No More Learning

. . . 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?

MNESILOCHUS. But, great gods, what is the matter then? What are you
grumbling and groaning for? Tell me; you must not conceal anything from
your father-in-law.

EURIPIDES.