MEGARIAN. We are crying with hunger at our firesides.
DICAEOPOLIS. The fireside is jolly enough with a piper. But what else is
doing at Megara, eh?
MEGARIAN. What else? When I left for the market, the authorities were
taking steps to let us die in the quickest manner.
DICAEOPOLIS. That is the best way to get you out of all your troubles.
MEGARIAN. True.
DICAEOPOLIS. What other news of Megara? What is wheat selling at?
MEGARIAN. With us it is valued as highly as the very gods in heaven!
DICAEOPOLIS. Is it salt that you are bringing?
MEGARIAN. Are you not holding back the salt?
DICAEOPOLIS. 'Tis garlic then?
MEGARIAN. What! garlic! do you not at every raid grub up the ground with
your pikes to pull out every single head?
DICAEOPOLIS. What _do_ you bring then?
MEGARIAN. Little sows, like those they immolate at the Mysteries.
DICAEOPOLIS. Ah! very well, show me them.
MEGARIAN. They are very fine; feel their weight. See! how fat and fine.
DICAEOPOLIS. But what is this?