Or. And welcome to all of you, Philosophy, Heracles, Hermes. I should like my reward, please: I can lay my finger on your man.
Her. Then show us the way. It is useless, of course, to offer gold to the gifted son of Calliope?
Or. Oh, quite.—I will show you the house, but not the man. His tongue might avenge him; scurrility is his strong point.
Her. Lead on.
Or. It is this house close by. And now I shall leave you; I have no wish to set eyes on him.
Her. Hush! Was that a woman's voice, reciting Homer?
Phi. It was. Let us listen.
Innkeeper's Wife. More than the gates of Hell I hate that man
Who, loving gold, cloaketh his love with lies.
Her. At that rate, madam, you will have to quarrel with Cantharus: