_Innk. Wife._ Wine-witted knave, deer-hearted and dog-eyed, Thersites, babbler loose, that nought availest In council, nought in arms; most valiant daw, That with thine aimless chatter chidest kings,-- _First Master._ My rascal to a T. _Innk. Wife._ The dog in thee--for thou art dog and goat And lion--doth a blasting fury breathe. _Innkeeper._ Wife, wife! the dogs have been too many for you; ay, and for your virtue, so men say. _Her._ Hope for the best; some little Cerberus or Geryon shall call you father, and Heracles have employment again.--Ah, no need to knock: here they come. _First Master._ Ha, Cantharus, have I got you? What, nothing to say for yourself? Let us see what you have in that wallet; beans, no doubt, or a crust of bread. _Her._ Bread, indeed! Gold, a purseful of it! _Hera._ That need not surprise you. In Greece, you see, he was a Cynic, but here he is all for golden Chrysippus. Next you will see him dangling, Cleanthes-like[9], by his beard, and serve the dirty fellow right. _Second Master._ Ha, you rascal there, am I mistaken, or are you my lost Lecythio? Lecythio it is. What a figure! Lecythio a philosopher! I'll believe anything after this. _Her._ Does none of you know anything about this other? _Third Master._ Oh yes, he is mine; but he may go hang for me. _Her._ And why is that? _Third Master._ Ah, he's a sadly leaky vessel, is Rosolio, as we used to call him. _Her._ Gracious Heracles! did you hear that? Rosolio with wallet and stick!--Friend, here is your wife again. _Innkeeper._ Thank you for nothing. I'll have no woman brought to bed of an old book in my house. _Her._ How am I to understand that? _Innkeeper._ Why, the Three-headed Dog is a book, master? _Her._ Ay, and so was the Man with the Three Hats, for that matter. _Masters._ We leave the rest to you, sir. _Her._ This is my judgement. Let the woman return beneath her husband's roof, or many-headed monsters will come of it. These two truant sparks I hand over to their owners: let them follow their trades as heretofore; Lecythio wash clothes, and Rosolio patch them;--not, however, before his back has felt the mallow-stalk. And for Cantharus, first let the men of pitch take him, and plaster him without mercy; and be their pitch the vilest procurable. Then let him be led forth to stand upon the snowy slopes of Haemus, naked and fettered. _Can._ Mercy! have mercy on me! Ah me! I am undone! _First Master._ So tragic? Come, follow me to the plasterers; and off with that lion's-skin, lest you be taken for other than an ass. F. FOOTNOTES: [7] Pythagoras, Heraclitus, Democritus. [8] _Ctesis_ is Greek for 'gain.' [9] See _Cleanthes_ in Notes. SATURNALIA _Cronus. His Priest_