Old man, you must have been a very
insolent
fellow in your
youth!
youth!
Aristophanes
He is
rounding fresh poetical forms, he is polishing them in the lathe and is
welding them; he is hammering out sentences and metaphors; he is working
up his subject like soft wax. First he models it and then he casts it in
bronze . . .
MNESILOCHUS. . . . and sways his buttocks amorously.
SERVANT. Who is the rustic who approaches this sacred enclosure?
MNESILOCHUS. Take care of yourself and of your sweet-voiced poet! I have
a strong instrument here both well rounded and well polished, which will
pierce your enclosure and penetrate your bottom.
SERVANT.
Old man, you must have been a very insolent fellow in your
youth!
EURIPIDES (_to the servant_). Let him be, friend, and, quick, go and call
Agathon to me.
SERVANT. 'Tis not worth the trouble, for he will soon be here himself. He
has started to compose, and in winter[546] it is never possible to round
off strophes without coming to the sun to excite the imagination. (_He
departs. _)
MNESILOCHUS. And what am I to do?
EURIPIDES. Wait till he comes. . . . Oh, Zeus! what hast thou in store for
me to-day?
rounding fresh poetical forms, he is polishing them in the lathe and is
welding them; he is hammering out sentences and metaphors; he is working
up his subject like soft wax. First he models it and then he casts it in
bronze . . .
MNESILOCHUS. . . . and sways his buttocks amorously.
SERVANT. Who is the rustic who approaches this sacred enclosure?
MNESILOCHUS. Take care of yourself and of your sweet-voiced poet! I have
a strong instrument here both well rounded and well polished, which will
pierce your enclosure and penetrate your bottom.
SERVANT.
Old man, you must have been a very insolent fellow in your
youth!
EURIPIDES (_to the servant_). Let him be, friend, and, quick, go and call
Agathon to me.
SERVANT. 'Tis not worth the trouble, for he will soon be here himself. He
has started to compose, and in winter[546] it is never possible to round
off strophes without coming to the sun to excite the imagination. (_He
departs. _)
MNESILOCHUS. And what am I to do?
EURIPIDES. Wait till he comes. . . . Oh, Zeus! what hast thou in store for
me to-day?
