Plots and lies he cooks and brews,
Slander and seditious news,
Or anything.
Chorus. Have you stowed him safe enough?
Dic. Never fear, he's hearty stuff;
Fit for usage hard and rough, 1220
Fit to beat and fit to cuff,
To toss and fling.
You can hang him up or down,[1]
By the heels or by the crown.
Theb. I'm for harvest business bown.
Chorus. Fare ye well, my jolly clown.
We wish ye joy.
You've a purchase tight and neat;
A rogue, a sycophant complete;
Fit to bang about and beat, 1230
Fit to stand the cold and heat,
And all employ.
Dic. I'd a hard job with the rascal, tying him up!
Come, my Bœotian, take away your bargain.
Theb. (speaking to one of his servants).
Ismenias, stoop your back, and heave him up.
There—softly and fairly—so—now carry him off.
Dic. He's an unlucky commodity; notwithstanding,
If he earns you a profit, you can have to say,
What few can say, you've been the better for him,
And mended your affairs by the informer. 1240
Enter a Slave.
Slave (in a loud voice). Ho, Dicæopolis!
Dic. Well, what's the matter?
Why need ye bawl so?
Slave. Lamachus sends his orders,
With a drachma for a dish of quails, and three
For that Copaic eel, he bid me give you.
Dic. An eel for Lamachus? Who is Lamachus?
Slave. The fierce and hardy warrior; he that wields
The Gorgon shield, and waves the triple plume.
- ↑ The Informer being by this time fairly corded and packed, is flung about and hung up, in confirmation of Dicæopolis's warranty.
