Within a space of time so brief as to be conceivable upon the stage only, Amphitheus has returned from Sparta, to the great joy of Dicæopolis. His mission has been successful. But he is quite out of breath; for the Acharnians, finding out what his business is, have hunted and pelted him up to the very walls of Athens. “Peace, indeed! a pretty fellow you are, to negotiate a peace with our enemies after all our vines and corn-fields have been destroyed!” He has escaped them, however, for the present, and has brought back with him three samples of Treaties--in three separate wine-skins. The contents are of various growth and quality.[18] “_Dic._ You’ve brought the Treaties? _Amph._ Ay, three samples of them; This here is a five years’ growth--taste it and try. _Dic._ (_tastes, and spits it out_). Don’t like it. _Amph._ Eh? _Dic._ Don’t like it--it won’t do; There’s an uncommon ugly twang of pitch, A touch of naval armament about it. _Amph._ Well, here’s a ten years’ growth may suit you better. _Dic._ (_tastes again_). No, neither of them; there is a sort of sourness Here in this last,--a taste of acid embassies, And vapid allies turning to vinegar. _Amph._ But here’s a truce of thirty years entire, Warranted sound. _Dic._ (_smacking his lips and then hugging the jar_). O Bacchus and the Bacchanals! This is your sort! here’s nectar and ambrosia! Here’s nothing about providing three days’ rations;[19] It says, ‘Do what you please, go where you will;’ I choose it, and adopt it, and embrace it, For sacrifice, and for my private drinking. In spite of all the Acharnians, I’m determined To remove out of the reach of wars and mischief, And keep the Feast of Bacchus on my farm.”--(F.) He leaves the stage on these festive thoughts intent. The scene changes to the open country in the district of Acharnæ, and here what we must consider as the second act of the play begins. The Chorus of ancient villagers--robust old fellows, “tough as oak, men who have fought at Marathon” in their day--rush in, in chase of the negotiators of this hateful treaty. Moving backwards and forwards with quick step in measured time across the wide orchestra (which, it must be remembered, was their proper domain), they chant a strain of which the rhythm, at least, is fairly preserved in Mr Frere’s translation:-- “Follow faster, all together! search, inquire of every one. Speak--inform us--have you seen him? whither is the rascal run? ’Tis a point of public service that the traitor should be caught In the fact, seized and arrested with the treaties he has brought.”