NICARCHUS. It needs but one to set an arsenal afire.
DICAEOPOLIS. A wick set an arsenal ablaze! But how, great gods?
NICARCHUS. Should a Boeotian attach it to an insect's wing, and, taking advantage of a violent north wind, throw it by means of a tube into the arsenal and the fire once get hold of the vessels, everything would soon be devoured by the flames.
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! wretch! an insect and a wick would devour everything. (He strikes him.)
NICARCHUS (to the Chorus). You will bear witness, that he mishandles me.
DICAEOPOLIS. Shut his mouth. Give him some hay; I am going to pack him up as a vase, that he may not get broken on the road.
CHORUS. Pack up your goods carefully, friend; that the stranger may not break it when taking it away.
DICAEOPOLIS. I shall take great care with it, for one would say he is cracked already; he rings with a false note, which the gods abhor.
CHORUS. But what will be done with him?
DICAEOPOLIS. This is a vase good for all purposes; it will be used as a vessel for holding all foul things, a mortar for pounding together law-suits, a lamp for spying upon accounts, and as a cup for the mixing up and poisoning of everything.