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Lysistrata   


CINESIAS


Oh! Myrrhine, Myrrhine, in our child's name, hear me; at any


rate hear the child! Little lad, call your mother.


CHILD


Mamma, mamma, mamma!


CINESIAS


There, listen! Don't you pity the poor child? It's six days now


you've never washed and never fed the child.


MYRRHINE


Poor darling, your father takes mighty little care of you!


CINESIAS


Come down, dearest, come down for the child's sake.


MYRRHINE


Ah! what a thing it is to be a mother! Well, well, we must come


down, I suppose.


CINESIAS (as MYRRHINE approaches)


Why, how much younger and prettier she looks! And how she looks at


me so lovingly! Her cruelty and scorn only redouble my passion.


MYRRHINE (ignoring him; to the child)


You are as sweet as your father is provoking! Let me kiss you,


my treasure, mother's darling!


CINESIAS

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