Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature - LightNovelsOnl.com
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DIKAIOPOLIS.
No,--not Bellerophon. Though the man I mean Was lame, importunate, and bold of speech.
EURIPIDES.
I know, 'Tis Telephus the Mysian.
DIKAIOPOLIS.
Right.
Yes, Telephus: lend me his rags I pray you.
EURIPIDES.
Ho, boy! Give him the rags of Telephus.
There lie they; just upon Thyestes' rags, And under those of Ino.
CEPHISOPHON.
Here! take them.
DIKAIOPOLIS (_putting them on_).
Now Jove! who lookest on, and see'st through all, [5]
Your blessing, while thus wretchedly I garb me.
Pr'ythee, Euripides, a further boon, It goes, I think, together with these rags: The little Mysian bonnet for my head; "For sooth to-day I must put on the beggar, And be still what I am, and yet not seem so." [6]
The audience here may know me who I am, But like poor fools the chorus stand unwitting, While I trick them with my flowers of rhetoric.
EURIPIDES.
A rare device, i'faith! Take it and welcome.
DIKAIOPOLIS.
"For thee. my blessing; for Telephus, my thoughts." [7]
'Tis well; already, words flow thick and fast.
Oh! I had near forgot--A beggar's staff, I pray.
EURIPIDES.
Here, take one, and thyself too from these doors.
DIKAIOPOLIS.
(_Aside_.) See'st thou, my soul,--he'd drive thee from his door Still lacking many things. Become at once A supple, oily beggar. (_Aloud_.) Good Euripides, Lend me a basket, pray;--though the bottom's Scorch'd, 'twill do.
EURIPIDES.
Poor wretch! A basket? What's thy need on't?
DIKAIOPOLIS.
No need beyond the simple wish to have it.
EURIPIDES.
You're getting troublesome. Come pack--be off.
DIKAIOPOLIS.
(_Aside_.) Faugh! Faugh!
(_Aloud_.) May heaven prosper thee as--thy good mother. [8]
EURIPIDES.
Be off, I say!
DIKAIOPOLIS.
Not till thou grant'st my prayer.
Only a little cup with broken rim.
EURIPIDES.
Take it and go; for know you're quite a plague.
DIKAIOPOLIS.
(_Aside_.) Knows he how great a pest he is himself?
(_Aloud_.) But, my Euripides! my sweet! one thing more: Give me a cracked pipkin stopped with sponge.
EURIPIDES.
The man would rob me of a tragedy complete.
There--take it, and begone.
DIKAIOPOLIS.
Well! I am going.
Yet what to do? One thing I lack, whose want Undoes me. Good, sweet Euripides!
Grant me but this, I'll ask no more, but go-- Some cabbage-leaves--a few just in my basket!
EURIPIDES.
You'll ruin me. See there! A whole play's gone!
DIKAIOPOLIS (_seemingly going off_).
Nothing more now. I'm really off. I am, I own, A bore, wanting in tact to please the great.
Woe's me! Was ever such a wretch? Alas!
I have forgot the very chiefest thing of all.
Hear me, Euripides, my dear! my darling.
Choicest ills betide me! if e'er I ask Aught more than this; but one--this one alone: Throw me a pot-herb from thy mother's stock.
EURIPIDES.
The fellow would insult me--shut the door.
(_The Encyclema revolves, and Euripides and Cephisophon retire_.)
DIKAIOPOLIS.
Soul of me, thou must go without a pot-herb!
Wist thou what conflict thou must soon contend in To proffer speech and full defence for Sparta?
Forward, my soul! the barriers are before thee.
What, dost loiter? hast not imbibed Euripides?
And yet I blame thee not. Courage, sad heart!
And forward, though it be to lay thy head Upon the block. Rouse thee, and speak thy mind.
Forward there! forward again! bravely heart, bravely.
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