DICAEOPOLIS
Get some fish for me; I cannot bear onions.
LAMACHUS
Slave, wrap me up a little stale salt meat in a fig-leaf.
DICAEOPOLIS
And for me some good greasy tripe in a fig-leaf; I will have it cooked here.
LAMACHUS
Bring me the plumes for my helmet.
DICAEOPOLIS
Bring me wild pigeons and thrushes.
LAMACHUS
How white and beautiful are these ostrich feathers!
DICAEOPOLIS
How fat and well browned is the flesh of this wood-pigeon!
LAMACHUS
Bring me the case for my triple plume.
DICAEOPOLIS
Pass me over that dish of hare.
LAMACHUS
OH! the moths have eaten the hair of my crest.
DICAEOPOLIS
I shall always eat hare before dinner.
LAMACHUS
Hi! friend! try not to scoff at my armor?
DICAEOPOLIS
Hi! friend! will you kindly not stare at my thrushes.
LAMACHUS
Hi! friend! will you kindly not address me.
DICAEOPOLIS
I do not address you; I am scolding my slave. Shall we wager and submit
the matter to Lamachus, which of the two is the best to eat, a locust or
a thrush?
LAMACHUS
Insolent hound!
DICAEOPOLIS
He much prefers the locusts.
LAMACHUS
Slave, unhook my spear and bring it to me.
DICAEOPOLIS
Slave, slave, take the sausage from the fire and bring it to me.
LAMACHUS
Come, let me draw my spear from its sheath. Hold it, slave, hold it tight.
DICAEOPOLIS
And you, slave, grip, grip well hold of the skewer.
LAMACHUS
Slave, the bracings for my shield.
DICAEOPOLIS
Pull the loaves out of the oven and bring me these bracings of my stomach.
LAMACHUS
My round buckler with the Gorgon's head.
DICAEOPOLIS
My round cheese-cake.
LAMACHUS
What clumsy wit!
DICAEOPOLIS
What delicious cheese-cake!
LAMACHUS
Pour oil on the buckler. Hah! hah! I can see reflected there an old
man who will be accused of cowardice.
DICAEOPOLIS
Pour honey on the cake. Hah! hah! I can see an old man who makes
Lamachus of the Gorgon's head weep with rage.
LAMACHUS
Slave, full war armour.
DICAEOPOLIS
Slave, my beaker; that is MY armour.
LAMACHUS
With this I hold my ground with any foe.
DICAEOPOLIS
And I with this with any tosspot.
LAMACHUS
Fasten the strappings to the buckler; personally I shall carry the knapsack
DICAEOPOLIS
Pack the dinner well into the basket; personally I shall carry the cloak.
LAMACHUS
Slave, take up the buckler and let's be off. It is snowing! Ah!
'tis a question of facing the winter.
DICAEOPOLIS
Take up the basket, 'tis a question of getting to the feast.
CHORUS
We wish you both joy on your journeys, which differ so much. One goes
to mount guard and freeze, while the other will drink, crowned
with flowers, and then sleep with a young beauty, who will excite
him readily.
I say it freely; may Zeus confound Antimachus, the poet-historian,
the son of Psacas! When Choregus at the Lenaea, alas! alas! he
dismissed me dinnerless. May I see him devouring with his eyes a
cuttle-fish, just served, well cooked, hot and properly salted; and
the moment that he stretches his hand to help himself, may a dog seize
it and run off with it. Such is my first wish. I also hope for him a
misfortune at night. That returning all-fevered from horse practice,
he may meet an Orestes,[1] mad with drink, who breaks open his head;
that wishing to seize a stone, he, in the dark, may pick up a fresh stool,
hurl his missile, miss aim and hit Cratinus.[2]
f[1] An allusion to the paroxysms of rage, as represented in many tragedies
familiar to an Athenian audience, of Orestes, the son of Agamemnon,
after he had killed his mother.
f[2] No doubt the comic poet, rival of Aristophanes.
SLAVE OF LAMACHUS
Slaves of Lamachus! Water, water in a little pot! Make it warm, get ready
cloths, cerate greasy wool and bandages for his ankle. In leaping a ditch,
the master has hurt himself against a stake; he has dislocated and twisted
his ankle, broken his head by falling on a stone, while his Gorgon shot far
away from his buckler. His mighty braggadocio plume rolled on the
ground; at this sight he uttered these doleful words, "Radiant star, I gaze
on thee for the last time; my eyes close to all light, I die." Having
said this,
he falls into the water, gets out again, meets some runaways and pursues
the robbers with his spear at their backsides.[1] But here he comes,
himself. Get the door open.
f[1] Unexpected wind-up of the story. Aristophanes intends to deride
the boasting of Lamachus, who was always ascribing to himself most
unlikely exploits.
LAMACHUS
Oh! heavens! oh! heavens! What cruel pain! I faint, I tremble! Alas!
I die! the foe's lance has struck me! But what would hurt me most
would be for Dicaeopolis to see me wounded thus and laugh
at my ill-fortune.
DICAEOPOLIS (ENTERS WITH TWO COURTESANS)
Oh! my gods! what bosoms! Hard as a quince! Come, my treasures, give
me voluptuous kisses! Glue your lips to mine. Haha! I was the first to
empty my cup.
LAMACHUS
Oh! cruel fate! how I suffer! accursed wounds!
DICAEOPOLIS
Hah! hah! hail! Knight Lamachus! (EMBRACES LAMACHUS.)
LAMACHUS
By the hostile gods! (BITES DICAEOPOLIS.)
DICAEOPOLIS
Ah! Great gods!
LAMACHUS
Why do you embrace me?
DICAEOPOLIS
And why do you bite me?
LAMACHUS
'Twas a cruel score I was paying back!
DICAEOPOLIS
Scores are not evened at the Feast of Cups!
LAMACHUS
Oh! Paean, Paean!
DICAEOPOLIS
But to-day is not the feast of Paean.
LAMACHUS
Oh! support my leg, do; ah! hold it tenderly, my friends!
DICAEOPOLIS
And you, my darlings, take hold of this, both of you!
LAMACHUS
This blow with the stone makes me dizzy; my sight grows dim.
DICAEOPOLIS
For myself, I want to get to bed; I am bursting with lustfulness,
I want to be bundling in the dark.
LAMACHUS
Carry me to the surgeon Pittalus.
DICAEOPOLIS
Take me to the judges. Where is the king of the feast?
The wine-skin is mine!
LAMACHUS
That spear has pierced my bones; what torture I endure!
DICAEOPOLIS
You see this empty cup! I triumph! I triumph!
CHORUS
Old man, I come at your bidding! You triumph! you triumph!
DICAEOPOLIS
Again I have brimmed my cup with unmixed wine and drained it at
a draught!
CHORUS
You triumph then, brave champion; thine is the wine-skin!
DICAEOPOLIS
Follow me, singing "Triumph! Triumph!"
CHORUS
Aye! we will sing of thee, thee and thy sacred wine-skin, and we all,
as we follow thee, will repeat in thine honour, "Triumph, Triumph!"
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