olive-tree and I cut open your bottom with such vigorous lashes that
folks thought you had been pedicated. Get away, you are ungrateful. But
let go of me, and you too, before my son comes up.

CHORUS. You shall repay us for all this and 'twill not be long first.
Tremble at our ferocious glance; you shall taste our just anger.

BDELYCLEON. Strike! strike, Xanthias! Drive these wasps away from the
house.

XANTHIAS. That's just what I am doing; but do you smoke them out
thoroughly too.

SOSIAS. You will not go? The plague seize you! Will you not clear off?
Xanthias, strike them with your stick!

XANTHIAS. And you, to smoke them out better, throw Aeschinus, the son of
Selartius, on the fire. Ah! we were bound to drive you off in the end.

BDELYCLEON. Eh! by Zeus! you would not have put them to flight so easily
if they had fed on the verses of Philocles.

CHORUS. It is clear to all the poor that tyranny has attacked us sorely.
Proud emulator of Amynias, you, who only take pleasure in doing ill, see
how you are preventing us from obeying the laws of the city; you do not
even seek a pretext or any plausible excuse, but claim to rule alone.

BDELYCLEON. Hold! A truce to all blows and brawling! Had we not better
confer together and come to some understanding?