Tim. And now
His soldiers rove throughout the city, while
The people lean from walls like branching trees
And shake a crop of blessings.
Asc. Kisses too!
E'en in the streets the women set their tables,
And from their wreath�d urns pour Cretan wine
For Dion's men.
Tim. What says my lord Speusippus?
The only sour-face in all Syracuse.