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    The Frogs
    The Frogs
    The Frogs
    Ebook78 pages1 hour

    The Frogs

    By Aristophanes

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    About this ebook

    "The Frogs" is a comedy written by the Ancient Greek playwright Aristophanes.

    Aristophanes was a comic playwright of ancient Athens. 

    Translated by 

    E D A Morshead
    E H Plumptre
    Gilbert Murray
    B B Rogers
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPasserino Editore
    Release dateSep 9, 2017
    ISBN9788893452656
    Author

    Aristophanes

    Aristophanes, son of Philippus, of the deme Kydathenaion, was a comic playwright of ancient Athens and a poet of Old Attic Comedy. Eleven of his forty plays survive virtually complete.

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      Book preview

      The Frogs - Aristophanes

      Frogs

      The Frogs

      DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

      THE GOD DIONYSUS

      XANTHIAS, his slave

      AESCHYLUS

      EURIPIDES

      HERACLES

      PLUTO

      CHARON AEACUS, house porter to Pluto

      A CORPSE

      A MAIDSERVANT OF PERSEPHONE

      A LANDLADY IN HADES

      PLATHANE, her servant

      A CHORUS OF FROGS

      A CHORUS OF INITIATED PERSONS

      Attendants at a Funeral;

      Women worshipping Iacchus;

      Servants of Pluto, &c.

      XANTHIAS

      Shall I crack any of those old jokes, master,

      At which the audience never fail to laugh?

      DIONYSUS. Aye, what you will, except I'm getting crushed: Fight shy

      of that: I'm sick of that already.

      XAN. Nothing else smart?

      DIO. Aye, save my shoulder's aching.

      XAN. Come now, that comical joke?

      DIO. With all my heart. Only be careful not to shift your pole,

      And—

      XAN. What?

      DIO. And vow that you've a bellyache.

      XAN. May I not say I'm overburdened so

      That if none ease me, I must ease myself?

      DIO. For mercy's sake, not till I'm going to vomit.

      XAN.

      What! must I bear these burdens, and not make

      One of the jokes Ameipsias and Lycis

      And Phrynichus, in every play they write,

      Put in the mouths of all their burden-bearers?

      DIO.

      Don't make them; no! I tell you when I see

      Their plays, and hear those jokes, I come away

      More than a twelvemonth older than I went.

      XAN.

      O thrice unlucky neck of mine, which now

      Is getting crushed, yet must not crack its joke!

      DIO.

      Now is not this fine pampered insolence

      When I myself, Dionysus, son of—Pipkin,

      Toil on afoot, and let this fellow ride,

      Taking no trouble, and no burden bearing?

      XAN. What, don't I bear?

      DIO. How can you when you're riding?

      XAN. Why, I bear these.

      DIO. How?

      XAN. Most unwillingly.

      DIO. Does not the donkey bear the load you're bearing?

      XAN. Not what I bear myself: by Zeus, not he.

      DIO. How can you bear, when you are borne yourself?

      XAN. Don't know: but anyhow my shoulder's aching.

      DIO.

      Then since you say the donkey helps you not,

      You lift him up and carry him in turn.

      XAN.

      O hang it all! why didn't I fight at sea?

      You should have smarted bitterly for this.

      DIO.

      Get down, you rascal; I've been trudging on

      Till now I've reached the portal, where I'm going

      First to turn in.

      Boy! Boy! I say there, Boy!

      HERACLES.

      Who banged the door? How like a prancing Centaur

      He drove against it! Mercy o' me, what's this?

      DIO. Boy.

      XAN. Yes.

      DIO. Did you observe?

      XAN. What?

      DIO. How alarmed He is.

      XAN. Aye truly, lest you've lost your wits.

      HER. O by Demeter, I can't choose but laugh.

      Biting my lips won't stop me. Ha! ha! ha!

      DIO. Pray you, come hither, I have need of you.

      HER. I vow I can't help laughing, I can't help it.

      A lion's hide upon a yellow silk, a club and buskin!

      What's it all about? Where were you going?

      DIO. I was serving lately aboard the—Cleisthenes.

      HER. And fought?

      DIO. And sank more than a dozen of the enemy's ships.

      HER. You two?

      DIO. We two.

      HER. And then I awoke, and lo!

      DIO. There as, on deck, I'm reading to myself

      The Andromeda, a sudden pang of longing

      Shoots through my heart, you can't conceive how keenly.

      HER. How big a pang.

      DIO. A small one, Molon's size.

      HER. Caused by a woman?

      DIO. No.

      HER. A boy?

      DIO. No, no.

      HER. A man?

      DIO. Ah! ah!

      HER. Was it for Cleisthenes?

      DIO. Don't mock me, brother; on my life I am

      In a bad way: such fierce desire consumes me.

      HER. Aye, little brother? how?

      DIO. I can't describe it. But yet I'll tell you in a riddling way.

      Have you e'er felt a sudden lust for soup?

      HER. Soup! Zeus-a-mercy, yes, ten thousand times.

      DIO. Is the thing clear, or must I speak again?

      HER. Not of the soup: I'm clear about the soup.

      DIO. Well, just that sort of pang devours my heart

      For lost Euripides.

      HER. A dead man too.

      DIO. And no one shall persuade me not to go after the man.

      HER. Do you mean below, to Hades?

      DIO. And lower

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