Pud. But a table here, I've brought it first and foremost.
Cleon. See here, this little half-meal cake from Pylos,

Made from the flour of victory and success!

Pud. But here's a cake! see here! which the heavenly goddess Patted and flatted herself, with her ivory hand,

For your own eating.

Dem. Wonderful, mighty goddess!

What an awfully large hand she must have had!"-Frere.

And so the contest goes on. Every phase of bribery and corruption in the politicians, and of greed and stupidity in the people, is openly parodied. The representative of Cleon is finally defeated by the new candidate for place and favor, after being belabored by the broadest charges of fraud, theft and corruption that were ever openly laid against any public character.

What was the result? The play gained the first prize by acclamation, the satire on the sovereign people was forgiven, and Cleon remained in as great favor as ever. Such was Athenian consistency.

We have given this concise account of the plot of the Knights to show the general character of the old Grecian comedies, and the burlesque incident and bitter personality which pervades them.

We make the following extracts from the Clouds.

"Strepsiades. But who hangs dangling in the basket yonder? Student. HIMSELF.

Str. And who's HIMSELF?

Stud. Why, Socrates.

Str. Ho, Socrates!— call him, you fellow-call loud.
Stud. Call him yourself. I've got no time for calling.
Str. Ho, Socrates! Sweet, darling Socrates!

Socrates. Why callest thou me, poor creature of a day?
Str. First tell me, pray, what are you doing up there?
Soc. I walk in air, and contemplate the sun.
Str. Oh, that's the way that you despise the Gods
You get so near them on your perch there - eh?
Soc. I never could have found out things divine,

Had I not hung my mind up there, and mixed
My subtle intellect with its kindred air.
Had I regarded such things from below,

I had learnt nothing. For the earth absorbs
Into itself the moisture of the brain.

It is the very same case with water-cresses.

Str. Dear me! So water-cresses grow by thinking!"

Here is a series of questions between the Just and the Unjust Arguments, burlesquing the style of Socrates.

"Unjust A. Come now from what class do our lawyers spring? Just A. Well-from the blackguards.

Unj. A. I believe you. Tell me

Again, what are our tragic poets?

Just. A. Blackguards.

Unjust A. Good; and our public orators?

Just. A. Blackguards all.

Unj. A. D'ye see now, how absurd and utterly worthless Your arguments have been? And now look round. (Turning to

the audience.)

Which class among our friends here seem most numerous?
Just. A. I'm looking.

Unj. A. Well; now tell me what you see.

Just. A. (After gravely and attentively examining the rows of spectators.) The blackguards have it by a large majority.

There's one I know— and yonder there's another —
And there, again, that fellow with long hair."— Collins.

No doubt the Athenians laughed heartily at this broad fooling. They were by no means thin-skinned in their enjoyment of a joke. Such a jest would hardly prove agreeable to a modern audience.

We close with the following free translation from the Woman's Festival, which might well pass for a ditty of later times than the days of old Greece.

"They're always abusing the women,

As a terrible plague to men;
They say we're the root of all evil,

And repeat it again and again;
Of war, and quarrels, and bloodshed,
All mischief, be what it may;
And pray, then, why do you marry us,
If we're all the plagues you say?
And why do you take such care of us,
And keep us so safe at home,
And are never easy a moment,

If ever we chance to roam?

When you ought to be thanking Heaven
That your Plague is out of the way,
You all keep fussing and fretting-
'Where is my Plague to-day?'
If a Plague peeps out of the window,
Up go the eyes of the men;

If she hides, then they all keep staring
Until she looks out again."

-Collins.

THE MIDDLE AND NEW COMEDY.

AFTER the long Peloponnesian war, which so fatally depressed the power and glory of Attica, the city of Minerva retained its democracy, and regained a portion of its naval supremacy. But it was no longer the Athens of old, no longer the home of those active, energetic, restless spirits that kept the government toned up to the highest pitch of public vigor, and cherished with such warm delight and acute judgment the works of their unrivaled galaxy of artistic and literary geniuses. The old fire had died out, or but a glimmer of it survived. The fierce satire of Aristophanes would no longer have suited this degenerated people, whose souls had ceased to display that active interest in public affairs which had formerly distinguished them. A race which has sunk into indolence and love of pleasure, and winks at or takes part in public corruption, does not invite and can hardly endure the keen exposure of its follies and vices shown by a great satiric dramatist. It is only with those who are eager for reform that the literature of reform arises.

In the Middle Comedy, which flourished during this period, we find the bitter personality of the Old Comedy replaced by a new spirit. Some of its critical and satiric tone is retained, but it ceases to attack individuals, and makes its assaults on the vices and follies of classes.

In this respect it seems more like a transition from the Sicilian comedy of Epicharmus than a development of the old Attic drama. It has ceased, indeed, to be a political weapon of offense, and devotes itself to philosophical and

literary criticism, satirizing the works of rival authors instead of the vices of politicians.

Nor is this satire of a personal character, like that aimed at Socrates and Euripides by Aristophanes. It is rather a contest of schools of philosophy and rhetoric, attacking alike the ideas of Plato, the Pythagorean academy, the orators, the works of tragic and epic poets, etc. The poets of this school were very numerous, and many of them of considerable celebrity in their day; though their fame has not withstood the fatal touchstone of time, and of their works there remains but an occasional fragment.

The most noted of them were Eubu'lus, Anaxan'drides and Antiph'anes, which latter prolific author is said to have written two hundred and sixty plays, or three hundred and sixty-five according to some authorities. We may also name Epic'rates, born 404 B.C., and Alex'is, 394 B.C., as among the notable later writers of this school.

In the New Comedy, which succeeded at a later period, there were also numerous writers, prolific in their labors and elegant in style, yet no more enduring in fame than their predecessors of the Middle Comedy.

This school of comedy flourished from about the accession of Alexander, 336 B.C., to the death of Menander, the most famous of its writers, 291 B.C.

In character the New Comedy more nearly approaches our modern ideas of comedy than either of the preceding schools. It has been described as the Old Comedy tamed down. The wild spirit of mirth is restrained, and much more earnestness infused into its tone. In this respect it often assumes the seriousness of tragedy. In style, indeed, it is more like an aftergrowth of the spirit of Euripides than a development of the comedy of the past.

It is not without its sportive spirit, but is, like our modern comedy, a mixture of sport and earnest, instead of