Clouds

StrepsiadesOh no, oh no! Zeus almighty, how long these nights are! Endless. Is it never going to be day? I heard the rooster ages ago, and the slaves are still snoring. They wouldn’t have, in the old days. Damn you, war, for plenty of reasons, and not least because now I can’t even punish my own slaves. And this fine young man here doesn’t wake up during the night either. No, he lies there farting, rolled up in five blankets. Well, if that’s how it is, let’s cover our heads and snore. But I can’t sleep, poor me. I’m being bitten by the expenses and the stable bills and the debts, all because of this son of mine.note

PheidippidesPhilon, you’re cheating! Keep to your own lane!

StrepsiadesThat’s it, that’s the very trouble that’s ruined me. Even in his sleep he dreams about horses.

PheidippidesHow many laps will the war chariots run?

StrepsiadesYou’re running your father plenty of laps! But what debt has come upon me next, after Pasias? “Three minas to Amynias, for a chariot board and a pair of wheels.”note

PheidippidesGive the horse a roll in the dust and take him home.

StrepsiadesMy friend, it’s me you’ve rolled—right out of house and home! I’ve already lost lawsuits, and other creditors say they’ll seize my property for the interest.

PheidippidesHonestly, Father, why are you so grumpy, tossing and turning all night?

StrepsiadesThere’s some bailiff biting me from the bedclothes.note

PheidippidesGood grief, man, let me get a little sleep.

StrepsiadesAll right, sleep then. But these debts, believe me, are all going to come down on your head. Ugh. I wish that matchmaker had come to a miserable end, the one who talked me into marrying your mother. I had the sweetest life in the country: unwashed, unswept, lying around any old way, swarming with bees and sheep and olive pressings. Then I married the niece of Megacles, son of Megacles. I was a farmer and she was from the city: haughty, pampered, a regular Coesyra. When I married her and climbed into bed with her, I smelled of new wine, drying figs, fleeces, plenty. She smelled of perfume, saffron, tongue-kissing, spending, gorging, Colias and Genetyllis. Mind you, I won’t say she was lazy. Oh no, she really ran through the thread.note

ServantWe’ve got no oil in the lamp.

StrepsiadesDamn! Why did you light me the thirsty lamp? Come over here, I’ll give you something to cry about.

ServantWhy should I cry?

StrepsiadesBecause you put in one of the fat wicks. After that, when this son here was born to us, to me and to my fine lady wife, we started squabbling about his name. She wanted to add “horse” to it, Xanthippus or Charippus or Callippides, and I wanted to give him his grandfather’s name, Pheidonides. For a while we fought it out, and then eventually we came to an agreement and named him Pheidippides. She used to take this son of hers and coo over him: “When you’re big and you drive your chariot to the city like Megacles, wearing your long robe…” And I’d say: “No, when you drive the goats home from the rocky hills like your father, wearing a leather jerkin.”note

PheidippidesWhat is it, Father?

StrepsiadesKiss me, and give me your right hand.

PheidippidesThere. What is it?

StrepsiadesTell me, do you love me?

PheidippidesYes, by Poseidon here, the god of horses.

StrepsiadesNo, no, not him, please, not the horse god! That god’s the cause of all my troubles. But if you really love me from the bottom of your heart, son, do as I say.

PheidippidesAll right, so what am I supposed to do?

StrepsiadesTurn your ways inside out, as fast as you can, and go and learn what I advise.

PheidippidesGo on then, tell me, what are your orders?

StrepsiadesAnd you’ll do it?

PheidippidesI’ll do it, by Dionysus.

StrepsiadesLook over here, then. See that little door, and the little house?

PheidippidesI see it. So what is it, really, Father?

StrepsiadesThat is the Thinkery of clever souls. Men live in there who argue that the sky is a baking lid, and it’s all around us, and we’re the charcoal, and they make people believe it. These men teach you, if you pay them, how to win any argument, just or unjust.

PheidippidesWho are they?

StrepsiadesI don’t know exactly what they’re called. Deep-pondering thinkers. Fine, upstanding gentlemen.

PheidippidesUgh, scum, I know them. You mean those frauds, the pasty-faced, barefoot ones, like that miserable Socrates and Chaerephon.note

StrepsiadesHey, hey, shut up! Don’t talk like a baby. If you care at all about your father’s bread, then join them, for my sake, and drop the horses.

PheidippidesNo, by Dionysus, I won’t, not even if you gave me the pheasants Leogoras breeds.note

StrepsiadesGo on, I’m begging you, dearest boy in the world, go and be taught.

PheidippidesAnd what do you want me to learn?

StrepsiadesThey say they keep both Arguments in there, the Stronger, whatever that is, and the Weaker. And one of these two Arguments, the Weaker, wins, they say, even when it argues the more unjust case. So if you learn this unjust Argument for me, then of all the debts I owe now because of you, I wouldn’t pay back a single obol to anybody.

PheidippidesI won’t do it. I couldn’t bear to face the cavalrymen with all the color scraped off my face.

StrepsiadesThen by Demeter, you’ll eat none of my food, not you, not your yoke horse, not your branded thoroughbred. I’ll throw you out of the house. Go to hell!

PheidippidesWell, my uncle Megacles won’t let me go horseless. I’m going in, and I won’t give you a thought.

StrepsiadesWell, I’m not going to just lie there where I’ve fallen, either. I’ll pray to the gods and go to the Thinkery myself, and get taught. But how am I, old and forgetful and slow as I am, going to learn the hair-splitting slivers of precise arguments? I’ve got to go. Why am I dithering like this, instead of knocking on the door? Boy! Hey, boy!

StudentGo to hell! Who’s that knocking on the door?

StrepsiadesStrepsiades, son of Pheidon, from Cicynna.

StudentWell, by Zeus, you’re an ignoramus, whoever you are, kicking the door so hard, so utterly unthinkingly. You’ve made a freshly found thought miscarry!

StrepsiadesForgive me, I live way out in the country. But tell me, what was the thing that miscarried?

StudentIt’s forbidden to tell anyone but the students.

StrepsiadesThen you can tell me, don’t worry. I’m here, as you see, to be a student at the Thinkery.

StrepsiadesSo how did he measure it?

StudentVery ingeniously. He melted some wax, then picked up the flea and dipped its two feet in the wax, and when it cooled, a pair of little Persian slippers had formed around them. He took those off and used them to measure the distance.

StrepsiadesZeus almighty, what subtlety of mind!

StudentThen what would you say if you heard another of Socrates’ thoughts?

StrepsiadesWhich one? Please, tell me.

StudentChaerephon of Sphettus asked him which view he held: do gnats hum through the mouth, or through the rump?

StrepsiadesSo what did he say about the gnat?

StudentHe said the gnat’s gut is narrow, and because it’s so slender, the breath goes forcefully straight through to the rump. And then the asshole, being a hollow attached to a narrow passage, booms from the force of the wind.

StrepsiadesSo the gnat’s asshole is a trumpet! Oh, what a lucky, lucky man, with his in-depth gut research! A man who knows the ins and outs of a gnat’s gut would have no trouble getting off when he’s sued.

StudentAnd the other day he was robbed of a great idea by a gecko.

StrepsiadesHow? Tell me.

StudentHe was investigating the paths and orbits of the moon, and while he was gaping up at the sky at night, a gecko shat on him from the roof.

StrepsiadesI like that. A gecko shitting on Socrates.

StudentAnd yesterday evening we had no dinner.

StrepsiadesWell, then? How did he scheme up some grub?

StudentHe sprinkled fine ash over the table, bent a skewer, and then, taking it as a compass, swiped a cloak from the wrestling school.note

StrepsiadesWhy do we still go on admiring that Thales? Open up, open up the Thinkery, quick, and show me Socrates as fast as you can. I’ve got student fever! Come on, open the door! Heracles! Where on earth do these creatures come from?note

StudentWhy so amazed? What do they look like to you?

StrepsiadesLike the Spartans who were captured at Pylos. But why on earth are these ones staring at the ground?note

StudentThese are investigating what’s under the earth.

StrepsiadesOh, they’re looking for bulbs, then. Well, don’t give that another thought. I know where there are big, beautiful ones. And what are these ones doing, bent right over?

StudentThese are probing the darkness of Erebus, down beneath Tartarus.

StrepsiadesThen why is their ass looking up at the sky?

StudentIt’s taking a course in astronomy on its own. But get inside, you lot, so he doesn’t catch you out here.

StrepsiadesNot yet, not yet! Let them stay, so I can share a little problem of mine with them.

StudentBut they can’t spend too long outside in the open air.

StrepsiadesFor gods’ sake, what are these things? Tell me.

StudentThis is astronomy.

StrepsiadesAnd what’s this?

StudentGeometry.

StrepsiadesSo what’s that useful for?

StudentMeasuring land.

StrepsiadesWhat, land for settlers?note

StudentNo, all the land there is.

StrepsiadesThat’s smart! A democratic and useful bit of cleverness.

StudentAnd here is a map of the whole earth. See? This here is Athens.

StrepsiadesWhat are you talking about? I don’t believe you. I don’t see any jurors sitting.

StudentI’m telling you, this area really is Attica.

StrepsiadesAnd where are my fellow demesmen from Cicynna?

StudentThey’re in here. And Euboea, as you see, is this, stretched out long and far.

StrepsiadesI know. We stretched it out, all right, us and Pericles. But where’s Sparta?note

StudentWhere is it? Right here.

StrepsiadesSo close to us! Give this some really serious thought: move it a long, long way away from us.

StudentBut that can’t be done.

StudentHimself.

StrepsiadesWho’s himself?

StudentSocrates.

StrepsiadesSocrates! Go on, you, give him a good loud shout for me.

StudentCall him yourself. I haven’t got time.

StrepsiadesSocrates! Socratikins!

SocratesWhy do you call me, creature of a day?note

StrepsiadesFirst of all, please, tell me what you’re doing.

SocratesI walk on air and look down on the sun.

StrepsiadesSo you look down on the gods from a basket, and not from the ground, if that’s what you’re doing?

SocratesYes, because I could never have rightly discovered things aloft unless I’d suspended my mind and mingled my subtle thought with the air it resembles. If I’d stayed on the ground and examined from below what’s up above, I’d never have found anything. You see, the earth forcibly draws the moisture of thought to itself. The very same thing happens to cress.

StrepsiadesWhat are you saying? Thought draws the moisture into cress? Come on, come down to me, Socratikins, so you can teach me what I came for.

SocratesAnd what did you come for?

StrepsiadesI want to learn to speak. I’m being plundered and pillaged by interest and the nastiest creditors, and my goods are being seized.

SocratesHow did you get into debt without noticing?

StrepsiadesA horse disease ate me up—the kind with a terrible appetite. But teach me one of your two Arguments, the one that pays nothing back. Whatever fee you charge me, I swear by the gods I’ll pay it.

SocratesWhat gods are you going to swear by? For a start, gods aren’t current coin with us.

StrepsiadesThen what do you swear by? Iron bars, like in Byzantium?note

SocratesDo you want to know divine matters clearly, what they truly are?

StrepsiadesBy Zeus, yes, if it can be done.

SocratesAnd to meet the Clouds, our deities, and talk with them?

StrepsiadesVery much so.

SocratesThen sit down on the sacred cot.

StrepsiadesThere, I’m sitting.

SocratesNow take this wreath.

StrepsiadesWhat’s the wreath for? Oh no, Socrates, please don’t sacrifice me, like Athamas!note

SocratesNo, no. We do all this to everyone being initiated.

StrepsiadesAnd what do I get out of it?

SocratesYou’ll become a slick talker, a rattle, the finest of fine flour. Now hold still.

StrepsiadesBy Zeus, you’re not lying to me. With all this sprinkling, I’ll turn into fine flour.note

StrepsiadesNot yet, not yet, not until I’ve wrapped this around me, so I don’t get soaked. To think I came out of the house without even a cap, worse luck!

SocratesCome, then, most honored Clouds, show yourselves to this man, whether you sit on the holy snow-beaten peaks of Olympus, or set up a holy dance for the Nymphs in the gardens of father Ocean, or draw the waters at the mouths of the Nile in golden pitchers, or dwell by Lake Maeotis or on the snowy crag of Mimas. Hear me, accept the sacrifice, and take delight in the rites.note

ChorusEver-flowing Clouds,
let us rise, our dewy nature shining clear,
from father Ocean, deep-roaring,
to the peaks of lofty mountains
crowned with trees, so that
we may gaze on far-seen lookouts,
and on the crops and the holy earth we water,
and on the rushing of sacred rivers,
and on the sea, resounding, deep-thundering.
For the tireless eye of the Aether blazes
with gleaming rays.
Come, let us shake off the rainy haze
from our immortal form and look upon
the earth with far-seeing eye.

SocratesMost august Clouds, you’ve clearly heard my call. Did you hear their voice, and the thunder bellowing with it, awe-inspiring?

StrepsiadesYes, and I revere you, most honored ones, and I want to fart back in answer to the thunder, that’s how much it makes me shake and quake. And whether it’s allowed or not, I need to shit right now.

SocratesStop your clowning, and don’t act like those wretched comedians. Keep holy silence. A great swarm of goddesses is on the move, singing.

ChorusRain-bearing maidens,
let us go to the gleaming land of Pallas, land of brave men,
Cecrops’ land, much beloved, to behold it,
where there is awe for unspeakable rites, where
the hall that receives the initiates
is thrown open in holy mysteries;
and gifts for the gods of heaven,
high-roofed temples and statues,
most holy processions for the blessed ones,
garlanded sacrifices and feasts for the gods
in every season;
and with spring’s coming, the joy of Bromius,
the rousing rivalry of sweet-voiced choruses,
and the deep-thundering music of the pipes.note

StrepsiadesBy Zeus, I beg you, tell me, Socrates, who are these women who sang out that solemn song? They aren’t some sort of heroines, are they?

SocratesNot in the least. They are the heavenly Clouds, great goddesses for idle men. They’re the ones who give us judgment and dialectic and intellect, and marvel-mongering and circumlocution, and the knockout blow and the clinch.

StrepsiadesSo that’s why, when I heard their voice, my soul took wing. Now it’s eager to split hairs and quibble narrowly about smoke, and to puncture an opinion with a little opinion and counter one argument with another. So if it’s at all possible, I want to see them clearly, right now.

SocratesLook over here, then, toward Parnes. I can see them coming down now, quietly.note

StrepsiadesWhere? Show me!

SocratesHere they come, lots and lots of them, through the hollows and the thickets, there, off to the side.

StrepsiadesWhat’s going on? I can’t see them.

SocratesBy the entrance.

StrepsiadesNow I do. Just barely.

SocratesWell, now you certainly see them, unless you’ve got sleep in your eyes the size of pumpkins.

StrepsiadesBy Zeus, I do, most honored ones! They’re filling up the whole place.

SocratesAnd you didn’t know they were goddesses? You didn’t believe in them?

StrepsiadesNo, by Zeus. I thought they were mist and dew and smoke.

SocratesBecause, by Zeus, you didn’t know that they feed a whole host of sophists: Thurian seers, medical artisans, signet-ringed, nail-buffed, long-haired layabouts, song-twisters for the circular choruses, sky-swindlers. They feed these idle do-nothings because they write poetry about them.note

StrepsiadesSo that’s why they wrote about “the moist Clouds’ dread onrush, twister of light,” and “the tresses of hundred-headed Typhon,” and “the blasting gales,” and then “airy, liquid,” and “crook-taloned birds that swim the air,” and “the rains of waters of the dewy Clouds.” And in return they gulped down slices of great, fine mullets and the bird-flesh of thrushes.

SocratesAnd isn’t that only fair, since it’s thanks to them?

StrepsiadesSo tell me, what’s happened to them, if they really are clouds, that they look like mortal women? The ones up there aren’t like that.

SocratesWell, what are they like?

StrepsiadesI don’t know exactly. They look like fluffed-out wool, anyway, and not like women, by Zeus, not one bit. And these ones have noses.

SocratesNow answer whatever I ask you.

StrepsiadesGo on then, quick, ask whatever you like.

SocratesHave you ever looked up and seen a cloud that looked like a centaur, or a leopard, or a wolf, or a bull?

StrepsiadesBy Zeus, I have. So what?

SocratesThey turn into anything they like. So if they see some long-haired savage, one of these shaggy types, like Xenophantus’ son, they mock his madness by making themselves look like centaurs.note

StrepsiadesAnd what if they spot Simon, the embezzler of public funds? What do they do?note

SocratesThey expose his true nature: all of a sudden they turn into wolves.

StrepsiadesSo that’s why, when they saw Cleonymus the shield-thrower yesterday, because they could see what a total coward he was, they turned into deer.note

SocratesAnd now, you see, because they’ve seen Cleisthenes, they’ve turned into women.note

StrepsiadesGreetings, then, my ladies! And now, if you ever did it for anyone, burst out with a sky-high voice for me too, you queens of all.

ChorusGreetings, old-timer, born in ages past, hunter of Muse-loving words! And you, priest of the subtlest drivel, tell us what you want. We wouldn’t listen to any other of today’s sky-sophists except Prodicus: to him for his cleverness and judgment, and to you because you swagger through the streets rolling your eyes from side to side, go barefoot, put up with plenty of hardship, and put on a solemn face for our sake.note

StrepsiadesEarth, what a sound! How holy, how solemn, how prodigious!

SocratesThat’s because these are the only goddesses. All the rest is rubbish.

StrepsiadesBut come on, by Earth, isn’t Zeus on Olympus a god to us?

StrepsiadesWhat are you saying? Then who makes it rain? Explain that to me before anything else.

SocratesThese do, obviously. And I’ll prove it to you with strong evidence. Come on, then: where have you ever seen it rain without Clouds? Yet if it were him, he ought to make it rain from a clear sky while these are away from home.

StrepsiadesBy Apollo, you’ve grafted that neatly onto what you were just saying! And to think I used to believe it really was Zeus pissing through a sieve. But tell me who does the thundering. That’s what gives me the shakes.

SocratesThese do the thundering, as they roll about.

StrepsiadesHow, you man who’ll stop at nothing?

SocratesWhen they’re filled up with lots of water and forced to drift along, hanging low, full of rain, by necessity, then they get heavy, crash into one another, burst, and boom.

StrepsiadesAnd who’s doing the forcing, to make them drift? Isn’t that Zeus?

SocratesNot at all. It’s the ethereal Whirl.

StrepsiadesWhirl? I hadn’t realized that: Zeus doesn’t exist, and now Whirl is king in his place. But you still haven’t taught me anything about the crashing and the thunder.

SocratesDidn’t you hear me? I said that the Clouds, full of water, crash into one another and boom because of their density.

StrepsiadesCome on, why should anyone believe that?

SocratesI’ll teach you from your own body. Have you ever stuffed yourself with stew at the Panathenaea, then had an upset stomach, and suddenly a commotion went gurgling right through it?note

StrepsiadesBy Apollo, yes! It gives me hell right away, it gets all churned up, and that little bit of stew booms like thunder and makes a terrible racket. Softly at first, pappax pappax, then it builds up, papapappax, and when I shit it really thunders, papapappax, just like they do.

SocratesWell, then, think what farts you’ve let off from a little tummy this size. Isn’t it only natural that this Air here, which is boundless, should thunder mightily?

StrepsiadesSo that’s why the words for thunder and fart sound so alike! But now teach me this: where does the thunderbolt come from, blazing with fire, that strikes us and burns us to a crisp, and singes the ones it leaves alive? Because it’s obvious Zeus hurls it at perjurers.note

SocratesAnd how, you idiot, you reeking relic of Cronus, you fossil older than the moon, if he strikes perjurers, has he never burned up Simon, or Cleonymus, or Theorus? And they’re perjurers, all right, through and through. No, he strikes his own temple, and “Sunium, headland of Athens,” and the great oak trees. What’s the idea? An oak tree certainly doesn’t commit perjury.note

StrepsiadesI don’t know. But you seem to have a point. So what is the thunderbolt, then?

SocratesWhen a dry wind rises up and gets shut inside these, it blows them up from within like a bladder, and then by necessity it bursts them and rushes out violently because of the density, and with the whoosh and the force of it, it sets itself on fire.

StrepsiadesBy Zeus, that’s exactly what happened to me once at the Diasia. I was roasting a stuffed sausage for my relatives and forgot to slit it. So it swelled up, and then suddenly it burst, splattered right into my eyes, and scorched my face.note

ChorusYou who have longed for great cleverness from us, how happy you will be among the Athenians and the Greeks, if you have a good memory and are a thinker, with endurance in your soul; if you don’t get tired standing or walking, aren’t too bothered by the cold, and have no craving for breakfast; if you keep away from wine and the gymnasium and all the other foolishness; and if you consider best what a clever man naturally does: to win by action and by counsel and by waging war with your tongue.

StrepsiadesWell, if it’s a tough soul you need, and worry that keeps a man tossing in bed, and a stomach that’s stingy and penny-pinching and makes do with herbs for supper, don’t worry, have no fear: for all that, I’d offer myself up to be hammered on the anvil.

SocratesSo from now on you won’t believe in any god but ours, will you? This Chaos, the Clouds, and the Tongue, these three?

StrepsiadesI wouldn’t even speak to the others, not if I bumped into them. I wouldn’t sacrifice to them, or pour them libations, or offer them incense.

ChorusThen tell us boldly what we can do for you. You won’t be disappointed, as long as you honor and admire us and try to be clever.

StrepsiadesMy ladies, I ask just this one tiny thing of you: that I be the best speaker in Greece by a hundred furlongs.

ChorusWell, you’ll have that from us. From now on, no one in the Assembly will carry more motions than you.

StrepsiadesDon’t give me big motions! That’s not what I want. Just enough to twist the law my way and slip past my creditors.note

ChorusThen you’ll get what you long for, since it’s nothing great you want. Just hand yourself over boldly to our ministers.

StrepsiadesI’ll do it, I’m trusting you. Necessity is squeezing me, thanks to the horses with the koppa brand and the marriage that wrecked me.

ChorusThis man has a spirit
not timid but ready. And know this:
learn these things from me, and you’ll have fame sky-high
among mortals.

StrepsiadesWhat will happen to me?

ChorusFor all time, with me,
you will lead the most envied life of all mankind.

StrepsiadesWill I really ever
get to see that?

ChorusYes, so that crowds will always be sitting at your doors,
wanting to consult you and talk things over,
suits and counter-pleas worth many talents,
matters worthy of your mind, to plan with you.

Now go to work on the old man with whatever you mean to teach him first. Stir up his mind and test out his wits.

SocratesCome on, then, describe your own character to me, so that once I know what sort you are, I can bring my newest siege engines to bear on you.

StrepsiadesWhat? Are you planning to besiege me, for the gods’ sake?

SocratesNo, I just want to ask you a few short questions. Do you have a good memory?

StrepsiadesTwo kinds, by Zeus. If somebody owes me something, a terrific memory. If I owe, poor me, a terrible one.

SocratesWell, do you have a natural gift for learning?

StrepsiadesFor speaking, no. For swindling, yes.

SocratesThen how will you be able to learn?

StrepsiadesJust fine, don’t worry.

SocratesCome on, then: whenever I toss you some clever point about the heavens, make sure you snap it up right away.

StrepsiadesWhat? Am I supposed to gobble up my cleverness like a dog?

SocratesThis fellow’s an ignoramus, a regular foreigner. I’m afraid, old man, you’re going to need a beating. Come on, let me see what you do if someone hits you.

StrepsiadesI take the hit. Then I wait a little and call witnesses. Then, after a split second, I sue.

SocratesGo on, then, take off your cloak.

StrepsiadesHave I done something wrong?

SocratesNo, it’s the custom to go in naked.

StrepsiadesBut I’m not going in to search for stolen goods!note

SocratesTake it off. What’s this nonsense?

StrepsiadesNow just tell me this—

SocratesWhat?

StrepsiadesIf I work hard and learn eagerly, which of your students will I turn out like?

SocratesYou’ll turn out exactly like Chaerephon.

StrepsiadesOh no, poor me! I’ll be half dead!

SocratesStop your chatter and follow me in here, quickly, won’t you?

StrepsiadesThen put a honey cake in my hands first. I’m scared, going down in there, like going down into Trophonius’ cave.note

SocratesGet moving! Why are you dithering around the door?

ChorusGo, then, and good luck to you
for this courage of yours.
May good fortune come to the man,
because, though he has come
deep into his years,
he dyes his nature
in newer matters
and works at cleverness.

Spectators, I’ll tell you the truth, freely, by Dionysus who raised me. As surely as I hope to win and be thought clever: it was because I believed you were sharp spectators, and that this was the cleverest of my comedies, that I thought you deserved to be the first to taste it, the play that cost me the most work. And then I withdrew, beaten by vulgar men, which I didn’t deserve. So this is what I hold against you clever ones, for whose sake I took all that trouble. But even so, I’ll never willingly betray the sharp ones among you.note

High ruler of the gods,
Zeus, great monarch, to our dance
I call first;
and the mighty steward of the trident,
fierce heaver of earth and salty sea;
and our father of great name,
most holy Aether, who nourishes the life of all;
and the driver of horses, who with his dazzling
rays fills
the plain of earth, great among gods
and among mortals a power.

You cleverest of spectators, pay attention here. We’ve been wronged, and we’re going to tell you so to your faces. We help the city more than all the other gods, and yet we’re the only deities you don’t sacrifice to or pour libations for, we who watch over you. Whenever there’s some expedition that makes no sense at all, we either thunder or drizzle. And then, when you were electing that god-hated Paphlagonian tanner as general, we knit our brows and raged, and thunder broke out with lightning; the moon left her course, and the sun drew his wick straight back into himself and said he wouldn’t shine for you if Cleon was going to be general. But you elected him all the same.note

Be near me again, Lord Phoebus,
Delian, who hold the Cynthian
rock with its high peak;
and you, blessed lady, who hold Ephesus’ house all of gold,
where Lydian girls give you great worship;
and our own goddess of this land,
driver of the aegis, guardian of the city, Athena;
and you who hold the Parnassian
rock and blaze with pine torches,
standing out among the Delphic Bacchants,
reveler Dionysus.

When we were getting ready to set out for this place, the Moon happened to meet us and told us to say, first, that she sends greetings to the Athenians and their allies. Then she said she’s furious, because she’s been treated terribly, though she helps every one of you, not with words but plainly to see. First of all, she saves you no less than a drachma a month on torches, so that everyone going out in the evening says, “Don’t buy a torch, boy, the moonlight’s lovely.”

SocratesBy Respiration, by Chaos, by Air, I’ve never seen such a yokel anywhere, so helpless, so dim, so forgetful. He learns a few little scraps of trivia and forgets them before he’s even learned them. Still, I’ll call him out here into the light. Where’s Strepsiades? Come out, and bring your cot!

StrepsiadesBut the bedbugs won’t let me carry it out.

SocratesHurry up, put it down and pay attention.

StrepsiadesThere.

SocratesCome on, then, what do you want to learn first, of the things you’ve never been taught? Tell me. Measures, or verses, or rhythms?

StrepsiadesMeasures, for me. Just the other day a barley dealer cheated me out of two quarts.

SocratesThat’s not what I’m asking you. Which measure do you think is finest: the trimeter or the tetrameter?

StrepsiadesAs far as I’m concerned, nothing beats the four-quart measure.

SocratesYou’re talking nonsense, man.

StrepsiadesThen bet me the four-quart measure isn’t a tetrameter.

SocratesGo to hell! What a bumpkin you are, and how slow to learn! I suppose you’d be quick to learn about rhythms.

StrepsiadesAnd how will rhythms help me with my barley?

SocratesFirst of all, they’ll make you sophisticated in company, able to tell which rhythm is enoplian, and which in turn goes by the dactyl, by the finger.

StrepsiadesBy the finger? By Zeus, I know that one!

SocratesTell me, then.

StrepsiadesWhat else but this finger here? Though before, when I was still a boy, it was this one.note

SocratesYou’re a boor and a dolt.

StrepsiadesWell, you miserable man, I don’t want to learn any of this.

SocratesThen what?

StrepsiadesThat one, that one: the most unjust argument.

SocratesBut you have to learn other things before that: which four-footed animals are properly masculine.

StrepsiadesBut I know the masculine ones, unless I’m crazy: ram, billy goat, bull, dog, rooster.

SocratesSee what’s happening to you? You call the hen “rooster,” just the same as the male.

StrepsiadesHow’s that, then?

SocratesHow? “Rooster” and “rooster.”

StrepsiadesBy Poseidon, you’re right. So what am I supposed to call them now?

SocratesA “roostress,” and the other one a “cock.”note

StrepsiadesA “roostress”? Bravo, by Air! For that lesson alone I’ll fill your kneading-trough with barley right to the brim, every inch of him.

SocratesThere, you’ve done it again, another one. You call the kneading-trough “him” when it’s a “her.”

StrepsiadesHow do I call the kneading-trough “him”?

SocratesYou certainly do, just as you do Cleonymus.

StrepsiadesHow so? Explain.

SocratesFor you, “kneading-trough” works exactly like “Cleonymus.”

StrepsiadesBut my good man, Cleonymus didn’t even have a kneading-trough. He did his kneading in a round mortar. Anyway, what should I call it from now on?note

SocratesWhat? A “kneading-troughette,” the way you say “Sostrate.”

Strepsiades“Kneading-troughette,” feminine?

SocratesNow you’ve got it right.

StrepsiadesSo that would make it “troughette,” “Cleonymette.”

SocratesYou still have to learn about names: which of them are masculine and which are feminine.

StrepsiadesBut I know which ones are feminine.

SocratesTell me, then.

StrepsiadesLysilla, Philinna, Clitagora, Demetria.

SocratesAnd which names are masculine?

StrepsiadesThousands. Philoxenus, Melesias, Amynias.

SocratesBut you rogue, those aren’t masculine.

StrepsiadesThey’re not masculine to you people?

SocratesNot in the least. How would you call out if you ran into Amynias?

StrepsiadesHow? Like this: “Over here, over here, Amynia!”

SocratesSee? You’re calling Amynias a woman.

StrepsiadesWell, isn’t that only fair, since she doesn’t do military service? But why am I learning things we all know?note

SocratesNothing, by Zeus. But lie down here—

StrepsiadesAnd do what?

SocratesThink out something about your own affairs.

StrepsiadesPlease, I beg you, not there! If I have to, let me think them out right here on the ground.

SocratesThere’s no other way.

StrepsiadesPoor me! What a price I’ll pay the bedbugs today!

ChorusThink now, and scrutinize, and spin yourself every which way,
packing yourself tight.
And quick, when you fall into a dead end,
jump to another
thought of the mind; and let sweet-hearted sleep stay far from your eyes.
…

StrepsiadesOuch, ouch! Ouch, ouch!

ChorusWhat’s the matter? What’s hurting you?

StrepsiadesI’m dying, poor me! Out of the cot
the Corinthians come crawling and biting me,
and they’re gobbling up my ribs,
and sucking out my soul,
and dragging out my balls,
and digging through my asshole,
and they’ll be the death of me!note

ChorusNow, don’t take it too hard.

StrepsiadesHow can I not, when
my money’s gone, my color’s gone,
my soul’s gone, my shoe’s gone,
and on top of all these troubles,
singing the sentry’s song,
I’m very nearly gone myself?

SocratesHey, you, what are you doing? Aren’t you thinking?

StrepsiadesMe? By Poseidon, yes.

SocratesAnd what have you thought?

StrepsiadesWhether the bedbugs are going to leave anything of me.

SocratesDrop dead, damn you!

StrepsiadesBut my good man, I just did.

SocratesNo going soft: get under the covers. You’ve got to come up with an idea for swindling, a real con.

StrepsiadesOh no! Who’s going to throw a swindling notion over me, out of these sheepskins?

SocratesCome on, let me first take a look at what this fellow’s doing. Hey, you, are you asleep?

StrepsiadesNo, by Apollo, not me.

SocratesGot hold of anything?

StrepsiadesNo, by Zeus, I don’t.

SocratesNothing at all?

StrepsiadesNothing, except my cock in my right hand.

SocratesWon’t you cover yourself up, quick, and think something?

StrepsiadesAbout what? You tell me that, Socrates.

SocratesFind whatever you want for yourself first, and then say it.

StrepsiadesYou’ve heard ten thousand times what I want: the interest, how I can get out of paying it back to anybody.

SocratesGo on, then, cover up, let your subtle thought off the leash, and think your way around your affairs little by little, dividing and examining them correctly.

StrepsiadesOh, poor me.

SocratesKeep still. And if you get stuck on one of your ideas, let it go and walk away; then set it moving in your mind again and weigh it up.

StrepsiadesSocrates, my dearest little Socrates!

SocratesWhat is it, old man?

StrepsiadesI’ve got an idea for swindling my way out of the interest.

SocratesLet’s see it.

StrepsiadesTell me, then—

SocratesTell you what?

StrepsiadesWhat if I bought a Thessalian witch and had her pull the moon down one night, and then shut it up in a round case, like a mirror, and kept it under guard—note

SocratesAnd what good would that do you?

StrepsiadesWhat good? If the moon never rose again anywhere, I wouldn’t pay my interest.

SocratesWhy on earth not?

StrepsiadesBecause money’s lent by the month.

SocratesGood. Now I’ll set you another tricky one. Suppose someone filed a lawsuit against you for five talents. Tell me how you’d make it vanish.

StrepsiadesHow? How? I don’t know. But I’ll have to look into it.

SocratesThen don’t keep your mind wound up around yourself all the time. Let your thought out into the air on a string, like a beetle tied by the foot.

StrepsiadesI’ve found a really clever way to make the lawsuit vanish. You’ll admit it yourself!

SocratesWhat sort of way?

StrepsiadesYou’ve seen that stone at the drug-sellers’, haven’t you? The pretty one, the see-through one, that they light fires with?

SocratesYou mean the glass?

StrepsiadesThat’s the one. Well, what if I took it, and while the clerk was writing up my case, I stood off a bit, like this, facing the sun, and melted away the letters of my case?note

SocratesClever, by the Graces!

StrepsiadesOh, how happy I am to have a five-talent lawsuit crossed out!

SocratesCome on now, quick, snatch up this one.

StrepsiadesWhat?

SocratesHow you’d fend off a lawsuit when you’re in court, about to lose, and you’ve got no witnesses.

StrepsiadesNothing to it. Easiest thing in the world.

SocratesTell me, then.

StrepsiadesAll right, I’m telling you. If there was still one case to be heard ahead of mine, I’d run off and hang myself before mine got called.

SocratesThat’s nonsense.

StrepsiadesIt is not, by the gods! Nobody’s going to bring a case against me when I’m dead.

SocratesDrivel. Get lost. I won’t teach you any more.

StrepsiadesWhy not? Oh please, by the gods, Socrates!

SocratesBecause you forget whatever you learn the moment you’ve learned it. Look: what was the first thing you were taught just now? Tell me.

StrepsiadesLet me see, what was the first thing? What was the first thing? What was that thing we knead our barley in? Oh no, what was it?

SocratesGo to hell and rot, you forgetful, moronic little old man!

StrepsiadesOh no, what’s going to become of me now, poor devil? I’m ruined if I don’t learn tongue-twisting. Clouds, please, give me some good advice.

ChorusOur advice, old man, is this: if you’ve got a grown-up son, send him to study in your place.

StrepsiadesWell, I do have a son, a fine young gentleman. But he doesn’t want to learn. What am I supposed to do?

ChorusAnd you let him get away with it?

StrepsiadesWell, he’s big and strapping, and he comes from fine-feathered women, Coesyra’s lot. But I’ll go and get him, and if he won’t come, there’s no way I’m not throwing him out of the house. Go inside and wait for me a little while.

ChorusDo you see what blessings you’ll soon have
thanks to us alone of the gods?
Here he is, ready to do
anything you tell him.
And you, seeing the man’s dazzled and plainly carried away,
will lap up all you can from him,
and fast: things like this have a way of turning around.

StrepsiadesNo, by Mist, you are not staying here a moment longer! Go and eat Megacles’ columns!note

PheidippidesFather, what on earth’s got into you? You’re not in your right mind, by Olympian Zeus!

StrepsiadesListen to that, just listen! “Olympian Zeus”! How stupid, believing in Zeus at your age!

PheidippidesSeriously, what are you laughing at?

StrepsiadesAt the thought that you’re a little kid with antiquated ideas. Still, come over here so you can know more, and I’ll tell you something that’ll make a man of you once you’ve learned it. But make sure you don’t teach it to anyone.

PheidippidesHere I am. What is it?

StrepsiadesYou swore by Zeus just now.

PheidippidesI did.

StrepsiadesSo you see what a good thing learning is? There is no Zeus, Pheidippides.

PheidippidesThen who is there?

StrepsiadesWhirl is king. He’s driven Zeus out.

PheidippidesUgh! What drivel is this?

StrepsiadesTake it from me, that’s how it is.

PheidippidesWho says so?

StrepsiadesSocrates the Melian, and Chaerephon, who knows the footprints of fleas.note

PheidippidesAnd you’ve gone so far round the bend that you believe a pack of lunatics?

StrepsiadesWatch your tongue! Don’t say a bad word about clever men with good sense. They’re so thrifty that not one of them has ever had a haircut or oiled himself or gone to the baths for a wash. But you’re washing my livelihood down the drain as if I were already a corpse. Now go as fast as you can and learn in my place.

PheidippidesAnd what could anyone learn from those people that’s any use?

StrepsiadesReally? Everything clever there is in the world! You’ll find out how ignorant and thick you are. But wait here for me a little while.

PheidippidesOh no, what do I do? My father’s out of his mind. Do I take him to court and have him convicted of insanity, or tell the coffin-makers he’s gone mad?

StrepsiadesLet’s see, now. What do you call this? Tell me.

PheidippidesA rooster.

StrepsiadesGood. And what about this one?

PheidippidesA rooster.

StrepsiadesBoth the same? You’re a joke. Don’t do that from now on: call this one a “roostress” and this one a “cock.”

Pheidippides“Roostress”? Is that the clever stuff you learned just now, when you went in there among those Earthborn giants?

StrepsiadesThat and lots more. But whatever I learned, I’d forget it straight away, every time, because I’m so old.

PheidippidesIs that why you lost your cloak too?

StrepsiadesI haven’t lost it. I’ve thought it away.

PheidippidesAnd where have you put your shoes, you idiot?

StrepsiadesLike Pericles, I lost them “for necessary purposes.” Come on now, walk, let’s go. Do what your father tells you, and go wrong. I did what you wanted once, you know, when you were six and lisping: the very first juror’s obol I got, I spent on a little toy cart for you at the Diasia.note

PheidippidesI swear, you’ll be sorry for all this someday.

StrepsiadesGood, you did as you were told. Here, Socrates, over here, come out! I’ve brought you my son here. I talked him into it against his will.

SocratesYes, he’s still a baby, and not yet seasoned in our hanging baskets here.

PheidippidesYou’d be well seasoned yourself, if you were strung up.

StrepsiadesGo to hell! Are you cursing your teacher?

SocratesListen to him: “strung up”! What a dim way to say it, and with his lips hanging open! How could this one ever learn to get off in a lawsuit, or serve a summons, or puff up a persuasive case? And yet Hyperbolus learned it, for a talent.

StrepsiadesDon’t worry, teach him. He’s clever by nature. Why, when he was just a little boy this big, he was building houses indoors, and carving boats, and making little carts out of leather, and making frogs out of pomegranate peel—you wouldn’t believe how well. Just make sure he learns those two Arguments: the Stronger, whatever that is, and the Weaker, the one that argues the unjust side and overturns the Stronger. If not both, then at least the unjust one, by every trick there is.

SocratesHe’ll learn it himself, from the two Arguments in person. I’ll be off.

StrepsiadesNow remember this: he’s got to be able to argue against everything that’s just.

Chorus…note

Weaker ArgumentGo wherever you like. I’ll destroy you all the more easily with a crowd listening.

Stronger ArgumentYou’ll destroy me? Who do you think you are?

Weaker ArgumentAn Argument.

Stronger ArgumentThe Weaker one.

Weaker ArgumentBut I’ll beat you, for all your claims to be stronger than me.

Stronger ArgumentWith what clever trick?

Weaker ArgumentBy inventing new ideas.

Stronger ArgumentYes, that stuff’s all the rage, thanks to these idiots here.

Weaker ArgumentNo, these clever people.

Stronger ArgumentI’ll destroy you, and nastily.

Weaker ArgumentTell me how.

Stronger ArgumentBy saying what’s just.

Weaker ArgumentThen I’ll argue back and overturn it. I say justice doesn’t even exist.

Stronger ArgumentYou say it doesn’t exist?

Weaker ArgumentWell, where is it, then?

Stronger ArgumentWith the gods.

Weaker ArgumentThen if justice exists, how come Zeus wasn’t destroyed for tying up his own father?

Stronger ArgumentUgh! Now the sickness is spreading. Get me a bowl to puke in.

Weaker ArgumentYou’re a senile old fogey, and out of tune.

Stronger ArgumentYou’re a degenerate, and shameless.

Weaker ArgumentYou’re showering me with roses.

Stronger ArgumentAnd a cheap clown.

Weaker ArgumentYou’re crowning me with lilies.

Stronger ArgumentAnd a father-beater.

Weaker ArgumentYou don’t realize you’re sprinkling me with gold.

Stronger ArgumentNot in the old days. Then it was lead.

Weaker ArgumentWell, now it’s an ornament to me.

Stronger ArgumentYou’re far too brazen.

Weaker ArgumentAnd you’re an antique.

Stronger ArgumentIt’s thanks to you that none of the boys wants to go to school. One day the Athenians will find out what sort of things you teach the fools.

Weaker ArgumentYou’re disgustingly filthy.

Stronger ArgumentAnd you’re doing very nicely. Yet once you were a beggar, claiming to be Telephus the Mysian, munching Pandeletus-style maxims out of your little pouch.note

Weaker ArgumentOh, what cleverness—

Stronger ArgumentOh, what madness—

Weaker Argumentyou’ve mentioned—

Stronger ArgumentYours, and the city’s, for feeding you while you corrupt the boys.

Weaker ArgumentYou’re not going to teach this one, you old Cronus.note

Stronger ArgumentI am, if he’s to be saved and not just practice chatter.

Weaker ArgumentCome over here, and let him rave.

Stronger ArgumentLay a hand on him and you’ll be sorry.

ChorusStop your fighting and name-calling. Instead, you show us what you used to teach the men of the past, and you, the new education, so that he can hear the two of you argue it out, and decide, and go to school.

Stronger ArgumentI’m willing to do that.

Weaker ArgumentSo am I.

ChorusCome on, then: which of you will speak first?

Weaker ArgumentI’ll let him. Then, out of whatever he says, I’ll shoot him full of newfangled little phrases and notions. And in the end, if he so much as grunts, he’ll be stung all over his face and both his eyes by my maxims, as if by hornets, and die.

ChorusNow these two, relying on their nimble
words and thoughts and maxim-minting musings, will show
which of them will prove the better speaker.
For now the whole gamble of cleverness is let loose here,
and over it my friends face their greatest contest.

Come, you who crowned the older generation with so many good habits: burst out in whatever voice you like, and tell us what you are.

Weaker ArgumentAntiquated stuff, smacking of the Dipolieia, crawling with cicadas, Cecides and the Ox-Slaying!note

Stronger ArgumentBut this is exactly how my education raised the men who fought at Marathon. You, though, teach today’s boys to go wrapped up in cloaks from the start. It makes me want to hang myself when they have to dance in armor at the Panathenaea, and one of them holds his shield in front of his ham and doesn’t give a damn for Trito-born Athena.

Weaker ArgumentIf you take his advice on this, young man, by Dionysus, you’ll turn out like Hippocrates’ sons, and they’ll call you a mama’s little turnip.note

Stronger ArgumentNot at all: you’ll spend your days in the gymnasiums, sleek and blooming, not chattering in the agora with thorny-witty wisecracks like boys today, or getting dragged into court over some petty, sticky-picky, quibble-squabble-damnable little case. No, you’ll go down to the Academy and run under the sacred olives, crowned with white reed, with a modest friend your own age, smelling of bindweed and leisure and the white poplar shedding its leaves, delighting in the spring, when the plane tree whispers to the elm.note

If you do what I tell you and keep your mind on it, you’ll always have a gleaming chest, a glowing complexion, big shoulders, a small tongue, a big butt, and a small prick. But if you take up what boys do today, first of all you’ll have a pale complexion, small shoulders, a skinny chest, a big tongue, a small butt, a big dick, and long-winded decrees. And he’ll talk you into thinking everything shameful is fine, and the fine shameful; and on top of that he’ll stuff you full of Antimachus’ degeneracy.note

ChorusYou who practice a glorious cleverness, towering and fair,
how sweet the bloom of self-control upon your words!
How happy, then, were those who lived back then,
in the days of old! Against this, you with your elegant, pretty Muse,
must say something new, since the man has won such praise.

It looks as if you’ll need some formidable schemes against him, if you’re going to beat the man and not get laughed off the stage.

Weaker ArgumentWell, I’ve been choking in my guts for ages, itching to throw all this into confusion with counter-arguments. That’s exactly why the thinkers call me the Weaker Argument: because I was the very first to think of arguing the opposite of the laws and the lawsuits. And that’s worth more than ten thousand staters: to take up the weaker arguments and still win. Now watch how I’ll refute this education he trusts in. First, he says he won’t let you wash in hot water. Tell me, what’s your thinking when you condemn hot baths?

Stronger ArgumentThat they’re thoroughly bad, and make a man a coward.

Weaker ArgumentHold it! I’ve got you round the waist already, no escape. Tell me: of the sons of Zeus, which man do you consider the bravest soul? Which one labored the most labors?

Stronger ArgumentAs far as I’m concerned, no man was ever better than Heracles.

Weaker ArgumentWell, where have you ever seen cold Baths of Heracles? And who was braver than he was?note

Stronger ArgumentThat’s it, that’s exactly the kind of thing that fills the bathhouse with young men chattering all day long, and empties the wrestling schools.

Weaker ArgumentNext, you condemn spending time in the agora; I recommend it. If it were bad, Homer would never have called Nestor and all his wise men speakers in the agora. From there I’ll move on to the tongue, which this fellow says the young shouldn’t train, and I say they should. And he says they should be self-controlled: two of the greatest evils there are. Tell me, have you ever seen anyone get any good out of self-control? Name him, and refute me.

Stronger ArgumentPlenty of people. Peleus, for one, got his knife because of it.note

Weaker ArgumentHis knife? What a charming bit of profit the poor devil got! Hyperbolus from the lamp market has made more talents than you can count through sheer wickedness—but no, by Zeus, not a knife!

Stronger ArgumentAnd it was because of his self-control that Peleus married Thetis.

Weaker ArgumentYes, and then she walked out on him, because he wasn’t rough, or any fun spending the whole night between the sheets. A woman likes being handled roughly. But you’re an old Cronus-nag. Just think, young man, of everything self-control involves, and all the pleasures you’re going to miss out on: boys, women, cottabus, fancy food, drinking, laughing. And what’s life worth to you if you’re robbed of all that? Well then. From there I’ll move on to the necessities of nature. You’ve slipped, fallen in love, had a bit of an affair, and then got caught. You’re done for, because you can’t argue. But stick with me, and indulge your nature, kick up your heels, laugh, think nothing shameful.note

Stronger ArgumentBut what if he takes your advice and gets a radish shoved up him and his hair plucked out with hot ash? What argument will he have to show he isn’t a wide-ass?note

Weaker ArgumentAnd if he is a wide-ass, what harm will it do him?

Stronger ArgumentWhat could ever happen to him that’s worse than that?

Weaker ArgumentSo what will you say if I beat you on this point?

Stronger ArgumentI’ll shut up. What else?

Weaker ArgumentCome on, then, tell me: what are our advocates in court?

Stronger ArgumentWide-asses.

Weaker ArgumentI believe you. And what about tragic poets? What are they?

Stronger ArgumentWide-asses.

Weaker ArgumentWell said. And the politicians who address the people?

Stronger ArgumentWide-asses.

Weaker ArgumentSo now do you see you’re talking nonsense? And look at the audience: which kind is there more of?

Stronger ArgumentAll right, I’m looking.

Weaker ArgumentSo what do you see?

Stronger ArgumentBy the gods, the wide-asses, by a mile! That one there, I know for a fact, and that one, and that long-haired one there.

Weaker ArgumentSo what do you say?

Stronger ArgumentWe’re beaten! You who get fucked, for the gods’ sake, take my cloak: I’m deserting to your side!

SocratesWell then? Do you want to take your son here away with you, or shall I teach him to speak for you?

StrepsiadesTeach him and discipline him, and remember to give him a good sharp edge: whet one side of his jaw for petty lawsuits, and hone the other side for the bigger business.

SocratesDon’t worry, you’ll get him back a clever sophist.

PheidippidesA pale wretch, more like, I think.

ChorusOff you go, then. But I think you’re going to regret this.

We want to tell the judges what they’ll gain if they help this chorus, as they justly should. First, if you want to plow your fallow fields in season, we’ll rain on you first, and on everyone else later. Then we’ll guard your vines once they’ve set fruit, so they’re neither parched by drought nor drowned by too much rain. But if any mortal dishonors us, who are goddesses, let him mark what misery he’ll suffer at our hands: he’ll get neither wine nor anything else from his land. For whenever his olives and his vines are sprouting, they’ll be beaten down: that’s the kind of slingshot we’ll pelt them with.

StrepsiadesThe fifth, the fourth, the third, then after that the second, and then the day I fear and dread and loathe more than any other day: right after that comes the Old-and-New. Every last one of the people I happen to owe money to swears he’ll put down his court deposit against me and ruin me and wipe me out. And when I ask for something modest and fair (“My dear fellow, don’t take this part of it just now,” “put this part off for me,” “let this part go”), they say they’ll never get their money back that way. They call me a crook and say they’ll take me to court. Well, let them sue! I don’t much care, if Pheidippides really has learned to speak well.note

SocratesStrepsiades, I bid you welcome.

StrepsiadesSame to you. But first take this. A man ought to show his son’s teacher a little appreciation. And tell me whether my son has learned that argument, the one you brought onstage just now.

SocratesHe has.

StrepsiadesBravo, Fraud, almighty queen!

SocratesSo you can get off in any lawsuit you like.

StrepsiadesEven if there were witnesses there when I borrowed the money?

SocratesAll the more so, even if there are a thousand of them.

StrepsiadesThen I’ll shout out
a shout at the top of my lungs. Weep and wail, you money-grubbers,
you, your principal, and your interest on interest!
You can’t do me any harm now,
such a son is being raised for me
here in these halls,
gleaming with a two-edged tongue,
my bulwark, savior of my house, bane of my foes,
releaser from his father’s mighty woes!
Run inside and call him out to me.

SocratesMy child, my boy, come out of the house,
hear your father.
Here’s the man.

StrepsiadesMy dear, my dear!

SocratesTake him and go.

StrepsiadesOh, oh, my child! Hurray, hurray! How happy I am, first of all, just to see your complexion! Now, for a start, you look like a denier and a contradicter. That local Athenian bloom is all over you: the “What do you mean?”, and the look of being the injured party when you’re the one doing wrong and up to no good, I’m sure of it. You’ve got that Attic look on your face. So now see that you save me, since you’re the one who ruined me.

PheidippidesSo what is it you’re afraid of?

StrepsiadesThe Old-and-New Day.

PheidippidesYou mean there’s a day that’s old and new?

StrepsiadesYes, the day they say they’ll lodge their deposits against me.

PheidippidesThen the people who lodge them will lose them. There’s no way one day could turn into two days.

StrepsiadesIt couldn’t?

PheidippidesHow could it? Not unless the same woman could be old and new at the same time.

StrepsiadesBut that’s the law.

PheidippidesThat’s because, I think, they don’t properly understand what the law means.

StrepsiadesAnd what does it mean?

PheidippidesSolon of old was by nature a friend of the people.note

StrepsiadesThat has nothing to do with the Old-and-New, not yet.

PheidippidesSo he set the summons for two days, the Old and the New, so that the deposits would be lodged on the first of the month.

StrepsiadesSo why did he tack on the Old day?

PheidippidesSo that, my dear fellow, the defendants could turn up a day early and settle out of court of their own accord. And if they didn’t, they could squirm first thing on the morning of the first.

StrepsiadesThen why don’t the magistrates accept the deposits on the first of the month, instead of on the Old-and-New?

PheidippidesThey seem to me to be doing what the Foretasters do. They want to snatch up the deposits as fast as they can, and so they do their tasting a day early.note

StrepsiadesBravo! You poor fools, why do you sit there like idiots, easy pickings for us clever men? You’re stones, a headcount, sheep and nothing more, a stack of wine jars! So I must sing a song in praise of myself and my son here, for our good luck.

“Lucky Strepsiades!
How clever you were born,
and what a son you’re raising!”
my friends will say
and my fellow demesmen,
envying me when you win your cases by talking.
But first I want to take you inside and give you a feast.

PasiasSo a man ought to throw away any of his own property? Never! But it would have been better back then to put a brazen face on it and refuse, rather than have this trouble now, when for the sake of my own money I’m dragging you along as a witness to the summons, and on top of that I’ll make an enemy of a fellow demesman. Still, as long as I live I’ll never disgrace my country. I summon Strepsiades—

StrepsiadesWho’s this?

Pasias—for the Old-and-New Day.

StrepsiadesI call you to witness: he said two days! And what’s it for?

PasiasThe twelve minas you got when you were buying the dapple-gray horse.

StrepsiadesA horse? Do you hear that? You all know how I hate everything to do with horses.

PasiasAnd by Zeus, you swore by the gods you’d pay it back.

StrepsiadesNo, by Zeus, because back then my Pheidippides didn’t yet know the unbeatable argument.

PasiasAnd now, because of that, you mean to deny the debt?

StrepsiadesWell, what else would I get out of his lessons?

PasiasAnd you’ll be willing to swear to me by the gods that you don’t owe it, at whatever place I tell you to?

StrepsiadesWhich gods?

PasiasZeus, Hermes, Poseidon.

StrepsiadesBy Zeus, I’d even pay three obols on top for the chance to swear.

PasiasThen damn you, for your shamelessness on top of everything else!

StrepsiadesThis one would come in handy with a good scrub of salt.note

PasiasUgh, how you mock me!

StrepsiadesHe’ll hold a good six jugs.

PasiasBy great Zeus and the gods, you won’t get away with this at my expense!

StrepsiadesThe gods! What a kick I got out of that! And Zeus, sworn by, is a joke to those of us in the know.

PasiasBelieve me, you’ll pay for this in time. But whether you’ll give me my money back or not, give me an answer and send me on my way.

StrepsiadesJust wait quietly, then. I’ll give you a clear answer in a moment.

PasiasWhat do you think he’ll do?

WitnessI think he’ll pay you.

StrepsiadesWhere’s this man who’s demanding money from me? Tell me, what’s this?

PasiasWhat it is? A kneading-trough.

StrepsiadesAnd you, a man like that, demand money? I wouldn’t pay a single obol to anybody who called a kneading-troughette a kneading-trough.

PasiasSo you won’t pay?

StrepsiadesNot as far as I know. Now hurry up and scram from my door, double-quick, won’t you?

PasiasI’m going. And know this: I’ll lodge my deposit against you, or may I not live another day.

StrepsiadesThen you’ll lose that too, on top of the twelve. And yet I don’t want that to happen to you, just because you foolishly called her a kneading-trough.

AmyniasOh, misery, misery!

StrepsiadesHey! Who’s this wailing? Surely that wasn’t one of Carcinus’ gods speaking?note

AmyniasWhy do you want to know who I am? An unhappy man.

StrepsiadesThen go be unhappy by yourself.

AmyniasCruel fate! Chance that smashed the rails of my horses’ chariot! Pallas, how you have destroyed me!

StrepsiadesWhy, what harm has Tlepolemus ever done you?note

AmyniasDon’t make fun of me, sir. Just tell your son to pay me back the money he got, especially since I’ve fared so badly.

StrepsiadesWhat money’s this?

AmyniasThe money he borrowed.

StrepsiadesThen you really are in a bad way, by the look of you.

AmyniasI was driving my horses and fell out of the chariot, by the gods.

StrepsiadesThen why are you talking such rot, like a man who’s fallen off his rocker?note

AmyniasTalking rot, am I, if I want my money back?

StrepsiadesThere’s no way you’re in your right mind.

AmyniasWhy’s that?

StrepsiadesYou look to me like you’ve had your brain shaken loose.

AmyniasAnd you, by Hermes, look to me like a man I’m going to summons, if you don’t pay back the money.

StrepsiadesTell me, then: do you think Zeus rains fresh new water every time, or that the sun draws the same water back up from below?

AmyniasI don’t know which, and I don’t care.

StrepsiadesThen how have you got any right to get your money back, if you know nothing about the things up in the sky?

AmyniasWell, if you’re short, pay me back the interest on the money, at least.

StrepsiadesThis interest, what sort of beast is that?

AmyniasWhat else but the money getting bigger and bigger, month by month and day by day, as time flows on?

StrepsiadesWell said. Now then: do you think the sea is any bigger now than it was before?

AmyniasNo, by Zeus, it’s the same size. It wouldn’t be right for it to be bigger.

StrepsiadesThen how come, you poor wretch, the sea gets no bigger with all the rivers flowing into it, while you’re out to make your money bigger? Chase yourself off my property, won’t you? Bring me the goad!

AmyniasI call witnesses to this!

StrepsiadesGet moving! What are you waiting for? Giddy-up, you branded nag!

AmyniasIsn’t this outright assault?

StrepsiadesWill you get going? I’ll jab you with the goad right up the ass, you trace-horse! Running away, are you? I knew I’d get you moving, you and your wheels and your chariot-pairs.

ChorusWhat a thing it is, to love shady dealings!
This old man, smitten with them,
wants to cheat his lenders
of the money he borrowed.
And there’s no way that today
something won’t hit him
that will make this sophist,
for the villainy he’s begun, suddenly come to grief.

For I think he’ll soon find what he’s
long been looking for:
that his son is clever
at arguing views opposed
to justice, so as to beat
everyone he comes up against,
even when what he says is utterly rotten.
But maybe, maybe he’ll wish his son were mute as well.

PheidippidesI do, Father.

StrepsiadesYou see? He admits he hits me.

PheidippidesAbsolutely.

StrepsiadesYou scum! You father-beater! You housebreaker!

PheidippidesCall me all that again, and more. Don’t you know I love being called lots of nasty names?

StrepsiadesYou gaping asshole!

PheidippidesShower me with roses, plenty of them!

StrepsiadesYou hit your father?

PheidippidesYes, and by Zeus I’ll show I was right to hit you.

StrepsiadesYou utter scum, how can it ever be right to hit your father?

PheidippidesI’ll prove it, and I’ll win the argument against you.

StrepsiadesYou’ll win on this?

PheidippidesBy a mile, and easily. Choose which of the two Arguments you want.

StrepsiadesWhat two Arguments?

PheidippidesThe Stronger or the Weaker.

StrepsiadesWell, by Zeus, my friend, I really did get you taught to argue against what’s just, if you’re going to persuade me of this: that it’s just and fine for a father to be beaten by his sons.

PheidippidesOh, I do think I’ll persuade you, so that once you’ve heard me out even you won’t have a word to say against it.

StrepsiadesAll right, I’d like to hear what you could possibly say.

ChorusYour job, old man, is to think
how you’ll get the better of him,
since if he weren’t relying on something
he wouldn’t be so unruly.
He’s got something to make him bold; the fellow’s nerve
is plain to see.

But now you must tell the chorus how the fight first got started. You’ll have to do it one way or another.

StrepsiadesAll right, I’ll tell you how we first started quarreling. We were having dinner, as you know, and first I told him to take his lyre and sing a song of Simonides, the one about how the Ram got shorn. And right away he said playing the lyre and singing over the wine was old-fashioned, like a woman singing while she grinds barley.note

PheidippidesWell, shouldn’t you have been beaten and trampled right then and there, ordering me to sing as if you were throwing a dinner for cicadas?

StrepsiadesThat’s exactly the kind of thing he was saying in there then, just like now. He said Simonides was a bad poet. I could barely stand it, but at first I put up with it all the same. Then I told him to take a sprig of myrtle, at least, and recite me something from Aeschylus. And right away he says, “Oh sure, Aeschylus. I rate him first among poets: so full of noise, incoherent, a windbag, a maker of crags!” And how do you think my heart heaved at that? Still, I bit back my temper and said, “Well then, recite something by these newer poets, whatever those clever things of theirs are.”note

PheidippidesWell, wasn’t I right to, when you won’t praise Euripides, the cleverest of them all?

StrepsiadesCleverest, him! You— what should I call you? But I’ll just get beaten again.

PheidippidesBy Zeus, and rightly so.

StrepsiadesRightly how? I brought you up, you shameless thing! I understood everything you meant when you were still lisping. If you said “wawa,” I’d know what you meant and give you a drink. When you asked for “num-num,” I’d come bringing you bread. And you’d hardly have said “caca” before I’d pick you up, carry you outdoors, and hold you out. But now you, when you were strangling me

and I was hollering and shouting that I needed to shit, you didn’t have the heart, you scum, to carry me outdoors. No, I was choking, and I made caca right there.

ChorusI think the young men’s hearts
are leaping to hear what he’ll say.
For if he’s done things like this
and talks his way round us,
we wouldn’t give a single chickpea
for the hides of old men.

Your job, you heaver and lever of newfangled words, is to find some way of persuading, so that you’ll seem to be saying what’s just.

PheidippidesHow sweet it is to keep company with new and clever things, and to be able to look down on the established laws! When I had my mind on horses alone, I couldn’t say three words without slipping up. But now that this man himself has put a stop to all that, and I spend my time with subtle ideas and arguments and deep thoughts, I think I’ll show that it’s just to punish one’s father.

StrepsiadesThen by Zeus, go back to your horses! For me it’s better to keep a four-horse team than to be beaten to a pulp.

PheidippidesI’ll go back to the point in my argument where you cut me off. And first I’ll ask you this: did you hit me when I was a boy?

StrepsiadesI did, because I loved you and cared about you.

PheidippidesThen tell me: isn’t it just for me, too, to love you the same way and hit you, since loving means hitting? Why should your body be exempt from blows, and mine not? I was born free too, after all. “The children howl; you think the father shouldn’t howl?” You’ll say the custom is that this is a child’s lot. But I’d reply that old men are children twice over. And it’s more fitting for old men to howl than young ones, since there’s less excuse for them when they do wrong.note

StrepsiadesBut nowhere is it the custom for a father to be treated like that.

PheidippidesWell, wasn’t the man who first made that law a man just like you and me, who persuaded the people of old by talking? So am I any less entitled to make a new law in my turn for sons in the future, that they hit their fathers back? All the blows we took before the law was made, we write off. We’ll let them have the beatings they gave us for free. Look at roosters and other animals like that, how they fight back against their fathers. And yet how are they any different from us, except that they don’t draft decrees?

StrepsiadesThen since you imitate roosters in everything, why don’t you eat shit and sleep on a perch?

PheidippidesIt’s not the same thing, my dear sir, and Socrates wouldn’t think so either.

StrepsiadesThen don’t hit me. Otherwise you’ll have only yourself to blame someday.

PheidippidesHow so?

StrepsiadesBecause I’m entitled to punish you, and you’re entitled to punish your son, if you have one.

PheidippidesAnd if I don’t have one, I’ll have howled for nothing, and you’ll die with the last laugh on me.

StrepsiadesGentlemen of my own age, I think he’s saying what’s just. And I think we ought to grant these youngsters what’s fair. It’s only right that we should howl if we don’t do what’s just.

PheidippidesNow consider yet another point.

StrepsiadesNo, because it’ll finish me—

PheidippidesAnd yet maybe you won’t mind what you’ve just been through.

StrepsiadesHow so? Go on, teach me what good you’ll do me out of all this.

PheidippidesI’ll beat my mother, just like you.

StrepsiadesWhat’s that? What are you saying? That’s another evil, and even worse!

PheidippidesAnd what if I take the Weaker

Argument and win against you, proving that one ought to beat one’s mother?

StrepsiadesWhat then? If you do that, nothing will stop you from throwing yourself into the Pit along with Socrates and the Weaker Argument.note

This is what I’ve suffered because of you, Clouds, after I put all my affairs in your hands.

ChorusNo, you’re to blame for this yourself, for twisting yourself into shady dealings.

StrepsiadesThen why didn’t you tell me this back then, instead of egging on an old man from the country?

ChorusThis is what we do every time we see someone in love with shady dealings: we drop him into trouble, so that he’ll learn to fear the gods.

StrepsiadesUgh, Clouds, that’s harsh, but it’s just. I shouldn’t have tried to cheat on the money I borrowed. So now, my dearest boy, come with me and destroy that scum Chaerephon, and Socrates, the men who deceived you and me.

PheidippidesNo, I wouldn’t do my teachers wrong.

StrepsiadesYes, yes! Respect Zeus, the god of our fathers!

PheidippidesListen to him: “Zeus, the god of our fathers”! How old-fashioned you are. Is there any such thing as Zeus?

StrepsiadesThere is.

PheidippidesThere isn’t, no, because Whirl is king now. He’s driven Zeus out.

StrepsiadesHe hasn’t driven him out. I only thought so because of this whirl-pot here. Oh, poor me, to think I took even you, a bit of pottery, for a god!note

PheidippidesStay here and rave and babble to yourself.

StrepsiadesOh, what madness! How out of my mind I was, throwing out the gods because of Socrates! But dear Hermes, please don’t be angry with me, and don’t crush me. Forgive me for losing my wits over all their hot-air talk. And be my adviser: should I bring a lawsuit against them and prosecute, or do whatever you think best? … You’re right to advise me not to stitch together a lawsuit, but to burn down the windbags’ house as fast as I can.

First StudentOh no! Oh no!

StrepsiadesYour job, torch, is to send up lots of flame.

First StudentYou there, what are you doing?

StrepsiadesWhat am I doing? What else but chopping logic with the rafters of your house?

Second StudentOh no, who’s setting fire to our house?

StrepsiadesThe man whose cloak you took.

Third StudentYou’ll kill us! You’ll kill us!

StrepsiadesThat’s exactly what I want, provided my mattock doesn’t betray my hopes, or I don’t somehow fall first and break my neck.

SocratesYou there, what on earth are you doing up on the roof?

StrepsiadesI walk on air and look down on the sun.note

SocratesOh no, poor wretched me, I’ll suffocate!

ChaerephonAnd poor miserable me, I’ll burn to death!

StrepsiadesWhat possessed you to insult the gods and peer up at the moon’s seat?

HermesChase them, pelt them, hit them! They’ve earned it many times over, but above all because I know how they wronged the gods.

ChorusLead the way out. We’ve danced enough for today.