Starve it with thirst and hunger, fry it, freeze it,
Nay, flay the very skin off; 'tis their own;
So that I may but fob my creditors,

Let the world talk; I care not though it call me
A bold-faced, loud-tongued, overbearing bully;
A shameless, vile, prevaricating cheat;

A tricking, quibbling, double-dealing knave;
A prating, pettifogging limb o' the law;
A sly old fox, a perjurer, a hang-dog;
A ragamuffin made of shreds and patches,
The leavings of a dunghill. Let 'em rail,

Yea, marry, let 'em turn my guts to fiddle-strings.
May my bread be my poison! if I care.

Clouds. This fellow hath a prompt and daring
spirit-

Come hither, sir; do you perceive and feel

What great and glorious fame you shall acquire
By this our schooling of you?

Streps. What, I pray you?

Clouds. What, but to live the envy of mankind Under our patronage.

Streps. What shall I see

Those halcyon days?

Clouds. Then shall your doors be thronged

With clients waiting for your coming forth,

All eager to consult you, pressing all

To catch a word from you, with abstracts, briefs,

And cases ready drawn for your opinion.

(To Socrates) But come, begin and lecture this old fellow;

Sift him, that we may see what meal he's made of.

Soc. Hark ye, let's hear what principles you hold,
That these being known, I may apply such tools
As tally with your stuff.

Streps. Tools! by the gods;

Are you about to spring a mine upon me?

Soc. Not so, but simply in the way of practice

To try your memory.

Streps. Oh! as for that

My memory is of two sorts,ng and short:
With them that owe me augat, it never fails;

My creditors, indeed, complain of it

As very apt to leak and lose its reck'ning,

Soc. But let us hear if nature hath endow'd you With any grace of speaking.

Streps. None of speaking,

But a most apt propensity to cheating.

Soc. If this be all, how can you hope to learn?

Streps. Fear me not, never break your head for that. Soc. Well, then be quick, and when I speak of things Mysterious and profound, see that you make No boggling, but—

Streps. I understand your meaning;

You'd have me bolt philosophy by mouthfuls,
Just like a hungry cur.

Soc. Oh! brutal, gross

And barbarous ignorance! I much suspect,

Old as thou art, thou must be taught with stripes.

Tell me now, when thou art beaten, what dost feel?
Streps. The blows of him that beats me do I feel;
But having breathed a while, I lay my action

And cite my witnesses; anon, more cool,

I bring my cause into the court, and sue

For damages.

Soc. Strip off your cloak! prepare.

Streps. Prepare for what? What crime have I committed?

Soc. None; but the rule and custom is with us

That all shall enter naked.

Streps. And why naked?

I come with no search-warrant, fear me not:

I'll carry nought away with me.

Soc. No matter;

Conform yourself, and strip.

Streps. And if I do,

Tell me, for my encouragement, to which

Of all your scholars will you liken me.

Soc. You shall be call'd a second Chærephon.*
Streps. Ah! Chærephon is but another name

For a dead corpse,

excuse me.

Soc. No more words:

Pluck up your courage, answer not, but follow;

Haste and be perfected.

Streps. Give me my dole

* A pupil of Socrates, notoriously thin and pale.

Of honey-cake* in hand, and pass me on;
Ne'er trust me if I do not quake and tremble
As if the cavern of Trophonius yawn'd,
And I were stepping in.

Soc. What ails you? enter!

Why do you halt and loiter at the door?

[Socrates and Strepsiades enter the house.

Clouds. Go, brave adventurer, proceed!

May fortune crown the gallant deed;
Though far advanced in life's last stage,
Spurning the infirmities of age,
Thou can'st to youthful labors rise,
And boldly struggle to be wise.

THE CHORUS OF BIRDS.

YE children of man! whose life is a span,
Protracted with sorrow from day to day;
Naked and featherless, feeble and querulous,
Sickly, calamitous creatures of clay!
Attend to the words of the sovereign birds,
Immortal, illustrious lords of the air,

Who survey from on high, with a merciful eye,
Your struggles of misery, labor and care.
Whence you may learn and clearly discern
Such truth as attract your inquisitive turn-
Which is busied of late with a mighty debate,
A profound speculation about the creation,
And organical life and chaotical strife-
With various notions of heavenly motions,

And rivers and oceans, and valleys and mountains,
And sources of fountains, and meteors on high,
And stars in the sky.... We propose by-and-by
(If you'll listen and hear) to make it all clear.
All lessons of primary daily concern

You have learned from the birds (and continue to learn),
Your best benefactors and early instructors.

We give you the warnings of seasons returning:
When the cranes are arranged, and muster afloat

* Honey-cake was used in religious ceremonies in the cave of Trophonius.

In the middle air, with a creaking note,
Steering away to the Libyan sands,
Then careful farmers sow their lands;
The craggy vessel is hauled ashore;
The sail, the ropes, the rudder, and oar
Are all unshipped and housed in store.

The shepherd is warned, by the kite re-appearing,
To muster his flock and be ready for shearing.
You quit your old cloak at the swallow's behest,
In assurance of summer, and purchase a vest.
For Delphi, for Ammon, Dodona-in fine,
For every oracular temple and shrine-
The birds are a substitute, equal and fair;
For on us you depend, and to us you repair
For counsel and aid when a marriage is made-
A purchase, a bargain, or venture in trade:
Unlucky or lucky, whatever has struck ye-
A voice in the street, or a slave that you meet,

A name or a word by chance overheard-

If you deem it an omen you call it a bird;

And if birds are your omens, it clearly will follow
That birds are a proper prophetic Apollo.

THE BEGGAR'S SUIT.

IN "The Acharnians" the countryman Dicæopolis, tired of the war with Sparta, makes a private peace with the enemy. When this is discovered, he is brought before the Athenian Assembly to be tried for treason. As humble suitors were more likely to receive mercy, he wishes to appear in a poor dress. The poet represents him as repairing to the house of Euripides, who in his tragedies had brought on the stage various heroes in distress, and begging for the dress of one of these.

Servant. Who's there?

Dicæopolis. Euripides within?

Serv. Within, yet not within. You comprehend me?
Dic. Within and not within! why, what d'ye mean?
Serv. I speak correctly, old sire! his outward man
Is in the garret writing tragedy;

While his essential being is abroad,

Pursuing whimsies in the world of fancy.

Dic. O happy Euripides, with such a servant,

So clever and accomplished!-Call him out.

Serv. It's quite impossible.

Dic. But it must be done.

Positively and absolutely I must see him;
Or I must stand here rapping at the door.
Euripides! Euripides! come down,

If ever you came down in all your life!
'Tis I-'tis Dicæopolis from Chollida.

Euripides. I'm not at leisure to come down.

Dic. Perhaps

But here's the scene-shifter can wheel you round.*

Eur. It cannot be.

Dic. But, however, notwithstanding

Eur. Well, there then, I'm wheeled round; for I had not

time

For coming down.

Dic. Euripides, I say!

Eur. What say ye?

Dic. Euripides! Euripides!

Good lawk, you're there! up-stairs! you write up-stairs,
Instead of the ground floor? always up-stairs?

Well, now, that's odd! But, dear Euripides,

If

you had but a suit of rags that you could lend me!
You're he that brings out cripples in your tragedies,
A'n't ye? You're the new poet, he that writes
Those characters of beggars and blind people?
Well, dear Euripides, if you could but lend me
A suit of tatters from a cast-off tragedy!
For mercy's sake, for I'm obliged to make
A speech in my own defence before the Chorus,
A long pathetic speech, this very day;
And if it fails, the doom of death betides me.

Eur. Say, what d'ye seek? is it the woful garb

In which the wretched aged Æneus acted?

Dic. No, 'twas a wretcheder man than Æneus, much.

Eur. Was it blind Phoenix?

Dic. No, not Phoenix, no.

A fellow a great deal wretcheder than Phoenix.

Eur. Whom may he mean! or whose the robe may suit him!

Speak you of Philoctetes, friend, the beggar?

* The only change of scene on the Athenian stage was made by wheeling round the semi-circular house which stood at the back.