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Peace   


Bucklers! Leave me in peace with your bucklers.
BOY
"And then there came groanings and shouts of victory."
TRYGAEUS
Groanings! ah! by Bacchus! look out for yourself, you cursed
squaller, if you start wearying us again with your groanings and
hollow bucklers.
BOY
Then what should I sing? Tell me what pleases you.
TRYGAEUS
"'Tis thus they feasted on the flesh of oxen," or something
similar, as, for instance, "Everything that could tickle the palate
was placed on the table."
BOY
"'Tis thus they feasted on the flesh of oxen and, tired of
warfare, unharnessed their foaming steeds."
TRYGAEUS
That's splendid; tired of warfare, they seat themselves at
table; sing to us how they still go on eating after they are satiated.
BOY
"The meal over, they girded themselves..."
TRYGAEUS
With good wine, no doubt?
BOY
"...with armour and rushed forth from the towers, and a terrible
shout arose."
TRYGAEUS
Get you gone, you little scapegrace, you and your battles! You
sing of nothing but warfare. Who is your father then?
BOY
My father?
TRYGAEUS
Why yes, your father.
BOY
I am Lamachus' son.
TRYGAEUS
Oh! oh! I could indeed have sworn, when I was listening to you,
that you were the son of some warrior, who dreams of nothing but
wounds and bruises, of some Bulomachus or Clausimachus; go and sing
your plaguey songs to the spearmen....Where is the son of Cleonymus?
Sing me something before going back to the feast. I am at least
certain he will not sing of battles, for his father is far too careful
a man.
SON OF CLEONYMUS
"A Saian is parading with the spotless shield which I regret to
say I have thrown into a thicket."
TRYGAEUS
Tell me, you little good-for-nothing, are you singing that for
your father?
SON OF CLEONYMUS
"But I saved my life."
TRYGAEUS
And dishonoured your family. But let us go in; I am very
certain, that being the son of such a father, you will never forget
this song of the buckler. (To the CHORUS) You, who remain to the
feast, it's your duty to devour dish after dish and not to ply empty
jaws. Come, put heart into the work and eat with your mouths full.
For, believe me, poor friends, white teeth are useless furniture if
they chew nothing.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS (to TRYGAEUS, who is going into the house)
Never fear; thanks all the same for your good advice. (To the
CHORUS)
And all of you, who yesterday were dying of hunger, come,
stuff yourselves with this fine hare-stew; it's not every day that
we find cakes lying neglected. Eat, eat, or I predict you will soon

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