NICIAS (_returning with a flagon_). It is lucky I was not caught in the
house stealing the wine.

DEMOSTHENES. Tell me, what is the Paphlagonian doing now?

NICIAS. The wretch has just gobbled up some confiscated cakes; he is
drunk and lies at full-length a-snoring on his hides.

DEMOSTHENES. Very well, come along, pour me out wine and plenty of it.

NICIAS. Take it and offer a libation to your Good Genius; taste, taste
the liquor of the genial soil of Pramnium.[17]

DEMOSTHENES. Oh, Good Genius! 'Tis thy will, not mine.

NICIAS. Prithee, tell me, what is it?

DEMOSTHENES. Run indoors quick and steal the oracles of the Paphlagonian,
while he is asleep.[18]

NICIAS. Bless me! I fear this Good Genius will be but a very Bad Genius
for me.

DEMOSTHENES. And set the flagon near me, that I may moisten my wit to
invent some brilliant notion.

NICIAS (_enters the house and returns at once_). How the Paphlagonian
grunts and snores! I was able to seize the sacred oracle, which he was
guarding with the greatest care, without his seeing me.