And by Cynisca. I shall go stark mad
Ere you suspect—a hair would turn the scale.
THYONICHUS.
Such thou wert always, Æschines my friend.
In lazy mood or trenchant, at thy whim
The world must wag. But what's thy grievance now?
ÆSCHINES.
That Argive, Apis the Thessalian Knight,
Myself, and gallant Cleonicus, supped
Within my grounds. Two pullets I had slain,