CHORUS. Come then, come, and all together! Hah! hah! at last there is some unanimity in the work. Don't let us give up, let us redouble our efforts. There! now we have it! Come then, all together! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! All together! (_Peace is drawn out of the pit._) TRYGAEUS. Oh! venerated goddess, who givest us our grapes, where am I to find the ten-thousand-gallon words[306] wherewith to greet thee? I have none such at home. Oh! hail to thee, Opora,[307] and thou, Theoria![308] How beautiful is thy face! How sweet thy breath! What gentle fragrance comes from thy bosom, gentle as freedom from military duty, as the most dainty perfumes! HERMES. Is it then a smell like a soldier's knapsack? CHORUS. Oh! hateful soldier! your hideous satchel makes me sick! it stinks like the belching of onions, whereas this lovable deity has the odour of sweet fruits, of festivals, of the Dionysia, of the harmony of flutes, of the comic poets, of the verses of Sophocles, of the phrases of Euripides... TRYGAEUS. That's a foul calumny, you wretch! She detests that framer of subtleties and quibbles. CHORUS. ... of ivy, of straining-bags for wine, of bleating ewes, of provision-laden women hastening to the kitchen, of the tipsy servant wench, of the upturned wine-jar, and of a whole heap of other good things. HERMES. Then look how the reconciled towns chat pleasantly together, how they laugh; and yet they are all cruelly mishandled; their wounds are bleeding still. TRYGAEUS. But let us also scan the mien of the spectators; we shall thus find out the trade of each. HERMES. Ah! good gods! look at that poor crest-maker, tearing at his hair,[309] and at that pike-maker, who has just broken wind in yon sword-cutler's face. TRYGAEUS. And do you see with what pleasure this sickle-maker is making long noses at the spear-maker? HERMES. Now ask the husbandmen to be off. TRYGAEUS. Listen, good folk! Let the husbandmen take their farming tools and return to their fields as quick as possible, but without either sword, spear or javelin. All is as quiet as if Peace had been reigning for a century. Come, let everyone go till the earth, singing the Paean. CHORUS. Oh, thou, whom men of standing desired and who art good to husbandmen, I have gazed upon thee with delight; and now I go to greet my vines, to caress after so long an absence the fig trees I planted in my youth. TRYGAEUS. Friends, let us first adore the goddess, who has delivered us from crests and Gorgons;[310] then let us hurry to our farms, having first bought a nice little piece of salt fish to eat in the fields. HERMES. By Posidon! what a fine crew they make and dense as the crust of a cake; they are as nimble as guests on their way to a feast.