'Tis a crab,[171]--a crabkin, the
smallest
of its kind; he
writes tragedies.
writes tragedies.
Aristophanes
BDELYCLEON. Ah! ah! here comes his brother too, another tragedian, and
another son of Carcinus.
PHILOCLEON. Him I will devour for my dinner.
BDELYCLEON. Oh! ye gods! I see nothing but crabs. [169] Here is yet
another son of Carcinus.
PHILOCLEON. What is't comes here? A shrimp or a spider? [170]
BDELYCLEON.
'Tis a crab,[171]--a crabkin, the smallest of its kind; he
writes tragedies.
PHILOCLEON. Oh! Carcinus, how proud you should be of your brood! What a
crowd of kinglets have come swooping down here!
BDELYCLEON. Come, come, my poor father, you will have to measure yourself
against them.
PHILOCLEON. Have pickle prepared for seasoning them, if I am bound to
prove the victor.
CHORUS. Let us stand out of the way a little, so that they may twirl at
their ease. Come, illustrious children of this inhabitant of the briny,
brothers of the shrimps, skip on the sand and the shore of the barren
sea; show us the lightning whirls and twirls of your nimble limbs.
Glorious offspring of Phrynichus,[172] let fly your kicks, so that the
spectators may be overjoyed at seeing your legs so high in air. Twist,
twirl, tap your bellies, kick your legs to the sky. Here comes your
famous father, the ruler of the sea,[173] delighted to see his three
lecherous kinglets. [174] Go on with your dancing, if it pleases you, but
as for us, we shall not join you.
