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Returning with a table.
Wait. Here are the legs, place them upon the altar.  For myself, I mean to go back to the entrails and the cakes. Trygaeus
Going into the house ahead of the Servant.
I'll take care of them. But I want you here. Servant
Well then, here I am. Do you think I have taken long? Trygaeus
Just get this roasted.  Ah! who is this man, crowned with laurel, who is coming to me? Servant
He has a self-important look; is he some diviner? Trygaeus
No, it's Hierocles, that oracle-monger from Oreus. Servant
What is he going to tell us? Trygaeus
Evidently he is coming to oppose the peace. Servant
 No, it's the odor of the fat that attracts him. Trygaeus
Let us appear not to see him. Servant
Very well. Hierocles
What sacrifice is this? to what god are you offering it? Trygaeus
To the Servant.
Keep quiet.— Aloud. Look after the roasting and keep your hands off the meat. Hierocles
To whom are you sacrificing? Answer me. Trygaeus
Ah! the tail is showing  favourable omens. Servant
Aye, very favourable, oh, loved and mighty Peace! Hierocles
Come, cut off the first offering and make the oblation. Trygaeus
It's not roasted enough. Hierocles
Yea, truly, it's done to a turn. Trygaeus
Mind your own business, friend! To the Servant. Cut away. Hierocles
Where is the table? Trygaeus
Bring the libations. The Servant departs.
 The tongue is cut separately. Trygaeus
We know all that. But just listen to one piece of advice. Hierocles
And that is? Trygaeus
Don't talk, for it is divine Peace to whom we are sacrificing. Hierocles
in an oracular tone.
Oh! wretched mortals, oh, you idiots! Trygaeus
Keep such ugly terms for yourself.