DICAEOPOLIS
Friends, leave the Laconians out of debate and consider only
whether I have not done well to conclude my truce.
CHORUS
Done well! when you have treated with a people who know neither
gods, nor truth, nor faith.
DICAEOPOLIS
We attribute too much to the Laconians; as for myself, I know that
they are not the cause of all our troubles.
CHORUS
Oh, indeed, rascal! You dare to use such language to me and then
expect me to spare you!
DICAEOPOLIS
No, no, they are not the cause of all our troubles, and I who
address you claim to be able to prove that they have much to
complain of in us.
CHORUS
This passes endurance; my heart bounds with fury. Thus you dare to
defend our enemies.
DICAEOPOLIS
Were my head on the block I would uphold what I say and rely on
the approval of the people.
CHORUS
Comrades, let us hurl our stones and dye this fellow purple.
DICAEOPOLIS
What black fire-brand has inflamed your heart! You will not hear
me? You really will not, 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.
Classical Athenian comic playwright (c. 446 – c. 386 BC)
Aristophanes (Greek: Ἀριστοφάνης; c. 446 – c. 386 BC) was a Greek poet and playwright of the Old Comedy, also known as the Father of Comedy and the Prince of Ancient Comedy. Of his forty plays, eleven are extant, plus a thousand fragments of the others.
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After all, one of Aristophanes’ chief aims was to make humor of important dimensions of human life and society, while at the same time encouraging his audience to think about them in ways discouraged, or even forbidden, outside the comic theater. The issue of freedom of speech and thought (especially religious and moral thought) is especially relevant to Aristophanes’ plays, and it is important to bear in mind that one of the hallmarks of Aristophanic comedy is to encourage us to question the status quo.
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Socrates: So now you won't acknowledge any gods except the ones we do — Chaos, the Clouds, the Tongue — just these three?
Strepsiades: Absolutely — I'd refuse to talk to any other gods,
if I ran into them — and I decline
to sacrifice or pour libations to them.
I'll not provide them any incense...
I want to twist all legal verdicts in my favor,
to evade my creditors.
Chorus Leader: You'll get that, just what you desire. For what you want is nothing special. So be confident — give yourself over to our agents here.
Strepsiades:
I'll do that — I'll place my trust in you. Necessity is weighing me down — the horses, those thoroughbreds, my marriage — all that has worn me out. So now, this body of mine I'll give to them, with no strings attached, to do with as they like — to suffer blows, go without food and drink, live like a pig, to freeze or have my skin flayed for a pouch — if I can just get out of all my debt and make men think of me as bold and glib, as fearless, impudent, detestable, one who cobbles lies together, makes up words, a practiced legal rogue, a statute book, a chattering fox, sly and needle sharp, a slippery fraud, a sticky rascal, foul whipping boy or twisted villain, troublemaker, or idly prattling fool. If they can make those who run into me call me these names, they can do what they want — no questions asked. If, by Demeter, they're keen, they can convert me into sausages and serve me up to men who think deep thoughts.
Chorus: Here's a man whose mind's now smart, no holding back — prepared to start. When you have learned all this from me you know your glory will arise among all men to heaven's skies.
Strepsiades: And what will I get out of this?
Chorus: For all time, you'll live with me a life most people truly envy.
Strepsiades: You mean one day I'll really see that?
Chorus: Hordes will sit outside your door wanting your advice and more — to talk, to place their trust in you for their affairs and lawsuits, too, things which merit your great mind.
What villainies they contrive! Come, let vengeance fall, You that below the waist are still alive, Off with your tunics at my call — Naked, all. For a man must strip to battle like a man. No quaking, brave steps taking, careless what’s ahead, white shoed, in the nude, onward bold, All ye who garrisoned Leipsidrion of old. . . . Let each one wag As youthfully as he can, And if he has the cause at heart Rise at least a span.