No More Learning

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! bring hither my truce; to her
alone will I give some of it, for she is a woman, and, as such, should
not suffer under the war. Here, friend, reach hither your vial. And as to
the manner of applying this balm, tell the bride, when a levy of soldiers
is made to rub some in bed on her husband, where most needed. There,
slave, take away my truce!
Now, quick hither with the wine-flagon, that I
may fill up the drinking bowls!

CHORUS. I see a man, striding along apace, with knitted brows; he seems
to us the bearer of terrible tidings.

HERALD. Oh! toils and battles! 'tis Lamachus!

LAMACHUS. What noise resounds around my dwelling, where shines the glint
of arms.

HERALD. The Generals order you forthwith to take your battalions and your
plumes, and, despite the snow, to go and guard our borders. They have
learnt that a band of Boeotians intend taking advantage of the feast of
Cups to invade our country.

LAMACHUS. Ah! the Generals! they are numerous, but not good for much!