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The son of Neocles never hastened the recital, though once or twice he widened it by an incisive question. At the end he demanded:— “And does Phormio confirm all this?” “All. Question him.” “Humph! He’s a truthful man in everything save the price of fish. Now let us open the packet.” Themistocles was exceeding deliberate.
So Phormio came frequently, glad perhaps to escape the discipline of his spouse. Now he brought a rumour of Xerxes’s progress, now a bit of Bias’s tattling about his master. The talebearing counted for little, but went to make Hermione’s conviction like adamant. Every night she would speak over Phœnix as she held him whilst he slept.
Phormio the fishmonger had returned from his traffic, and sat in his house-door meditating over a pot of sour wine and watching the last light flickering on the great bulk of the mountain. He had his sorrows,—good man,—for Lampaxo his worthy wife, long of tongue, short of temper, thrifty and very watchful, was reminding him for the seventh time that he had sold a carp half an obol too cheap.
“Spies!” cried Polus, leaping up as from a coal; “why, Phormio, haven’t you denounced them? It’s compounding with treason even to fail to report—” “Peace, brother,” chuckled the fishmonger, “your sister smells for treason as a dog for salt fish. There is a barbarian carpet merchant—a Babylonian, I presume—who has taken the empty chambers above Demas’s shield factory opposite.
"Well," said Pratinas, laughing, for he was a dearly loved favourite of all these gilded youth, "I will see! And now Gabinius is inviting Calatinus also, and we are dispersing for the morning." "Alas," groaned Ahenobarbus, "I must go to the Forum to plead with that wretch Phormio, the broker, to arrange a new loan."
We’ll bide a little longer, though, before we say ‘farewell’ to our passengers. The gods may help yet.” Hib and his fellows were marching the prisoners to the poop, when the sight of the war-ship told Phormio all the story. No gag now hindered his tongue. “Oh, dragons from Carthage, are you going to murder us?” he began in tones more indignant than terrified.
Phormio continued to act promptly; taking a treasured bottle from a cupboard he filled a mug and pressed it to the newcomer’s lips. The fiery liquor sent the colour back into Glaucon’s face. He raised himself higher—strength and mind in a measure returned. Bias had whispered to Phormio rapidly. Perhaps he had guessed more of his master’s doings than he had dared to hint before.
Their road lay along the southern side of the Acropolis, past the tall columns of the unfinished Temple of Zeus, which reared to giant height in the white moonlight. This, as well as the overshadowing Rock itself, they left behind without incident. Phormio chose devious alleys, and they met neither Scythian constables nor bands of roisterers. Only once the two passed a house bright with lamps.
But the condition of honest women in his day did not permit of the freedom of action and fencing dialectic of a Celimene, and consequently it is below our mark of pure Comedy. Sainte-Beuve conjures up the ghost of Menander, saying: For the love of me love Terence. Of the six comedies of Terence, four are derived from Menander; two, the Hecyra and the Phormio, from Apollodorus.
He said it was best to come straight to you. And now I have accused my own husband, Excellency. Ai! was wife ever harder beset? Phormio is a kindly and commonly obedient man, even if he doesn’t know the value of an obol. You will be merciful—” “Peace,” commanded Democrates, with portentous gravity, “justice first, mercy later. Do you solemnly swear you heard Phormio call this stranger ‘Glaucon’?”
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