I've grown old I regret it. I search for it in the gutters; but as
the search takes time, in default of my gold ring I don't disdain a
few cigar stumps. ...

STRANGER. I don't know whether this beggar's cynical or mad.

BEGGAR. I don't know either.

STRANGER. Do you know who I am?

BEGGAR. No. And it doesn't interest me.

STRANGER. Well, interest commonly comes afterwards. ... You see you
tempt me to take the words out of your mouth. And that's the same
thing as picking up other people's cigars.

BEGGAR. So you won't follow my example?

STRANGER. What's that scar on your forehead?

BEGGAR. I got it from a near relation.

STRANGER. Now you frighten me! Are you real? May I touch you? (He
touches his arm.) There's no doubt of it. ... Would you deign to
accept a small coin in return for a promise to seek Polycrates'
ring in another part of the town? (He hands him a coin.) Post
nummos virtus. ... Another echo. You must go at once.

BEGGAR. I will. But you've given me far too much. I'll return
three-quarters of it. Now we owe one another nothing but