Chorus.
Silence! Keep silence! Here is the bride about to appear! Take nuptial torches and let all rejoice and join in our songs. Then, when we have danced, clinked our cups and thrown Hyperbolus through the doorway, we will carry back all our farming tools to the fields and shall pray the gods to give wealth to the Greeks and to cause us all to gather in an abundant barley harvest, enjoy a noble vintage, to grant that we may choke with good figs, that our wives may prove fruitful, that in fact we may recover all our lost blessings, and that the sparkling fire may be restored to the hearth.
Trygæus.
Come, wife, to the fields and seek, my beauty, to brighten and enliven my nights. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenæus!
Chorus.
Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenæus! oh! thrice happy man, who so well deserve your good fortune!
Trygæus.
Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenæus!
Chorus.
Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenæus!
First Semi-Chorus.
What shall we do to her?
Second Semi-Chorus.
What shall we do to her?
First Semi-Chorus.
We will gather her kisses.
Second Semi-Chorus.
We will gather her kisses.
