CHORUS. What evasions, subterfuges and delays! Hold! here is the sombre helmet of Pluto with its thick bristling plume; Hieronymus[204] lends it to you; then open Sisyphus'[205] bag of wiles; but hurry, hurry, pray, for our discussion does not admit of delay. DICAEOPOLIS. The time has come for me to manifest my courage, so I will go and seek Euripides. Ho! slave, slave! SLAVE. Who's there? DICAEOPOLIS. Is Euripides at home? SLAVE. He is and he isn't; understand that, if you have wit for't. DICAEOPOLIS. How? He is and he isn't![206] SLAVE. Certainly, old man; busy gathering subtle fancies here and there, his mind is not in the house, but he himself is; perched aloft, he is composing a tragedy. DICAEOPOLIS. Oh, Euripides, you are indeed happy to have a slave so quick at repartee! Now, fellow, call your master. SLAVE. Impossible! DICAEOPOLIS. So much the worse. But I will not go. Come, let us knock at the door. Euripides, my little Euripides, my darling Euripides, listen; never had man greater right to your pity. It is Dicaeopolis of the Chollidan Deme who calls you. Do you hear? EURIPIDES. I have no time to waste. DICAEOPOLIS. Very well, have yourself wheeled out here.[207] EURIPIDES. Impossible. DICAEOPOLIS. Nevertheless.... EURIPIDES. Well, let them roll me out; as to coming down, I have not the time. DICAEOPOLIS. Euripides.... EURIPIDES. What words strike my ear? DICAEOPOLIS. You perch aloft to compose tragedies, when you might just as well do them on the ground. I am not astonished at your introducing cripples on the stage.[208] And why dress in these miserable tragic rags? I do not wonder that your heroes are beggars. But, Euripides, on my knees I beseech you, give me the tatters of some old piece: for I have to treat the Chorus to a long speech, and if I do it ill it is all over with me. EURIPIDES. What rags do you prefer? Those in which I rigged out Aeneus[209] on the stage, that unhappy, miserable old man? DICAEOPOLIS. No, I want those of some hero still more unfortunate. EURIPIDES. Of Phoenix, the blind man? DICAEOPOLIS. No, not of Phoenix, you have another hero more unfortunate than him. EURIPIDES. Now, what tatters _does_ he want? Do you mean those of the beggar Philoctetes? DICAEOPOLIS. No, of another far more the mendicant. EURIPIDES. Is it the filthy dress of the lame fellow, Bellerophon? DICAEOPOLIS. No, 'tis not Bellerophon; he, whom I mean, was not only lame and a beggar, but boastful and a fine speaker. EURIPIDES. Ah! I know, it is Telephus, the Mysian. DICAEOPOLIS. Yes, Telephus. Give me his rags, I beg of you. EURIPIDES. Slave! give him Telephus' tatters; they are on top of the rags of Thyestes and mixed with those of Ino. SLAVE. Catch hold! here they are.