" 'Twas I who
arranged
the
sacred rites, but none offered the shining cup to the diviner.
sacred rites, but none offered the shining cup to the diviner.
Aristophanes
Then what should be done?
Not to stop the War would be to leave
it to the decision of chance which of the two people should suffer the
most, whereas by uniting under a treaty, we share the empire of Greece.
HIEROCLES. You will never make the crab walk straight.
TRYGAEUS. You shall no longer be fed at the Prytaneum; the war done,
oracles are not wanted.
HIEROCLES. You will never smooth the rough spikes of the hedgehog.
TRYGAEUS. Will you never stop fooling the Athenians?
HIEROCLES. What oracle ordered you to burn these joints of mutton in
honour of the gods?
TRYGAEUS. This grand oracle of Homer's: "Thus vanished the dark
war-clouds and we offered a sacrifice to new-born Peace. When the flame
had consumed the thighs of the victim and its inwards had appeased our
hunger, we poured out the libations of wine.
" 'Twas I who arranged the
sacred rites, but none offered the shining cup to the diviner. [372]
HIEROCLES. I care little for that. 'Tis not the Sibyl who spoke it. [373]
TRYGAEUS. Wise Homer has also said: "He who delights in the horrors of
civil war has neither country nor laws nor home. " What noble words!
HIEROCLES. Beware lest the kite turn your brain and rob. . . .
TRYGAEUS. Look out, slave! This oracle threatens our meat. Quick, pour
the libation, and give me some of the inwards.
it to the decision of chance which of the two people should suffer the
most, whereas by uniting under a treaty, we share the empire of Greece.
HIEROCLES. You will never make the crab walk straight.
TRYGAEUS. You shall no longer be fed at the Prytaneum; the war done,
oracles are not wanted.
HIEROCLES. You will never smooth the rough spikes of the hedgehog.
TRYGAEUS. Will you never stop fooling the Athenians?
HIEROCLES. What oracle ordered you to burn these joints of mutton in
honour of the gods?
TRYGAEUS. This grand oracle of Homer's: "Thus vanished the dark
war-clouds and we offered a sacrifice to new-born Peace. When the flame
had consumed the thighs of the victim and its inwards had appeased our
hunger, we poured out the libations of wine.
" 'Twas I who arranged the
sacred rites, but none offered the shining cup to the diviner. [372]
HIEROCLES. I care little for that. 'Tis not the Sibyl who spoke it. [373]
TRYGAEUS. Wise Homer has also said: "He who delights in the horrors of
civil war has neither country nor laws nor home. " What noble words!
HIEROCLES. Beware lest the kite turn your brain and rob. . . .
TRYGAEUS. Look out, slave! This oracle threatens our meat. Quick, pour
the libation, and give me some of the inwards.
