Greek Texts & Translations

COMATAS
5.120 Somebody’s waxing wild, Morson; see you not what is plain?
Go pluck him squills from an oldwife’s grave to cool his heated brain.

LACON
5.122 Nay, I be nettling somebody; do you not see it, then?
Be off to Haleis bank, Morson, and dig him some cyclamen.

COMATAS
5.124 Let Himera’s stream run white with cream, and Crathis, as for thine,
Mid apple-bearing beds or reed may it run red with wine.

LACON
5.126 Let Sybaris’ well spring honey for me, and ere the sun is up
May the wench that goes for water draw honeycombs for my cup.

COMATAS
5.128 My goats eat goat-grass, mine, and browze upon the clover,
Tread mastich green and lie between the arbutes waving over.

LACON
5.130 It may be so, but I’ld have ye know these pretty sheep of mine
Browze rock-roses in plenty and sweet as eglantine.

COMATAS
5.132 When I brought the cushat ‘tother night ‘tis true Alcippa kissed me,
But alack! she forgot to kiss by the pot, ^note and since, poor wench, she’s missed me.

LACON
5.134 When fair Eumédes took the pipe that was his lover’s token
He kissed him sweet as sweet could be; his lover’s love unbroken.

COMATAS
5.136 ‘Tis nature’s law that no jackdaw with nightingale shall bicker,
Nor owl ^note with swan, but poor Lacòn was born a quarrel-picker.

MORSON
5.138 I bid the shepherd cease. You, Comatas, may take the lamb; and when you offer her to the Nymphs be sure you presently send poor Morson a well-laden platter.

COMATAS
5.140 That will I, ‘fore Pan. Come, snort ye, my merry buck-goats all. Look you how great a laugh I have of shepherd Lacon for that I have at last achieved the lamb. Troth, I’ll caper you to the welkin. Horned she-goats mine, frisk it and be merry; tomorrow I’ll wash you one and all in Sybaris’ lake. What, Whitecoat, thou butt-head! if thou leave not poke the she’s, before ever I sacrifice the lamb to the Nymphs I’ll break every bone in thy body. Lo there! he’s at it again. If I break thee not, be my last end the end of Melanthius. ^note