Such a man is Dicæopolis, the hero of this burlesque. He has been too long cooped up in Athens, while his patrimony is being ruined: and in the first scene he comes up to the Pnyx--the place where the public assembly was held--grumbling at things in general, and the war in particular. The members of the Committee on Public Affairs come, as usual, very late to business--every one, in this city life, is so lazy, as the Acharnian declares: but when business does begin, an incident occurs which interests him very much indeed. One Amphitheus--a personage who claims to be immortal by virtue of divine origin--announces that he has obtained, perhaps on that ground, special permission from the gods to negotiate a peace with Sparta. But there is one serious obstacle; nothing can be done in this world, even by demigods, without money, and he would have the Committee supply him with enough for his long journey. Such an outrageous request is only answered on the part of the authorities by a call for “Police!” and the applicant, in spite of the remonstrances of Dicæopolis at such unworthy treatment of a public benefactor, is summarily hustled out of court. Dicæopolis, however, follows him, and giving him eight shillings--or thereabouts--to defray his expenses on the road, bids him haste to Sparta and bring back with him, if possible, a private treaty of peace--for himself, his wife and children, and maid-servant. Meanwhile the “House” is occupied with the reception of certain High Commissioners who have returned from different foreign embassies. Some have been to ask help from Persia, and have brought back with them “the Great King’s Eye, Sham-artabas” (Dicæopolis is inclined to look upon him as a sham altogether)--who is, in fact, all eye, as far as the mask-maker’s art can make him so. He talks a jargon even more unintelligible than modern diplomatic communications, which the envoys explain to mean that the king will send the Athenians a subsidy of gold, but which Dicæopolis interprets in quite a contrary sense. Others have come back from a mission to Thrace, and have brought with them a sample of the warlike auxiliaries which Sitalces, prince of that country (who had a sort of Athenomania), is going to send to their aid--at two shillings a-day; some ragamuffin tribe whose appearance on the stage was no doubt highly ludicrous, and whose character is somewhat like that of Falstaff’s recruits, or Bombastes Furioso’s “brave army,” since their first exploit is to steal Dicæopolis’s luncheon: a palpable warning against putting trust in foreign hirelings.