DICAEOPOLIS. You say a sow! of what country, then?
MEGARIAN. From Megara. What! is that not a sow then?
DICAEOPOLIS. No, I don't believe it is.
MEGARIAN. This is too much! what an incredulous man! He says 'tis not a
sow; but we will stake, an you will, a measure of salt ground up with
thyme, that in good Greek this is called a sow and nothing else.
DICAEOPOLIS. But a sow of the human kind.
MEGARIAN. Without question, by Diocles! of my own breed! Well! What think
you? will you hear them squeal?
DICAEOPOLIS. Well, yes, i' faith, I will.
MEGARIAN. Cry quickly, wee sowlet; squeak up, hussy, or by Hermes! I take
you back to the house.
GIRL. Wee-wee, wee-wee!
MEGARIAN. Is that a little sow, or not?
DICAEOPOLIS. Yes, it seems so; but let it grow up, and it will be a fine
fat cunt.
MEGARIAN. In five years it will be just like its mother.
DICAEOPOLIS. But it cannot be sacrificed.
MEGARIAN. And why not?