But, alas, my sixty winters and my sad rheumatic pain
Break my speed and spoil my running,—and that old unlucky sprain.
He's escaped—
2nd Semichorus. But we'll pursue him. Whether we be fast or slow,
He shall learn to dread the peril of an old Acharnian foe.
Ο Supreme Powers above,
Merciful Father Jove, 270
Oh, the vile miscreant wretch;
How did he dare,
How did he presume in his unutterable villany to make a peace,
Peace with the detestable, abominable Spartan race.
No, the war must not end—
Never end—till the whole Spartan tribe
Are reduced, trampled down,
Tied and bound, hand and foot.
Chorus. Now we must renew the search, pursuing at a steady pace,
Soon or late we shall secure him, hunted down from place to place. 280
Look about like eager marksmen, ready with your slings and stones.
How I long to fall upon him, the villain, and to smash his bones!
Enter Dicæopolis, his Wife and Daughter, a Slave, etc.
Dic. Peace, Peace.
Silence, Silence.
Chorus. Stand aside! Keep out of sight! List to the sacrificial cries!
There he comes, the very fellow, going out to sacrifice.
Wait and watch him for a minute, we shall have him by surprise.
Dic. Silence! move forward, the Canephora;
You, Xanthias, follow close behind her there,
In a proper manner, with your pole and emblem. 290
Wife. Set down the basket, daughter, and begin
The ceremony.
