Then they separate into two bodies, mutually urging each other to the pursuit, and leave the scene in different directions as Dicæopolis reappears. He is come to hold a private festival on his own account to Bacchus, in thanksgiving for the Peace which he, at all events, is to enjoy from henceforward. But he will have everything done in regular order, so far as his resources admit, with all the pomp and solemnity of a public festival. His daughter is to act as “Canephora,” or basket-bearer, carrying the sacred emblems of the god--a privilege which the fairest and noblest maidens of Athens were proud to claim--and her mother exhorts her to move and behave herself like a lady,--if on this occasion only. Their single slave is to follow behind with other mystic emblems. But a spectacle is nothing, as Dicæopolis feels, without spectators; so he bids his wife go indoors, and mount upon the house-top to see the procession pass. Next to a caricature of their great men, an Athenian audience enjoyed a caricature of their religion. They had this much of excuse, that Paganism was full of tempting themes for burlesque, of which their comic dramatists liberally availed themselves. But in truth there is a temptation to burlesque and parody presented by all religions, more or less, on their external side. Romanism and Puritanism have met with very similar treatment amongst ourselves; and one has only to refer to the old miracle-plays, and such celebrations as the Fête d’Ane, to be convinced how closely in such matters jest and earnest lie side by side. But the festivities are very soon interrupted. The Acharnians have scented their prey at last, and rush in upon the celebrant with a shower of stones. Dicæopolis begs to know what crime he has committed. They soon let him know it: he has presumed to separate his private interest from the public cause, and to make a private treaty with the detested Spartans. They will listen to no explanation:-- “Don’t imagine to cajole us with your argument and fetches! You confess you’ve made a peace with these abominable wretches? _Dic._ Well--the very Spartans even--I’ve my doubts and scruples whether They’ve been totally to blame, in every instance, altogether. _Cho._ Not to blame in every instance?--villain, vagabond! how dare ye? Talking treason to our faces, to suppose that we shall spare ye? _Dic._ Not so totally to blame; and I will show that, here and there, The treatment they received from us has not been absolutely fair. _Cho._ What a scandal! what an insult! what an outrage on the state! Are ye come to plead before us as the Spartans’ advocate?”--(F.)