you’re so good. – I propose we elect Praxagora here and now to the post of Generalissima: if her motion is passed, she takes command – agreed?

[The others assent, with enthusiasm.]

But suppose somebody like Cephalus ¹² is rash enough to get up and heckle you, tell us how you’re going to dispose of him.

PRAXAGORA: Cephalus? I shall say he’s a deluded fool.

FIRST WOMAN: But everybody knows that already.

PRAXAGORA: I’ll say he’s a raving lunatic.

FIRST WOMAN: Everybody knows that too.

PRAXAGORA: I’ll tell him that if he wants to make a mess of something he’d better stick to his pottery. And not potter with state affairs.

SECOND WOMAN: And supposing old Squinny-eyes attacks you?

PRAXAGORA: Neocleides? I shall tell him to go and squint up a – dog’s behind.

SECOND WOMAN: And if some of the others try to get a rise out of you?

PRAXAGORA: Why shouldn’t they, bless their little hearts. They can all get rises for all I care. I’m quite used to that.

FIRST WOMAN: Well, that covers pretty nearly everything, I think – unless the constables try to arrest you. What will you do then?

PRAXAGORA: Simply stick my elbows out like this, so that they can’t get their hands round my waist.

CHORUS LEADER: If they do, we’ll tell them to let go.13

PRAXAGORA: Thank you very much, that’ll be most helpful, I’m sure.

FIRST WOMAN: So now we’ve settled everything, haven’t we? Only – how on earth are we going to remember to raise our hands? We’re more used to raising our legs.

PRAXAGORA: Good point. When we vote, we have to hold up one arm, like this, bare to the shoulder. – Now, hitch up your skirts and put those walking-shoes on, just as you’ve seen your husbands do when they’re going to Assembly or down town somewhere. – And now if you’ve all got your shoes on properly, fix on your beards, and see that they’re properly adjusted. Right, now put on your husbands’ cloaks that you’ve so cleverly stolen, lean on your sticks – that’s the way – and off you go. And on the way, sing one of the songs the old men sing when they come in from the country.¹⁴

CHORUS LEADER: Good idea.

PRAXAGORA: And we’ll go on ahead. Because I think there’ll be other women coming in from the villages, and they’ll be going straight there. So don’t be long, because people who’re not there by daybreak miss their pay, and have to slink back home without so much as a clothes peg.

[PRAXAGORA, FIRST WOMAN and SECOND WOMAN move off to left]

CHORUS LEADER:

Time we were moving, gentlemen – and we must not forget
To use this title all the time, or there’ll be trouble yet.
A bold and secret enterprise demands the utmost care,
And if we’re caught, the game is up, so – gentlemen – beware!

CHORUS:

Then on to the Pnyx

With urgent tread:

A fearful threat

Hangs over our head.

If we fail to arrive

By the break of day,

All dusty and hungry

We’ll get no pay.

For a frugal meal

We’ve had to stickle,

Contenting ourselves

With garlic pickle –

Which helps to explain

The sour expressions

So often observed

At Assembly sessions.

So keep up the pace

And watch what you’re doin’:

One false note

Will spell our ruin.

A ticket first

We must each procure,

Then sit together

To make quite sure

That we vote with our sisters –

Oh, what am I saying?

Our brothers, I mean!

My wits are straying.

But as for the mob

That arrives from town,

We must push them aside

If we want to sit down.

When attendance pay

Was a single groat,

Do you think they bothered

To come up and vote?

No, they sat in the square

And gossiped all day;

But now that it’s tripled

They can’t keep away.

How different things were

In Myronides’ time!15

A citizen then

Would have thought it a crime

To suggest being paid

To attend a debate;

For his pride and his joy

Lay in serving the state.

With two heads of garlic,

Some wine in a flask,

A loaf, and three olives,

What more could he ask?

A fine public spirit

Our voters had then –

But now they want wages,

Like wheelbarrow men.

[The entire CHORUS now marches off, left. After they have gone, BLEPYRUS comes out of his house, dressed in PRAXAGORA’s yellow undergown and a pair of pretty Persian slippers.]

BLEPYRUS: What’s going on, and where on earth has my wife got to? It’s nearly morning and there’s no sign of her. I’ve been wanting to come out and have a crap, but could I find my shoes and cloak? I’ve been lying awake for hours, groping about in the dark: couldn’t find them anywhere. It was getting urgent! In the end I just grabbed hold of whatever came to hand – this yellow slip of my wife’s and a pair of her Persian slippers, I must look a sight! Now, where’s a good place to squat? Somewhere not too public – oh, well, what docs it matter, it’s not light yet, no one’ll see me. [He squats down.] What a bloody fool I was to get married at my time of life: I really deserve a good shaking, I must say. She’s up to no good, I’m certain, leaving the house like this. Excuse me, I must concentrate on the business in hand.

[His NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR appears at a window of the other house.]

NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR: Who’s that? Not my neighbour Blepyrus?

BLEPYRUS: Right first time.

NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR: Excuse me asking, but – why are you looking so yellow? Has someone had an accident over you? Cinesias been flying over?16

BLEPYRUS: No, no, I just had to pop out for a minute, so I put on this yellow what’s-it of my wife’s.

NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR: Where’s your cloak, then?

BLEPYRUS: I wish I knew. It should have been on the bed, but I couldn’t find it.

NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR: Didn’t you ask your wife where it was?

BLEPYRUS: No, I did not. For the simple reason that she’s not there. She’s gone off somewhere and given me the slip. And I’d very much like to know what mischief she’s up to.

NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR: Well, I’ll be blowed – exactly the same thing’s just happened to me. My wife has gone off somewhere, and taken my cloak. I don’t mind that so much, but she’s got my shoes as well. At least I think she has; I can’t find them anywhere.

BLEPYRUS: I couldn’t find mine either. But I simply had to come out, so I just shoved my feet into these. Didn’t want to soil the blanket, you know; it’s only just come back from the wash. Well, what’s happened, I wonder? Has some woman friend asked her round to breakfast?

NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR: I expect that’s what it is. She’s not immoral, so far as I know. You must be shitting a cable. Well, it’s time I got off to Assembly, but I’ll have to get that cloak back first, it’s the only one I have.

BLEPYRUS: So must I, as soon as I’ve finished. I think I’ve got a blockage; must be a cucumber up there or something.

NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR: Oh dear! Well, remember what Thrasybulus said to the Spartans: ‘Nothing must be permitted to interfere with the free passage of food supplies.’¹⁷ [He withdraws from the window.]

BLEPYRUS: Well, it’s certainly holding things up. What am I going to do? This is bad enough, but what’s going to happen when I eat another meal? How’s that going to get out, with this big fellow in the way, barring the exit? I need an operation. Question is, who’ll perform it? [To the audience] Hey, anyone out there with any experience of bottoms? My God, dozens of them. Amynon? No, I won’t ask him; he’s choosy these days, he might say no. Fetch Antisthenes, somebody, for goodness’ sake; he’s always grunting and groaning himself, he’ll understand. Oh, Goddess of Childbirth, can you look on unmoved as I crouch here, bulging, but bunged up? It’s just like a scene in some low comedy.

[It is now light, CHREMES enters, coming from left.]

CHREMES: Hullo, what are you doing? Having a shit?

BLEPYRUS: What, me? Just finished, actually.

CHREMES: Is that your wife’s dress you’re wearing?

BLEPYRUS: It was the only thing I could find, in the dark. Where are you coming from, anyway?

CHREMES: I’ve been to Assembly.

BLEPYRUS: What, is it over already?

CHREMES: It was over by daybreak, practically. They’ve had a regular field-day with the red paint,18 you should have seen them scrambling!

BLEPYRUS: You got your pay all right?

CHREMES: No such luck. Got there too late, I’m ashamed to say.

BLEPYRUS: No need to apologize, old man. Except to your shopping basket. But how did that happen?

CHREMES: I’ve never seen such a crowd as there was this morning, swarming up to the Pnyx. We saw all these fellows and, honestly, we thought they must all be shoemakers, they looked so pale. The whole assembly was full of these white faces; I was too late to get any pay and so were a lot of others.

BLEPYRUS: I suppose I couldn’t get mine if I went now?

CHREMES: You wouldn’t have got it if you’d been there by second cockcrow.

BLEPYRUS: Just my luck. Three obols lost forever. Theirs is a happier life in realms unknown. While I, alas, am left to mourn alone.¹⁹ But what was on the agenda, to attract such a crowd at that hour?

CHREMES: Don’t you remember, today was the day for proposals on how to save Athens. The first speaker was Neocleides. He groped his way over to the rostrum, and everyone started yelling at him. ‘You’ve got a nerve, standing up there making speeches. How can you cure our troubles? More sense if you cured your own!’ He peered all round the audience and shouted back at them. ‘All right,’ he says, ‘so I suffer from inflamed eyelids. How in heaven’s name can I help that?’

BLEPYRUS: I’d have told him, if I’d been there. Pound up some garlic with a few drops of lemon-juice, add a bit of spurge for luck and apply to the eyelids nightly.

CHREMES: The next one to get up was Eudaeon. Very clever fellow: stood there stark naked, or that’s what most of us thought. But no, he said, he was wearing a cloak, or what was left of one. And that’s just the point, he says, if we’re talking about saving the City I could do with a bit of salvation myself, about sixteen drachmas’-worth to be precise. You want my opinion, gentlemen, on how to save Athens and its citizens: well, I’ll tell you. As soon as winter begins, the clothiers should issue warm cloaks to everyone who needs one. Then we wouldn’t all get pleurisy. And people who haven’t got proper beds or bedclothes should be allowed to sleep at the fur shop. They could have a wash first, of course. And anyone who shuts the door on them in winter time should be fined three sheepskin blankets.

BLEPYRUS: Good for him. He’d have had everybody’s vote if he’d gone on to say that the corn merchants were to give every poor man three quarts of barley meal for a good dinner, on pain of a thrashing. That’d serve our corn-merchant right, whichever way it went.

CHREMES: Yes, but after that another chap jumped up – good-looking young man with a pale face, rather the Nicias type, if you know what I mean – and made a speech, and started telling us we ought to hand over the control of affairs to the women. And all these shoemakers began applauding like mad and shouting ‘Hear, hear!’ But the men from the country districts were all growling and muttering.

BLEPYRUS: I’m not surprised.

CHREMES: No, but they were in the minority. Anyway, he managed to shout them down, and went on and on, praising the women and slating you.

BLEPYRUS: Me? Why, what did he say?

CHREMES: He said you were a rogue.

BLEPYRUS: And what about you?

CHREMES: Don’t interrupt. And a thief.

BLEPYRUS: Just me? No one else?

CHREMES: And a liar too.

BLEPYRUS: Only me?

CHREMES [indicating the audience]: And all this crowd here as well.

BLEPYRUS: Oh, well, no one’s denying that.

CHREMES: But women, he says are creatures bursting with intelligence and darned good at making money. And they don’t let out what happens at their secret festivals, the way you and I, when we’re on the Council, leak state secrets right and left.

BLEPYRUS: By Hermes, he’s right there!

CHREMES: And then, he says, there’s another thing: when they lend things to each other – dresses, jewellery, money, drinking bowls, or anything else – it’s just between themselves, it’s a private matter: they don’t insist on witnesses being present, and all that sort of nonsense; but the loans are always returned, they don’t hang on to them, the way most of us do, so he says.

BLEPYRUS: True enough. Even when there are witnesses.

CHREMES: No informing, no prosecuting, no conspiring to overthrow the democracy – oh, he went on and on about women, it seems they have no vices at all, only virtues.

BLEPYRUS: And what was finally decided?

CHREMES: They voted to hand over control to the women. The general feeling was, that as this was the only method that hadn’t yet been tried, they might as well try it.

BLEPYRUS: And this motion was actually carried?

CHREMES: Yes, I tell you.

BLEPYRUS: Does that mean that the women have now been given all the jobs that men used to do?

CHREMBS: Just that.

BLEPYRUS: You mean my wife will have to sit on juries instead of me?

CHREMES: Yes, and she’ll have to maintain the family, instead of you.

BLEPYRUS: And stagger out of bed in the early morning, instead of me?

CHREMES: That’s right; those are going to be the women’s jobs from now on. And you can sit on your arse at home and take things easy.

BLEPYRUS: But wait a minute, it’s going to be a bit hard on some of us older men, if they take advantage of, er, having the upper hand to force us to –

CHREMES: Force us to what?

BLEPYRUS: Screw them. Supposing we can’t – they won’t give us any breakfast.

CHREMES: You’d better eat your breakfast at the same time, and make sure of it.

BLEPYRUS: I refuse to be raped.

CHREMES: If it benefits Athens, it’s every man’s patriotic duty.

BLEPYRUS: Well, in the old days they used to say: it doesn’t matter how foolishly and crazily we decide to act, everything works out for our good in the end.

CHREMES: Ye gods and holy Athena, let’s hope it will in this case! Well, I must be getting along; bye bye for now.

BLEPYRUS: Bye bye, Chremes.

[CHREMES goes off right, bound doubtless for the Agora, where there will be plenty to gossip about this morning. BLEPYRUS re-enters his house.]

[The CHORUS re-enter cautiously from left, glancing right and left as they go. They are full of suppressed excitement, and there are signs of slackening discipline: beards prematurely removed, sudden titters, etc. The CHORUS LEADER calls them to order.]

CHORUS LEADER: Come on, move along! Are you sure none of the men are following us? Have a good look behind, there, be on your guard and watch how you go. The wretches are everywhere [she points towards the audience]; for all we know, they may be admiring our figures from behind.

CHORUS:

So stamp your feet upon the ground, maintain a man-like pace;
If ever they should twig the truth, we’d all be in disgrace.
Gather your garments round you close, look carefully about,
Until we safely reach the spot from which we started out.
Why, here it is! – and that’s the house where everything began,
For that was where Praxagora conceived her famous plan.
And now to get these beards off quick, for if we hang about
Some passer-by will see us, and the secret will be out.
So in the shadow of this wall, as swiftly as we can,
Let’s all change back to what we were before this lark began.

Without a beard, the female chin feels nicer and looks neater. –

And look, our Leader has arrived; let’s gather round and greet her.

[PRAXAGORA enters from left, and starts to divest herself of her male clothing.]

PRAXAGORA: Well, my dears, so far everything’s gone according to plan. But now you must get those cloaks off quickly, before any of the men see you: shoes off and out of sight – untie those Spartan laces, throw away your sticks. [To CHORUS LEADER] I’ll leave you to do the organizing; I must slip indoors before my husband catches me, and put his cloak back where I got it from, and the other things I took.

[She lingers, however, to watch the CHORUS as they rid themselves of their beards, cloaks, shoes and sticks, which are collected and removed.]

CHORUS LEADER: We’ve done as you said, and await your commands. We have full trust in your judgement, and, personally, I think you’re the cleverest woman I’ve ever met.

[The CHORUS assent, with cheers.]

PRAXAGORA: Wait here, then, so that I can have you at hand as my advisers, as I take over the high office to which I have been elected. Up there, faced with all the uproar and all those clever opponents, you showed yourselves brave fighters.

[She turns to go into the house, but at that moment BLEPYRUS comes out.]

BLEPYRUS: Praxagora! And where have you been, I should like to know.

PRAXAGORA: What’s that to you?

BLEPYRUS: What’s that to me? There’s manners for you.

PRAXAGORA: I suppose you think I’ve been with a lover.

BLEPYRUS: Several, I should think.

PRAXAGORA: There’s a simple test that you could try.

BLEPYRUS: What’s that?

PRAXAGORA: See if my hair smells of perfume.

BLEPYRUS: Can’t a woman get screwed without perfume?

PRAXAGORA: Not in my case, I’m sorry to say.

BLEPYRUS: Than what have you been up to, sneaking out before dawn and taking my cloak?

PRAXAGORA: A friend of mine sent for me during the night. Her pains had come on.

BLEPYRUS: Couldn’t you have told me you were going?

PRAXAGORA: And waste time chattering, with a childbirth to attend to?

BLEPYRUS: You should have told me first. There’s something fishy about this.

PRAXAGORA: Honestly, I had to rush out straight away, just as I was. The girl who came to fetch me kept telling me to hurry.

BLEPYRUS: Well, you might at least have taken your own cloak. Instead of which, you rip mine off the bed, fling down your flimsy undergown in its place, and leave me lying there like a laid-out corpse. I wonder you forgot to deposit a wreath and a flask of oil.

PRAXAGORA: Well, it was very cold and you know how weak and delicate I am; so I put this on to keep me warm. After all, you had a nice warm bed to lie in, and plenty of bedclothes.

BLEPYRUS: And how did my walking-shoes come to accompany you on your travels? And my stick?

PRAXAGORA: Well, I didn’t want to have your cloak snatched away by a thief, did I? I had to protect it. So I put on your shoes and imitated the way you walk, clumping along and banging the stones with your stick.

BLEPYRUS: Do you realize that you’ve lost me eight quarts of wheat, that I could have got with my pay, if I’d gone to Assembly?

PRAXAGORA: Never mind; it was a boy.

BLEPYRUS: What was? The Assembly?

PRAXAGORA: No, the baby, stupid. – Oh, did the Assembly meet?

BLEPYRUS: Yes, of course it did. I told you yesterday it was going to.

PRAXAGORA: Oh, yes, I remember now, so you did.

BLEPYRUS: So you don’t know about the latest decisions?

PRAXAGORA: No, how should I?

BLEPYRUS: Well, sit down and take a deep breath. [He gulps.] They’ve decided to hand it all over to you women.

PRAXAGORA: What, all the weaving?

BLEPYRUS: No, they’re putting you in full control.

PRAXAGORA: What of?

BLEPYRUS: Everything – the whole shooting-match: all the City’s affairs.

PRAXAGORA: Then by Aphrodite, this is a great day for Athens. What a splendid piece of news!

BLEPYRUS: You can’t mean it.

[CHREMES re-enters from right, on his way back from the Agora. He joins the group and stays to listen.]

PRAXAGORA: But I do mean it. This’ll put a stop to all the mischief and skulduggery! No more faked evidence, no more informing!

BLEPYRUS: Steady on, don’t abolish that! One’s got to earn a living somehow!

CHREMES: Shut up, there’s a good fellow, and let your wife speak.

PRAXAGORA: No more mugging in the streets, no more envy of the neighbours, no more rags and tatters, no more poverty, no more slander, no more harrying for debt.

[BLEPYRUS shakes his head incredulously.]

CHREMES: By Poseidon, that sounds fine, if it all comes true.

PRAXAGORA: It will, and I’m ready to prove it to him, and you can be my witness. He won’t have a word to say in reply.

[The CHORUS crowd round to hear PRAXAGORA’s detailed proposals.]

CHORUS:

Now summon all your eloquence,
Your shrewdness, wit and common sense!
Yours is the skill: to you must fall
The task of speaking for us all.
For eloquence, if rightly used,
With wisdom and good sense infused,
A myriad blessings can bestow
On citizens both high and low,
Who, in their present sorry plight,
Need a good plan to set them right.
Go on, and tell them what to do,
But make quite sure it’s something new:
They always find it such a bore
If they have heard it all before.
And now get cracking, right away.
Pace is what matters in a play!

PRAXAGORA: Well, personally I’m convinced that my proposals are good ones. What worries me is whether the audience here will be ready to try out new methods instead of muddling along for ever with the old ones that we know only too well.

BLEPYRUS: As far as trying out new stunts is concerned, you needn’t worry: we don’t need a new government to persuade us to do that!

PRAXAGORA: I don’t want any contradictions or interruptions until you’ve heard enough to get the hang of what I’m saying. And what I’m going to say is that everyone is to have an equal share in everything and live on that; we won’t have one man rich while another lives in penury, one man farming hundreds of acres while another hasn’t enough land to get buried in; one man with dozens of slaves and another with none at all. There will be one common stock of necessities for everybody, and these will be shared equally.

BLEPYRUS: Shared equally? How can they be?

PRAXAGORA: If we had turds for dinner, you’d still want the first helping.

BLEPYRUS: Are turds to be shared equally too?

PRAXAGORA: No, you idiot, all I meant was that you always insist on chipping in. Now where was I? Oh, yes – first of all I shall declare all land, all money, and all private possessions to be common property. And from this common stock it will be our job – the women’s job – to feed you and manage your affairs sensibly and economically.

CHREMES: What about the people who don’t own any land, but have all their wealth hidden away in silver or Persian gold?

PRAXAGORA: They must put it all into the common pool, and not try to hold on to it by committing perjury.

BLEPYRUS: Which is how they got it in the first place.

PRAXAGORA: But now it won’t be any use to them in any case.

CHREMES: How do you make that out?

PRAXAGORA: No one will be motivated by need: everybody will have everything – loaves, cutlets, cakes, warm cloaks, wine, head-wreaths, chickpeas.20 So what advantage will there be in hanging on to one’s wealth? If you can think of any, it’s more than I can.

CHREMES: Having these things doesn’t stop people stealing more of them, even now.

PRAXAGORA: That was true under the old system; but now everything will be owned in common, so why hold on to anything?

BLEPYRUS: Suppose someone has his eye on a young girl and wants to go to bed with her, he can dip into his private store for something to give her; then he can sleep with her and have his share of the common goods as well.

PRAXAGORA: But he can sleep with her for nothing! I’m making girls common property too. Any man who wants to can sleep with them and have children by them.

BLEPYRUS: Won’t the men all make for the prettiest one and want to sleep with her?

PRAXAGORA: The plain unattractive girls will sit with the pretty ones; anyone who wants a pretty girl will have to lay one of the plain ones first.

BLEPYRUS: Bit hard on some of us older men, isn’t it? If we’ve got to screw an ugly one first, how are we going to make it with the popsie?

PRAXAGORA: Don’t worry, they’re not going to fight over you. Not for the privilege of sleeping with you, at any rate.

BLEPYRUS: For what, then?

PRAXAGORA: For the privilege of not sleeping with you. I dare say even you could rise to that.

BLEPYRUS: I’m beginning to see what you’re after, you’re making sure all the women can get their holes plugged whenever they feel like it. But what about the men? The girls will all run away from the ugly men and chase after the handsome ones.

PRAXAGORA: The less attractive men will escort the handsome ones when they go out after dinner, and stay with them in all public places; and the women won’t be able to sleep with the tall handsome ones till they’ve obliged the little weedy ones.

BLEPYRUS: And Lysicrates’s nose can hold itself as high as anybody else’s?

PRAXAGORA: Indeed yes, it’s a very democratic idea, and a lot of la-di-da young fellows with signet rings are going to look pretty foolish when a yob in working boots pushes past and says, ‘Do you mind stepping aside and waiting your turn?’

CHREMES: But how are any of us ever going to recognize our own children?

PRAXAGORA: You won’t need to. The children will regard all older men as fathers.

BLEPYRUS: In that case they’ll go round throttling every older man they meet: that’s how fathers are treated these days. Bad enough now, when they do know who you are; what’ll it be like when they don’t? They’ll shit on us!

PRAXAGORA: The others won’t let them. It might be their father. In the old days, if someone wanted to beat up his father, that was nobody’s business but his own. But now, if it sounds as if someone’s getting beaten up, they’ll rush to help in case it’s ‘him’.

BLEPYRUS: Well, on the whole you’re making out quite a good case. But supposing Epicurus or – or Leuolophus came up and started calling me ‘Daddy’. I just couldn’t take it.

CHREMBS: I can think of an even worse fate.

BLEPYRUS: What would that be?

CHREMES: If Aristyllus said you were his father, and gave you a kiss!

BLEPYRUS [horrified]: By god, he’d regret it!

CHREMES: So would you, old man. You’d stink for weeks.

PRAXAGORA: Well, fortunately he was born before the date of this new law, so there’s not much danger of his kissing you.

CHRBMBS: But now tell me, who’s going to farm the land?

PRAXAGORA: The slaves. All you have to do is make sure you’re smart and tidy when you go out to dinner, just before sunset.

CHREMES: Who’ll provide us with clothes? We mustn’t forget that, you know.

PRAXAGORA: You’ve got some to be going on with. And after that, we’ll weave you some more.

CHREMES: One more question. If there’s a court case and someone has to pay a fine, where’s the money coming from? He can’t very well take that out of the common pool, can he?

PRAXAGORA: But there won’t be any court cases!

CHREMES: Phew, you really are sticking your neck out now: you’ll never convince anybody of that.

BLEPYRUS: Just what I was thinking.

PRAXAGORA: But why should there be? What would they be about?

BLEPYRUS: Hang it, all kinds of things. Take one example: supposing a debtor refuses to pay up?

PRAXAGORA: And this fellow who lent him the money – how did he come to have it, when everything’s owned in common? The man must be a thief.

CHREMES: Well, I’m jiggered! That’s a good point.

BLEPYRUS: Well, just tell me this, one of you: supposing somebody has too much to drink at dinner, and starts knocking people about. How’s he going to pay compensation? Eh? That’s got you!

PRAXAGORA: It’ll be stopped out of his food allowance. He’ll think twice before committing assault again, once his stomach has had to suffer.

BLEPYRUS: And there won’t be any thieves?

PRAXAGORA: How can anyone steal what he owns already?

BLEPYRUS: No footpads at night to tear the clothes off you?

PRAXAGORA: If you sleep at home there’s no danger of that anyway. But now it won’t happen even if you do stay out; everyone will have the necessities of life. If this fellow wants to take your cloak, give it to him. Why fight about it, when you can go to the common store and get a better one?

BLEPYRUS: Well, anyway, you’ll never stop people dicing.

PRAXAGORA: Why not? No point in dicing for their own property.

BLEPYRUS: And what kind of a home life are we going to have?

PRAXAGORA: That’ll be communal. I shall have all the party-walls pulled down between houses: the whole city will be just one big communal residence. You’ll be able to walk in and out where you like.

BLEPYRUS: And where are we going to have our dinner?

PRAXAGORA: I shall have all the lawcourts and arcades converted into dining-halls.

BLEPYRUS: What will you use the speakers’ platforms for?

PRAXAGORA: They’ll make very good stands for the wine-jars and the mixing-bowls. And the children can get up there and recite poetry about the men who have fought bravely in the war. And about those who haven’t, so that they’ll be ashamed and stay away.

BLEPYRUS: What a brilliant idea! And what will you use those lot-casting contraptions for?21

PRAXAGORA: I’ll set them up in the Agora, and then I’ll station myself by the statue of Harmodius and assign dinner-places to everybody, according to which letter they’ve drawn; and they’ll all go off equally happy. There’ll be an announcement: ‘Will all those who have drawn the letter Beta please proceed to the Basileion; all Thetas to the Theseus Colonnade; all Kappas to the1 – oh, to Bakery Row.’

BLEPYRUS: For a capful of cake.

PRAXAGORA: No, for a capital dinner.

BLEPYRUS: And I suppose if you draw a blank you don’t get in anywhere.

PRAXAGORA: No, no, we shan’t have any blanks. There’ll be enough of everything for everybody. You’ll all come away well wined and dined, wreaths on your heads, torches in your hands; and at every street corner there’ll be women waiting to waylay you, saying ‘Come along to my place, there’s such a pretty young girl there.’ And then there’ll be another voice, from an upper window: ‘There’s one up here, you never saw such a lovely creature; but you’ll have to have me first!’ And the less attractive men will be right on the heels of the handsome ones, and they’ll shout ‘Hey, not so fast, young fellow, you’ll gain nothing by hurrying; they’ve got to let a snub-nosed man make love to them first, that’s the new law! In the meantime you’ll have to wait in the vestibule and abuse yourself as best you can.’ – Now, tell me honestly, both of you, don’t you like the sound of my scheme?

BLEPYRUS: It sounds fine to me.

PRAXAGORA: Good. Well, I must be off to the Agora to receive people’s goods as they bring them in, and I must find a girl with a good strong voice to act as Crier. I’m the one who must do all this, because I’ve been elected Chief of State. And I must get on with the catering arrangements, to make sure you start off today with a really fine feast.

BLEPYRUS: A feast today? Already?

PRAXAGORA: Certainly. And then I intend to have all the brothels closed down.

BLEPYRUS: Whatever for?

PRAXAGORA: Well, obviously, so that these freeborn ladies can enjoy the young men’s attentions, instead of letting dolled-up slave-girls snatch the pleasures of love from under their noses. Let slaves sleep with slaves, I say, and let their hair grow where it wants to.

BLEPYRUS: I think I’ll come along too and stick around; then they’ll all see me and say, ‘Look, there’s the Chief’s husband, isn’t he marvellous?’

CHREMES: Well, if I’ve got to take all my things to the Agora I’d better go and hold an inspection – get them all lined up.

[PRAXAGORA and BLEPYRUS move off towards the Agora (right), and CHREMES goes to his house (just out of sight, left). The CHORUS, after a short dance, move off (right).]

SCENE TWO

Outside CHREMES’s house.

[The door of the house is open, and CHREMES, assisted by his two slave-boys PARMENON and SICON, is carrying out his ‘inspection’. However, his efforts to give the proceedings a military flavour are not very successful: he decides, instead, to turn his ‘troops’ (a miscellaneous jumble of household effects) into a ritual procession – the Panathenaic procession, no less. A parasol, a basket, and various pieces of drapery, are among the lucky finds which are now put to good use.]

CHREMES: Come here, my pretty sieve, you shall be first in my procession: we’ll make you Basket-Bearer. You’re well powdered anyway, what with all the bags of flour I’ve put through you. Next comes the Litter-Bearer: cooking-pot, this way! You’re black enough, in all conscience; if you’d been used by Lysicrates for boiling his hair-dye you could hardly be blacker. Stand here, by her. Now the Tiring-Maid! [This item, when suitably draped, is given a parasol to hold over the first two.] And next the Water-Carrier: bring that jar over here – that’s right. [A suitably-sized object is found and draped, and given the jar to ‘carry’.] And now, Musician, out you come! [A cock, in a cage, is brought out.] Ah, you rascal, many’s the time you’ve been too early with your morning call, and sent me rushing off to Assembly in the middle of the night! Next, the man with the bowl of honeycombs; then the olive-branches; then come the tripods and the oil-flask. And finally you can send out all the little pots and pans and oddments, to bring up the rear.

[While the final touches are being put to the ‘procession’, CITIZEN strolls in from right. He walks up and down, deep in thought.]

CITIZEN [aside]: Hand over my property? You won’t catch me doing that in a hurry. I wouldn’t be such a fool. I’ll have to think the whole thing over very carefully. Why should I hand over what I’ve sweated and slaved for, just because somebody says so? It’s just damned silly. I want to know what it’s all about first. [To CHREMES] Hey, what’s all this stuff you’ve got lined up out here? Are you moving house or something? Or are you going to pawn it?

CHREMES: No, of course I’m not.

CITIZEN: Then why have you got it all lined up like this? Are you taking it in procession to the auctioneer’s?

CHREMES: No, I’m taking it to the Agora to hand it in to the state, as I have to under the new law.

CITIZEN: You really intend to hand it in?

CHREMES: Certainly.

CITIZEN: Then heaven help you. You’ll be ruined.

CHREMES: How?

CITIZEN: Only too easily.

CHREMES: Why? We have to obey the laws, don’t we?

CITIZEN: What laws, you poor twit?

CHREMES: The ones that have just been passed.

CITIZEN: Oh, those! You must be very simple!

CHREMES: Simple?

CITIZEN: Not so much simple as stark raving mad. It’s the craziest thing I ever heard of.

CHREMES: What, obeying orders?

CITIZEN: You think obeying orders is a sign of good sense?

CHREMES: Yes, I certainly do.

CITIZEN: It’s a sign of crass idiocy, if you ask me.

CHREMES: And you’re really not going to hand your stuff in?

CITIZEN: I shall take jolly good care not to hand it in – until I see what other people decide to do.

CHREMES: Well, they’re all preparing to give theirs in, I’m quite sure.

CITIZEN: I’ll believe it when I see it.

CHREMES: Anyway, I’ve heard them talking in the streets –

CITIZEN: Can’t stop people talking.

CHREMES: And saying they’re going to fetch their things –

CITIZEN: Can’t stop people saying so.

CHREMES: Blast it, you disbelieve everything I say!

CITIZEN: Can’t stop people disbelieving.

CHREMES: Oh, go and stuff yourself!

CITIZEN: Can’t stop people stuffing themselves – no, but I mean, do you really believe that any single one of them, that’s got any sense, will take his goods along? It’s not the Athenian way. Grabbing, not giving, is what comes natural to us. And to the gods themselves, for that matter; you can tell from their statues – the hands especially. All the time we’re praying to them to give us the good things in life, there they stand with their hands outstretched – palm upwards!

CHREMES: Well now, if you don’t mind, sir, I’ll get on with what I have to do. these Things have got to be tied up. Where’s that strap got to?

CITIZEN: You’re really going to hand it all in?

CHREMES: Yes, I am. I’m tying up these two tripods, as you see.

CITIZEN: Oh, what folly, not to wait and see what other people are going to do, and then –

CHREMES: And then what?

CITIZEN: Wait a little longer, and even then, don’t act at once.

CHREMES: I don’t follow you. Why?

CITIZEN: Well, suppose there was an earthquake, or a flash of lightning, or a cat 22 crossed the road, they’d stop taking their goods along, wouldn’t they, you nincompoop?

CHREMES: Fine thing it would be if there wasn’t any room left for my contribution, by the time I got there.

CITIZEN: No room for it? Is that what you’re afraid of? Don’t you worry, you’ll find room for it all right – even if you put it off till the day after tomorrow.

CHREMES: How do you make that out?

CITIZEN: I know these citizens: they’ll vote for anything on the spur of the moment – and then refuse to carry out what they’ve voted for.

CHREMES: They’ll deposit their goods all right.

CITIZEN: Suppose they don’t, what then?

CHREMES: They will, don’t worry.

CITIZEN: Suppose they don’t, I say, what then?

CHREMES: Then we’ll fight them.

CITIZEN: Suppose they’re bigger than you, what then?

CHREMES: In that case I’ll leave them alone, and clear off.

CITIZEN: Suppose they won’t let you, what then?

CHREMES: Oh, drop dead.

CITIZEN: Suppose I do, what then?

CHREMES: It’ll make my day.

CITIZEN: You really want to hand it over?

CHREMES: Yes, I do. And look, there go my neighbours, taking theirs along.

CITIZEN: With Antisthenes in the lead, I have no doubt. Not on your life – he’d rather sit straining in the bog for three months.

CHREMES: Shut up!

CITIZEN: And Callimachus the chorus-trainer, do you think he’ll bring anything in?

CHREMES: More than Callias, I dare say.

CITIZEN: Chucking away everything you possess, that’s what you’re doing.

CHREMES: You shouldn’t talk like that, it’s not right.

CITIZEN: Not right? Don’t you understand, they’re always passing resolutions like this. Remember the one about the salt?

CHREMES: I do, yes.

CITIZEN: And the one we passed about the copper coinage?

CHREMES: Oh yes, I remember that one all right. Very awkward that turned out, for me. I’d just sold my grapes for a whole heap of copper coins; shoved them in my mouth – easiest way to carry them – and went to the market to buy some barley-meal. I was just holding out my sack for it when the Crier made the announcement. ‘No more copper coins to be accepted: silver only!’ I nearly swallowed the lot.

CITIZEN: And then, just lately, that two and a half per cent tax proposed by Euripides: weren’t we all swearing that it would bring in three million drachmas? And Euripides was a very fine fellow, worth his weight in gold. And then when we looked into it and found, as usual, that the idea wouldn’t work, everyone started slanging Euripides again.

CHREMES: Yes, but that was different. That was when we were in charge. Now the women are running things.

CITIZEN: Well, I’m going to take very good care they don’t land me in the shit.

CHREMES: I don’t know what you’re talking about. [To his slaves] Come on, then, hoist up this bundle. [CHREMES and the two slaves pick up the goods, which they have by now strapped into bundles, and help each other to hoist them on to their shoulders.]

[The young woman selected by PRAXAGORA for the role of CRIER enters, right.]

CRIER: Calling all citizens, yes, I said all citizens, that’s the way we do things now, all citizens to make haste and present themselves before Her Excellency the General, so that lots can be drawn and she can tell each of you where to go for your dinner. The feast awaits you, the tables are loaded with all kinds of good things, the couches are piled high with cushions and rugs, the drinks are ready for pouring, the perfumers are standing by; the stoves are aglow, waiting to grill your fish; the meat is on the spit, the cakes in the oven; the wreaths are being twined and the savouries are crackling in the pan. The youngest girls are preparing the pea soup in great cauldrons; Smoius is with them of course, in full riding kit, looking for something to lick. And Geron 23 is on his way too, looking very smart in a swagger-cloak and party shoes, laughing and chatting with another young fellow: he’s flung away his tattered old coat and clumsy boots. So hurry along, the barley loaves have been brought in. Come and feed your faces! [CRIER continues on her way, going out left.]

CITIZEN: Oh well, I’ll be getting along, then. I mean, why hang around, when the City decrees otherwise?

CHREMES: Hullo, hullo, where are you off to, in such a hurry? You haven’t handed in your property yet.

CITIZEN: To the dinner, of course.

CHREMES: Oh no, you’re not! If those women have got any sense, you won’t get any dinner till you’ve handed your stuff in.

CITIZEN: Oh, I’ll hand it in, some time.

CHREMES: When?

CITIZEN: It won’t matter about mine, particularly.

CHREMES: Why not?

CITIZEN: You mark my words! Mine won’t be the last lot to be handed in, by a long chalk.

CHREMES: And you’re going to turn up for dinner, just the same?

CITIZEN: What else can I do? After all, every decent citizen must do what he can to help the State.

CHREMES: Suppose they won’t let you in, what then?

CITIZEN: I’ll go for them, head down.

CHREMES: Suppose they have you flogged, what then?

CITIZEN: I’ll prosecute them.

CHREMES: Suppose they laugh at you, what then?

CITIZEN: I’ll stand by the entrance.

CHREMES: What for?

CITIZEN: To grab the food as they take it in.

CHREMES: In that case I must make sure of getting there before you do. Come on, Sicon, come along, Parmenon, get these goods and chattels hoisted up.

CITIZEN: Let me help you carry them.

CHREMES: No, no, I won’t hear of it.[Aside] Otherwise, when they’re handed in to Her Excellency, the General, you’ll pretend they’re yours.

[CHREMES and his SLAVES stagger off with their burdens, right.]

CITIZEN [to himself]: Hang it, I must find some way of keeping what I’ve got without losing my share of all this public feasting! – Ah, yes, I think I know what to do.24 I must hurry straight to the dinner, there’s no time to be lost. [Hurries out, right.]

SCENE THREE

Evening. Another street in Athens, with three houses visible. Their occupants are FIRST HAG (left), GIRL (centre) and SECOND HAG (right).

[FIRST HAG appears in her doorway and peers up and down the street.]

FIRST HAG: Why don’t the men come? They should have started arriving long ago. I’ve plastered my face with white lead, and put on my prettiest yellow gown, and now there’s nothing to do but stand here and wait. perhaps I’ll croon a little song to myself and dance a few steps: that’ll be the way to catch one of them on his way past. I must pray to the Muses to come and inspire me! Come, heavenly Muses!–and hurry up about it, I need you. Find me something catchy, one of those Ionian songs. [she tries out a few trills.]

GIRL [appearing at her upstairs window] : Oh, so you’re flaunting yourself in the doorway, trying to cut me out, you mouldering antique, you! Thought you’d steal a march on me, pick all the juiciest plums for yourself, lure some man in with your singing. All right, then: I can sing as well as you! We’ll have a competition – that is, if it won’t be too much of a bore for the audience. You never know, though; it’s quite the fashion in comedy these days. They may even like this kind of thing.

FIRST HAG [hurling a fig at her]: Talk to that, if you must talk, and get back inside! Now come along, piper darling, pick up those pipes and let’s have a tune that’s worthy of us both.

[The tune is played: FIRST HAG listens, nods in time with the music, and then begins to sing.]

[sings]

If love’s ecstasy you seek,
Come and sample my technique!
No young girl could ever be
As experienced as me.

You’ll be lucky if she stays
True to you for seven days:
Better far my love to try;
I’ll not leave you till I die.

GIRL [sings]:

Much sooner for a young girl’s love
Will men pour out their sighs;

Rounded like apples are our breasts,
And smooth our tender thighs.

Repulsive hag, in vain you flaunt
Your plucked and painted hide!

Or are you hoping Death will come
And claim you as his bride?

FIRST HAG [sings]:

When you are panting to receive
Your lover’s hot embrace,

O may those breasts and thighs dissolve
And leave an empty space!

When you stretch out your lustful hand
His eager flesh to clasp

Beneath the bedclothes, may you find
It is a snake you grasp!

GIRL [sings]:

Oh why do you tarry, do you tarry, lover dear?

Whatever shall I do, if you do not appear?

My mother has gone out, and left me all alone –
I’m on fire with desire,
Need I say what I require?

What a chance for you to make me all your own.

– And as for you, Granny, you randy old cat,
Get yourself a toy one, and enjoy yourself with that.

FIRST HAG [sings]:

And what about yourself, you perverted little bitch?
You’ve got what they call the Ionian itch.
You’re all twisted up like a great big S,
And what that letter stands for, the audience can guess.

GIRL: Sing your head off if you want to, I don’t care. Waddling up and down like a love-sick weasel!

FIRST HAG: I’m not letting anyone get to you first.

GIRL: Who’d want to get to you – except the undertaker? There, that’s a new one on you. Isn’t it, hag?

FIRST HAG: No, it isn’t.

GIRL: Oh, no, of course, I forgot: ‘to the old, nothing is new’.

FIRST HAG: It’s not my age you have to worry about.

GIRL: No, it’s all that rouge and white lead, I suppose.

FIRST HAG: There’s no call to be insolent.

GIRL: There’s no call to hover about in that doorway, either. What do you think you’re doing?

FIRST HAG: Nothing, just singing quietly to myself. I’m making up a song to my boy-friend, if you must know. His name’s Epigenes.

GIRL: Father Time, more like it, if you’ve got a boy-friend at all.

FIRST HAG: You’ll see. He’ll be here soon and he’ll come straight to me.

[YOUNG MAN enters stealthily, from right.]

GIRL: Here he comes now, by the look of it.

FIRST HAG: He won’t be needing anything from you, hussy!

GIRL: Won’t he? We’ll see about that. I’ll draw back out of sight.

FIRST HAG: All right then, so will I. I have my pride, like anyone else. Never let it be said that I’m less of a lady than you are.

[FIRST HAG and GIRL withdraw, but not before YOUNG MAN has seen them.]

YOUNG MAN: Now the question is, how to sleep with the young one without having to lay that dreadful old bag first. Ugh! To a gentleman, the idea’s intolerable.

FIRST HAG [aside]: Oh, so that’s your little game, is it? Any tricks like that, and you’re for it, my lad! This is a democracy, and laws are made to be kept! – I’ll just have a peep and see what he’s up to.

YOUNG MAN [praying]: Oh, gods above, let it be just the one – the pretty one! – The wine has made me desperate with desire.

GIRL [looking out]: Ha, that’s tricked the old trout: she’s gone, she thought I’d stay inside! – There he is! The same man!

[sings]

Oh come, my heart’s delight,
And share my bed to-night!
Strange, passionate desires

Sweep through my body like a hundred fires;
My brain is in a whirl,
I love each single curl

Upon your head, I want to be your girl.
    This madness Eros sent:
    O cruel god, relent
       And set me free!
    Delight not to torment:
       Bring him to me!

YOUNG MAN [sings]:

One detail you forget:
The door is bolted yet!
I lust with you to lie:

Admit me soon or I shall surely die.
Nothing can case my mind
Until I have entwined

My limbs with yours and squeezed your plump behind.
    This madness Eros sent:
    O cruel god, relent
    And set me free!

Delight not to torment:
Bring her to me!

What I have sung so far
Puts it quite mildly;

It’s not too much to say
I love you wildly.

Open the door, I beg,
Child of the Graces!

Come, let me smother you
In my embraces!

[YOUNG MAN knocks at GIRL’s door.]

FIRST HAG [appearing at her own door]: Yes, what is it? Oh – are you looking for me?

YOUNG MAN: Far from it.

FIRST HAG: Oh, but you must be; you were battering on my door.

YOUNG MAN: I’m damned if I was.

FIRST HAG: What do you want, then, coming here with a torch?

YOUNG MAN: I’m looking for a man with a limp.

FIRST HAG: With a limp what?

YOUNG MAN: He wouldn’t do for You. you won’t get what you’re waiting for.

FIRST HAG: I will, by Aphrodite – whether you like it or not.

YOUNG MAN: I’m sorry, madam, we’re not dealing with any cases more than sixty years old; we’ve put those off till later. Just now we’re polishing off the under-twenties.

FIRST HAG: That was under the old rules, sweetheart: now you have to take us first – that’s the law.

YOUNG MAN: It’s optional. ‘No player is obliged to take a piece unless he wishes to do so.’

FIRST HAG: You went to the dinner, though. You didn’t say that was optional.

YOUNG MAN: I don’t know what you’re talking about. [He knocks at GIRL’s door again.] This is where I knock.

FIRST HAG: You’ve got a bit of knocking to do here first, love.

YOUNG MAN: Thanks, I’ve got a flour-bin already.

FIRST HAG: You like me really, I know you do. You’re just embarrassed, meeting me out of doors like this. Come on, give me a kiss!

YOUNG MAN: Oh no! I’m frightened of your lover.

FIRST HAG: What lover?

YOUNG MAN: The great painter.

FIRST HAG: Who’s he?

YOUNG MAN: The one who paints oil-flasks for funerals. Get inside quickly, you don’t want him to catch you out of doors, do you?

FIRST HAG: I know what you’re after! [She grabs him by the wrist.]

YOUNG MAN: And I know what you’re after, by god.

FIRST HAG: By Aphrodite, my patron goddess, I won’t let you go!

YOUNG MAN: You’re out of your mind.

FIRST HAG: Not a bit of it. I’m going to take you to bed.

YOUNG MAN: I wonder why we use hooks to haul up our buckets! Just lower one of these old women into the tank and the job’s done!

FIRST HAG: Don’t you make fun of me, you naughty boy; just come this way.

YOUNG MAN [struggling]: But – you have no right – I’m not obliged to go with you. Not unless you’ve paid value-added tax on my – fixtures and fittings.

FIRST HAG: Oh yes, you are, by Aphrodite! I love sleeping with young men like you.

YOUNG MAN: And I hate sleeping with old women like you. And what’s more, I’m not going to.

FIRST HAG [producing a document]: This will compel you to.

YOUNG MAN: What is it?

FIRST HAG: It’s the law that says you must come with me.

YOUNG MAN: Read me what it says.

FIRST HAG: I was just going to. ‘Be it known that the women hereby enact as follows: if a young man desire a young woman, it shall not be lawful for him to screw the same unless and until he has pleasured an old one; and if he refuses so to pleasure her in due priority it shall be lawful for the older woman to seize him by the tool and drag him away forthwith.’

YOUNG MAN: Yow! I’m in for a long-drawn-out evening, I can see that.

FIRST HAG: You have to obey our laws, now.

YOUNG MAN: Supposing I get a colleague or a friend to come and bail me out?

FIRST HAG: Contracts made by men no longer have legal force, except for amounts under one bushel.

YOUNG MAN: I’ll swear an affidavit that I’m sick or something.

FIRST HAG: No, you can’t wriggle out of this.

YOUNG MAN: I’ll claim exemption, I’ll say I’m engaged in essential trade.

FIRST HAG: You’ll catch it hot if you do.

YOUNG MAN [desperately]: Oh, what am I to do?

FIRST HAG: Come to me.

YOUNG MAN: Must I?

FIRST HAG: You have no other choice.

YOUNG MAN: Then strew the floor with pungent herbs, break off four olive-twigs and set them down, bring out the oil-flasks, and place a pot of water at the door.

FIRST HAG [thinking of weddings]: And a garland – you’ll buy me a garland too?

YOUNG MAN: Yes; made of wax – it’s a funeral I’m talking about.

[FIRST HAG begins to drag him into her house.]

The moment we’re inside, you’ll fall to pieces!

[GIRL, who has been watching from her window, hurriedly descends and comes out into the street.]

GIRL: Hi! Where are you dragging that boy?

FIRST HAG: I’m taking him inside – he’s mine!

GIRL: You’re a fool, then. He’s not old enough to sleep with you. You’d be more like a mother than a mistress. If people start doing this kind of thing we shall have little Oedipuses everywhere.

[FIRST HAG splutters and almost swoons, relaxing her grip on YOUNG MAN. He and GIRL begin to push her backwards into her house.]

FIRST HAG: You insolent minx, you’re jealous, that’s all it is. I’ll pay you out for this!

[They succeed in pushing FIRST HAG indoors, pull the door to and bolt it.]

YOUNG MAN: Oh, thank heaven! And thank you, my sweetest, you really have done me a good turn, getting me away from that old dragon. You deserve a reward, and I’ll see that you get it right away, this very night – a big fat reward.

[GIRL takes his arm and is about to lead him into her own house. SECOND HAG comes out of the house on the right.]

SECOND HAG: Now, then, you, where are you off to with that young man? Breaking the law, you are, I seen it written up. He’s got to sleep with me first. It says so.

YOUNG MAN: Oh, help, this is a nightmare! Where did this one spring from? She’s worse than the other!

SECOND HAG [to YOUNG MAN]: Come here! [She pulls him away from the girl.]

YOUNG MAN [to GIRL]: For pity’s sake, don’t stand there and let this one drag me off!

[GIRL attempts to intervene, but SECOND HAG, with her free hand, pushes her into the house and bolts the door.]

SECOND HAG: It’s not me that’s dragging you off, it’s the law.

YOUNG MAN: It isn’t, it’s some kind of vampire, if you ask me. All swollen up with the blood of its victims.

SECOND HAG: Come along, my little chick! Hurry up, and don’t argue.

YOUNG MAN: Oh – oh, I want to – er – sudden call of nature, you must excuse me a moment, I’ll just step aside and – get my courage back. If I stay here another second there’ll be an accident – I’m so scared.

SECOND HAG: Come along – this way; don’t worry, you can do it when we get inside.

YOUNG MAN: I’ll be doing a darn sight more than I want to, by the look of things. Look, I’ll get two credit-worthy citizens to stand bail for me.

SECOND HAG: No, you won’t, you’ll just come along with me. [She forces his head under her arm and starts to drag him towards her own house.]

[Enter THIRD HAG, from left.]

THIRD HAG [to YOUNG MAN]: Here, where are you going with that woman?

YOUNG MAN [unable to see her]: I’m not going anywhere with her, I’m being dragged. But whoever you are, bless you for coming to my rescue; I was in a dreadful predic—[He frees himself and turns to face his rescuer.] Gods, goats and grandmothers, of all the ghastly apparitions! This is the worst yet, by far! What is this spectral shape, tell me, somebody, please! An ape, with white-lead all over it? A ghost, come back from the dead?

THIRD HAG: Don’t mock me, just come over here. [She seizes one of his arms.]

SECOND HAG: No, you’re to come over here, to me. [She seizes his other arm.]

THIRD HAG: I’ll never let you go.

SECOND HAG: Nor will I.

YOUNG MAN: Help! You’re tearing me apart, you loathsome creatures.

SECOND HAG: I’m the one you had to come with, it said so in the law.

THIRD HAG [cackling]: Not if an even uglier doth lay claim!

YOUNG MAN: How am I ever going to get to that pretty girl in there if you two harpies maul me to death first?

SECOND HAG: That’s your problem. You’ve got your duty to do, first.

YOUNG MAN: Nothing for it: I’d better get it over, I suppose, or I’ll never get away. Ugh! which shall I poke first?

SECOND HAG: Me, of course, dearie.

YOUNG MAN [to THIRD HAG]: Right, did you hear? Let me go to her.

THIRD HAG: No, you’re coming this way, with me.

YOUNG MAN: I can’t, she won’t let go.

SECOND HAG: And I’m not going to, either.

THIRD HAG: Well, I’m not going to.

YOUNG MAN: Lucky you two don’t work on the ferries.

SECOND HAG: Why?

YOUNG MAN: You’d pull the passengers in pieces between you.

SECOND HAG: Don’t try to be funny. Just come along in with me.

THIRD HAG: You’re coming with me, I say.

YOUNG MAN: Thus is worse than being in the dock, handcuffed to two screws. At least you don’t have to screw them! Look, you two I – can’t dip my paddle on two sides at once.

SECOND HAG: Oh, you’ll manage all right: all you need is a plateful of tulip bulbs.

YOUNG MAN: Help, she’s dragged me nearly to the door.

[They have reached the door of SECOND HAG’s house. THIRD HAG shows no signs of relaxing her grip.]

THIRD HAG [to SECOND HAG]: You won’t shake me off that way: I’ll force my way in with you.

YOUNG MAN: Oh no, for pity’s sake: one at a time is bad enough!

THIRD HAG: Whether you like it or not!

YOUNG MAN: Oh, what a fate! To have to spend all day and half the night rogering a toothless old crone, and then to find this ghastly apparition still waiting to have its turn before they lug it back to the graveyard. Zeus help me, it’s no joke – the very thought of being shut up with these two ravening beasts! However, I suppose I must do my best to sail safely through these treacherous waters. And if I founder in the attempt, which seems only too bloody likely with these two strumpets at the helm, bury me right at the harbour mouth; and to mark the spot, take this one [he indicates THIRD HAG], if she doesn’t die on you first, and tar the top half all over, pour molten lead round her ankles, stick her up on end, and you’ll have a very fine imitation of a funeral oil-flask.

[The two women haul him into SECOND HAG’s house and the door is slammed shut.]

SCENE FOUR

A lively street scene, somewhere in Athens. The public banquet is nearly over and many citizens (arriving from right) have already come away from it, in festive mood; they carry torches and seek female company, which is easily found. There is music and dancing. The CHORUS mingle with the throng.

[Praxagora’s MAID enters from right.]

MAID: You happy people! And I’m happy too, and my mistress happiest of all. And all of you here at your doors, neighbours and citizens! And me too, in my humble capacity, what a time I’m having! I’ve had my hair done. Can you smell the perfume, isn’t it marvellous? And the best thing of all, that Thasian wine, it’s super, it really knocks you. Jars and jars of it. It goes to your head, you know. And it stays there. The effect doesn’t wear off like it does with those other wines – oh, it’s much the best, by golly it’s good stuff. Drunk neat of course. Choose the wine with the best bouquet, I always say, and you’ll stay in a good mood all night. – Excuse me, ladies, but do you happen to know where my master is? My mistress’s husband, I should say.

CHORUS LEADER: I think you’ll probably find him if you stay right here.

[BLEPYRUS enters from left, with a group of DANCING-GIRLS.]

MAID: You’re dead right, here he comes, on his way to the feast. What a lucky man, what an in-credibly lucky man you are, sir.

BLEPYRUS: Me?

MAID: Yes, you. Luckier than anybody. Do you realize you’re the only citizen, out of thirty thousand or more, who still has his dinner to look forward to?

CHORUS LEADER: A truly enviable situation.

MAID: Now where are you off to?

BLEPYRUS: I’m on my way to the banquet.

MAID: And high time too, by Aphrodite; you’ll be the last to arrive, easily. But your wife has sent me to fetch you and bring you in, and the girls too. There’s some Chian wine left, and lots of other good things too. So hurry up. And anyone in the audience who’s enjoyed the play, and anyone in the judges’ enclosure who isn’t looking the other way, can come along too, you’re welcome to everything.

BLEPYRUS: No, don’t let’s have any exceptions: invite them all, freely and generously: old men, striplings and boys. There’s a dinner waiting for everybody - at home! I’m off to have mine now; and as you see, I have my torch with me [he kisses one of the girls], which is just as it should be.

CHORUS LEADER: Don’t waste any more time, then, but take the girls along. And while you’re on your way, well sing you a Supper cantata. [Turning to face the audience] Just a word to the judges: are there any intellectuals among you? Judge our play by its wit and wisdom. Do you enjoy a good laugh? Judge us by the fun we’ve given you. - That should ensure top marks from almost all of you. Oh, and don’t let it make any difference that we were put on first; that’s just how the lot fell out,25 and you’ll have to remember it all, and keep your oath, always to judge the choruses fairly, and not be like the sort of girl who can only remember the fellow she slept with last. [To CHORUS] And now, my dears, if we’re going to sing them an appetizer, we’d better get on with it. And you [to BLEPYRUS] can give us a dance, in the good old cretan style.

BLEPYRUS: I will.

CHORUS LEADER [to the DANCING GIRLS]: And now come on, you nimble-footed nymphs, beat out the rhythm and – off we go!

[BLEPYRUS and the DANCING GIRLS perform a wild dance, during which the CHORUS sing their ‘supper cantata’ at breakneck speed.]

CHORUS: For-

there’ll-

be-

Mussels and whelks and slices of anchovy
Octopus tunnyfish dogfish and skate
Savoury chutney and sauce with a zing in it
Lashings of pickle to pile on your plate
Next come the birds with a glorious glaze on ’em
Done on the spit what a pleasure to gaze on ’em
Basted with honey and swimming in fat –
Thrushes and blackbirds and wagtails and shagtails and
Chicken and widgeon and skylark and pigeon and
Duck, and a hare that’s been cooked in red wine and a
Gristly-winged Gramphus – and that’s about that.

CHORUS LEADER [to BLEPYRUS]: Well, now that you’ve heard the menu, hurry up and get a plate and help yourself to porridge, in case you still feel hungry when you’ve finished.

[BLEPYRUS and the DANCING GIRLS dance off, right, on their way to the banquet.]

For-

they’ll-

be-

Stuffing themselves like mad, like mad
And stuffing themselves like mad;
Oh why on earth do we linger here
When there’s good food to be had?
March out, march out, with a lusty shout
And loud victorious cries,
For a play that ends with a good blow-out
Is sure to win first prize.

[CHORUS march out, right, following BLEPYRUS and the GIRLS.]