AMPHITHEUS. No, there is no welcome for me and I fly as fast as I can, for I am pursued by the Acharnians.
DICAEOPOLIS. Why, what has happened?
AMPHITHEUS. I was hurrying to bring your treaty of truce, but some old dotards from Acharnae[180] got scent of the thing; they are veterans of Marathon, tough as oak or maple, of which they are made for sure--rough and ruthless. They all set to a-crying, "Wretch! you are the bearer of a treaty, and the enemy has only just cut our vines!" Meanwhile they were gathering stones in their cloaks, so I fled and they ran after me shouting.
DICAEOPOLIS. Let 'em shout as much as they please! But have you brought me a treaty?
AMPHITHEUS. Most certainly, here are three samples to select from,[181] this one is five years old; take it and taste.
DICAEOPOLIS. Faugh!
AMPHITHEUS. Well?
DICAEOPOLIS. It does not please me; it smells of pitch and of the ships they are fitting out.[182]
[180] The deme of Acharnae was largely inhabited by charcoal-burners, who supplied the city with fuel.
[181] He presents them in the form of wines contained in three separate skins.