Page:The Eleven Comedies (1912) Vol 1.djvu/173

Rh

Your country?

Triple scoundrel.

Your father?

My father? Triple scoundrel.

By the Earth, you shall die, unless you tell me your name.

I am Trygæus of the Athmonian deme, a good vine-dresser, little addicted to quibbling and not at all an informer.

Why do you come?

I come to bring you this meat.

Ah! my good friend, did you have a good journey?

Glutton, be off! I no longer seem a triple scoundrel to you. Come, call Zeus.

Ah! ah! you are a long way yet from reaching the gods, for they moved yesterday.

To what part of the earth?

Eh! of the earth, did you say?

In short, where are they then?