Trygæus.
Yes, that is quite the style our folk do talk in.
Hermes.
So that I don’t know whether you will ever see Peace again.
Trygæus.
Why, where has she gone to then?
Hermes.
War has cast her into a deep pit.
Trygæus.
Where?
Hermes.
Down there, at the very bottom. And you see what heaps of stones he has piled over the top, so that you should never pull her out again.
Trygæus.
Tell me, what is War preparing against us?
Hermes.
All I know is that last evening he brought along a huge mortar.
Trygæus.
And what is he going to do with his mortar?
Hermes.
He wants to pound up all the cities of Greece in it. . . . But I must say good-bye, for I think he is coming out; what an uproar he is making!
Trygæus.
Ah! great gods! let us seek safety; meseems I already hear the noise of this fearful war mortar.
War (enters carrying a mortar).
Oh! mortals, mortals, wretched mortals, how your jaws will snap!
