TRYGAEUS. I adjure you in the name of the gods, master, don't denounce
us!
HERMES. I may not, I cannot keep silent.
TRYGAEUS. In the name of the meats which I brought you so good-naturedly.
HERMES. Why, wretched man, Zeus will annihilate me, if I do not shout out
at the top of my voice, to inform him what you are plotting.
TRYGAEUS. Oh, no! don't shout, I beg you, dear little Hermes.... And what
are you doing, comrades? You stand there as though you were stocks and
stones. Wretched men, speak, entreat him at once; otherwise he will be
shouting.
CHORUS. Oh! mighty Hermes! don't do it; no, don't do it! If ever you have
eaten some young pig, sacrificed by us on your altars, with pleasure, may
this offering not be without value in your sight to-day.
TRYGAEUS. Do you not hear them wheedling you, mighty god?
CHORUS. Be not pitiless toward our prayers; permit us to deliver the
goddess. Oh! the most human, the most generous of the gods, be favourable
toward us, if it be true that you detest the haughty crests and proud
brows of Pisander;[296] we shall never cease, oh master, offering you
sacred victims and solemn prayers.
TRYGAEUS. Have mercy, mercy, let yourself be touched by their words;
never was your worship so dear to them as to-day.