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Leader of the Chorus
[1140] Nothing is more pleasing, when the rain is sprouting our sowings, than to chat with some friend, saying, “Tell me, Comarchides, what shall we do? I would willingly drink myself, while the heavens are watering our fields. Come, wife, cook three measures of beans, [1145] adding to them a little wheat, and give us some figs. Syra! call Manes off the fields, it's impossible to prune the vine or to align the ridges, for the ground is too wet today. Let someone bring me the thrush and those two finches; [1150] there were also some curds and four pieces of hare, unless the cat stole them last evening, for I know not what the infernal noise was that I heard in the house. Serve up three of the pieces for me, slave, and give the fourth to my father. Go and ask Aeschinades for some myrtle branches with berries on them, [1155] and then, for it's on the same road, invite Charinades

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