AESCH. Of what ills is he NOT the creator and cause?

Consider the scandalous scenes that he draws, His bawds, and his panders, his women who give Give birth in the sacredest shrine, Whilst others with brothers are wedded and bedded, And others opine That "not to be living" is truly "to live."

And therefore our city is swarming to-day With clerks and with demagogue-monkeys, who play Their jackanape tricks at all times, in all places, Deluding the people of Athens; but none Has training enough in athletics to run With the torch in his hand at the races.

DIO. By the Powers, you are right! At the Panathenaea I laughed till I felt like a potsherd to see a Pale, paunchy young gentleman pounding along, With his head b.u.t.ting forward, the last of the throng, In the direst of straits; and behold at the gates, The Ceramites flapped him, and smacked him, and slapped him, In the ribs, and the loin, and the flank, and the groin, And still, as they spanked him, he puffed and he panted, Till at one mighty cuff, he discharged such a puff That he blew out his torch and levanted.

CHOR. Dread the battle, and stout the combat, mighty and manifold looms the war.

Hard to decide in the fight they're waging, One like a stormy tempest raging, One alert in the rally and skirmish, clever to parry and foin and spar.

Nay but don't be content to sit Always in one position only: many the fields for your keen-edged wit.

On then, wrangle in every way, Argue, battle, be flayed and flay, Old and new from your stores display, Yea, and strive with venturesome daring something subtle and neat to say.

Fear ye this, that to-day's spectators lack the grace of artistic lore, Lack the knowledge they need for taking All the points ye will soon be making?

Fear it not: the alarm is groundless: that, be sure, is the case no more.

All have fought the campaign ere this: Each a book of the words is holding; never a single point they'll miss.

Bright their natures, and now, I ween, Newly whetted, and sharp, and keen.

Dread not any defect of wit, Battle away without misgiving, sure that the audience, at least, are fit.

EUR. Well then I'll turn me to your prologues now, Beginning first to test the first beginning Of this fine poet's plays. Why he's obscure Even in the enunciation of the facts.

DIO. Which of them will you test?

EUR. Many: but first give as that famous one from the Oresteia.

DIO. St! Silence all! Now, Aeschylus, begin.

AESCH. Grave Hermes, witnessing a father's power. Be thou my saviour and mine aid to-day, For here I come and hither I return.

DIO. Any fault there?

EUR. A dozen faults and more.

DIO. Eh! why the lines are only three in all.

EUR. But every one contains a score of faults.

DIO. Now Aeschylus, keep silent; if you don't You won't get off with three iambic lines.

AESCH. Silent for him!

DIO. If my advice you'll take.

EUR. Why, at first starting here's a fault sky high.

AESCH. (To Dio.) You see your folly.

DIO. Have your way; I care not.

AESCH. (To Eur.) What is my fault?

EUR. Begin the lines again.

AESCH. Grave Hermes, witnessing a father's power-

EUR. And this beside his murdered father's grave Orestes speaks?

AESCH. I say not otherwise.

EUR. Then does he mean that when his father fell By craft and violence at a woman's hand, The G.o.d of craft was witnessing the deed?

AESCH. It was not he: it was the Helper Hermes He called the grave: and this he showed by adding It was his sire's prerogative he held.

EUR. Why this is worse than all. If from his father He held this office grave, why then- DIO. He was A graveyard rifler on his father's side.

AESCH. Bacchus, the wine you drink is stale and fusty.

DIO. Give him another: (to Eur.) you, look out for faults.

AESCH. Be thou my saviour and mine aid to-day, For here I come, and hither I return.

EUR. The same thing twice says clever Aeschylus.

DIO. How twice?

EUR. Why, just consider: I'll explain. "I come," says he; and "I return," says he: It's the same thing, to "come" and to "return."

DIO. Aye, just as if you said, "Good fellow, lend me A kneading trough: likewise, a trough to knead in."

AESCH. It is not so, you everlasting talker, They're not the same, the words are right enough.

DIO. How so? inform me how you use the words.

AESCH. A man, not banished from his home, may "come"

To any land, with no especial chance.

A home-bound exile both "returns" and "comes."

DIO. O good, by Apollo! What do you say, Euripides, to that?

EUR. I say Orestes never did "return." He came in secret: n.o.body recalled him.

DIO. O good, by Hermes! (Aside.) I've not the least suspicion what he means.

EUR. Repeat another line.

DIO. Ay, Aeschylus, Repeat one instantly: you, mark what's wrong.

AESCH. Now on this funeral mound I call my father To hear, to hearken.

EUR. There he is again. To "hear," to "hearken"; the same thing, exactly.

DIO. Aye, but he's speaking to the dead, you knave, Who cannot hear us though we call them thrice.

AESCH. And how do you make your prologues?

EUR. You shall hear; And if you find one single thing said twice, Or any useless padding, spit upon me.

DIO. Well, fire away: I'm all agog to hear Your very accurate and faultless prologues.

EUR. A happy man was Oedipus at first-

AESCH. Not so, by Zeus; a most unhappy man.

Who, not yet born nor yet conceived, Apollo Foretold would be his father's murderer.

How could he be a happy man at first.

EUR. Then he became the wretchedest of men.