PISTHETAERUS. Here, read it yourself, and go and hang yourself.
PROPHET. Oh! unfortunate wretch that I am.
PISTHETAERUS. Away with you, and take your prophecies elsewhere.
METON.[293] I have come to you.
PISTHETAERUS. Yet another pest. What have you come to do? What's your plan? What's the purpose of your journey? Why these splendid buskins?
METON. I want to survey the plains of the air for you and to parcel them into lots.
PISTHETAERUS. In the name of the gods, who are you?
METON. Who am I? Meton, known throughout Greece and at Colonus.[294]
PISTHETAERUS. What are these things?
METON. Tools for measuring the air. In truth, the spaces in the air have precisely the form of a furnace. With this bent ruler I draw a line from top to bottom; from one of its points I describe a circle with the compass. Do you understand?