The Acharnians Part 10

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.

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 gla.s.s 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 to take your battalions and your plumes, and, despite the snow, to go and guard our borders.

They have learnt that a band of Boeotians intend taking advantage of the Feast of Cups to invade our country.

LAMACHUS Ah! the Generals! they are numerous, but not good for much!

It's cruel, not to be able to enjoy the feast!

DICAEOPOLIS Oh! warlike host of Lamachus!

LAMACHUS Wretch! do you dare to jeer me?

DICAEOPOLIS Do you want to fight this four-winged Geryon?

LAMACHUS Oh! oh! what fearful tidings!

DICAEOPOLIS Ah! ah! I see another herald running up; what news does he bring me?

HERALD Dicaeopolis!

DICAEOPOLIS What is the matter?

HERALD Come quickly to the feast and bring your basket and your cup; 'tis the priest of Bacchus who invites you. But hasten, the guests have been waiting for you a long while. All is ready--couches, tables, cushions, chaplets, perfumes, dainties and courtesans to boot; biscuits, cakes, sesame-bread, tarts, lovely dancing women, the sweetest charm of the festivity. But come with all haste.

LAMACHUS Oh! hostile G.o.ds!