SOCRATES: What? Just Miss Bowl—as you might say Miss Sostraté.240

  STREPSIADES: Miss Bowl? Feminine?

  SOCRATES: Correct.

  STREPSIADES: That I’m comfortable with: Miss Bowl, Miss Cleonymé.241

  SOCRATES: But you still have to learn which names are masculine

  and which are feminine.

  STREPSIADES: I already know which are feminine.

  SOCRATES: Tell me.

  STREPSIADES: Lusilla, Philinna, Cleitagora, Demetria.

  SOCRATES: And the masculine?

  STREPSIADES: There are legions: Philoxenus, Melesias, Amynias—

  SOCRATES: But those aren’t masculine, you twit!

  STREPSIADES: What? You don’t think they’re masculine?

  SOCRATES: Hardly. How would you address Amynias if you met?

  STREPSIADES: How? Why, I’d say: “Hello! Hello! Amynias.”

  SOCRATES: There, you see: you’ve just called him a woman.

  STREPSIADES: Well, what’s wrong with that? She’s not in the army. . . .

  I don’t see the point of all this. It’s well-known.

  SOCRATES: There is no point. . . . Now get down on that bed.

  STREPSIADES:What for?

  SOCRATES: To sort out your problems.

  STREPSIADES: Oh not on the bed, if you don’t mind. Let me do my sorting on the ground.

  [SOCRATES leaves. The CLOUDS gather around.]

  CHORUS:

  Concentrate now, knitting your brow

  Toss and turn all around.

  Think very hard and if you are barred

  Alter your view with a bound.

  Keep away sleep

  From your eyes, though it’s sweet

  To the spirit whenever it’s sound.

  STREPSIADES: [writhing on his bed] Aha-ah! Aha-ah!

  CHORUS: What’s wrong now? What’s bothering you?

  STREPSIADES: I’m a wreck. I’m demolished, Eaten alive on this pallet. Bugs are buggering me from Corinth,242 Munching my backside, drinking my blood, Even having a go at my balls. There’s nothing left of me at all.

  CHORUS: What a song and dance you make!

  STREPSIADES: What advice can you pass on?

  My income’s gone, my complex-i-on.

  My will to live has gone,

  My slippers gone.

  And on top of all this, my voice has gone.

  So I myself am just about gone.

  [SOCRATES enters.]

  SOCRATES: You there, what are you doing? Aren’t you thinking?

  STREPSIADES: Me? Oh I am, by the god of the sea, I am!

  SOCRATES: And you have thought of—what?

  STREPSIADES: How much of me the bugs are likely to leave behind.

  SOCRATES: Oh go to blazes!

  STREPSIADES: I’m there already, pal.

  [SOCRATES leaves again.]

  LEADER: Now don’t go all soft. Cover up,

  and think of a really chintzy clever sleight of mind.

  STREPSIADES: [pulling a blanket over himself ]

  I’d damn like a cover-up as good as this one.

  [SOCRATES comes in again.]

  SOCRATES: Let’s see first what the fellow’s up to. You there, are you asleep?

  STREPSIADES: That, by Apollo, I am not.

  SOCRATES: Absolutely not?

  STREPSIADES: All except for my prick, which I’m holding on to.

  SOCRATES: I’ll thank you to keep it covered. Now think—and quick.

  STREPSIADES: And I’ll thank you, dear Socrates, to tell me what.

  SOCRATES: Well, for a start, tell me exactly what you’re after.

  STREPSIADES: You’ve heard that a billion times:

  I’m after annihilation of what I owe in interest to anyone.

  SOCRATES:

  Very well, do this:

  cover up well, unleash your thought, prune it a little,

  analyze the problem piece by piece,

  sort it out, and scrutinize.

  STREPSIADES: Fatuous!

  SOCRATES:

  Steady now! If you run into a cul-de-sac with one idea,

  not to worry—put it aside, then a bit later,

  bring it out into verbal play once more.

  STREPSIADES: [sitting up] A . . . h! My sweet Socrakitten!

  SOCRATES: What is it, oldie?

  STREPSIADES: I’ve just hit on a lovely idea for interest evasion.

  SOCRATES: Out with it.

  STREPSIADES: Tell me, what if I . . .

  SOCRATES: Go on.

  STREPSIADES:

  What if I bought a Thessalian sorceress

  and got her to yank down the moon one night

  and keep it nicely framed—like a looking glass?

  SOCRATES: What good would that do?

  STREPSIADES: What? If the moon never rose, I’d never have to pay interest.

  SOCRATES: Why not?

  STREPSIADES: Because loans are made by the month, of course.

  SOCRATES: Excellent! How about this one:

  say you were sued for five talents—

  how would you get out of it?

  STREPSIADES: How? . . . How indeed? . . . I haven’t an inkling.

  This needs thought.

  SOCRATES: Now don’t go and tie yourself into a knot. Let your mind float free as the breeze. . . . Well, keep it tethered—like a beetle on a string.

  STREPSIADES: I’ve got it! A fabulous way of wrecking that lawsuit. Even you’ll be pleased.

  SOCRATES: Pray, what?

  STREPSIADES: Have you ever seen that lovely transparent stone

  at the chemist that is used for lighting fires?

  SOCRATES: You mean a crystal burning glass?

  STREPSIADES:

  That’s it. . . . Well, what if I had one of those

  and when the clerk was entering the charge

  I stood a little way off with the sun behind me

  and simply melted the record?243

  SOCRATES: Holy Graces, that’s clever!

  STREPSIADES: Gee, I feel marvelous!

  I’ve just struck off that five-talent lawsuit.

  SOCRATES: Fine! Now have a go at this. . . .

  STREPSIADES: What, I wonder.

  SOCRATES: A case that you are going to lose for lack of witnesses.

  STREPSIADES: Easy as pie!

  SOCRATES: Go ahead.

  STREPSIADES: Just before my case is called

  I run off and hang myself.

  SOCRATES: You don’t mean it?

  STREPSIADES: By the gods, I do.

  Nobody’s going to prosecute me if I’m dead.

  SOCRATES: You’re driveling. Make yourself scarce: I’m not going to teach you any more.

  STREPSIADES: Why not? Oh for the gods’ sake do, dear Socrates!

  SOCRATES: No! It comes out of one ear as it goes into the other.

  What for instance was the first thing I taught you

  a moment ago?

  STREPSIADES: Let me see now: first? . . . What came first? . . . Something about something to pound barleycorn in. Gosh, what was it?

  SOCRATES: [turning his back] Go to the crows, you daft scatty old

  fossil!

  STREPSIADES: Terrible! What’s going to happen to me now? I’m absolutely done for if I don’t learn the art of screwing the tongue. Dear Clouds, tell me what to do—please.

  LEADER: May we suggest this, old man: if you have a grown son,

  send him in your place.

  STREPSIADES: I do have a son, a fine young man and good to

  look at

  but he doesn’t want to learn.

  So what can I do?

  LEADER: And you allow that?

  STREPSIADES: You see, he’s a hard-bodied fellow and strongly

  built,

  an offshoot of Coisyra and her snooty line.

  But let me go and get him, and if he won’t come,

  I’ll darn well throw him out of the home.

  [STREPSIADES goes
into the house.]

  CHORUS: [addressing SOCRATES] You realize that very soon It’s going to pay off? Leave it to us gods to see to that. Here is a man Who’s ready to grant you every boon. See how impressionable he is—struck by the moon. So get a move on to make your buck. This kind of luck is over all too soon.

  [STREPSIADES enters pushing PHIDIPPIDES along.]

  STREPSIADES: Holy smoke, you’re not staying in this house

  a moment longer! You can go and picnic instead

  in Uncle Big’s244 portico.

  PHIDIPPIDES: For heaven’s sake, Dad, what’s eating you? By Zeus of Olympus, you’re sick in the head!

  STREPSIADES: Zeus of Olympus? How stupid can you be—

  a big boy like you believing in Zeus!

  PHIDIPPIDES: And you think that’s hilarious?

  STREPSIADES:

  I do: a baby like you with the convictions of an ancient!

  Forget it, and stick close to me

  if you want to broaden your mind.

  I’ll tell you something that’ll make a man of you

  when you understand.

  But it’s something you must swear to keep to yourself.

  PHIDIPPIDES: Fine! What else?

  STREPSIADES: You swear by Zeus?

  PHIDIPPIDES: I do.

  STREPSIADES: And are ready to see what education can do for you?

  [PHIDIPPIDES nods his head.]

  Then, my dear Phidippides, there is no Zeus.

  PHIDIPPIDES: Then who’s boss?

  STREPSIADES: Spin.245 Spin has given Zeus the push.

  PHIDIPPIDES: Man, you’re drooling!

  STREPSIADES: Believe me, it’s true.

  PHIDIPPIDES: Who says so?

  STREPSIADES: Socrates of Melos246 and Chaerephon,

  the expert on fleas’ toes.

  PHIDIPPIDES: You believe ninnies like that? You’re off your rocker!

  STREPSIADES: Watch your mouth,

  and don’t you dare be a mocker

  about such wise and perspicacious men

  who are so stingy that not one of them

  will treat himself to a haircut or a cream massage,

  let alone a bath.

  Whereas you,

  you spend your whole life washing—

  getting ready for my funeral, I suppose.

  Now hurry up and take my place at school.

  PHIDIPPIDES: From that lot of people what do you expect to find?

  STREPSIADES: You want the truth? Whatever makes sense to humankind. And as for you, you’ll discover how ignorant and dense you are. . . . Wait here a minute.

  [He goes into the Thinkpot.]

  PHIDIPPIDES: Glory be, Dad’s gone completely dotty! Should I have him certified in court or go to the undertaker and make a report?

  [STREPSIADES returns with a servant carrying two chickens: a cock and a hen.]

  STREPSIADES: [exhibiting one of the chickens] Come on now, tell me what you think this is.

  PHIDIPPIDES: A fowl.

  STREPSIADES: [holding out the other] Quite right. And this?

  PHIDIPPIDES: A fowl.

  STREPSIADES: The same for both? That’s a howl! In the future call one a he-fowl and the other a she-fowl.

  PHIDIPPIDES: He-fowl and she-fowl? Ha! So that’s the sum of the immense learning you got by being with those giants of intelligence?

  STREPSIADES: That and much more. The only trouble is,

  everything I learn I forget at once.

  I’m just too old.

  PHIDIPPIDES: And that’s why you also lost your jacket?

  STREPSIADES: Not lost, just put in suspension.

  PHIDIPPIDES: And your shoes—suspended, too—you dunce.

  STREPSIADES: As in the famous words of Pericles,247

  entered as “miscellaneous expenditure.”

  But come along, get a move on, let’s go.

  Just to please your dad, be a little lax.

  Don’t forget I’ve done the same for you:

  yes, when you were a tiny tot of six

  and I spent the first obol that I earned for jury work

  on buying you a toy cart at the Diasia.248

  PHIDIPPIDES: You’ll be sorry for this one day—it sucks!

  STREPSIADES: Never mind that. At least you came when I asked.

  [They walk to the entrance of the Thinkpot.]

  Come on out, Socrates! Out with you!

  I’ve brought my son with me, though he didn’t want to come.

  SOCRATES: [emerging from the Thinkpot and eyeing PHIDIPPIDES up and

  down]

  But he’s still a baby!

  He’ll have no idea what gives here.

  PHIDIPPIDES: Go, give yourself a rope and get hanged.

  STREPSIADES: Blast you! How dare you swear at your instructor!

  SOCRATES: Did you notice the babyish way he said “wope”

  and the loose little move he made with his lips?

  How can such a one be a good defendant in any court,

  or ever win a case, or effectively talk?

  Of course, Hyperbolus did, but at a cost.

  STREPSIADES: No matter, teach him anyway. He’s naturally smart. Why, even when he was a tiny tot, he used to sit inside making clay huts and cutting out boats and shaping carts, all from fig wood, and frogs from pomegranates—a marvel to behold. Only make sure he masters those two arguments: the Good Reason—whatever that may be—and the Bad, the one that turns the wrong into right. If he can’t manage both, at least teach him the Bad.

  SOCRATES: The Arguments themselves will teach him. . . . I’ll go and bring them forth.

  [SOCRATES leaves and presently MR. GOOD REASON arrives.]249

  MR. GOOD REASON: [summoning MR. BAD REASON] Come on out into

  full sight.

  You surely are not shy.

  [MR. BAD REASON swaggers out.]

  MR. BAD REASON: Don’t be silly! The more there are in the show,

  the more will see me flatten you.

  MR. GOOD REASON: You’ll flatten me? Who d’you think yourself to be?

  MR. BAD REASON: Reason.

  MR. GOOD REASON: Bad reason.

  MR. BAD REASON: Even so, I’ll demolish you,

  better than me though you think you are.

  MR. GOOD REASON: By a trick, no doubt.

  MR. BAD REASON: By original thought.

  MR. GOOD REASON: Quite in fashion, I see: thanks to these nitwits here.

  MR. BAD REASON: Not nitwits at all. Damned intelligent folk.

  MR. GOOD REASON: Even so, I’ll finish you off in a stroke.

  MR. BAD REASON: Really! Pray how?

  MR. GOOD REASON: The plea of justice shall be my stake.

  MR. BAD REASON: And I’ll refute you and turn you on your head.

  Don’t you know that Justice is dead?

  MR. GOOD REASON: Oh really?

  MR. BAD REASON: Well, where is she? Tell me where?

  MR. GOOD REASON: With deity.

  MR. BAD REASON: Ha! if that’s where Justice is,

  how come Zeus hasn’t been expunged

  for having his own father chained?

  MR. GOOD REASON: You disgust me. You’re beyond the pale. . . . A pail, someone, to be sick in!

  MR. BAD REASON: You’re just an anachronistic old clown.

  MR. GOOD REASON: And you’re a nasty young bugger.

  MR. BAD REASON: What a rosy compliment!

  MR. GOOD REASON: And a buffoon.

  MR. BAD REASON: Thanks for the lily crown!

  MR. GOOD REASON: And a father killer.

  MR. BAD REASON: You’re showering me with gold, please observe.

  MR. GOOD REASON: With lead, more likely.

  MR. BAD REASON: Quite a decoration these days, it seems to me.

  MR. GOOD REASON: What a nerve!

  MR. BAD REASON: How out-of-date!

  MR. GOOD REASON: You’re the cause of our teenagers shunning schools.

  One day the Athenians will come to
know what downright

  noneducation you’ve been doling out to the poor fools.

  MR. BAD REASON: You desiccated relic!

  MR. GOOD REASON: And you in the pink,

  though once you were a beggar

  posing as Telephus of Mysia250

  and living off impish little wisecracks from your knapsack.

  MR. BAD REASON: What genius, just think!

  MR. GOOD REASON: What a clot who can’t!

  MR. BAD REASON: Don’t mention it!

  MR. GOOD REASON: And supported by the State,

  whose children’s minds you warp.

  MR. BAD REASON: [pointing at PHIDIPPIDES] One thing’s for sure, you prehistoric twirp, you’re not going to teach this youngster here.

  MR. GOOD REASON: I certainly shall,

  if he’s to be rescued from being tutored in your twaddle.

  MR. BAD REASON: Come over here, boy, and let him rant. MR. GOOD REASON: Lay a finger on him and you’ll wish you hadn’t.

  LEADER: [addressing MR. GOOD REASON and MR. BAD REASON in

  turn]

  Stop your wrangling and abuse,

  Give instead an illustration:

  You demonstrate how you used

  To educate your young; and you

  The new sophistication.

  That way the boy will hear both sides

  And choose the school that he decides.

  MR. GOOD REASON: That’s all right with me.

  MR. BAD REASON: Me, too.

  LEADER: Good! Who’s speaking first?

  MR. BAD REASON: He can go first

  And no matter what he speaks

  I’ll shoot him down with new ideas

  And modern idioms till he freaks

  Out; but if he rears or even durst

  Give a whimper, I’ll sting his cheeks

  And both his eyes—a punitive

  Forensic wasp—and he will give

  His last gasp.

  CHORUS: Now we shall see who is superior In debate and common sense; Yes, and also word defense. Which of the two will appear

  The better in his speech?

  The very moment is here