TRYGAEUS. Let him learn to fit a handle to them and he can sell them for more money.[386]
SPEAR-MAKER. Let us be off, comrade.
TRYGAEUS. No, I want to buy these spears.
SPEAR-MAKER. What will you give?
TRYGAEUS. If they could be split in two, I would take them at a drachma per hundred to use as vine-props.
SPEAR-MAKER. The insolent dog! Let us go, friend.
TRYGAEUS. Ah! here come the guests, children from the table to relieve themselves; I fancy they also want to hum over what they will be singing presently. Hi! child! what do you reckon to sing? Stand there and give me the opening line.
THE SON OF LAMACHUS. "Glory to the young warriors…."
TRYGAEUS. Oh! leave off about your young warriors, you little wretch; we are at peace and you are an idiot and a rascal.
SON OF LAMACHUS. "The skirmish begins, the hollow bucklers clash against each other."[387]