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And how we stole the kneading-trough from that old baker's wife,

Split it, and fried our rations with it?—Ha, ha!—Ay, that was life!

Shakspeare had assuredly never read 'The Wasps;' but the mixture of the farcical with the pathetic which always accompanies the garrulous reminiscences of old age, and which Aristophanes introduces frequently in his comedies, is common to both these keen observers. In the comrades of the old Athenian's youth we seem to recognise Master Shallow's quondam contemporaries: "There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barr, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele, a Cotswold man,—you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the Inns of Court again. O the mad days that I have spent! and to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead!"

A battle-royal takes place on the stage; the Wasps, with their formidable stings, trying to storm the house, while the son and his retainers defend their position with clubs and other weapons, and especially by raising a dense smoke, which is known to be very effective against such an enemy.

The Wasps are driven back, and the old gentleman and his son agree upon a compromise. Bdelycleon promises, on condition that his father will no longer attend the public trials, to establish a little private tribunal for him at home. He shall there take cognisance of all domestic offences; with this great advantage, that if it rains or snows he can hold his courts