CHORUS. These are news worth their weight in gold! What are you saying? Repeat it to me; no doubt it means he is bringing back a heap of wealth. CARIO. No, but a heap of all the infirmities attendant on old age. CHORUS. If you are tricking us, you shall pay us for it. Beware of our sticks! CARIO. Do you deem me so brazen as all that, and my words mere lies? CHORUS. What serious airs the rascal puts on! Look! his legs are already shrieking, "oh! oh!" they are asking for the shackles and wedges. CARIO. 'Tis in the tomb that 'tis your lot to judge. Why don't you go there? Charon has given you your ticket.[759] CHORUS. Plague take you! you cursed rascal, who rail at us and have not even the heart to tell us why your master has made us come. We were pressed for time and tired out, yet we came with all haste, and in our hurry we have passed by lots of wild onions without even gathering them. CARIO. I will no longer conceal the truth from you. Friends, 'tis Plutus whom my master brings, Plutus, who will give you riches. CHORUS. What! we shall really all become rich! CARIO. Aye, certainly; you will then be Midases, provided you grow ass's ears. CHORUS. What joy, what happiness! If what you tell me is true, I long to dance with delight. CARIO. And I too, threttanello![760] I want to imitate Cyclops and lead your troop by stamping like this.[761] Do you, my dear little ones, cry, aye, cry again and bleat forth the plaintive song of the sheep and of the stinking goats; follow me with erected organs like lascivious goats ready for action. CHORUS. As for us, threttanello! we will seek you, dear Cyclops, bleating, and if we find you with your wallet full of fresh herbs, all disgusting in your filth, sodden with wine and sleeping in the midst of your sheep, we will seize a great flaming stake and burn out your eye.[762] CARIO. I will copy that Circé of Corinth,[763] whose potent philtres compelled the companions of Philonides to swallow balls of dung, which she herself had kneaded with her hands, as if they were swine; and do you too grunt with joy and follow your mother, my little pigs. CHORUS. Oh! Circé[764] with the potent philtres, who besmear your companions so filthily, what pleasure I shall have in imitating the son of Laertes! I will hang you up by your testicles,[765] I will rub your nose with dung like a goat, and like Aristyllus[766] you shall say through your half-opened lips, "Follow your mother, my little pigs." CARIO. Enough of tomfoolery, assume a grave demeanour; unknown to my master I am going to take bread and meat; and when I have fed well, I shall resume my work. CHREMYLUS. To say, "Hail! my dear neighbours!" is an old form of greeting and well worn with use; so therefore I embrace you, because you have not crept like tortoises, but have come rushing here in all haste. Now help me to watch carefully and closely over the god.