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This town will soon be inhabited by a crowd of men.  Fortune favours us alone and thus they have fallen in love with our city. Pisthetaerus
To the slave Manes, who brings in a basket full of wings.
Come, hurry up and bring them along. Chorus
Will not man find here everything that can please him —  wisdom, love, the divine Graces, the sweet face of gentle peace? Pisthetaerus
As Manes comes in with another basket.
Oh! you lazy servant! won't you hurry yourself?