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Coming out of his house, followed by the Servant.
Oh! oh! what a crowd for the nuptial feast! Here! dust the tables with this crest, which is good for nothing else now.  Halloa! produce the cakes, the thrushes, plenty of good jugged hare and the little loaves. A Sickle-maker enters with a comrade; one carries sickles, the other casks.
Trygaeus, where is Trygaeus? Trygaeus
I am cooking the thrushes. Sickle-maker
Trygaeus, my best of friends, what a fine stroke of business you have done for me by bringing back Peace! Formerly  my sickles would not have sold at an obolus apiece, to-day I am being paid fifty drachmae for every one. And here is a neighbor who is selling his casks for the country at three drachmae each. So come, Trygaeus, take as many sickles and casks as you will for nothing. Accept them for nothing;  it's because of our handsome profits on our sales that we offer you these wedding presents. Trygaeus
Thanks. Put them all down inside there, and come along quick to the banquet. Ah! do you see that armorer yonder coming with a wry face? Enter an armorer, followed by other personages who represent the various specialized trades which have profited by the war, a crest-maker, a manufacturer of breastplates, a trumpet-maker, a helmet-maker, a polisher of lances; each carries a sample of his products. The armorer is the only one who speaks.
 Alas! alas! Trygaeus, you have ruined me utterly. Trygaeus
What! won't the crests go any more, friend? Armourer
You have killed my business, my livelihood, and that of this poor lance-maker too. Trygaeus
Come, come, what are you asking for these two crests? Armourer
 What do you bid for them? Trygaeus
What do I bid? Oh! I am ashamed to say. Still, as the clasp is of good workmanship, I would give two, even three measures of dried figs; I could use them for dusting the table. Armourer
All right, tell them to bring me the dried figs. To the crest-maker.  That's better than nothing, my friend. Trygaeus
Take them away, be off with your crests and get you gone; they are moulting, they are losing all their hair; I would not give a single fig for them. Armourer
Good gods, what  am I going to do with this fine ten-mina breastplate, which is so splendidly made? Trygaeus
Oh, you will lose nothing over it. Sell it to me at cost price. It would be very useful as a thunder-mug ... Armourer
Cease your insults, both to me and my wares.