What seems, then, to be the chief theme of the poem with its setting of wind and wave and bark bears somewhat the same relation to the real theme as incidental music does to a play. Upon first thoughts it may seem like a clumsy contrivance for introducing Aristophanes upon the scene, but in the end it will be perceived, I think, that it serves the artistic purpose of placing Aristophanes in proper perspective. Balaustion with her exquisitely human moods and progressive spirit forms the right complement to the decaying ideals of Aristophanes, and gives him the proper flavor of antiquity. Instead of seeing him in the broad light of a direct dramatic presentation we see him indirectly through Balaustion's thoughts and moods, who, though permitting him to do full justice to himself, yet surrounds him all the time with the subtle influence of her sympathy for Euripides. As the better way to follow the development of the preliminary part of the poem is by regarding every step as the outcome of a mood on the part of Balaustion, so the better way of following Aristophanes through what seems his interminable defence of himself is again by tracing the moods through which his arguments express themselves. Aristophanes comes in half drunk to make his call on Balaustion, and his first mood is one of graciousness toward her whose beauty has impressed his artistic perceptions, but noticing her dignity and its effect in routing the chorus, he immediately begins to be on the defensive. The disappearance of his chorus, however, takes him off on a little excursion about the moves which are being made by the city to cut down the expense of dramatic performances by curtailing the chorus. In a spirit of bravado he declares that he does not care so long as he has his actors left. A coarse reference causes Balaustion to turn and he changes his mood. He acknowledges he is drunk and rushes off into a defence of drunkenness in general for playwrights and for himself, which on this occasion came about on account of the supper he and his players have attended. He rattles on about the supper, telling how the merriment increased until something happened. The thought of this something changes his mood completely. Balaustion notices it, he reads her expression, and characteristically explains the change in himself as due to her fixed regard. The reader is left in suspense as to the something which happened, yet it haunts the memory, and he feels convinced that some time he is to know what it was. Now Aristophanes bids Balaustion speak to him without fear. She does so, conveying in her welcome both her disapproval and her admiration. Aristophanes, evidently piqued, does not answer, but makes personal remarks upon the manner of her speech, asking her if she learned tragedy from _him_--Euripides. This starts him off on dreams of a new comedy in which women shall act, but he concludes that his mission is to ornament comedy as he finds it, not invent a new comedy.