Come, wife, cook three
measures
of
beans, adding to them a little wheat, and give us some figs.
beans, adding to them a little wheat, and give us some figs.
Aristophanes
Hold him
tight and beat the impostor with a stick.
SERVANT. You look to that; I will snatch the skin from him, which he has
stolen from us. [374] Are you going to let go that skin, you priest from
hell! do you hear! Oh! what a fine crow has come from Oreus! Stretch your
wings quickly for Elymnium. [375]
CHORUS. Oh! joy, joy! no more helmet, no more cheese nor onions! [376] No,
I have no passion for battles; what I love, is to drink with good
comrades in the corner by the fire when good dry wood, cut in the height
of the summer, is crackling; it is to cook pease on the coals and
beechnuts among the embers; 'tis to kiss our pretty Thracian[377] while
my wife is at the bath. Nothing is more pleasing, when the rain is
sprouting our sowings, than to chat with some friend, saying, "Tell me,
Comarchides, what shall we do? I would willingly drink myself, while the
heavens are watering our fields.
Come, wife, cook three measures of
beans, adding to them a little wheat, and give us some figs. Syra! call
Manes off the fields, 'tis 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
'tis the same road, you will invite Charinades to come and drink with me
to the honour of the gods who watch over our crops. "
When the grasshopper sings its dulcet tune, I love to see the Lemnian
vines beginning to ripen, for 'tis the earliest plant of all. I love
likewise to watch the fig filling out, and when it has reached maturity I
eat with appreciation and exclaim, "Oh! delightful season! " Then too I
bruise some thyme and infuse it in water. Indeed I grow a great deal
fatter passing the summer this way than in watching a cursed captain with
his three plumes and his military cloak of a startling crimson (he calls
it true Sardian purple), which he takes care to dye himself with Cyzicus
saffron in a battle; then he is the first to run away, shaking his plumes
like a great yellow prancing cock,[378] while I am left to watch the
nets. [379] 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,[380] 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.
tight and beat the impostor with a stick.
SERVANT. You look to that; I will snatch the skin from him, which he has
stolen from us. [374] Are you going to let go that skin, you priest from
hell! do you hear! Oh! what a fine crow has come from Oreus! Stretch your
wings quickly for Elymnium. [375]
CHORUS. Oh! joy, joy! no more helmet, no more cheese nor onions! [376] No,
I have no passion for battles; what I love, is to drink with good
comrades in the corner by the fire when good dry wood, cut in the height
of the summer, is crackling; it is to cook pease on the coals and
beechnuts among the embers; 'tis to kiss our pretty Thracian[377] while
my wife is at the bath. Nothing is more pleasing, when the rain is
sprouting our sowings, than to chat with some friend, saying, "Tell me,
Comarchides, what shall we do? I would willingly drink myself, while the
heavens are watering our fields.
Come, wife, cook three measures of
beans, adding to them a little wheat, and give us some figs. Syra! call
Manes off the fields, 'tis 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
'tis the same road, you will invite Charinades to come and drink with me
to the honour of the gods who watch over our crops. "
When the grasshopper sings its dulcet tune, I love to see the Lemnian
vines beginning to ripen, for 'tis the earliest plant of all. I love
likewise to watch the fig filling out, and when it has reached maturity I
eat with appreciation and exclaim, "Oh! delightful season! " Then too I
bruise some thyme and infuse it in water. Indeed I grow a great deal
fatter passing the summer this way than in watching a cursed captain with
his three plumes and his military cloak of a startling crimson (he calls
it true Sardian purple), which he takes care to dye himself with Cyzicus
saffron in a battle; then he is the first to run away, shaking his plumes
like a great yellow prancing cock,[378] while I am left to watch the
nets. [379] 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,[380] 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.
