PISTHETAERUS. In the name of the gods, who are you?

METON. Who am I? Meton, known throughout Greece and at Colonus.[294]

PISTHETAERUS. What are these things?

METON. Tools for measuring the air. In truth, the spaces in the air have
precisely the form of a furnace. With this bent ruler I draw a line from
top to bottom; from one of its points I describe a circle with the
compass. Do you understand?

PISTHETAERUS. Not the very least.

METON. With the straight ruler I set to work to inscribe a square within
this circle; in its centre will be the marketplace, into which all the
straight streets will lead, converging to this centre like a star, which,
although only orbicular, sends forth its rays in a straight line from all
sides.

PISTHETAERUS. Meton, you new Thales....[295]

METON. What d'you want with me?

PISTHETAERUS. I want to give you a proof of my friendship. Use your legs.

METON. Why, what have I to fear?

PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis the same here as in Sparta. Strangers are driven away,
and blows rain down as thick as hail.