Boeotus: I'm going, Heracles, I've been badly beaten in the fight;
860
Boeotus: Put down the parsley, Ismenia, carefully.
Boeotus: And you, as many as flute-players from Thebes have come
Boeotus: Blow on the anus of a dog with the blowpipe.
Dikaiopolis: Stop, to the crows! Are the wasps not from the doors?
Dikaiopolis: Where have those who were washed badly flown up from?
865
Dikaiopolis: 'Chaireas, are the bomboloi at the door for me?'
Boeotus: By Iolaus, you are very welcome, stranger.
Boiotos: For they are breathing back at me from behind.
Boeotus: The thyme and the rue they pulled up from the ground.
Boeotus: But if you want anything, buy it from what I am bringing.
870
Boeotus: of the quails or of the four-winged ones.
Dicaeopolis: hail, Boeotian bean-eater.
Dikaiopolis: What are you bringing?
Boeotus: whatever is good for the Boeotians, simply,
Boeotus: marjoram, glax, psithos, wick-tapers
Boeotus: quails, jackdaws, partridges, partridges
875
Boeotus: swimming quickly.
Dikaiopolis: Just like winter, then.
Dikaiopolis: You have come to the marketplace with a basket of birds.
Boeotus: Yes, by Zeus, I bring geese, hares, and foxes.
Boeotus: scallops, sea urchins, wild cats, and spotted fish.
Boeotus: water-hawks, water-eels of Copais.
880
Dikaiopolis: O most delightful portion you bring to men,
Dikaiopolis: give me permission to address you, if you are willing, the eels.
Boeotus: fifty daughters of the Copeans, a messenger-woman,
Boeotus: Get out of this way and also make yourself agreeable to the stranger.
Dicaeopolis: O my dearest one, long desired,
885
Dikaiopolis: You have come, longed for by the tragic choruses,
Dikaiopolis: Dear to Morchos. Slaves, carry him out!
Dikaiopolis: bring me the brazier here and the shield.
Dicaeopolis: consider, children, the finest eel,
Dicaeopolis: they have come, only in the sixth year longed for;
890
Dikaiopolis: tell her, my children; but as for charcoal, I...
Dikaiopolis: I will provide for you the benefit of this stranger.
Dikaiopolis: But throw it at her; for not even when dead will she [ever] [be able to speak].
Dicaeopolis: May I be without you, having been rubbed smooth.
