The Cyclops (158-215)

Did it not gurgle finely down thy throttle?

Aye that it did, to the ends of my fingers.

Well, we will give thee money besides.

Only undo the skin, and never mind the money.

Bring out the cheeses then and lambs.

I will do so, with small thought of any master. For let me have a single cup of that and I would turn madman,

giving in exchange for it the flocks of every Cyclops and then throwing myself into the sea from the Leucadian rock, once I have been well drunk and smoothed out my wrinkled brow. For if a man rejoice not in his drinking, he is mad; for in drinking there is love

with all its frolic, and dancing withal, and oblivion of woe. Shall not I then purchase so rare a drink, bidding the senseless Cyclops and his central eye go hang? Exit Silenus.

Hearken, Odysseus, let us hold some converse with thee.

Well, do so; ours is a meeting of friends.

Did you take Troy and capture the famous Helen?

Aye, and we destroyed the whole family of Priam.

After capturing your blooming prize,

were all of you in turn her lovers? for she likes variety in husbands; the traitress! the sight of a man with embroidered breeches on his legs and a golden chain about his neck so fluttered her,

that she left Menelaus, her excellent little husband. Would there had never been a race of women born into the world at all, unless it were for me alone!

(reappearing with food.) Lo! I bring you fat food from the flocks, king Odysseus, the young of bleating sheep

and cheeses of curdled milk without stint. Carry them away with you and be gone from the cave at once, after giving me a drink of merry grape-juice in exchange.

Alack! yonder comes the Cyclops; what shall we do?

Then truly are we lost, old sir! whither must we fly?

Inside this rock, for there ye may conceal yourselves.

Dangerous advice of thine, to run into the net!

No danger; there are ways of escape in plenty in the rock.

No, never that; for surely Troy will groan and loudly too, if we flee from a single man, when I have oft withstood

with my shield a countless host of Phrygians. Nay, if die we must, we will die a noble death; or, if we live, we will maintain our old renown at least with credit.

A light here! hold it up! what is this? what means this idleness, your Bacchic revelry? Here have we no Dionysus,

nor clash of brass, nor roll of drums. Pray, how is it with my newly-born lambs in the caves? are they at the teat, running close to the side of their dams? Is the full amount of milk for cheeses milked out in baskets of rushes?

How now? what say you? One of ye will soon be shedding tears from the weight of my club; look up, not down.

There! my head is bent back till I see Zeus himself; I behold both the stars and Orion.

Is my breakfast quite ready?

’Tis laid; be thy throat only ready.