The Eleven Comedies, vol 1, page 118 by Aristophanes
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e, at the very bottom. And you see what heaps of stones he has piled over the top, so that you should never pull her out again.
TRYGAEUS. Tell me, what is War preparing against us?
HERMES. All I know is that last evening he brought along a huge mortar.
TRYGAEUS. And what is he going to do with his mortar?
HERMES. He wants to pound up all the cities of Greece in it.... But I must say good-bye, for I think he is coming out; what an uproar he is making!
TRYGAEUS. Ah! great gods! let us seek safety; meseems I already hear the noise of this fearful war mortar.
WAR (enters carrying a mortar). Oh! mortals, mortals, wretched mortals, how your jaws will snap!
TRYGAEUS. Oh! divine Apollo! what a prodigious big mortar! Oh, what misery the very sight of War causes me! This then is the foe from whom I fly, who is so cruel, so formidable, so stalwart, so solid on his legs!
WAR. Oh! Prasiae![275] thrice wretched, five times, aye, a thousand times wretched! for thou shalt be destroyed this day.
TRYGAEUS. This does not yet concern us over much; 'tis only so much the worse for the Laconians.
WAR. Oh! Megara! Megara! how utterly are you going to be ground up! what fine mincemeat[276] are you to be made into!
TRYGAEUS. Alas! alas! what bitter tears there will be among the Megarians![277]
WAR. Oh, Sicily! you too must perish! Your wretched towns shall be grated like this cheese.[278] Now let us pour some Attic honey[279] into the mortar.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! I beseech you! use some other honey; this kind is worth four obols; be careful, oh! be careful of our Attic honey.
WAR. Hi! Tumult, you slave there!
TUMULT. What do you want?
WAR. Out upon you! You stand there with folded arms. Take this cuff o' the head for your pains.
TUMULT. Oh! how it stings! Master, have you got garlic in your fist, I wonder?
WAR. Run and fetch me a pestle.
TUMULT. But we haven't got one; 'twas only yesterd