Lam. What are you doing?
You varlet, would you use my plume for a vomit?
Dic. A plume, do you call it? What does it belong to?
Lam. To a bird—
Dic. To a cock lorrel, does it not? 740
Lam. Ah, you shall die. [A scuffle, in which Lamachus is foiled.
Dic. No, Lamachus, not so fast.
That's rather a point above you, stout as you are.
Lam. Is this the sort of language for a beggar
To use to a commander such as me?
Dic. A beggar am I?
Lam. Why, what else are you?
Dic. I'll tell ye! an honest man; that's what I am.
A citizen that has served his time in the army,
As a foot-soldier, fairly; not like you,
Pilfering, and drawing pay, with a pack of foreigners.
Lam. They voted me a command.
Dic. Who voted it? 750
A parcel of cuckoos! Well, I've made my peace.
In short, I could not abide the thing, not I;
To see grey-headed men serve in the ranks,
And lads like you despatched upon commissions;
Some skulking away to Thrace, with their three drachmas;
Tisamenus's, Chares's, and Geres's,
Cheats, coxcombs, vagabonds, and Phænippus's,
And Theodorus's sent off to Gela,[1]
And Catana, and Camarina, and the Catamountains.
Lam. It past by a vote.
Dic. But what's the reason, pray, 760
For you to be sent out with salaries always,
And none of these good people? You, Marilades,[2]
Have you been ever sent on an embassy?
You're old enough. He shakes his head. Not he!
Yet he's a hardworking steady sober man.
And you, Euphorides, Prinides,[2] and the rest,
Have you ever been out into Chaonia,
Or up to Ecbatana?—no, not one of ye.
