horse-radish, etc.

A SPEAR-MAKER Ah! poor helmet-maker, things are indeed in a bad way.

TRYGAEUS That man has no cause for complaint.

SPEAR-MAKER But helmets will be no more used.

TRYGAEUS Let him learn to fit a handle to them and he can sell them for
more money.(1)

f(1) As wine-pots or similar vessels.

SPEAR-MAKER Let us be off, comrade.

TRYGAEUS No, I want to buy these spears.

SPEAR-MAKER What will you give?

TRYGAEUS If they could be split in two, I would take them at a drachma
per hundred to use as vine-props.

SPEAR-MAKER The insolent dog! Let us go, friend.

TRYGAEUS Ah! here come the guests, children from the table to relieve
themselves; I fancy they also want to hum over what they will be singing
presently. Hi! child! what do you reckon to sing? Stand there and give
me the opening line.

THE SON OF LAMACHUS "Glory to the young warriors..."

TRYGAEUS Oh! leave off about your young warriors, you little wretch; we
are at peace and you are an idiot and a rascal.

SON OF LAMACHUS "The skirmish begins, the hollow bucklers clash against
each other."(1)

f(1) These verses and those which both Trygaeus and the son
of Lamachus quote afterwards are borrowed from the 'Iliad.'

TRYGAEUS Bucklers! Leave me in peace with your bucklers.

SON OF LAMACHUS "And then there came groanings and shouts of victory."

TRYGAEUS Groanings! ah! by Bacchus! look out for yourself, you cursed
squaller, if you start wearying us again with your groanings and hollow
bucklers.

SON OF LAMACHUS Then what should I sing? Tell me what pleases you.

TRYGAEUS "'Tis thus they feasted on the flesh of oxen," or something
similar, as, for instance, "Everything that could tickle the palate was
placed on the table."

SON OF LAMACHUS "'Tis thus they feasted on the flesh of oxen and, tired
of warfare, unharnessed their foaming steeds."

TRYGAEUS That's splendid; tired of warfare, they seat themselves at
table; sing, sing to us how they still go on eating after they are
satiated.

SON OF LAMACHUS "The meal over, they girded themselves..."

TRYGAEUS With good wine, no doubt?

SON OF LAMACHUS "...with armour and rushed forth from the towers, and a
terrible shout arose."

TRYGAEUS Get you gone, you little scapegrace, you and your battles! You
sing of nothing but warfare. Who is your father then?

SON OF LAMACHUS My father?

TRYGAEUS Why yes, your father.

SON OF LAMACHUS I am Lamachus' son.

TRYGAEUS O