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Updated: May 13, 2025
No other idyl of Theocritus is so frankly true to the rough side of rustic manners. The scene is in Southern Italy. Comatas. Goats of mine, keep clear of that notorious shepherd of Sibyrtas, that Lacon; he stole my goat-skin yesterday. Lacon. Will ye never leave the well-head? Off, my lambs, see ye not Comatas; him that lately stole my shepherd's pipe? Comatas.
What manner of pipe might that be, for when gat'st THOU a pipe, thou slave of Sibyrtas? Why does it no more suffice thee to keep a flute of straw, and whistle with Corydon? Lacon. What pipe, free sir? why, the pipe that Lycon gave me. And what manner of goat-skin hadst thou, that Lacon made off with? Tell me, Comatas, for truly even thy master, Eumarides, had never a goat- skin to sleep in.
Yes, dear Morson, for the nymphs' sake neither lean in thy judgment to Comatas, nor, prithee, favour HIM. The flock of sheep thou seest here belongs to Sibyrtas of Thurii, and the goats, friend, that thou beholdest are the goats of Eumarides of Sybaris. Lacon. Now, in the name of Zeus did any one ask thee, thou make- mischief, who owned the flock, I or Sibyrtas? What a chatterer thou art!
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