Daughter. Give me the cruet, mother,
And let me pour it upon the holy cake.
Dic. Oh, blessed Bacchus, what a joy it is
To go thus unmolested, undisturbed,
My wife, my children, and my family,
With our accustomed joyful ceremony,
To celebrate thy festival in my farm.
Well, here's success to the truce of thirty years. 300
Wife. Mind your behaviour, child; carry the basket
In a modest proper manner; look demure
And grave; a happy fellow will he be
That has the rummaging of ye. Come, move on.
Mind your gold trinkets, they'll be stolen else.
Dic. Follow behind there, Xanthias, with the pole,
And I'll strike up the bacchanalian chaunt.
Wife, you must be spectator; go within,
And mount to the housetop to behold us pass. [Sings.
Leader of the revel rout, 310
Of the drunken roar and shout,
Crazy mirth and saucy jesting,
Frolic and intrigue clandestine!
Half a dozen years are passed,[1]
Here we meet in peace at last.
All my wars and fights are o'er;
Other battles please me more,
With my neighbour's maid, the Thracian,
Found marauding in the wood;
Seizing on the fair occasion, 320
With a quick retaliation
Making an immediate booty
Of her innocence and beauty.
If a drunken head should ache,
Bones and heads we never break.
If we quarrel overnight;
At a full carousing soak,
In the morning all is right;
And the shield hung out of sight
In the chimney smoke. 330
- ↑ This comedy was produced in 425 B.C., the sixth year of the Peloponnesian war.
