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Updated: June 29, 2025
“Silence, undutiful scoundrel,” ordered Lampaxo, from her corner; “what has so noble a patriot as Democrates to conceal? Ugh! Be off with you! Phormio, don’t dare to fill up the tipsy fox’s beaker again. I want to pull on my nightcap and go to bed.” Bias did not take the hint.
Fresh reinforcements afterwards arrived forty ships from Athens with Thucydides, Hagnon, and Phormio; twenty with Tlepolemus and Anticles, and thirty vessels from Chios and Lesbos.
Glaucon could tell of many things he had heard and thought, of the conversation overheard the morning before Salamis, of what Phormio had related during the weary captivity in the hold of the Bozra. Themistocles pondered long. Yet for Glaucon when standing even on that calm pinnacle the trireme must creep over the deep too slowly.
Phormio was a man to recover from surprise quickly, and act swiftly and to the purpose. He made haste to lead his unfortunate visitor inside and lay him on his one hard couch. Scarcely was this done, however, when Lampaxo ran up to Glaucon in mingled rage and exultation. “Phormio doesn’t know what Polus and I told Democrates, or what he told us! So you thought to escape, you white-skinned traitor?
Phormio, much against his will, was obliged to leave his station outside the strait, and go to the aid of Naupactus, which had been left undefended. Great was the delight of the Peloponnesian captains when they saw the little Athenian squadron creeping close, in single file, along the northern side of the gulf, for they thought that not one of the twenty would escape them.
The Eunuchus is reflected in the Bellamira of Sir Charles Sedley and Le Muet of Brueys; the Adelphi in Moliere's Ecole des Maris and Baron's L'Ecole des Peres; and the Phormio in Moliere's Les Fourberies de Scapin.
Now, black-hearted Cyclops,”—Cimon’s tone was not gentle,—“where are your papers?” Hiram had turned gray as a corpse, but his white teeth came together. “Phormio is mistaken. Your slave has none.” “Bah!” threw out Cimon, “I can smell your lies like garlic. Silent still? Good, see how I am better than Asclepius. I make the dumb talk by a miracle. A cord and belaying-pin, Naon.”
Accordingly the Peloponnesian captains on one side, and Phormio on the other, did what they could to argue their crews into a more hopeful frame of mind. The Peloponnesian seamen who had taken part in the first battle were reminded that they had been caught unprepared, and assured that this time every precaution would be taken to prevent a second reverse.
Phormio never reviled his wife as the author of their calamity, and Lampaxo, with nigh childish earnestness, would protest that surely Democrates knew not what the sailors did when they bound her. “So noble a patriot! An evil god bewitched him into letting these harpies take us. Woe! woe! What misfortune!” To which plaint the others only smiled horribly and ground their teeth.
Lucius stretched himself out on the divan, caught at a thick, richly embroidered pillow, tossed it over his head on to the floor, yawned, raised himself again upright, and said drawlingly: "Y-e-s, it's as you say. I find I spend every sesterce I have, and all I can borrow. But so long as Phormio is accommodating, I don't trouble myself very much about the debts."
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