turn where you came from."

CHORUS Oh! joy, joy! no more helmet, no more cheese nor onions!(1) No, I
have no passion for battles; what I love, is to drink with good comrades
in the corner by the fire when good dry wood, cut in the height of the
summer, is crackling; it is to cook pease on the coals and beechnuts
among the embers, 'tis to kiss our pretty Thracian(2) while my wife is
at the bath. Nothing is more pleasing, when the rain is sprouting our
sowings, than to chat with some friend, saying, "Tell me, Comarchides,
what shall we do? I would willingly drink myself, while the heavens are
watering our fields. Come, wife, cook three measures of beans, adding
to them a little wheat, and give us some figs. Syra! call Manes off the
fields, 'tis impossible to prune the vine or to align the ridges, for
the ground is too wet to-day. Let someone bring me the thrush and those
two chaffinches; there were also some curds and four pieces of hare,
unless the cat stole them last evening, for I know not what the infernal
noise was that I heard in the house. Serve up three of the pieces for
me, slave, and give the fourth to my father. Go and ask Aeschinades for
some myrtle branches with berries on them, and then, for 'tis the same
road, you will invite Charinades to come and drink with me to the honour
of the gods who watch over our crops." When the grasshopper sings his
dulcet tune, I love to see the Lemnian vines beginning to ripen, for
'tis the earliest plant of all. I love likewise to watch the fig filling
out, and when it has reached maturity I eat with appreciation and
exclaim, "Oh! delightful season!" Then too I bruise some thyme and
infuse it in water. Indeed I grow a great deal fatter passing the summer
in this way than in watching a cursed captain with his three plumes
and his military cloak of a startling crimson (he calls it true Sardian
purple), which he takes care to dye himself with Cyzicus saffron in
a battle; then he is the first to run away, shaking his plumes like a
great yellow prancing cock,(3) while I am left to watch the nets.(4)
Once back again in Athens, these brave fellows behave abominably; they
write down these, they scratch through others, and this backwards
and forwards two or three times at random. The departure is set for
to-morrow, and some citizen has brought no provisions, because he didn't
know he had to go; he stops in front of the statue of Pandion,(5) reads
his name, is dumbfounded and starts awa