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Poet
“Straton wanders among the Scythian nomads, but has no linen garment. He is sad at only wearing an animal's pelt and no tunic.” [945] Do you get what I mean?

Pisthetaerus
I understand that you want me to offer you a tunic. Hi! you To the acolyte. take off yours; we must help the poet. . . . Come, you, take it and get out.

Poet
I am going, and these are the verses that I address to this city: [950] “Phoebus of the golden throne, celebrate this shivery, freezing city; I have travelled through fruitful and snow-covered plains. Tralala! Tralala!”He departs.

Pisthetaerus
What are you chanting us [955] about frosts? Thanks to the tunic, you no longer fear them. Ah! by Zeus! I could not have believed this cursed fellow could so soon have learnt the way to our city. To a slave. Come, take the lustral water and circle the altar. Let all keep silence!

An Oracle-Monger enters.

Oracle-Monger
Let not the goat be sacrificed.

Pisthetaerus
[960] Who are you?

Oracle-Monger
Who am I? An oracle-monger.

Pisthetaerus
Get out!

Oracle-Monger
Wretched man, insult not sacred things. For there is an oracle of Bacis, which exactly applies to Nephelococcygia.

Pisthetaerus
Why did you not reveal it to me before [965] I founded my city?

Oracle-Monger
The divine spirit was against it.

Pisthetaerus
Well, I suppose there's nothing to do but hear the terms of the oracle.

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