CHREMYLUS. Ah! the bath-man would grip you by the testicles and fling you through the door; he would only need to see you to appraise you at your true value…. But let us go in, friend, that you may address your thanksgivings to the god.
CHORUS. [Missing.]
AN OLD WOMAN. Dear old men, am I near the house where the new god lives, or have I missed the road?
CHORUS. You are at his door, my pretty little maid, who question us so sweetly.[796]
OLD WOMAN. Then I will summon someone in the house.
CHREMYLUS. 'Tis needless! I am here myself. But what matter brings you here?
OLD WOMAN. Ah! a cruel, unjust fate! My dear friend, this god has made life unbearable to me through ceasing to be blind.
CHREMYLUS. What does this mean? Can you be a female informer?
OLD WOMAN. Most certainly not.
CHREMYLUS. Have you not drunk up your money then?