What has
happened
to you?
Aristophanes
[339] Oh!
what a
bitter discordancy grated upon my ears that day when the tragic chorus
was directed by this same Melanthius and his brother, these two
Gorgons,[340] these two harpies, the plague of the seas, whose gluttonous
bellies devour the entire race of fishes, these followers of old women,
these goats with their stinking arm-pits. Oh! Muse, spit upon them
abundantly and keep the feast gaily with me.
TRYGAEUS. Ah! 'tis a rough job getting to the gods! my legs are as good
as broken through it. How small you were, to be sure, when seen from
heaven! you had all the appearance too of being great rascals; but seen
close, you look even worse.
SERVANT. Is that you, master?
TRYGAEUS. So I have been told.
SERVANT.
What has happened to you?
TRYGAEUS. My legs pain me; it is such a plaguey long journey.
SERVANT. Oh! do tell me. . . .
TRYGAEUS. What?
SERVANT. Did you see any other man besides yourself strolling about in
heaven?
TRYGAEUS. No, only the souls of two or three dithyrambic poets.
SERVANT.
bitter discordancy grated upon my ears that day when the tragic chorus
was directed by this same Melanthius and his brother, these two
Gorgons,[340] these two harpies, the plague of the seas, whose gluttonous
bellies devour the entire race of fishes, these followers of old women,
these goats with their stinking arm-pits. Oh! Muse, spit upon them
abundantly and keep the feast gaily with me.
TRYGAEUS. Ah! 'tis a rough job getting to the gods! my legs are as good
as broken through it. How small you were, to be sure, when seen from
heaven! you had all the appearance too of being great rascals; but seen
close, you look even worse.
SERVANT. Is that you, master?
TRYGAEUS. So I have been told.
SERVANT.
What has happened to you?
TRYGAEUS. My legs pain me; it is such a plaguey long journey.
SERVANT. Oh! do tell me. . . .
TRYGAEUS. What?
SERVANT. Did you see any other man besides yourself strolling about in
heaven?
TRYGAEUS. No, only the souls of two or three dithyrambic poets.
SERVANT.
