who supplied the city with fuel.


Let 'em shout as much as they please! But HAVE you brought me

a treaty?


Most certainly, here are three samples to select from,[1] this one is

five years old; take it and taste.

f[1] He presents them in the form of wines contained in three separate







It does not please me; it smells of pitch and of the ships they are

fitting out.[1]

f[1] Meaning, preparations for war.


Here is another, ten years old; taste it.


It smells strongly of the delegates, who go around the towns

to chide the allies for their slowness.[1]

f[1] Meaning, securing allies for the continuance of the war.


This last is a truce of thirty years, both on sea and land.


Oh! by Bacchus! what a bouquet! It has the aroma of nectar and

ambrosia; this does not say to us, "Provision yourselves for three

days." But it lisps the gentle numbers, "Go whither you will."[1]

I accept it, ratify it, drink it at one draught and consign the

Acharnians to limbo. Freed from the war and its ills, I shall

keep the Dionysia[2] in the country.

f[1] When Athens sent forth an army, the soldiers were usually ordered

to assemble at some particular spot with provisions for three days.

f[2] These feasts were also called the Anthesteria or Lenaea; the Lenaem

was a temple to Bacchus, erected outside the city. They took place

during the month Anthesterion (February).


And I shall run away, for I'm mortally afraid of the Acharnians.


This way all! Let us follow our man; we will demand him of

everyone we meet; the public weal makes his seizure imperative. Ho,

there! tell me which way the bearer of the truce has gone; he has escaped

us, he has disappeared. Curse old age! When I was young, in the days

when I followed Phayllus,[1] running with a sack of coals on my back, this

wretch would not have eluded my pursuit, let him be as swift as he will;

but now my limbs are stiff; old Lacratides[2] feels his legs are

weighty and the traitor escapes me. No, no, let us follow him; old

Acharnians like ourselves shall not be set at naught by a

scoundrel, who has dared, great gods! to conclude a truce, when I wanted

the war continued with double fury in order to avenge my ruined lands.

No mercy for our foes until I have pierced their hearts like sharp

reed, so that they dare never again ravage my vineyards.

Come, let us seek the rascal; let us look everywhere, carrying our

stones in our hands; let us hunt him from place to place until we trap

him; I could never, never tire of the delight of stoning him.

f[1] A celebrated athlete from Croton and a victor at Olympia; he was

equally good as a runner and at the 'five exercises.'

f[2] He had been Archon at the time of the battle of Marathon.

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