[Enter Hippargus, upper right]
Bia. Here comes a tongue to market.
Most purchasable, tho' neither cut nor dried.
Cre. The senate's messenger!
Bia. Greeting, Hippargus.
Hip. Greeting, my lord,—and I must lay command
On that, for you are charged on the instant to appear
Before the Council.
Bia. The instant? Cramped to that?
And what to do there, sir?
Hip. Give proof you touched
With no profaning and injurious hand
Our threshold gods.
Bia. Go gently back, Hippargus,
And tell the senators I pardon them,
Knowing they do mistake. They would not lay
So dull an antic on me, and this charge
Is meant for Bico, my fat monkey here,
Whom they may have for trial.
Hip. Spare such jest,
My worthy lord. A hundred tongues have sworn
You said in open street, nor cared who heard,
The guardian Hermæ might be nipped of ears,
And noses too, yet serve our pious turn,
Since they smell out no faults and citizens
Confess none.
Bia. Ah! Do they make wit a crime,
Who have no taint of its color? Say 'twere red
The senators would never be mistook
For woodpeckers. Gods! When they prate, I know
Athene's owl is stuffed, and her wise serpent
An old-year slough! Off now! Your pannier's full.
Trot and unpack.