aeschylus - Conscious Evolution TV

And dancing-girls, "Harmodius' dearest ones."
So pray make haste.
La. 0 wretched, wretched mel
Di. Aye the great Gorgon 'twas you chose for
patron.
Now close the house, and pack the supper up.
La. Boy, bring me out my soldier's knapsack
here.
Di. Boy, bring me out my supper-basket here.
La. Boy, bring me onions, with some thymy salt.
Di. For me, fish-fillets: onions I detest.
La. Boy, bring me here a leaf of rotten flSh.
Di. A tit-bit leaf for me; I'll toast it there.
La. Now bring me here my helmet's double
plume.
Di. And bring me here my thrushes and ringdoves.
La. How nice and white this ostrich-plume to
view.
Di. How nice and brown this pigeon's flesh to eat.
La. Man, don't keep jeering at my armour so.
Di. Man, don't keep peering at my thrushes so.
La. Bring me the casket with the three crests in
it.
Di. Bring me the basket with the hare's flesh in it.
La. Surely the moths my crest have eaten up.
Di. Sure this hare-soup I'll eat before I sup.
La. Fellow. I'll thank you not to talk to me.
Di. Nay, but the boy and I, we can't agree.
Come will you bet, and Lamachus decide,
Locusts or thrushes, which the daintier are?
La. Insolent knave I
Di. (to the boy) Locusts, he says, by far.
La. Boy, boy, take down the spear, and bring it
here.
Di. Boy, take the sweetbread off and bring it
here.
La. Hold firmly to the spear whilst I pull off
The case.
Di. And you, hold firmly to the spit.
La. Boy, bring the framework to support my
shield.
Di. Boy, bring the bakemeats to support my
frame.
La. Bring here the grim-backed circle of the
shield.
Di. And here the cheese-backed circle of the cake.
La. Is not this-mockery, plain for men to see?
Di. Is not this-cheese-cake, sweet for men to
eat?
La. Pour on the oil, boy. Gazing on my shield,
I see an old man tried for cowardliness.
Di. Pour on the honey. Gazing on my cake,
I see an old man mocking Lamachus.
La. Bring me a casque, to arm the outer man.
Di. Bring me a cask to warm the inner man.
La. With this I'll arm myself against the foe.
Di. With this I'll warm myself against the feast.
La. Boy, lash the blankets up against the shield.
Di. Boy, lash the supper up against the chest.
La. Myself will bear my knapsack for myself.
Di. Myself will wear my wraps, and haste away.
ARISTOPHANES
La. Take up the shidd, my boy, and bring it on.
Snowing I good lack, a wintry prospect mine.
Di. Take up the chest; a suppery prospect mine.
Exeunt DICAEOPOLIS and LAMACHUS.
CII. Off to your duties, my heroes bold.
Different truly the paths ye tread;
One to drink with wreaths on his head;
One to watch, and shiver with cold,
Lonely, the while his antagonist passes
The sweetest of hours with the sweetest of lasses.
Pray we that Zeus calmly reduce
to destruction emphatic and utter
That meanest of poets and meanest of men,
Antimachus, offspring of Sputter;
The Choregus who sent me away
without any supper at all
At the feast of Lenaea; I pray,
two Woes that Choregus befall.
May he hanker for a dish of the subtle cuttle-fish;
May he see the cuttle sailing
through its brine and through its oil,
On its little table lying,
hot and hissing from the frying,
Till it anchor close beside him,
when alas I and woe betide himl
As he reaches forth his hand
for the meal the Gods provide him,
Maya dog snatch and carry off the spoil, off the
. spoil,
Maya dog snatch and carry off the Spoil.
Duly the first Woe is rehearsed;
attend whilst the other I'm telling.
It is night, and our gentleman, after a ride,
is returning on foot to his dwelling;
With ague he's sorely bested,
and he's feeling uncommonly ill,
When suddenly down on his head
comes Orestes's club with a will.
'Tis Orestes, hero mad,
'tis the drunkard and the pad.
Then stooping in the darkness
let him grope about the place,
If his hand can find a brickbat at Orestes to be flung;
But instead of any brickbat
may he grasp a podge of dung,
And rushing on with this, Orestes may he miss,
And hit young Cratinus in the face, in the face,
And hit young Cratinus in the face.
Enter ATTENDANT.
AttentJant. Varlets who dwell in Lamachus's halls,
Heat water, knaves, heat water in a pot.
Make ready lint, and salves, and greasy wool,
And ankle-bandages. Your lord is hurt,
Pierced by a stake whilst leaping o'er a trench.
Then, twisting round, he wrenched his ankle out,
And, falling, cracked his skull upon a stone;
And shocked the sleeping Gorgon from his shield.
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