BDELYCLEON. Oh! oh! you debauched old dotard! you desire and, meseems, you love pretty baggages; but, by Apollo, it shall not be with impunity!
PHILOCLEON. Ah! you would be very glad to eat a lawsuit in vinegar, you would.
BDELYCLEON. 'Tis a rascally trick to steal the flute-girl away from the other guests.
PHILOCLEON. What flute-girl? Are you distraught, as if you had just returned from Pluto?
BDELYCLEON. By Zeus! But here is the Dardanian wench in person.[153]
PHILOCLEON. Nonsense. This is a torch that I have lit in the public square in honour of the gods.
BDELYCLEON. Is this a torch?
PHILOCLEON. A torch? Certainly. Do you not see it is of several different colours?
BDELYCLEON. And what is that black part in the middle?[154]
PHILOCLEON. 'Tis the pitch running out while it burns.