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You are acting unfairly, Philo! Drive on your own course. Strep.
This is the bane that has destroyed me; for even in his sleep he dreams about horsemanship. Phid.
How many courses will the war-chariots run? Strep.
Many courses do you drive me, your father. But what debt came upon me after Pasias? Three minae to Amynias for a little chariot and pair of wheels. Phid.
Lead the horse home, after having given him a good rolling. Strep.
O foolish youth, you have rolled me out of my possessions; since I have been cast in suits, and others say that they will have surety given them for the interest. Phid.
(awakening) Pray, father, why are you peevish, and toss about the whole night? Strep.
A bailiff out of the bedclothes is biting me. Phid.
Suffer me, good sir, to sleep a little. Strep.
Then, do you sleep on; but know that all these debts will turn on your head. Phidippides falls asleep again. Alas! Would that the match-maker had perished miserably, who induced me to marry your mother. For a country life used to be most agreeable to me, dirty, untrimmed, reclining at random, abounding in bees, and sheep, and oil-cake. Then I, a rustic, married a niece of Megacles, the son of Megacles, from the city, haughty, luxurious, and Coesyrafied. When I married her, I lay with her redolent of new wine, of the cheese-crate, and abundance of wool; but she, on the contrary, of ointment, saffron, wanton-kisses, extravagance, gluttony, and of Colias and Genetyllis. I will not indeed say that she was idle; but she wove. And I used to show her this cloak by way of a pretext and say “Wife, you weave at a great rate.”
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