Blood cannot please Peace, so let us spill none upon her altar.
Then go and sacrifice the sheep in the house, cut off the legs and
bring them here; thus the carcase will be saved for the Choregus.
(The SERVANT goes into the house with the sheep.)
You, who remain here, get chopped wood and everything needed for
the sacrifice ready.
Don't I look like a diviner preparing his mystic fire?
Undoubtedly. Will anything that a wise man ought to know escape
you? Don't you know all that a man should know, who is distinguished
for his wisdom and inventive daring?
There! the wood catches. Its smoke blinds poor Stilbides. I am now
going to bring the table and thus be my own slave.
(He goes into the house.)
You have braved a thousand dangers to save your sacred town. All
honour to you I your glory will be ever envied.
TRYGAEUS (returning with a table)
Wait. Here are the legs, place them upon the altar. For myself,
I mean to go back to the entrails and the cakes.
(He is about to go into the house.)
SERVANT (going in ahead of him)
I'll take care of them.
But I want you here.
Well then, here I am. Do you think I have taken long?
Just get this roasted. Ab who is this man, crowned with laurel,
who is coming to me?
He has a self-important look; is he some diviner?
No, it's Hierocles, that oracle-monger from Oreus.
What is he going to tell us?
Evidently he is coming to oppose the peace.
No, it's the odour of the fat that attracts him.
Let us appear not to see him.
What sacrifice is this? to what god are you offering it?
TRYGAEUS (to the SERVANT)
Keep quiet.-(Aloud) Look after the roasting and keep your hands of
To whom are you sacrificing? Answer me.
Ah! the tail is showing favourable omens.
Aye, very favourable, oh, loved and mighty Peace!
Come, cut off the first offering and make the oblation.
It's not roasted enough.