Boy. You see Jubellius Taurea, or is it Asellus who entered into a struggle with that famous steed.[39]
Phil. Have done with your glib stories! Where are the others?
Boy. Off you go! I will accompany you on foot.
Misi. Most abominable, jolting horse. The beast will break all my bones before we reach the town.
Phil. What, in the name of evil, is that horse-covering? It is a pack-saddle, I believe.
Misi. Surely not.
Phil. How much for it? What’s its price?
Misi. Fourteen Turonic[40] sesterces.
Phil. I wouldn’t give as much for the horse himself with his fodder and trappings. It seems to me to be neither a draught horse, nor a horse for riding, but a beast of burden, ready for the pack-saddle, or for the yoke, or to carry goods on its back. Note, I beg, how it constantly stumbles. It would trip up over a piece of paper, or a stalk of straw spread out on its way.
Misi. What do you say of it? It is as yet a foal. But chatter on as you like. Do you see this horse? He, whatever he may be, is going to carry me, or I him.