Strep. How then is it just that you should recover your
money, if you know nothing of meteorological matters?

Amyn. Well, if you are in want, pay me the interest of
my money.

Strep. What sort of animal is this interest?

Amyn. Most assuredly the money is always becoming more
and more every month and every day as the time slips
away.

Strep. You say well. What then? Is it possible that you
consider the sea to be greater now than formerly?

Amyn. No, by Jupiter, but equal; for it is not fitting
that it should be greater.

Strep. And how then, you wretch does this become no way
greater, though the rivers flow into it, while you seek
to increase your money? Will you not take yourself off
from my house? Bring me the goad.

[Enter Servant with a goad.]

Amyn. I call you to witness these things.

Strep. (beating him). Go! Why do you delay? Won't you
march, Mr. Blood-horse?