CHORUS. Ah! true indeed! DICAEOPOLIS. Slave! stir up the fire. CHORUS. See, how he knows his business, what a perfect cook! How well he understands the way to prepare a good dinner! A HUSBANDMAN. Ah! woe is me! DICAEOPOLIS. Heracles! What have we here? HUSBANDMAN. A most miserable man. DICAEOPOLIS. Keep your misery for yourself. HUSBANDMAN. Ah! friend! since you alone are enjoying peace, grant me a part of your truce, were it but five years. DICAEOPOLIS. What has happened to you? HUSBANDMAN. I am ruined; I have lost a pair of steers. DICAEOPOLIS. How? HUSBANDMAN. The Boeotians seized them at Phylé.[257] DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! poor wretch! and yet you have not left off white? HUSBANDMAN. Their dung made my wealth. DICAEOPOLIS. What can I do in the matter? HUSBANDMAN. Crying for my beasts has lost me my eyesight. Ah! if you care for poor Dercetes of Phylé, anoint mine eyes quickly with your balm of peace. DICAEOPOLIS. But, my poor fellow, I do not practise medicine. HUSBANDMAN. Come, I adjure you; perchance I shall recover my steers. DICAEOPOLIS. 'Tis impossible; away, go and whine to the disciples of Pittalus.[258] HUSBANDMAN. Grant me but one drop of peace; pour it into this reedlet. DICAEOPOLIS. No, not a particle; go a-weeping elsewhere. HUSBANDMAN. Oh! oh! oh! my poor beasts! CHORUS. This man has discovered the sweetest enjoyment in peace; he will share it with none. DICAEOPOLIS. Pour honey over this tripe; set it before the fire to dry. CHORUS. What lofty tones he uses! Did you hear him? DICAEOPOLIS. Get the eels on the gridiron! CHORUS. You are killing me with hunger; your smoke is choking your neighbours, and you split our ears with your bawling. DICAEOPOLIS. Have this fried and let it be nicely browned. A BRIDESMAID. Dicaeopolis! Dicaeopolis! DICAEOPOLIS. Who are you? BRIDESMAID. A young bridegroom sends you these viands from the marriage feast. DICAEOPOLIS. Whoever he be, I thank him. BRIDESMAID. And in return, he prays you to pour a glass of peace into this vase, that he may not have to go to the front and may stay at home to do his duty to his young wife. 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!