the sun,' alluding to the philosopher's habit of sitting in a suspended basket. A grand tableau of the building in flames, and Socrates and his pupils shrieking from the windows half-smothered, brings the play to a close.

THE WASPS.

In this piece the object is to cast ridicule on the passion of the Athenians for the excitement of litigation.

Philocleon, a citizen, has a mania for attending the law courts and spending all his time in them, hardly sleeps at night, declaring that the cocks are bribed not to crow loud enough to wake him, starts off at daybreak to secure a good seat, and seems always to have a pebble between his fingers in readiness to drop into the ballot-box. In vain has his son employed physicians, and even priests, to cure him of his weakness. He is, at length, confined in his house, and makes ludicrous attempts to escape, first, by getting through the chimney, and pretending he is the smoke, and then making his way to the roof, and declaring he is only a sparrow, thus keeping his son and slaves constantly on the watch. The Chorus are his fellow-jurymen, and enter the stage with masks resembling wasps, a hit at the malevolence which too often instigated legal proceedings; although the poet allows them to offer the more honourable explanation that they represent men of true Athenian birth, who drove away the Persians, in memory of which they were named the Attic Wasps, and wore a golden grasshopper in their hair as being sprung from the soil. They come to summon their comrade, and he endeavours to get to them by the window, but is pulled back, on which the leader incites the others to attack the house and release him. A fight takes place with the son and the slaves, the wasps are driven back, and the father and son agree upon a compromise. Instead of attending the courts Philocleon is to hold a tribunal at home, and to receive his daily fee as usual. The first culprit is a slave girl, who has burnt a saucepan; the next the house-dog, Labes, who has stolen a piece of cheese, and who is tried in regular form. Philo

cleon is disposed to convict the offender out of her own mouth, for she stinks of cheese; but the son persuades him to hear the witnesses, and acts as counsel for the defence, urging in extenuation that his client has received a defective education, and appealing to the pity of the court by producing the unhappy puppies of the prisoner, who yelp horribly. Philocleon drops his pebble into the wrong box, and faints on finding that, for the first time in his life, he has voted for an acquittal. In the last scene, the son has persuaded his father to renounce his old pursuits, and takes him to a dinner-party, where he insults the guests, beats the servants, and, returning home far from sober, gets into further trouble, for which he is threatened with the law, which he now ridicules as an old-fashioned notion; the implied moral, if any, being the danger of a sudden change in a man's habits, and the tendency of all converts to be bitter against their quondam loves.

THE BIRDS.

THE allusions in this comedy relate so entirely to the passing topics of the day that most of their wit is lost to modern readers.

Two citizens, whose names may be translated as Plausible and Hopeful, are in search of a country where there are no law-suits or informers, with a raven and a jackdaw as their guides, by whom they are led to the palace of the king of the Birds in Thrace. They are courteously received; but why, the king asks, do they apply to him? The adventurers answer, 'Because he was a man, and since he was changed into a bird has wandered over land and seas, and thus acquired all knowledge;' and they propose to establish a midair city in his regions. The king consults his subjects, the Chorus, who appear as four-and-twenty different kinds of birds. They are suspicious of the visitors, but agree to a parley, and Plausible flatters them by recounting the high estimation in which they used to be held by the gods and men, instead of being hunted and eaten as at present; and advises them to be revenged by entertaining his idea, which

they do, and the travellers are provided with wings to make them presentable at the royal table. A choral song, full of poetical ideas, follows, commencing,

'Ye children of man, whose life is a span,'

tracing the origin of all things to a mystic egg, and putting forth the claims of the birds to be regarded as benefactors of the human race. The new city is built, the stones being brought by thirty thousand cranes in their gizzards, and the mortar by sand-martins and mud-larks, whilst the pelicans, with their saw-bills, were the carpenters. Iris, the messenger of the gods, is taken prisoner for ignoring its existence by dashing through it, and is brought on the stage, very angry at the indignity, and at the remarks made about the gaudy colours of her rainbow costume. All goes well, however, until Prometheus, as the friend of mortals, brings word that the barbaric deities of Thrace have objected to the new intermediate power; and presently Neptune, Hercules, and Triballian, a Thracian god, arrive to treat with the birds. Hercules is won over to their side with a savoury dish of aristocratic birds who have conspired against democracy, and, having threatened Triballian with a thrashing if he does not side with him against Neptune, who is not so ready to sacrifice the rights of Jupiter, concludes a truce, on behalf of the gods, with the birds, and Plausible is to have as a bride the beautiful Basileia, who rides in procession with him, whilst the Chorus chant a half-burlesque epithalamium.

THE FROGS.

THE poet in this play holds up to ridicule his contemporary, Euripides, the tragedian.

Bacchus, the patron of the drama, resolves on a journey to Tartarus, to bring back Euripides, and adopts the club and lion-skin, that he may be taken for Hercules. Followed by his slave, Xanthias, he call upon the hero on his way, to inquire which is the best route, and where he will find a bed free from-vermin. Having started under

his directions, they overtake a bier, and Xanthias tries to bargain for the carriage of the luggage which he is loaded with, but fails to make terms with the dead man, who would 'rather come to life again,' than accept his price. Arriving at the Styx, Charon's ferry is in waiting, and Bacchus begs he will be careful, as his boat seems very frail. An invisible chorus of frogs chant as they pull across, and then a colloquy takes place with Xanthias, who has already reached the other side, the god and his slave being both alarmed by the hideous objects they encounter ; but 'after a storm there comes a calm,' and the spectres disappear. A procession now moves across the stage in burlesque of the Eleusinian mysteries, and a Chorus of the initiated direct the travellers to Pluto's palace. Eacus, the porter, abuses Bacchus, whom he takes for Hercules, for having stolen his watchdog, Cerberus, and the god is so terrified that he proposes to Xanthias that they change dresses. No sooner have they done so, than queen Proserpine sends to invite Hercules to supper, and, of course, Xanthias prepares to follow the messenger. Bacchus, however, insists on resuming the character, but is beset by two women who have a score against the hero, and once more he begs Xanthias to play the part. Then Æacus brings the police to arrest the fellow who stole the dog, and, unable to decide which of the two is the culprit, takes them both before Pluto and Proserpine. After a choral song, comes an amusing chat between Eacus and Xanthias, who agree that what they most enjoy is listening at their masters' doors, and afterwards discussing the secrets they hear with their friends. As they are talking, there is a noise outside, and Æacus remarks it is only Eschylus and Euripides quarrelling, explaining that the former held the chair of tragedy until the other arrived, but that now he claims precedence, although the party in his favour are chiefly rogues and vagabonds. Pluto, however, has decided that there shall be a public trial of their respective merits, and the contest takes place on the stage, with Bacchus as president, and the Chorus encouraging the competitors. Eschylus denounces his rival as a wretch who has corrupted everything; and, Euripides having retorted in sesquipedalian words, they each recite passages from their

tragedies. After this their verses are weighed in a pair of scales; but Bacchus still hesitates; and, at last, he puts a political question to each of them-Shall Alcibiades be recalled from banishment? The answers of both are enigmatical, but that of Æschylus is plainly in favour of recall, which is the prevailing feeling. Euripides reminds Bacchus that his journey was made to restore him to earth, but the god quotes from one of his own tragedies the sophistry,

'It was my tongue that swore, '

and Eschylus is led off, in triumph, with Pluto's hearty approbation.

THE WOMEN'S FESTIVAL.

THIS is another caricature of Euripides.

The festival of Ceres and Proserpine, which was celebrated by women only, is at hand, and they have resolved when they meet to settle how he shall be punished for the many bitter things he has said against them in his tragedies. Euripides, having heard of their intention, goes with his father-in-law Mnesilochus, to beg his fellow - dramatist Agathon to attend the festival in women's clothes, and plead for him; he can do it so well, as he always wears female attire to assist his imagination in writing the women's parts in his plays. Agathon, however, declines, but Mnesilochus is induced to undertake the office, on Euripides promising to extricate him from any trouble that may befall him. The scene changes to the temple of Ceres, where the women are discussing the offences of which Euripides has been guilty, one being that he has taught there are no gods. Mnesilochus defends him by relating some very awkward anecdotes against the ladies, which cause an uproar, and his disguise is detected. To save himself he seizes one of the babies, which he threatens to kill; but it turns out to be a skin of wine concealed in baby's clothes, so he cuts its throat and drinks the wine. The constables are sent for, and he adopts most far-fetched devices to communicate with Euripides. The interval is filled up by the