SLAVE. Certainly, old man; busy gathering subtle fancies here and there, his mind is not in the house, but he himself is; perched aloft, he is composing a tragedy.
DICAEOPOLIS. Oh, Euripides, you are indeed happy to have a slave so quick at repartee! Now, fellow, call your master.
SLAVE. Impossible!
DICAEOPOLIS. So much the worse. But I will not go. Come, let us knock at the door. Euripides, my little Euripides, my darling Euripides, listen; never had man greater right to your pity. It is Dicaeopolis of the Chollidan Deme who calls you. Do you hear?
EURIPIDES. I have no time to waste.
DICAEOPOLIS. Very well, have yourself wheeled out here.[207]
EURIPIDES. Impossible.
DICAEOPOLIS. Nevertheless….
EURIPIDES. Well, let them roll me out; as to coming down, I have not the time.
DICAEOPOLIS. Euripides….