TRYGAEUS. No, but like an honest woman, show thyself to thy worshippers, who are worn with regretting thee all these thirteen years. Hush the noise of battle, be a true Lysimacha to us.[361] Put an end to this tittle-tattle, to this idle babble, that set us defying one another. Cause the Greeks once more to taste the pleasant beverage of friendship and temper all hearts with the gentle feeling of forgiveness. Make excellent commodities flow to our markets, fine heads of garlic, early cucumbers, apples, pomegranates and nice little cloaks for the slaves; make them bring geese, ducks, pigeons and larks from Boeotia and baskets of eels from Lake Copaïs; we shall all rush to buy them, disputing their possession with Morychus, Teleas, Glaucetes and every other glutton. Melanthius[362] will arrive on the market last of all; 'twill be, "no more eels, all sold!" and then he'll start a-groaning and exclaiming as in his monologue of Medea,[363] "I am dying, I am dying! Alas! I have let those hidden in the beet escape me!"[364] And won't we laugh? These are the wishes, mighty goddess, which we pray thee to grant. SERVANT. Take the knife and slaughter the sheep like a finished cook. TRYGAEUS. No, the goddess does not wish it.[365] SERVANT. And why not? TRYGAEUS. Blood cannot please Peace, so let us spill none upon her altar. Therefore go and sacrifice the sheep in the house, cut off the legs and bring them here; thus the carcase will be saved for the choragus. CHORUS. You, who remain here, get chopped wood and everything needed for the sacrifice ready. TRYGAEUS. Don't I look like a diviner preparing his mystic fire? CHORUS. Undoubtedly. Will anything that it behoves a wise man to know escape you? Don't you know all that a man should know, who is distinguished for his wisdom and inventive daring? TRYGAEUS. There! the wood catches. Its smoke blinds poor Stilbides.[366] I am now going to bring the table and thus be my own slave. CHORUS. You have braved a thousand dangers to save your sacred town. All honour to you! your glory will be ever envied. SERVANT. Hold! here are the legs, place them upon the altar. For myself, I mean to go back to the entrails and the cakes. TRYGAEUS. I'll see to those; I want you here. SERVANT. Well then, here I am. Do you think I have been long? TRYGAEUS. Just get this roasted. Ah! who is this man, crowned with laurel, who is coming to me? SERVANT. He has a self-important look; is he some diviner? TRYGAEUS. No, i' faith! 'tis Hierocles. SERVANT. Ah! that oracle-monger from Oreus.[367] What is he going to tell us? TRYGAEUS. Evidently he is coming to oppose the peace. SERVANT. No, 'tis the odour of the fat that attracts him. TRYGAEUS. Let us appear not to see him. SERVANT. Very well. HIEROCLES. What sacrifice is this? to what god are you offering it? TRYGAEUS (_to the servant_). Silence!--(_Aloud._) Look after the roasting and keep your hands off the meat.