Plutus.
I’ll knock you down.
Cario.
Ah! what a pleasant fellow and what a delightful prophecy the god has given you!
Chremylus.
By Demeter, you’ll have no reason to laugh presently.
Cario.
If you don’t speak, you wretch, I will surely do you an ill turn.
Plutus.
Friends, take yourselves off and leave me.
Chremylus.
That we very certainly shan’t.
Cario.
This, master, is the best thing to do. I’ll undertake to secure him the most frightful death; I will lead him to the verge of a precipice and then leave him there, so that he’ll break his neck when he pitches over.
Chremylus.
Well then, I leave him to you, and do the thing quickly.
Plutus.
Oh, no! Have mercy!
Chremylus.
Will you speak then?
Plutus.
But if you learn who I am, I know well that you will ill-use me and will not let me go again.
