Trygæus.
Enough, an you love me, cease your gambols.
Chorus.
There! ’Tis over.
Trygæus.
You say so, and nevertheless you go on.
Chorus.
Yet one more figure and ’tis done.
Trygæus.
Well, just this one; then you must dance no more.
Chorus.
No, no more dancing, if we can help you.
Trygæus.
But look, you are not stopping even now.
Chorus.
By Zeus, I am only throwing up my right leg, that’s all.
Trygæus.
Come, I grant you that, but pray, annoy me no further.
Chorus.
Ah! the left leg too will have its fling; well, ’tis but its right. I am so happy, so delighted at not having to carry my buckler any more. I sing and I laugh more than if I had cast my old age, as a serpent does its skin.
Trygæus.
No, ’tis no time for joy yet, for you are not sure of success. But when you have got the goddess, then rejoice, shout and laugh; thenceforward you will be able to sail or stay at home, to make love or sleep, to attend festivals and processions, to play at cottabos,[1] live like true Sybarites and to shout, Io, io!
- ↑ One of the most favourite games with the Greeks. A stick was set upright in the ground and to this the beam of a balance was attached by its centre. Two vessels were hung from the extremities of
