PISTHETAERUS. Birds! the sacrifice is propitious. But I see no messenger coming from the wall to tell us what is happening. Ah! here comes one running himself out of breath as though he were running the Olympic stadium.
MESSENGER. Where, where is he? Where, where, where is he? Where, where, where is he? Where is Pisthetaerus, our leader?
PISTHETAERUS. Here am I.
MESSENGER. The wall is finished.
PISTHETAERUS. That's good news.
MESSENGER. 'Tis a most beautiful, a most magnificent work of art. The wall is so broad, that Proxenides, the Braggartian, and Theogenes could pass each other in their chariots, even if they were drawn by steeds as big as the Trojan horse.
PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis wonderful!
MESSENGER. Its length is one hundred stadia; I measured it myself.
PISTHETAERUS. A decent length, by Posidon! And who built such a wall?
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