I wish that I had measured him.
ALCIBIADES.

I wish that he had trod upon you.

Come, come, Chariclea, we shall soon return, and then-- CHARICLEA.

Yes; then indeed.
ALCIBIADES.
Yes, then-- Then for revels; then for dances, Tender whispers, melting glances.
Peasants, pluck your richest fruits: Minstrels, sound your sweetest flutes: Come in laughing crowds to greet us, Dark-eyed daughters of Miletus; Bring the myrtles, bring the dice, Floods of Chian, hills of spice.
SPEUSIPPUS.

Whose lines are those, Alcibiades?
ALCIBIADES.