Thou hast dismissed them already?
Horace.
They've gone, anyhow.
Fakrash.
[Beaming.] And were they not astounded by the magnificence of thy dwelling and the liberality of their entertainment?
Horace.
Distinctly so. But I warn you—don't you press me on the subject of that entertainment. I can't trust myself to talk about it just yet.
Fakrash.
Render me no thanks.
Horace.