'Tis
perchance
some Erinnys, some Fury, from the
theatre;[770] there's a kind of wild tragedy look in her eyes.
Aristophanes
Whither are you flying? Stop! I command it!
BLEPSIDEMUS. Oh! great gods!
POVERTY. My arm shall destroy you, you infamous beings! Such an attempt
is not to be borne; neither man nor god has ever dared the like. You
shall die!
CHREMYLUS. And who are you? Oh! what a ghastly pallor!
BLEPSIDEMUS.
'Tis
perchance
some Erinnys, some Fury, from the
theatre;[770] there's a kind of wild tragedy look in her eyes.
CHREMYLUS. But she has no torch.
BLEPSIDEMUS. Let's knock her down!
POVERTY. Who do you think I am?
CHREMYLUS. Some wine-shop keeper or egg-woman. Otherwise you would not
have shrieked so loud at us, who have done nothing to you.
POVERTY. Indeed? And have you not done me the most deadly injury by
seeking to banish me from every country?
CHREMYLUS. Why, have you not got the Barathrum[771] left? But who are
you?
