Page:The Eleven Comedies (1912) Vol 1.djvu/216

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Come, cut off the first offering and make the oblation.

’Tis not roasted enough.

Yea, truly, ’tis done to a turn.

Mind your own business, friend! (To the servant.) Cut away. Where is the table? Bring the libations.

The tongue is cut separately.

We know all that. But just listen to one piece of advice.

And that is?

Don’t talk, for ’tis divine Peace to whom we are sacrificing.

Oh! wretched mortals, oh, you idiots!

Keep such ugly terms for yourself.

What! you are so ignorant you don’t understand the will of the gods and you make a treaty, you, who are men, with apes, who are full of malice!