Me. Oh, come now: gratis! I took an oar, and I baled; and I didn’t cry, which is more than can be said for any of the others.
Ch. That’s neither here nor there. I must have my penny; it’s only right.
Me. Well, you had better take me back again to life.
Ch. Yes, and get a thrashing from Aeacus for my pains! I like that.
Me. Well, don’t bother me.
Ch. Let me see what you have got in that wallet.
Me. Beans: have some?—and a Hecate’s supper.
Ch. Where did you pick up this Cynic, Hermes? The noise he made on the crossing, too! laughing and jeering at all the rest, and singing, when every one else was at his lamentations.
Her. Ah, Charon, you little know your passenger! Independence, every inch of him: he cares for no one. ’Tis Menippus.
Ch. Wait till I catch you—-