Greek Texts & Translations

PRAXINOA (recovering)
15.57 And fortunately I can say the same ^note of my poor wits. Ever since I was a girl, two things have frightened me more than anything else, a horrid chilly snake and a horse. Let’s go on. Here’s ever such a crowd pouring after us.

GORGO (to an Old Woman)
Have you come from the palace, mother?

OLD WOMAN
Yes, my dears.

GORGO
15.60 Then we can get there all right, can we?

OLD WOMAN
15.61 Trying took Troy, my pretty; don’t they say where there’s a will there’s a way?

GORGO
15.63 That old lady gave us some oracles, ^note didn’t she?

PRAXINOA (mock-sententiously)
15.64 My dear, ^note women knew everything. They know all about Zeus marrying Hera.

GORGO
15.65 Do look, Praxinoa; what a crowd there is at the door! It’s marvellous!

PRAXINOA
15.66 Give me your arm, Gorgo; and you take hold of Eutychis’ arm, Eunoa; and you take care, Eutychis, not to get separated. We’ll all go in together. Mind you keep hold of me, Eunoa. Oh dear, oh dear, Gorgo! my summer cloak’s ^note torn right in two (to a stranger) For Heaven’s sake, as you wish to be saved, mind my cloak, sir.

FIRST STRANGER
I really can’t help what happens; but I’ll do my best.

PRAXINOA
15.72 The crowd’s simply enormous; they’re pushing like a drove of pigs.

FIRST STRANGER
Don’t be alarmed, madam; we’re all right.

PRAXINOA
15.73 You deserve to be all right to the end of your days, my dear sir, for the care you’ve been taking of us (to Gorgo) What a kind considerate man! Poor Eunoa’s getting squeezed. (to Eunoa) Push, you coward, can’t you? (they pass in)
That’s all right. All inside, as the bridegroom said when he shut the door.

GORGO (referring, as they move forward towards the dais, to the draperies which hang between the pillars)
15.78 Praxinoa, do come here. Before you do anything else I insist upon your looking at the embroideries. How delicate they are! and in such good taste! They’re really hardly human, are they?

PRAXINOA
15.80 Huswife Athena! the weavers that made that material and the embroiderers who did that close detailed work are simply marvels. How realistically the things all stand and move about in it! they’re living! It is wonderful what people can do. And then the Holy Boy; how perfectly beautiful he looks lying on his silver couch, with the down of manhood just showing on his cheeks, – (religioso) the thrice-beloved Adonis, beloved even down below!

SECOND STRANGER
15.87 Oh dear, oh dear, ladies! do stop that eternal cooing. (to the bystanders) They’ll weary me to death with their ah-ah-ah-ing.

PRAXINOA
15.89 My word! where does that person come from? What business is it of yours if we do coo? Buy your slaves before you order them about, pray. You’re giving your orders to Syracusans. If you must know, we’re Corinthians by extraction, like Bellerophon himself. What we talk’s Peloponnesian. I suppose Dorians may speak Doric, mayn’t they? Persephone! let's have no more masters than the one we’ve got. I shall do just as I like. Pray don’t waste your breath. ^note

GORGO
15.96 Be quiet, Praxinoa. She’s just going to being the song, that Argive person’s daughter, you know, the “accomplished vocalist” ^note that was chosen to sing the dirge last year. ^note You may be sure she’ll give us something good. Look, she’s making her bow.

THE DIRGE
15.100 Lover of Golgi and Idaly and Eryx’ steepy hold,
O Lady Aphrodite with the face that beams like gold,
Twelve months are sped and soft-footéd Heav’n’s pretty laggards, see,
Bring o’er the never-tarrying stream Adonis back to thee.
The Seasons, the Seasons, full slow they go and come,
But some sweet thing for all they bring, and so they are welcome home.
O Cypris, Dion’s daughter, of thee annealed, ^note ‘tis said,
Our Queen that was born of woman is e’en immortal made;
And now, sweet Lady of many names, of many shrines Ladye,
They guerdon’s giv’n; for the Queen’s daughtér, as Helen fair to see,
Thy lad doth dight with all delight upon this holyday;
For there’s not a fruit the orchard bears but is here for his hand to take,
And cresses trim all kept for him in many a silver tray,
And Syrian balm in vials of gold; and O, there’s every cake
That ever woman kneaded of bolted meal so fair
With blossoms blent of every scent or oil or honey rare –
Here’s all outlaid in semblance made of every bird and beast.