Second Servant.
No doubt the Thunderer, Zeus.
First Servant.
But perhaps some spectator, some beardless youth, who thinks himself a sage, will say, “What is this? What does the beetle mean?” And then an Ionian,[1] sitting next him, will add, “I think ’tis an allusion to Cleon, who so shamelessly feeds on filth all by himself.”—But now I’m going indoors to fetch the beetle a drink.
Second Servant.
As for me, I will explain the matter to you all, children, youths, grown-ups and old men, aye, even to the decrepit dotards. My master is mad, not as you are, but with another sort of madness, quite a new kind. The livelong day he looks open-mouthed towards heaven and never stops addressing Zeus. “Ah! Zeus,” he cries, “what are thy intentions? Lay aside thy besom; do not sweep Greece away!”
Trygæus.
Ah! ah! ah!
First Servant.
Hush, hush! Methinks I hear his voice!
Trygæus.
Oh! Zeus, what art thou going to do for our people? Dost thou not see this, that our. cities will soon be but empty husks?
First Slave.
As I told you, that is his form of madness. There you have a sample of his follies. When his trouble first began to seize him, he said to himself, “By what means could I go straight to Zeus?” Then he made himself very slender little ladders and so clambered up towards heaven; but
- ↑ ‘Peace’ was no doubt produced at the festival of the Apaturia, which was kept at the end of October, a period when strangers were numerous in Athens.
