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Oh! Peace, mighty queen, venerated goddess,  thou, who presidest over choruses and at nuptials, deign to accept the sacrifices we offer thee. Servant
Receive it, greatly honored mistress, and behave not like the  courtesans, who half open the door to entice the gallants, draw back when they are stared at,  to return once more if a man passes on. But do not thou act like this to us. 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. 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 Copais; we shall all rush to buy them, disputing their possession with Morychus, Teleas, Glaucetes and every other glutton. Melanthius  will arrive on the market last of all; they'll say, “no more eels, all sold!” and then he'll start groaning and exclaiming as in his monologue of Medea, “I am dying, I am dying! Alas! I have let those hidden in the beet escape me!”  And won't we laugh?