Tumult.
The Spartans too have lost their pestle.
War.
How, varlet?
Tumult.
They had lent it to their allies in Thrace,[1] who have lost it for them.
Trygæus.
Long life to you, Thracians! My hopes revive, pluck up courage, mortals!
War.
Take all this stuff away; I am going in to make a pestle for myself.
Trygæus.
’Tis now the time to sing as Datis did, as he masturbated himself at high noon, “Oh pleasure! oh enjoyment! oh delights!” ’Tis now, oh Greeks! the moment when freed of quarrels and fighting, we should rescue sweet Peace and draw her out of this pit, before some other pestle prevents us. Come, labourers, merchants, workmen, artisans, strangers, whether you be domiciled or not, islanders, come here, Greeks of all countries, come hurrying here with picks and levers and ropes! ’Tis the moment to drain a cup in honour of the Good Genius.
Chorus.
Come hither, all! quick, quick, hasten to the rescue! All peoples of Greece, now is the time or never, for you to help each other. You see yourselves freed from battles and all their horrors of bloodshed. The day, hateful to Lamachus,[2] has come. Come then, what must be done?
- ↑ Brasidas perished in Thrace in the same battle as Cleon at Amphipolis, 422 B.C.
- ↑ An Athenian general as ambitious as he was brave. In 423 B.C. he had failed in an enterprise against Heraclea, a storm having destroyed his fleet. Since then he had distinguished himself in several actions, and was destined, some years later, to share the command of the expedition to Sicily with Alcibiades and Nicias.
