Ti. See whether this is a sound syllogism; can you upset it?—If there are altars, there are Gods: there are _altars; therefore, there are Gods. Now then.
Da. Ha, ha, ha! I will answer as soon as I can get done with laughing.
Ti. Will you never stop? At least tell me what the joke is.
Da. Why, you don’t see that your anchor (sheet-anchor, too) hangs by a mere thread. You defend on connexion between the existence of Gods and the existence of altars, and fancy yourself safe at anchor! As you admit that this was your sheet-anchor, there is nothing further to detain us.
Ti. You retire; you confess yourself beaten, then?
Da. Yes; we have seen you take sanctuary at the altars under persecution. At those altars I am ready (the sheet-anchor be my witness) to swear peace and cease from strife.
Ti. Tou are playing with me, are you, you vile body-snatcher, you loathsome well-whipped scum! As if we didn’t know who your father was, how your mother was a harlot! You strangled your own brother, you live in fornication, you debauch the young, you unabashed lecher! Don’t be in such a hurry; here is something for you to take with you; this broken pot will serve me to cut your foul throat.
Zeus_. Damis makes off with a laugh, and the other after him, calling him names, mad at his insolence. He will get him on the head with that pottery, I know. And now, what are we to do?
Herm. Why, the man in the comedy was not far out:
Put a good face on ‘t, and thou hast no harm.