HERALD. Oh! but he's mighty simple. I am a herald, of course, I swear I
am, and I come from Sparta about making peace.
MAGISTRATE. But look, you are hiding a lance under your clothes, surely.
HERALD. No, nothing of the sort.
MAGISTRATE. Then why do you turn away like that, and hold your cloak out
from your body? Have you gotten swellings in the groin with your journey?
HERALD. By the twin brethren! the man's an old maniac.
MAGISTRATE. Ah, ha! my fine lad, why I can see it standing, oh fie!
HERALD. I tell you no! but enough of this foolery.
MAGISTRATE. Well, what is it you have there then?