HERMES. Off to the Devil with you, Megarians! The goddess hates you. She recollects that you were the first to rub her the wrong way. Athenians, you are not well placed for pulling. There you are too busy with law-suits; if you really want to free the goddess, get down a little towards the sea.[305]
CHORUS. Come, friends, none but husbandmen on the rope.
HERMES. Ah! that will do ever so much better.
CHORUS. He says the thing is going well. Come, all of you, together and with a will.
TRYGAEUS. 'Tis the husbandmen who are doing all the work.
CHORUS. Come then, come, and all together! Hah! hah! at last there is some unanimity in the work. Don't let us give up, let us redouble our efforts. There! now we have it! Come then, all together! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! Heave away, heave! All together! (Peace is drawn out of the pit.)
TRYGAEUS. Oh! venerated goddess, who givest us our grapes, where am I to find the ten-thousand-gallon words[306] wherewith to greet thee? I have none such at home. Oh! hail to thee, Opora,[307] and thou, Theoria![308] How beautiful is thy face! How sweet thy breath! What gentle fragrance comes from thy bosom, gentle as freedom from military duty, as the most dainty perfumes!
HERMES. Is it then a smell like a soldier's knapsack?
CHORUS. Oh! hateful soldier! your hideous satchel makes me sick! it stinks like the belching of onions, whereas this lovable deity has the odour of sweet fruits, of festivals, of the Dionysia, of the harmony of flutes, of the comic poets, of the verses of Sophocles, of the phrases of Euripides…
TRYGAEUS. That's a foul calumny, you wretch! She detests that framer of subtleties and quibbles.