Dionysus.
Surely 'twould the matter worsen,
If I saw this low-bred person
On his cushions sprawling, so,
Served him drinking, watched him winking:—
If he knew what I was thinking—
And he would, for certain, know,
Being a mighty shrewd deviser
Of such fancies—with a blow
P'raps he'd loosen an incisor
From the forefront of my row!
[During this song there has entered along the street a Landlady, who is soon followed by her servant, Plathanê.
Landlady.
Ho, Plathanê, here, I want you, Plathanê! . . .
Here is that scamp who came to the inn before,
Ate sixteen loaves of bread. . . .
Plathanê.
Why, so it is:
The very man!
Xanthias (aside).
Here's fun for somebody.
Landlady.
And twenty plates of boiled meat, half-an-obol
At every gulp!
Xanthias (as before).
Some one'll catch it now!
Landlady.
And all that garlic.
