Myrhhiné (coming back with another flask).
Here, take this bottle.
Cinesias.
I have a better all ready for your service, darling. Come, you provoking creature, to bed with you, and don’t bring another thing.
Myrhhiné.
Coming, coming; I’m just slipping off my shoes. Dear boy, will you vote for peace?
Cinesias.
I’ll think about it. (Myrrhiné runs away.) I’m a dead man, she is killing me! She has gone, and left me in torment! I must have someone to fuck, I must! Ah me! the loveliest of women has choused and cheated me. Poor little lad (addressing his penis), how am I to give you what you want so badly? Where is Cynalopex? quick, man, get him a nurse, do![1]
Chorus of Old Men.
Poor, miserable wretch, baulked in your amorousness! what tortures are yours! Ah! you fill me with pity. Could any man’s back and loins stand such a strain? His organ stands stiff and rigid, and there’s never a wench to help him!
Cinesias.
Ye gods in heaven, what pains I suffer!
Chorus of Old Men.
Well, there it is; ’tis her doing, that abandoned hussy!
Cinesias.
Nay, nay! rather say that sweetest, dearest darling.
- ↑ ‘Dog-fox,’ nickname of a certain notorious Philostratus, keeper of an Athenian brothel of note in Aristophanes’ day.
