Dialogi meretricii

Lysias Pythias? Then her hair has grown pretty fast in five days.

Foessa She has been ill, and her hair was falling off, and she had to have it cropped. And now she has got false hair. Pythias, show him that it is so. Behold your rival, Lysias! this is the young gentleman of whom you were jealous.

Lysias And what lover would not have been jealous? I had the evidence of my hands, remember.

Foessa Well, you know better now. Suppose I were to return you evil for evil? What should you say to that? It is my turn to be angry with you now.

Lycinus No, you mustn’t be angry. We will have some wine, and Pythias must join us; the truce cannot be ratified without her.

Foessa Of course not. A pretty scrape you have led me into, Pythias, you nice young man!

Pythias The nice young man has led you out of it again too, so you must forgive him. I say, Lysias, you need not tell any one—about my hair, you know.

Leontichus And then that battle with the Galatians; tell her about that, Chenidas—how I rode out in front on the grey, and the Galatians (brave fellows, those Galatians, too)—but they ran away directly they saw me; not a man stood his ground. That time, you know, I used my lance for a javelin, and sent it through their captain and his horse as well; and then, as some of them

Chenidas Oh, but that duel of yours with the satrap in Paphlagonia! that was a fine display, too.

Leontichus Well remembered; yes, that was not so bad, either. A great big fellow that satrap was, supposed to be a champion fighter too—thought nothing of Greek science. Out he came, and challenged all comers to single combat. There was consternation among our officers, from the lowest to the general himself—though he was a pretty good man. Aristaechmus the Aetolian he was—very strong on the javelin; I was only a colonel then. However, I was not afraid. I shook off the friends who clung to me—they were anxious about me when they saw the barbarian resplendent in his gilded armour, towering high with his terrible plume and brandishing his lance—

Chenidas Yes, I was afraid that time; you remember how I clung to you and besought you not to sacrifice yourself; life would not have been worth living, if you had fallen.

Leontichus I ventured it, though. Out I went, as well armed as the Paphlagonian, all gold like him. What a shout there was on both sides! the barbarians recognized me too; they knew my buckler and medals and plume. Who was it they all compared me to, Chenidas?

Chenidas Why, who should it be? Achilles, of course; the son of Peleus and Thetis, of course. Your helmet was so magnificent, your purple so rich, your buckler so dazzling.

Leontichus We met. The barbarian drew first blood—just a scratch with his lance a little above the knee; but my great spear drove