MERC. No; it is only a laughing matter, a reply to your quips. SOS. Good heavens! Friend, how you swing out your arm without any one saying anything to you. MERC. These are my lightest clouts, little ordinary smacks. SOS. If I were as hasty as you, we should have a fine ado. MERC. All this is nothing as yet: it is merely to fill up time; we shall soon see something else; but let us continue our conversation. SOS. I give up the game. (He turns to go away.) MERC. Where are you going? SOS. What does it matter to you? MERC. I want to know where you are going. SOS. I am going to open that door. Why do you detain me? MERC. If you dare to go near it, I shall rain down a storm of blows on you. SOS. What? You wish to hinder me from entering our own house by threats? MERC. What do you say, your house? SOS. Yes, our house. MERC. O, the scoundrel! You speak of that house? SOS. Certainly. Is not Amphitryon the master of it? MERC. Well! What does that prove? SOS. I am his valet. MERC. You? SOS. I. MERC. His valet? SOS. Unquestionably. MERC. Valet of Amphitryon? SOS. Of Amphitryon himself. MERC. Your name is? SOS. Sosie. MERC. Eh? What? SOS. Sosie. MERC. Listen: do you realise that my fist can knock you spinning? SOS. Why? What fury has seized you now? MERC. Tell me, who made you so rash as to take the name of Sosie? SOS. I do not take it; I have always borne it. MERC. O what a monstrous lie! What confounded impudence! You dare to maintain that Sosie is your name? SOS. Certainly; I maintain it, for the good reason that the Gods have so ordered it by their supreme power. It is not in my power to say no, and to be any one else than myself. (Mercury beats him.) MERC. A thousand stripes ought to be the reward of such audacity. SOS. Justice, citizens! Help! I beseech you. MERC. So, you gallows-bird, you yell out? SOS. You beat me down with a thousand blows, and yet do not wish me to cry out? MERC. It is thus that my arm... SOS. The action is unworthy. You gloat over the advantage which my want of courage gives you over me; that is not fair treatment. It is mere bullying to wish to profit by the poltroonery of those whom one makes to feel the weight of one's arm. To thrash a man who does not retaliate is not the act of a generous soul; and to show courage against men who have none merits condemnation. MERC. Well! Are you still Sosie? What say you? SOS. Your blows have not made any metamorphosis in me; all the change there is is that in the matter I am Sosie thrashed. MERC. Still? A hundred fresh blows for this fresh impudence. SOS. Have mercy, a truce to your blows. MERC. Then a truce to your insolence. SOS. Anything that pleases you; I will keep silence. The dispute between us is too unequal. MERC. Are you still Sosie? Say, villain! SOS. Alas! I am what you wish; dispose of my lot exactly as you please: your arm 'has made you the master of it. MERC. I think you said your name was Sosie?