Page:The Eleven Comedies (1912) Vol 1.djvu/229

Rh Boulomachus or Clausimachus; go and sing your plaguey songs to the spearmen. Where is the son of Cleonymus? Sing me something before going back to the feast. I am at least certain he will not sing of battles, for his father is far too careful a man.

“An inhabitant of Saïs is parading with the spotless shield which I regret to say I have thrown into a thicket.”

Tell me, you little good-for-nothing, are you singing that for your father?

“But I saved my life.”

And dishonoured your family. But let us go in; I am very certain, that being the son of such a father, you will never forget this song of the buckler. You, who remain to the feast, ’tis your duty to devour dish after dish and not to ply empty jaws. Come, put heart into the work and eat with your mouths full. For, believe me, poor friends, white teeth are useless furniture, if they chew nothing.

Never fear; thanks all the same for your good advice.

You, who yesterday were dying of hunger, come, stuff yourselves with this fine hare-stew; ’tis not every day that we find cakes lying neglected. Eat, eat, or I predict you will soon regret it.