Stone him! Stone him! Stone the wretched fellow!

Throw your rocks! Why aren’t you throwing something?

By Herakles, what’s this? You’ll crack my pot!

We’re throwing stones at you, you filthy pig!

But why are you Acharnian old men

stoning me? What’s the reason?

You ask me that?

You stupid fool, betraying your native land,

you’re the only one of all the citizens

to have made a peace, and now you dare

confront me face to face?

But you have no idea

why I made a truce. Listen to my reasons!

Listen to you? No! You’re going to die!

We’ll bury you with our stones!

All right—

but not until you have heard me out.

My good man, wait!

No. I’m not going to stop.

Don’t even speak to me. I despise you—

even more than I hate Cleon. Someday

I’m going to cut him into leather strips

to make sandals for the Knights. So no,

I’m not listening to your long speeches,

now you’ve made peace with the Laconians.

Instead I’m going to punish you.

My good man,

set the Laconians aside, and consider

whether that truce I made was beneficial.

How can you use the word beneficial

when the people you have made a truce with

do not respect gods, or faith, or promises?

We are too suspicious of Laconians.

They are not the cause of all our problems.

Not the cause of all our problems?

You criminal, you dare speak like that

quite openly to me and then want me

to spare you?

They are not responsible

for all our problems. Not all of them.

And I’m telling you this: I can prove

how in many ways we have done them wrong.

You’re uttering blasphemy! What you claim

is tearing at my heart. You dare speak to us

on our enemy’s behalf?

Yes I do!

And what is more, if I don’t speak justly

and the people disapprove, I’m prepared

to set my head atop a butcher’s block

and speak from there.

Tell me, my Acharnian mates,

why are we not throwing our rocks at him

and covering the man with his own blood,

till he looks like a scarlet Spartan cloak.

What black fiery log has scalded your heart?

You won’t listen to me? You Acharnians

really will not give me a hearing?

No.

We really really will not listen to you.

Then I am being treated most unfairly!

Let me die, if I grant you a hearing!

Please don’t say that, my dear Acharnians.

You will die—and very soon!

Well, for that

I’ll turn against you and get my revenge

by killing some of your dearest friends.

I have inside here Acharnian hostages—

I’m going to grab them and cut their throats.

Fellow Acharnians, what does he mean

by threatening us like this? Does he have

one of our children inside his house?

What’s made him so bold?

Throw stones at me,

if that is what you want. But if you do

I’ll take my revenge on these . . .

We’ll soon know

if any of you old Acharnians

still has some compassion for his charcoal.

We’re done for! This bucket of charcoal

comes from my own district! Don’t carry out

what you have in mind—please don’t do it!

I am going to kill it. Scream all you like—

I won’t be listening.

But that bucket

is the same age as me. Surely you won’t kill it,

my dear friend of all the charcoal burners?

Just now you would not listen to me

if I spoke to you.

Well, you can speak now,

if that’s what you want. Tell us the reason

you and the Spartans are such close allies.

I don’t mind. For I’ll never abandon

this little bucket.

All right. But first,

take all the stones out of your pockets.

Dump them on the ground.

There you go. It’s done.

Now it’s your turn—put your sword away.

There still could be stones hidden in your clothes.

No—they are in the dirt. Can you not see

how I’m shaking my clothes? Don’t play with me—

put your weapon down, now we’ve danced around

and twitched our rocks out—they’re on the ground.

I thought that all of you would soon give in—

although these lumps of charcoal from mount Parnes

nearly died, thanks to the sheer stupidity

of their Acharnian friends. This bucket

was so afraid it dumped a stream of coal dust