ARISTOPHANES' FROGS
57
That we fought our fight with wisdom; or, if all is lost for good, Let the tree on which they hang us, be, at least, of decent wood!
[The door opens, and the two slaves, Aeacus and Xanthias, return.
Aeacus.
By Zeus, that's what I call a gentleman!
That master of yours!
Xanthias.
Gentleman? That he is!
There's nothing in his head but wine and wenches!
Aeacus.
But not to whip you when you were clean convicted,
A slave caught masquerading as his master!
Xanthias (significantly).
I'd like to see him try it!
Aeacus.
There you go!
The old slave trick, that I'm so fond of too.
Xanthias.
You like it, eh?
Aeacus.
Like it? Why, when I get
Behind my master's back and quietly curse him,
I feel just like the Blessèd in the Mysteries!
