The chorus of the Muses is
moulding
songs at my master's hearth.
Aristophanes
MNESILOCHUS. He has a big beard?
EURIPIDES. No, no, evidently you have never seen him.
MNESILOCHUS. Never, so far as I know.
EURIPIDES. And yet you have pedicated him. Well, it must have been
without knowing who he was. Ah! let us step aside; here is one of his
slaves bringing a brazier and some myrtle branches; no doubt he is going
to offer a sacrifice and pray for a happy poetical inspiration for
Agathon.
SERVANT OF AGATHON. Silence! oh, people! keep your mouths sedately shut!
The chorus of the Muses is moulding songs at my master's hearth. Let the
winds hold their breath in the silent Ether! Let the azure waves cease
murmuring on the shore! . . .
MNESILOCHUS. Brououou! brououou! (_Imitates the buzzing of a fly. _)
EURIPIDES. Keep quiet! what are you saying there?
SERVANT. . .
