No More Learning

CHORUS. What lofty tones he uses! Did you hear him?

DICAEOPOLIS. Get the eels on the gridiron!

CHORUS. You are killing me with hunger; your smoke is choking your
neighbours, and you split our ears with your bawling.

DICAEOPOLIS. Have this fried and let it be nicely browned.

A BRIDESMAID. Dicaeopolis! Dicaeopolis!

DICAEOPOLIS. Who are you?

BRIDESMAID.
A young bridegroom sends you these viands from the marriage
feast.

DICAEOPOLIS. Whoever he be, I thank him.

BRIDESMAID. And in return, he prays you to pour a glass of peace into
this vase, that he may not have to go to the front and may stay at home
to do his duty to his young wife.

DICAEOPOLIS. Take back, take back your viands; for a thousand drachmae I
would not give a drop of peace; but who are you, pray?

BRIDESMAID. I am the bridesmaid; she wants to say something to you from
the bride privately.

DICAEOPOLIS. Come, what do you wish to say? (_The bridesmaid whispers in
his ear. _) _Ah! _ what a ridiculous demand! The bride burns with longing
to keep by her her husband's weapon. Come!