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Acharnians   


HUSBANDMAN
Come, I adjure you; perhaps I shall recover my steers.
DICAEOPOLIS
Impossible; away, go and whine to the disciples of Pittalus.
HUSBANDMAN
Grant me but one drop of peace; pour it into this little reed.
DICAEOPOLIS
No, not a particle; go and weep somewhere else.
HUSBANDMAN (as he departs)
Oh! oh! oh! my poor beasts!
LEADER OF SECOND SEMI-CHORUS
This man has discovered the sweetest enjoyment in peace; he will
share it with none.
DICAEOPOLIS (to a slave)
Pour honey over this tripe; set it before the fire to dry.
LEADER OF SECOND SEMI-CHORUS
What lofty tones he uses! Did you hear him?
DICAEOPOLIS (to the slaves inside the house)
Get the eels on the gridiron!
LEADER OF SECOND SEMI-CHORUS
You are killing me with hunger; your smoke is choking your
neighbours, and you split our ears with your bawling.
DICAEOPOLIS
Have this fried and let it be nicely browned.
(He goes back into the house. A WEDDING GUEST enters, carrying a
package.)

WEDDING GUEST
Dicaeopolis! Dicaeopolis!
DICAEOPOLIS
Who are you?
WEDDING GUEST
A young bridegroom sends you these viands from the marriage feast.
DICAEOPOLIS
Whoever he be, I thank him.
WEDDING GUEST
And in return, he prays you to pour a glass of peace into this
vase, that he may not have to go to the front and may stay at home
to make love to his young wife.
DICAEOPOLIS
Take back, take back your viands; for a thousand drachmae I
would not give a drop of peace. (A young woman enters) But who is she?
WEDDING GUEST
She is the matron of honour; she wants to say something to you
from the bride privately.
DICAEOPOLIS
Come, what do you wish to say? (The MATRON OF HONOUR whispers in
his ear.)
Ah! what a ridiculous demand! The bride burns with longing
to keep her husband's tool at home. Come! bring hither my truce; to
her alone will I give some of it, for she is a woman, and, as such,
should not suffer under the war. Here, friend, hand me your vial.
And as to the manner of applying this balm, tell the bride, when a
levy of soldiers is made, to rub some in bed on her husband, where
most needed. (The MATRON OF HONOUR and the WEDDING GUEST depart.)
There, slave, take away my truce! Now, quick, bring me the
wine-flagon, that I may fill up the drinking bowls!
(The slave leaves. A HERALD enters.)
LEADER OF THE CHORUS (in tragic style)
I see a man, "striding along apace, with knitted brows; he seems
to us the bearer of terrible tidings."
HERALD (in tragic style)
Oh! toils and battles and Lamachuses!
(He knocks on LAMACHUS' door.)
LAMACHUS (from within; in tragic style)
What noise resounds around my dwelling, where shines the glint

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