140
ped 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.
HIEROCLES. To whom are you sacrificing? Answer me. Ah! the tail[368] is showing favourable omens.
SERVANT. Aye, very favourable, oh, loved and mighty Peace!
HIEROCLES. Come, cut off the first offering[369] and make the oblation.
TRYGAEUS. 'Tis not roasted enough.
HIEROCLES. Yea, truly, 'tis done to a turn.
TRYGAEUS. Mind your own business, friend! (To the servant.) Cut away. Where is the table? Bring the libations.
HIEROC