f 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.

DICAEOPOLIS
No, not a particle; go a-weeping elsewhere.

HUSBANDMAN
Oh! oh! oh! my poor beasts!

CHORUS
This man has discovered the sweetest enjoyment in peace; he will share it
with none.

DICAEOPOLIS
Pour honey over this tripe; set it before the fire to dry.

CHORUS
What lofty tones he uses! Did you hear him?

DICAEOPOLIS
Get the eels on the gridiron!

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.

A BRIDESMAID
Dicaeopolis! Dicaeopolis!

DICAEOPOLIS
Who are you?

BRIDESMAID
A young bridegroom sends you these viands from the marriage feast.

DICAEOPOLIS
Whoever he be, I thank him.

BRIDESMAID
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 do his duty to his young wife.

DICAEOPOLIS
Take back, take back your viands; for a thousand drachmae I
would not give a drop of peace; but who are you, pray?

BRIDESMAID
I am the bridesmaid; she wants to say something to you
from the bride privately.

DICAEOPOLIS
Come, what do you wish to say? (THE BRIDESMAID WHISPERS IN
HIS EAR.) Ah! what a ridiculous demand! The bride burns with longing
to keep by her her husband's weapon. 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, reach hither 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. There, slave, take away my truce! Now, quick, bring me
the wine-flagon, that I may fill up the drinking bowls!

CHORUS
I see a man, striding along apace, with knitted brows; he seems
to us the bearer of terrible tidings.

HERALD
Oh! toils and battles, 'tis Lamachus!

LAMACHUS
What noise resounds around my dwelling, where shines the glint
of arms.

HERALD
The Generals order you forthwith