CHREMYLUS. Not at all, poor fool! But, thanks to me, worthy folk, intelligent and moderate men alone shall be rich henceforth.
BLEPSIDEMUS. What are you saying? Have you then stolen so much as all that?
CHREMYLUS. Oh! your insults will be the death of me.
BLEPSIDEMUS. 'Tis rather you yourself who are courting death.
CHREMYLUS. Not so, you wretch, since I have Plutus.
BLEPSIDEMUS. You have Plutus? Which one?
CHREMYLUS. The god himself.
BLEPSIDEMUS. And where is he?
CHREMYLUS. There.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Where?