, and told
her in a loud voice that unless she stopped hurting Giton, I would use
every ounce of my strength against her, reprobate woman that she was,
the only person aboard the ship who deserved a flogging. Lycas was
furiously angry at my hardihood, nor was he less enraged at my
abandoning my own cause, to take up that of another, in so wholehearted
a manner. Inflamed as she was by this affront, Tryphaena was as furious
as he, so the whole ship's company was divided into two factions. On
our side, the hired barber armed himself with a razor and served out the
others to us; on their side, Tryphaena's retainers prepared to battle
with their bare fists, nor was the scolding of female warriors unheard
in the battle-line. The pilot was neutral, but he declared that unless
this madness, stirred up by the lechery of a couple of vagabonds, died
down, he would let go the helm! The fury of the combatants continued to
rage none the less fiercely, nevertheless, they fighting for revenge, we
for life. Many fell on each side, though none were mortally wounded,
and more, bleeding from wounds, retreated, as from a real battle, but
the fury of neither side abated. At last the gallant Giton turned the
menacing razor against his own virile parts, and threatened to cut away
the cause of so many misfortunes. This was too much for Tryphaena; she
prevented the perpetration of so horrid a crime by the out and out
promise of quarter. Time and time again, I lifted the barber's blade to
my throat, but I had no more intention of killing myself than had Giton
of doing what he threatened, but he acted out the tragic part more
realistically than I, as it was, because he knew that he held in his
hand the same razor with which he had already cut his throat. The lines
still stood at the ready, and it was plain to be seen that this would be
no everyday affair, when the pilot, with difficulty, prevailed upon
Tryphaena to undertake the office of herald, and propose a truce; so,
when pledges of good faith had been given and received, in keeping with
the ancient precedent she snatched an olive-branch from the ship's
figurehead and, holding it out, advanced boldly to parley.

"What fury," she exclaims, "turns peace to war? What evil deed
Was by these hands committed? Trojan hero there is none
Absconding in this ship with bride of Atreus' cuckold seed
Nor crazed Medea, stained by life's blood of her father's son!
But passion