WAR (enters, carrying a huge mortar)

Oh! mortals, mortals, wretched mortals, how your jaws will snap!

Oh! divine Apollo! what a prodigious big mortar! Oh, what misery

the very sight of War causes me! This then is the foe from whom I fly,

who is so cruel, so formidable, so stalwart, so solid on his legs!

Oh! Prasiae! thrice wretched, five times, aye, a thousand times

wretched! for thou shalt be destroyed this day.

(He throws some leeks into the mortar.)