EURIPIDES. What's the matter?
DIONYSUS. Clue up your sails, for this damned little bottle is going to blow a gale.
EURIPIDES. Little I care, by Demeter! I am going to make it burst in his hands.
DIONYSUS. Then out with it; recite another prologue, but beware, beware of the little bottle.
EURIPIDES. "Cadmus, the son of Agenor, while leaving the city of
Sidon[510] …"
AESCHYLUS. … lost his little bottle.
DIONYSUS. Oh! my poor friend; buy that bottle, do, for it is going to tear all your prologues to ribbons.
EURIPIDES. What? Am I to buy it of him?
DIONYSUS. If you take my advice.
EURIPIDES. No, not I, for I have many prologues to which he cannot possibly fit his catchword: "Pelops, the son of Tantalus, having started for Pisa on his swift chariot[511] …"