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A Literal Translation, with Notes.
Studies
Aristophanes in Print
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69 pages - You are on Page 55
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Poor, miserable wretch, baulked in your amorousness! what tortures are yours! Ah! you fill me with pity. Could any man's back and loins stand such a strain? His organ stands stiff and rigid, and there's never a wench to help him!
CINESIAS. Ye gods in heaven, what pains I suffer!
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Well, there it is; 'tis her doing, that abandoned hussy!
CINESIAS. Nay, nay! rather say that sweetest, dearest darling.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. That dearest darling? no, no, that hussy, say I! Zeus, thou god of the skies, canst not let loose a hurricane, to sweep them all up into the air, and whirl 'em round, then drop 'em down crash! and impale them on the point of his weapon!
A HERALD. Say, where shall I find the Senate and the Prytanes? I am bearer of despatches.
MAGISTRATE. But are you a man or a Priapus, pray?[452]
HERALD. Oh! but he's mighty simple. I am a herald, of course, I swear I am, and I come from Sparta about making peace.
MAGISTRATE. But look, you are hiding a lance under your clothes, surely.
[452] The god of gardens--and of lubricity; represented by a grotesque figure with an enormous penis.
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