Peace [17]
adding to them a little wheat, and give us some figs. Syra! call Manes
off the fields, it's impossible to prune the vine or to align the
ridges, for the ground is too wet to-day. Let someone bring me the
thrush and those two chaffinches; there were also some curds and
four pieces of hare, unless the cat stole them last evening, for I
know not what the infernal noise was that I heard in the house.
Serve up three of the pieces for me, slave, and give the fourth to
my father. Go and ask Aeschinades for some myrtle branches with
berries on them, and then, for it's on the same road, invite
Charinades to come and drink with me to the honour of the gods who
watch over our crops."
CHORUS (singing)
When the grasshopper sings his dulcet tune, I love to see the
Lemnian vines beginning to ripen, the earliest plant of all.
Likewise I love to watch the fig filling out, and when it has
reached maturity I eat it with appreciation, exclaiming, "Oh!
delightful season!" Then too I bruise some thyme and infuse it in
water. Indeed I grow a great deal fatter passing the summer in this
way....
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
...than in watching a damned lieutenant with three plumes and
military cloak of crimson, very livid indeed; he calls it the real
Sardian purple, but if he ever has to fight in this cloak he'll dye it
another colour, the real Cyzicene yellow, he the first to run away,
shaking his plumes like a buff hippalectryon, and I am left to do
the real work. Once back again in Athens, these brave fellows behave
abominably; they write down these, they scratch through others, and
this backwards and forwards two or three times at random. The
departure is set for to-morrow, and some citizen has brought no
provisions, because he didn't know he had to go; he stops in front
of the statue of Pandion, reads his name, is dumbfounded and starts
away at a run, weeping bitter tears. The townsfolk are less
ill-used, but that is how the husbandmen are treated by these men of
war, the hated of the gods and of men, who know nothing but how to
throw away their shield. For this reason, if it please heaven, I
propose to call these rascals to account, for they are lions in
times of peace, but sneaking foxes when it comes to fighting.
TRYGAEUS (coming out of his house, followed by the SERVANT)
Oh! oh! what a crowd for the nuptial feast! Here! dust the
tables with this crest, which is good for nothing else now. Halloa!
produce the cakes, the thrushes, plenty of good jugged hare and the
little loaves.
(A SICKLE-MAKER enters with a comrade; one carries sickles, the
other casks.)
SICKLE-MAKER
Trygaeus, where is Trygaeus?
TRYGAEUS
I am cooking the thrushes.
SICKLE-MAKER
Trygaeus, my best of friends, what a fine stroke of business you
have done for me by bringing back Peace! Formerly my sickles would not
have sold at an obolus apiece, to-day I am being paid fifty drachmae
for every one. And here is a neighbour who is selling his casks for
the country at three drachmae each. So come, Trygaeus, take as many
sickles and casks as you will for nothing. Accept them for nothing;
it's because of our handsome profits on our sales that we offer you
these wedding presents.
TRYGAEUS
Thanks. Put them all down inside there, and come along quick to
the banquet. Ah! do you see that armourer yonder coming with a wry
face?
(Enter an armourer, followed by other personages who represent the
various specialized trades which have profited by the war, a
crest-maker, a manufacturer of breastplates, a trumpet-maker, a
helmet-maker, a polisher of lances; each carries a sample of his
products. The armourer is the only one who speaks.)
ARMOURER
Alas! alas! Trygaeus, you have ruined me utterly.
TRYGAEUS
What! won't the crests go any more, friend?
ARMOURER
You have killed my business, my livelihood, and