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.)