Second Master. Ha, you rascal there, am I mistaken, or are you my lost Lecythio? Lecythio it is. What a figure! Lecythio a philosopher! I'll believe anything after this.
Her. Does none of you know anything about this other?
Third Master. Oh yes, he is mine; but he may go hang for me.
Her. And why is that?
Third Master. Ah, he's a sadly leaky vessel, is Rosolio, as we used to call him.
Her. Gracious Heracles! did you hear that? Rosolio with wallet and stick!—Friend, here is your wife again.
Innkeeper. Thank you for nothing. I'll have no woman brought to bed of an old book in my house.
Her. How am I to understand that?
Innkeeper. Why, the Three-headed Dog is a book, master?