_Eur._ Why, methinks I see A fine celestial glory on his crown, So brightly gleams the torchlight on it: nay, And never a hair at all. (_To Ul._) Old man, ’tis true Thou’rt out at elbows; wilt thou earn a living, 1780 I’ll take thee on. If thou canst gather stones Or trench, I’ll find thee wages and good food, Ay, and a coat and shoes: but well I know Thou’rt practised but in sloth, or if thou bend Thy body, ’tis in louting thro’ the land To beg thy bellyful. _Ul._ Now, lord Eurymachus, I would that there might be a trial of labour ’Twixt us in springtide, when the days grow long, In the deep grass; and I would have my scythe, And thou another, striking blow for blow, 1790 Fasting from dawn till dark: Or give us each A plow, and for a team four sturdy oxen, Frammard and toward to break up between us A stubble of thirty acres; thou shouldst see If I could veer out straight: Or would, I say, That Zeus would send us war,—I care not whence,— To-day;—then set a helmet on my brows, And give me in either hand a spear and shield; Thou shouldst not taunt me with my belly then. Now art thou merely insolent and rough, 1800 Because thy fellows are so few and feeble: And if Ulysses came and faced thee here, Those doors, wide as they are, would seem too small And narrow for thee, in thy haste to fly. _Eur._ Try thou their width then. [_Throws a stool and hits Ctesippus._ _Ctes._ Gods, my head! _Amph._ By me, old man. _Ctes._ (_to Eur._). Now curse thee for a fool. Take it back, thus: (_throws_) and mend thy aim. _Eur._ Ctesippus! _Tel._ My lords, my lords! _Eur._ Thy pardon, good Ctesippus! _Ctes._ In time: thou’st broke my head. _Ant._ By heaven, this beggar Grows to be some one: let us drive him forth. 1810 _Amph._ Peace, peace! _Ant._ See where he stands. _Eur._ (_to Amph._). Wilt thou protect him? _Tel._ Lords, are ye mad? The god disturbs your wits. Else what ye have drunk declares ’tis time ye part. _Ant._ Then list to me. Let us begone, but first Rouse we the game: start we this beggar hence, And hunt him at the spear-point thro’ the town. With me for sport! _Some wooers._ Hie there, hie! Tally ho! _Eum._ Not if I die for it. _Amph._ Fools! Give o’er. _Tel._ Now, lords, What keeps you back? _Re-enter suddenly Penelope with maids._