When I myself, Dionysus, son of--Pipkin,
Toil on afoot, and let this fellow ride,
Taking no trouble, and no burden bearing?

XAN. What, don't I bear?

DIO. How can you when you're riding?

XAN. Why, I bear these.

DIO. How?

XAN. Most unwillingly.

DIO. Does not the donkey bear the load you're bearing?

XAN. Not what I bear myself: by Zeus, not he.

DIO. How can you bear, when you are borne yourself?

XAN. Don't know: but anyhow _my shoulder's aching_.

DIO. Then since you say the donkey helps you not,
You lift him up and carry him in turn.

XAN. O hang it all! why didn't I fight at sea?
You should have smarted bitterly for this.

DIO. Get down, you rascal; I've been trudging on
Till now I've reached the portal, where I'm going