Chorus
Singing.
How everything
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succeeds to our wish, when the gods are willing and Fortune favours us! how opportunely everything falls out.
Trygaeus
returning.
Nothing could be truer, for look! here stands the altar all ready at my door.
He enters his house.
Chorus
Hurry, hurry, for the winds are fickle; make haste,
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while the divine will is set on stopping this cruel war and is showering on us the most striking benefits.
Trygaeus
returning.
Here is the basket of barley-seed mingled with salt, the chaplet and the sacred knife; and there is the fire; so we are only waiting for the sheep.
Chorus
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Hasten, hasten, for, if Chaeris sees you, he will come without bidding, he and his flute; and when you see him puffing and panting and out of breath,
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you will have to give him something.
Peace. Aristophanes. ed. Eugene O'Neill, Jr.. New York. 1938.
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