Poet
“Straton wanders among the Scythian nomads, but has no linen garment. He is sad at only wearing an animal's pelt and no tunic.”
[945]
Do you get what I mean?
Pisthetaerus
I understand that you want me to offer you a tunic. Hi! you To the acolyte. take off yours; we must help the poet. . . . Come, you, take it and get out.
Poet
I am going, and these are the verses that I address to this city:
[950]
“Phoebus of the golden throne, celebrate this shivery, freezing city; I have travelled through fruitful and snow-covered plains. Tralala! Tralala!”He departs.
Pisthetaerus
What are you chanting us
[955]
about frosts? Thanks to the tunic, you no longer fear them. Ah! by Zeus! I could not have believed this cursed fellow could so soon have learnt the way to our city. To a slave. Come, take the lustral water and circle the altar. Let all keep silence!
An Oracle-Monger enters.
Oracle-Monger
Let not the goat be sacrificed.
Pisthetaerus
[960]
Who are you?
Oracle-Monger
Who am I? An oracle-monger.
Pisthetaerus
Get out!
Oracle-Monger
Wretched man, insult not sacred things. For there is an oracle of Bacis, which exactly applies to Nephelococcygia.
Pisthetaerus
Why did you not reveal it to me before
[965]
I founded my city?
Oracle-Monger
The divine spirit was against it.
Pisthetaerus
Well, I suppose there's nothing to do but hear the terms of the oracle.