Heph. He has been.
Ap. Well? all your tools safe? none missing?
Heph. Of course not.
Ap. I advise you to make sure.
Heph. Zeus! where are my pincers?
Ap. Ah, you will find them among the baby-linen.
Heph. So light-fingered? one would swear he had practised petty larceny in the womb.
Ap. Ah, and you don’t know what a glib young chatterbox he is; and, if he has his way, he is to be our errand-boy! Yesterday he challenged Eros—tripped up his heels somehow, and had him on his back in a twinkling; before the applause was over, he had taken the opportunity of a congratulatory hug from Aphrodite to steal her girdle; Zeus had not done laughing before—the sceptre was gone. If the thunderbolt had not been too heavy, and very hot, he would have made away with that too.
Heph. The child has some spirit in him, by your account.
Ap. Spirit, yes—and some music, moreover, young as he is.