a thousand dishes; proud of his good fortunes, he has had these feathers

cast before his door to show us how he lives.

f[1] A feasting song in honour of Harmodius, the assassin of Hipparchus

the Tyrant, son of Pisistratus.

DICAEOPOLIS

Oh, Peace! companion of fair Aphrodite and of the sweet Graces,

how charming are thy features and yet I never knew it! Would that Eros

might join me to thee, Eros, crowned with roses as Zeuxis[1] shows him to

us! Perhaps I seem somewhat old to you, but I am yet able to make you a

threefold offering; despite my age I could plant a long row of vines for you;

then beside these some tender cuttings from the fig; finally a young

vine-stock, loaded with fruit and all around the field olive trees, which

would furnish us with oil, wherewith to anoint us both at the New Moons.

f[1] The celebrated painter, born in Heraclea, a contemporary

of Aristophanes.

HERALD

List, ye people! As was the custom of your forebears, empty a full

pitcher of wine at the call of the trumpet; he, who first sees the

bottom, shall get a wine-skin as round and plump as Ctesiphon's belly.

DICAEOPOLIS

Women, children, have you not heard? Faith! do you not heed the

herald? Quick! let the hares boil and roast merrily; keep them

a-turning; withdraw them from the flame; prepare the chaplets;

reach me the skewers that I may spit the thrushes.

CHORUS

I envy you your wisdom and even more your good cheer.

DICAEOPOLIS

What then will you say when you see the thrushes roasting?

CHORUS

Ah! true indeed!

DICAEOPOLIS

Slave! stir up the fire.

CHORUS

See, how he knows his business, what a perfect cook! How well

he understands the way to prepare a good dinner!

A HUSBANDMAN

Ah! woe is me!

DICAEOPOLIS

Heracles! What have we here?

HUSBANDMAN

A most miserable man.

DICAEOPOLIS

Keep your misery for yourself.

HUSBANDMAN

Ah! friend! since you alone are enjoying peace, grant me a part

of your truce, were it but five years.

DICAEOPOLIS

What has happened to you?

HUSBANDMAN

I am ruined; I have lost a pair of steers.

DICAEOPOLIS

How?

HUSBANDMAN

The Boeotians seized them at Phyle.[1]

f[1] A deme and frontier fortress of Attica, near the Boeotian border.

DICAEOPOLIS

Ah! poor wretch! and yet you have not left off white?

HUSBANDMAN

Their dung made my wealth.

DICAEOPOLIS

What can I do in the matter?

HUSBANDMAN

Crying for my beasts has lost me my eyesight. Ah! if you care for poor

Dercetes of Phyle, anoint mine eyes quickly with your balm of peace.

DICAEOPOLIS

But, my poor fellow, I do not practise medicine.

HUSBANDMAN

Come, I adjure you; perhaps I shall recover my steers.

DICAEOPOLIS

'Tis impossible; away, go and whine to the disciples of Pittalus.[1]

f[1] An Athenian physician of the day.

HUSBANDMAN

Grant me but one drop of peace; pour it into this reedlet.

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