No More Learning

It is snowing! Ah!
'tis a question of facing the winter.

DICAEOPOLIS. Take up the basket, 'tis a question of getting to the feast.

CHORUS. We wish you both joy on your journeys, which differ so much. One
goes to mount guard and freeze, while the other will drink, crowned with
flowers, and then sleep with a young beauty, who will rub his tool for
him.

I say it freely; may Zeus confound Antimachus, the poet-historian, the
son of Psacas! When Choregus at the Lenaea, alas! alas! he dismissed me
dinnerless. May I see him devouring with his eyes a cuttle-fish, just
served, well cooked, hot and properly salted; and the moment that he
stretches his hand to help himself, may a dog seize it and run off with
it. Such is my first wish. I also hope for him a misfortune at night.
That returning all-fevered from horse practice, he may meet an
Orestes,[259] mad with drink, who breaks open his head; that wishing to
seize a stone, he, in the dark, may pick up a fresh stool, hurl his
missile, miss aim and hit Cratinus. [260]

SLAVE OF LAMACHUS. Slaves of Lamachus! Water, water in a little pot! Make
it warm, get ready cloths, cerate, greasy wool and bandages for his
ankle. In leaping a ditch, the master has hurt himself against a stake;
he has dislocated and twisted his ankle, broken his head by falling on a
stone, while his Gorgon shot far away from his buckler. His mighty
braggadocio plume rolled on the ground; at this sight he uttered these
doleful words, "Radiant star, I gaze on thee for the last time; my eyes
close to all light, I die. " Having said this, he falls into the water,
gets out again, meets some runaways and pursues the robbers with his
spear at their backsides. [261] But here he comes, himself. Get the door
open.

LAMACHUS. Oh! heavens! oh! heavens! What cruel pain!