§ 1  I Glycera. Thais
GLY: Thais, that Acarnanian soldier, who used to be so fond of Abrotonum, and then fell in love with me--he was decorated, and wore a military cloak--do you know the man I mean? I suppose you have forgotten him?
TH: Oh no, dear, I know; why, he shared our table last harvest festival. Well? you look as if you had something to tell me about him.
GLY: That wicked Gorgona (such a friend of mine, to be sure!)--she has stolen him away from me.
TH: What! he has given you up, and taken her in your place?
GLY: Yes, dear; isn't it horrid of her?
TH: Well, Glycera darling, it is wicked, of course; but it is not very surprising; it is what all we poor girls do. You mustn't be too much vexed; I shouldn't blame her, if I were you; Abrotonum never blamed you about him, you know; and you were friends, too. But I cannot think what he finds in her; where are his eyes? has he never found out how thin her hair is? what a lot of forehead she shows! and her lips! all livid; they might be a dead woman's; and that scraggy neck, veined all over; and what an amount of nose! I grant you she is tall and straight; and she has quite a nice smile.
GLY: Oh, Thais, you don't think it was her looks caught him. Don't you know? her mother Chrysarium is a witch; she knows Thessalian charms, and can draw down the moon; they do say she flies o' nights. It was she bewitched him with drugs in his drink, and now they are making their harvest out of him.
TH: Ah well, dear, you will get a harvest out of some one else; never mind him.

§ 2  II Myrtium, Pamphilus. Doris
MYR: Well, Pamphilus? So I hear you are to marry Philon the shipmaster's daughter,--if you have not done so already! And this is the end of your vows and tears! All is over and forgotten! And I so near my time! Yes, that is all I have to thank my lover for; that, and the prospect of having a child to bring up; and you know what that means to us poor girls. I mean to keep the child, especially if it is a boy: it will be some comfort to me to call him after you; and perhaps some day you will be sorry, when he comes to reproach you for betraying
his poor mother. I can't say much for the lady's looks. I saw her only the other day, with her mother, at the Thesmophoria; little did I know then that she was to rob me of my Pamphilus! Hadn't you better see what she is like first? Take a good look at her eyes; and try not to mind the colour, and the cast (she has such a squint!). Or no: there is no need for you to see her: you have seen Philon; you know what a face he has.
PA: How much more nonsense are you going to talk about shipowners and marriages? What do I know about brides, ugly or pretty? If you mean Philon of Alopeke, I never knew he had a grown-up daughter at all. Why, now I think of it, he is not even on speaking terms with my father. They were at law not long ago--something about a shipping contract. He owed my father a talent, I think it was, and refused to pay; so he was had up before the Admiralty Court (nautodikai), and my father never got paid in full, after all, so he said. Do you suppose if I wanted to marry I should pass over Demeas's daughter in favour of Philon's? Demeas was general last year, and she is my cousin on the mother's side. Who has been telling you all this? Is it just a cobweb spun in that jealous little brain of yours?
MYR: Pamphilus! You mean to say you are not going to be married?
PA: Are you mad, or what is the matter with you? We did not have much to drink yesterday.
MYR: Ask Doris; it is all her fault. I sent her out to buy some wool, and to offer up prayer to Artemis for me. And she said that she met Lesbia, and Lesbia------Doris, tell him what Lesbia said, unless you invented it all yourself.
DOR: May I die, miss, if I said a word more than the truth! Just by the Prytaneion Lesbia met me, and 'Doris,' says she, smiling, 'your young gentleman is to marry Philon's daughter. And if you don't believe me,' says she, 'look up their street,
and you will see everything crowned with garlands, and a fine bustle going on; flutes playing, and people singing the wedding-song'
PA: Well; and you did?
DOR: That I did, sir; and it was all as Lesbia had said.
PA: Ah, now I see! You have told your mistress nothing but the truth; and there was some ground for what Lesbia told you. However, it is a false alarm. The wedding is not at our house. I remember now. When I went back home yesterday, after leaving you, 'Pamphilus,' said my mother, here is neighbour Aristaenetus's son, Charmides, who is no older than you, just going to marry and settle down: when are you going to turn over a new leaf? ' And then I dropped off to sleep. I went out early this morning, so that I saw nothing of all that Doris has seen. If you doubt my word, Doris can go again; and look more carefully this time, Doris; mark the house, not the street only, and you will find that the garlands are next door.
MYR: I breathe again! Pamphilus, if it had been true, I should have killed myself!
PA: True, indeed! Am I mad, that I should forget Myrtium, so soon to become the mother of my child?

§ 3  III. Philinna, Her Mother
MOTHER: You must be mad, Philinna; what was the matter with you at the dinner last night? Diphilus was in tears this morning when he came and told me how he had been treated. You were tipsy, he said, and made an exhibition of yourself, dancing when he asked you not to; then you kissed his friend Lamprias, and when Diphilus did not like that, you left him and went and put your arms round Lamprias; and he choking with rage all the time. And afterwards you would not go near him, but let him cry by himself, and kept singing and teasing him.
PHI: Ah, mother, he never told you how he behaved; if you knew how rude he was, you would not take his part. He neglected me and made up to Thais, Lamprias's girl, before Lamprias came. I was angry, and let him see what I thought of him, and then he took hold of Thais's ear, bent her neck back and gave her--oh, such a kiss! I thought it would never end. So I began to cry; but he only laughed, and kept whispering to her--about me, of course; Thais was looking at me and smiling. However, when they heard Lamprias coming, and had had enough of each other at last, I did take my place by him all the same, not to give him an excuse for a fuss afterwards. It was Thais got up and danced first, showing her ankles ever so much, as if no one else had pretty ones. And when she stopped, Lamprias never said a word, but Diphilus praised her to the skies--such perfect time! such varied steps! foot and music always right; and what a lovely ankle! and so on, and so on; it might have been the Sosandra of Calamis he was complimenting, and not Thais; what she is really like, you know well enough. And how she insulted me, too! 'If some one is not ashamed of her spindle-shanks,' she said, 'she will get up and dance now.' Well, that is all, mammy; of course I did get up and dance. What was I to do? take it quietly and make her words seem true and let her be queen?
MOTHER: You are too touchy, my lass; you should have taken no notice. But go on.
PHI: Well, the others applauded, but Diphilus lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling, till I was tired and gave up. Mother. But what about kissing Lamprias? is that true? and going across and embracing him? Well, why don't you speak? Those are things I cannot forgive.
PHI: I wanted to pay him out.
MOTHER: And then not sitting near him! singing while he was in tears! Think how poor we are, girl; you forget how much we have had from him, and what last winter would have been if Aphrodite had not sent him to us.
PHI: I dare say! and I am to let him outrage my feelings just for that?
MOTHER: Oh, be as angry as you like, but no tit for tat. You ought to know that if a lover's feelings are outraged his love ends, and he finds out his folly. You have always been too hard on the lad; pull too tight, and the rope breaks, you know.

§ 4  THE INCANTATION:
MELITTA: If you happen to know of a witch, I refer to those Thessalonian women who practice incantations, by which they win love for the most detestable of women, send her to me. I will give all my clothes, all my gold, everything I own, to see Charinos hate Simiche and return to me.
BACCHIS: What is it you're saying? Is he no longer with you? Is it possible that Charinos, is in love with Simiche? He has suffered so many quarrels with his parents on account of you. He has thrown over that rich fiancee of his and her dowry of five talents for Melitta.
MELITTA: Ah, all that belongs to the past. I haven't seen him for the last five days. Charinos has deserted me. He and Simiche are drinking at the house of his friend Pammenes.
BACCHIS: That is terrible, Melitta. But how did you happen to fall out? Undoubtedly it was not over a trifle.
MELITTA: I have nothing to say about that. The day before yesterday he returned from the Piraeus where he went to collect a debt for his father. I ran up to him as he entered my house, but he refused to recognize me. I wanted to embrace him but he repelled me, saying: "Get away from me! Run along to your shipowner Hermotimos! Or rather, see what is written on the Kerameikos walls; you'll find there both of your names inscribed with a stylus." "Which Hermotimos?" I asked him in surprise. But without answering and without tasting a morsel of food, he got into bed and turned his back on me. I did everything I could think of to win his attention. I took him in my arms, I lay on top of him, I kissed him between the shoulders, on the lower section of his back, and put my hand between his legs. It was all in vain. Nothing could soften him, and he said: "If you continue your maneuvers, I'll leave immediately, dark and late as it is!"
BACCHIS: But you do know Hermotimos, don't you?
MELITTA: May I become even more miserable than I am at present if I know of a shipowner by the name of Hermotimos. Charinos rose at daybreak and left without a word. I remembered what he had said about the Kerameikos wall and I sent Akis to see what was written. She found nothing more than an inscription, somewhere on the right, as you enter by the Dipylon. It went like this: "Melitta loves Hermotimos"; and a little lower: "The shipowner Hermotimos loves Melitta."
BACCHIS: What a dirty trick! I understand now. Somebody wrote the words on the wall in order to get even with Charinos, knowing he is very jealous. He believed what he read without asking a question. If I saw him, I'd tell him about it.
MELITTA: But how can you see him? How can anybody see him? He has shut himself up with Simiche. His parents came to my house to see if Charinos was with me. Ah, if only I could find an old witch who would make the right kind of incantation. She'd save my life.
BACCHIS: Don't worry, my dear. I happen to be acquainted with an experienced witch. She is a Syrian, still in the prime of her career as a magician. You remember how Phanias left me for no reason at all, just like Charinos now? Well, this Syrian witch worked a reconciliation after four months' time. I was despairing of ever getting him back, and she, by the means of her enchantments, made him return to my bed.
MELITTA: What did the old woman do — if you do not fear telling me?
BACCHIS: Not at all. I'll tell you everything. You don't need to pay her very much, Melitta, only one drachma and a loaf of bread. But you will have to bring along some salt, seven oboles, sulfur and a torch. The witch takes it all, and — oh, yes! You must bring some wine in a krater; the old woman will drink the wine. And you'll need something of the man himself as, for example, an article of clothing, a hair, or some such thing.
MELITTA: I still have his shoes.
BACCHIS: Well, she will hang them on a nail, burn the sulfur underneath and strew salt over the fire while she keeps repeating your name, your own and your lover's. Then she draws a top from between her breasts and spins it, reciting at the same time her secret charm. Oh, what secret, barbarian words! It'll make you shudder. That is what she did for me, and very soon Phanias — in spite of the reproaches of his comrades and the pleading of the false Phoibis — came back to my bed. It was the charm that made him return. It urged him on toward me. The same witch also taught me the way to make Phoibis perfectly hateful. You watch the print of her feet as she passes by, and then you rub out the footprints by putting your right foot where she has placed her left foot and your left on her right. You do it and say at the same time: "I have trampled on you; I am above you. I am above you. I have trampled on you; I am above you." I did exactly what she told me, and now Phanias is back in my bed. And he passionately kisses me all over my body, something he always refused to do before.
MELITTA: Not a moment's delay, Bacchis! Find me immediately the Syrian witch. And you, Akis, prepare the bread and the sulfur and everything we shall need for a proper incantation.

§ 5  LESBIANS: LEAINA, a player of the cithara CLONARION, a young man
CLONARION I have heard a queer thing said about you, Leaina. People say Megilla, the wealthy lady from Lesbos, is in love with you, as if she were a man, and that she — I can't explain how — — — but — — — . I have heard it said that the two of you couple up just like — — —
LEAINA: (Abashed silence)
CLONARION: What's the matter? You are blushing. Is it true then?
LEAINA: It is true, Clonarion. I am ashamed. It is so strange — — —
CLONARION: By the great Adrasteia, you must tell me about it! What does that woman require of you? Exactly what do you do when you get into bed together?
LEAINA: (Abashed silence)
CLONARION: Now I am sure you don't love me. If you did, you would not think of hiding such things from me.
LEAINA: I do love you, Clonarion. I love you more than anybody else. But this is such a strange matter. I am so ashamed. That woman is so terribly like a male.
CLONARION: I don't understand. Do you mean to say she is one of those man-like females of Lesbos who will not suffer in their beds the company of men, but prefer to find pleasure, instead, with other women, as if they themselves were men?
LEAINA: She is somewhat like that.
CLONARION: (With enthusiasm) In that case, Leaina, tell me everything, please! How did she seduce you, in the first place? And how was it that you let Megilla have her way with you? And what came after? Tell me everything, please!
LEAINA: You see, Megilla and Demonassa, the Corinthian, sweating and very hot, pulled off her false hair — I had never suspected her of wearing a wig. And I saw her head was smooth-shaven as that of a young athlete. I was quite scared to see this. But Megilla spoke up and said to me: "Tell me, O Leaina, have you ever seen a better looking young man?" "But I see no young man here, Megilla!" I told her. "Now, now! Don't you effeminate me!" she reproved. "You must understand my name is Megillos. Demonassa is my wife." Her words seemed so funny to me, Clonarion. I started to giggle. And I said: "Can it be, Megillos, that you are a man and lived among us under the disguise of a woman, just like Achilles, who stayed among the girls hidden by his purple robe? And is it true that you possess a man's organs, and that you do to Demonassa what any husband does to his wife?" "That Leaina," she replied, "is not entirely so. You will soon see how we shall couple up in a fashion that is much more voluptuous." "In that case," I said, "you are not a hermaphrodite. They, I have been told, have both a man's and woman's organs." "No," she said, "I am quite like a man." "Ismenodora, the Boeotian flute player, has told me about a Theban woman who was changed into a man. A certain good soothsayer by the name of Teiresias — — — Did any accident like that happen to you by chance?" "No, Leaina," she said. "I was born with a body entirely like that of all women, but I have the tastes and desires of a man." "And do those desires of yours suffice you?" I asked, smiling. "Let me have my own way with you, Leaina, if you don't believe me," she answered, "and you will soon see that I have nothing to envy men for. I have something that resembles a man's estate. Come on, let me do what I want to do and you will soon understand." She pleaded so hard that I let her have her way. And you must understand that she made me a gift of a splendid necklace and several tunics of the finest linen. Then I embraced her and held her in my arms, as if she were a man. And she kissed me all over the body, and she set out to do what she had promised, panting excitedly from the great pleasure and desire that possessed her.
CLONARION: But exactly how did she manage it? What did she do? Tell me, Leaina! Tell me especially that!
LEAINA: Please, don't ask me for details. These are shameful things. By the Mistress of Heaven, I will never, never, tell you that!

§ 6.1  THE EDUCATION OF CORINNA:
CROBYLE: Well, Corinna, you see now that it wasn't so terrible to lose your virginity. You have spent your first night with a man. You have earned your first gift, no less than a hundred drachmas. With that I'll buy you a necklace.
CORINNA: Yes, dear mother, do buy me a necklace. Let it be a necklace made of fine, shining stones like the one Philainis wears.
CROBYLE: I promise. It will be just like the one Philainis wears. But listen: I want to teach you how you should conduct yourself with men. Take my words to heart, daughter. We have only your favor with men to depend on for a living. You can't imagine how hard it has been for us to get along since your blessed father's death. We lacked nothing when he was alive. He had quite a reputation as a blacksmith in the Piraeus. People say there will never be another blacksmith like Philipinos. After his death I sold his tongs, anvil and hammer for two hundred drachmas. We lived on that for some time. I found work weaving and turning thread, barely earning enough to buy bread with. I have raised you, however, my precious little daughter. You are the only hope left me.
CORINNA: Weren't you going to say something about my hundred drachmas, mother?
CROBYLE: No, child. But I thought you were now big enough to support your tired mother. Not only that: you can even earn enough to dress richly, to buy yourself the newest robes of purple, and slaves.
CORINNA: What do you mean, mother? Why do you say that?
CROBYLE: Don't you understand, little fool? Why, you will earn a great deal being attentive to nice young men, drinking in their company and going to bed with them — for money, of course.
CORINNA: (Scandalized) You mean like Lyra, the daughter of Daphnis?
CROBYLE: Yes.
CORINNA: But she is — a courtesan!
CROBYLE: What of it? There is no harm in that. You will become rich. You are sure to have many lovers.
CORINNA: (Weeps)
CROBYLE: Why, Corinna! Why do you weep? Don't you see how many courtesans there are, how they are all sought after, and how they all make money? I knew Daphnis when she was in rags — that was before she got sense enough to make use of her body. Look at her now! She struts like a queen, all bespangled with gold, wearing flowery dresses, and no less than four slaves behind her.
CORINNA: And how did she get all that, dear mother?
CROBYLE: Well, in the first place, by dressing elegantly and being amiable and cheery with everybody. She does not giggle at any little thing, as you do; instead, she only smiles, which is much more attractive. She treats shrewdly, but without double-crossing, the men that come to see her or take her to their houses. She never approaches them first. When she is paid to assist at a banquet, she takes care not to get drunk — it is foolish and men can't bear it — and she does not stuff herself with food like an imbecile, so that when she gets into bed she is in condition to serve her lover well. She no more than touches the various dishes served — delicately, with her fingertips, and always in silence. And she never guzzles her wine, but drinks slowly, quietly, in gentle little sips.
CORINNA: But supposing she is thirsty, dear mother?
CROBYLE: Especially when she is thirsty, foolish girl! And she never speaks more than is necessary, and never pokes fun at anybody present, and has eyes only for the man who has paid her. That is why everybody appreciates her. Furthermore, when it is time to get into bed, she never resorts to any obscenity, but does her task with care and loving attention. In bed, she bears one thing in mind — to win the man and make a steady lover of him. That is why everybody speaks highly of her. If you take this lesson to heart and do likewise we, too, shall be rich, for she is far from having your looks and your complexion. But I won't say anything more. Long may you live, little daughter, and prosper!
CORINNA: But tell me, dear mother: Will all those that will pay me be as handsome as Eucritos, the fellow I slept with yesterday?
CROBYLE: Not all. There will be better looking fellows. And some will be very vigorous and energetic — you know what I mean; while others will not be quite as handsome.
CORINNA: And shall I have to give myself to the homely fellows too?
CROBYLE: Especially to them, my child. It is that class that pays best. The beautiful kind only want to give their looks. I repeat: be careful to attach yourself to men who pay best — if you want to have people point you out on the street and say: "Do you see that Corinna, the daughter of Crobyle? Do you notice how rich she became, and what happiness she brings to her old mother? Oh, thrice happy has she rendered her, blessed be the girl!" What do you say, child? Will you do that? You'll do what your old mother tells you, won't you? Ah, you will easily surpass the best of our courtesans. Now run and wash yourself, child. Possibly little Eucritos will be back tonight. He has promised to come to my little daughter. Both of you will enjoy it more tonight.

§ 7  SWEETHEART MOTHER If you ever find another lover like Chaireas, my dear Mousarion, we shall have to sacrifice a white goat to the popular Aphrodite and a heifer to the Uranian of the Gardens, and we shall crown with flowers the kind Demeter, from whom all riches flow. For we shall be happy. Yes, thrice happy! You should understand by now how much we are ever likely to get from that young man. He hasn't given us a single obol, or one piece of clothing or a pair of slippers, and not a box of perfumes. His only stock in trade seems to be pretexts, promises and fine hopes. He is always mumbling: "If my father ever and — — — I become master of the estate, everything, everything will be yours." You say he has sworn to marry you legally?
MOUSARION: He did, mother. He swore by the two goddesses and by Pallas Athena.
MOTHER: And you believe all that? Why, the other day, when he did not have enough money to pay a debt, you handed him your ring; you said nothing to me. And he traded it for a few drinks. Then followed both of your Ionic necklaces, each of which weighs no less than two darikes. The armorer Praxias of Chios had to send to Ephesus to get them for you. Well, dear Chaireas had better start paying what he owes us. I won't say anything about your linen and shirts. Every lover naturally gives those things. But Chaireas isn't much of an asset as a lover.
MOUSARION: But he is so handsome. There isn't a sign of a hair on his chin. And he tells me he loves me and often weeps while he is saying that he loves me. Furthermore, he is the son of Dinomache and Lathes the Areopagite. We shall get married as soon as the old man shuts his eyes for good.
MOTHER: (Ironically) Well, Mousarion. Whenever we are in need of shoes and the cobbler says, "Two drachmas, please," we shall tell him, "Sorry, we have no money, but won't you take a few fine hopes?" And when the flour merchant presents his bill, we'll say, "Wait. The old Laches Collyetus will soon be dead. We shall pay after the marriage ceremony." Aren't you ashamed of yourself? You are the only one among courtesans without a pair of earrings, without a necklace, or one Tarentine tunic?
MOUSARION: Why should I feel ashamed, mother? Are the other courtesans happier or better looking?
MOTHER: But they are more intelligent. They understand their business. They don't let their heads be turned by fine phrases and promises. You are faithful; you love Chaireas like a husband, you don't let another soul touch you. That is the trouble with you. The other day, when the Acharnian farmer boy offered you two hundred drachmas, the full price of the wine he had sold for his father in the city, and the Acharnian had no hair on his chin, either, you laughed at the poor boy and lay down instead with Chaireas, your Adonis.
MOUSARION: But, mother, you surely did not expect me to abandon Chaireas and receive in his place that peasant with his smell of goats and cow-dung? Chaireas's skin is so smooth and soft. It is just like the skin of a suckling pig from Acharnai.
MOTHER: Fine. That was a rustic who smelled of goats and cow-dung. But what about Antiphon, the son of Menecrates? Why didn't you receive Antiphon? He offered you a hundred drachmas for the pleasure of one night? Isn't he handsome? Isn't he a man of the world? Isn't he citified? Is Antiphon a day older than your dear little Chaireas?
MOUSARION: But Chaireas says he will kill both of us if he ever finds him with me.
MOTHER: How those young fellows do threaten and boast! In that case, you will remain without lovers, you will become an honest woman. Why don't you forget that you are a courtesan and put on the dress of the priestesses of the Thesmophorion goddess? But let us leave that. Today is the day of Aloa, a feast of Demeter. What has your little darling given you for the holiday?
MOUSARION: Always you think and speak only of what he will give me. He gives me himself. Has any courtesan more? But — there mother, do not weep. His father has promised him a fine gift of money. Chaireas promised to give whatever stipend he receives to me. He is generous. Have no fear, dear mother.
MOTHER: Let us hope it isn't more lying. Don't you forget my words, Mousarion. I'll have occasion to remind you of your folly.

§ 8  THE PLEASURE OF BEING BEATEN: AMPELIS: Why are you so sad, Chrysis? And your eyes are red with crying. I have always known you as a cheerful girl. You, of all our friends, should be happy. For it is common gossip that Gorgias loves you with a love that is bestowed on few women.
CHRYSIS: Yes, that is just it. He loves me! But you would not have thought so had you seen him last night, in that insane fury that overcomes him when I but walk in the shadow of another man. No, had you seen him beating me last night, would you but see the marks of his lash on my body now, you would not think him such a lover. Lover indeed! He whips me with more fury than the meanest slave.
AMPELIS: But this fury is only another proof of his great love. You should he thankful, not complaining.
CHRYSIS: What are you saying? Must he always be beating me?
AMPELIS: No. But may he always get angry when your attention wanders to some other man! He must be crazy about you. If he weren't, he wouldn't have gotten excited when he saw you with another lover.
CHRYSIS: But I have no other lover. He imagines that I am in love with a rich old man just because I spoke to the fellow the other day.
AMPELIS: It is a very good thing that he thinks the rich are after you. The more he will suffer on account of that, the more he will try to rival them — you know how — so as not to be left behind.
CHRYSIS: Meanwhile, he raises Cain and whips me and gives me not an obol.
AMPELIS: He'll give. Jealous men are always liberal givers.
CHRYSIS: But, dearie, I don't see why he should keep on beating me.
AMPELIS: I am not saying that. I do know, however, that men become bigger-hearted and better lovers once they get the suspicion that their mistresses care less about them. When a man believes himself to be the one and only lover in a woman's life, he'll whistle and go his way. I ought to know; I have followed this profession for the last twenty years. If you want me to, I will tell you what happened to me a few years ago. At that time I had a steady lover, a certain Demophantos, a lender living near the Poikile. He had never given me more than five drachmas and he pretended to be my man. But his love was only superficial, Chrysis. He never sighed, he never shed tears for me and he never spent the night waiting at my door. One day he came to see me, knocked at my door, but I did not open it. You see, I had the painter, Callides, in my room; Callides had given me ten drachmas. Demophantos swore and beat his fists on the door and left cursing me. Several days passed without my sending for him; Callides was still in my house. Thereupon Demophantos, who was already quite excited, went wild. He broke open my door, wept, pulled me about, threatened to kill me, tore my tunic, and did everything, in fact, that a jealous man would do, and finally presented me with six thousand drachmas. In consideration of this sum, I was his for a period of eight months. His wife used to say that I had bewitched him with some powder. That bewitching powder, to be sure, was jealousy. That is why, Chrysis, I advise you to act likewise with Gorgias. The boy will be rich if anything happens to his father.

§ 9  RETURN OF THE SOLDIER: DORCAS: (Runs in) Oh, mistress, we are lost! We are lost! Polemon is back from the war. He was wearing a purple cloak and was surrounded by many slaves. I did not get the opportunity to speak to him in person because, as soon as they caught sight of him, his friends rushed up to greet him. But I noticed at his side a person who had accompanied him abroad; you know whom I mean. And I asked the latter person: "Tell me, Parmenon, have you got something for us? Has your master brought any worth-while gift from the war?"
PANNYCHIS: That was wrong. You shouldn't have used such words. You should have said instead: "You are safe, praised be the gods, especially Dzeus Xenios and Athena Stratia! The mistress has asked me to inquire how your master has gotten along and if both of you are in good health." And it would have sounded even better if you had added: "She hasn't ceased weeping for Polemon and thinking about him." That would have been much better.
DORCAS: Indeed, I did tell something like what you say as soon as I opened my mouth. But I didn't repeat my words, the exact words I used to Parmenon, because I wanted to warn you immediately what I have learned. When I came near Parmenon, I started this way: "Is it possible, Parmenon, that your own and your master's ears did not tingle all thru this war? For the mistress hasn't stopped talking about both of you. She has shed tears every day since you left. And whenever anybody returns from the battle area and there is news of a great fight and many are killed, she tears her hair and beats her breasts. Indeed, any kind of war news makes her lament."
PANNYCHIS: Very good, Dorcas. You have spoken the right words.
DORCAS: Then I asked about gifts and such matters, and he replied: "Dorcas, we return in full magnificence."
PANNYCHIS: He did not begin by saying that Polemon still remembers me and that he hopes to find me alive and awaiting him?
DORCAS: In fact, Parmenon did mention several little things to that effect; but I found much more agreeable his account of his master's and his own good fortune. Parmenon spoke at length of great riches, of gold, fine raiments and slaves and ivory. It appears that they have so much money that they don't count it by pieces but by medimnas, and many are the medimnas they have brought along. Parmenon himself carries on his little finger a large polygonal ring in which is set a wonderful tri-colored stone. Before I left him, he tried to tell me how they had crossed the Halys and killed a certain Tiridates, and how Polemon distinguished himself in a fight against the Pisidians. I ran to you to announce their return so that you may have time to decide what to do. Should Polemon arrive and find Philostratos here, he will ... Can you imagine what he might do?
PANNYCHIS: We must find some remedy for this queer situation. It would not be wise to desert Philostratos; he gave me six thousand drachmas the other day. And, besides, he is a merchant; he may give me much more later. On the other hand, I can not refuse to receive Polemon when he returns with so much money. One must respect old loves. This Polemon is so jealous a man, it was hard to put up with him when he was poor. I can imagine what he will be like after such a successful war.
DORCAS: Here he comes!
PANNYCHIS: Oh, I am powerless! What shall I do? I can not think of a way out. Invent something, please. Invent a story immediately! I tremble, Dorcas! I tremble!
DORCAS: And there is Philostratos, too!
PANNYCHIS: Oh, what will become of me! May the earth open its mouth and swallow me
PHILOSTRATOS: (Coming near) I suggest we have a drink, dear Pannychis.
PANNYCHIS: (Low) Oh, miserable man, you have ruined me! (Loudly) Hail, Polemon! Why didn't you return sooner?
POLEMON: Who is the man who dares to ask Pannychis to drink with him?
PANNYCHIS: (Silent)
POLEMON: You are silent. Very well. I have exerted myself to make the journey from Thermopylae to this city in five days' time in order to see this woman! Many thanks! I must have merited such a reception. From now on you are free to sponge on somebody else.
PHILOSTRATOS: And you, friend, who are you?
POLEMON: What! You haven't heard of Polemon Steirieus, the Pandionid who was first a chiliarch and now commands his five thousand shields? Polemon, stranger, was the lover of this Pannychis when he still credited her with human feelings.
PHILOSTRATOS: All right, my captain of mercenaries! Learn that Pannychis is mine. She has already received from me six thousand drachmas and will get more as soon as I sell my cargo. Come along, Pannychis. Let our valiant chiliarch disport himself with the Odrysians.
DORCAS: My mistress is free. She will follow whomever she pleases
PANNYCHIS: (Low) What shall I do, Dorcas?
DORCAS: It is best to return inside. You can't remain near Polemon while he is in such a dudgeon. He will become even more jealous.
PANNYCHIS: All right. Let us go in.
POLEMON: I warn you that this is the last time you will drink together. It is not for play alone that I have survived so many a martial slaughter. I shall kill. My Thracians, Parmenon! Let the phalanx cut off this street from the rest of the metropolis! To the front, hoplites! Slingers and bowmen on the flanks! The rest to the rear of the column!
PHILOSTRATOS: You think you are talking to children, mercenary. Do you believe you frighten us? Ah, what grand words! Indeed, have you ever killed a rooster? Where did you see war? You may have mounted guard over some safe rampart; possibly not even that.
POLEMON: You will learn very soon where I saw war. Wait till you see us in arms!
PHILOSTRATOS: Come on then! Bring on your phalanx! I and this faithful Tibios will show you what can be done with stones and oyster shells. We'll make you run so hard that you won't know the why or whither of your hurry.

§ 10.1  THE PHILOSOPHER
CHELIDONION: So little Clinias has stopped visiting your house? I haven't seen him for some time.
DROSIS: It is true, Chelidonion. His master has shut him up in their rooms. He stops the boy from coming to see me.
CHELIDONION: Whom are you talking about? You don't mean Diotimos who is teaching at the gymnasium? Diotimos is a good friend of mine.
DROSIS: No; I refer to the most debauched of philosophers, Aristaenetus.
CHELIDONION: You mean the long-faced, funereal man with the shaggy whiskers? He takes the little fellows for walks thru the Poikile.
DROSIS: Yes, that is the faker. I wish he'd die in a hurry! May the executioner drag him to his peace by his whiskers!

§ 10.2  CHELIDONION: But how could a character like this false philosopher have seduced Clinias?
DROSIS: I don't know, Chelidonion. The boy hasn't set his foot in my street for the last three days; I am rather worried. It was I, you know, who taught him what woman is; and he hasn't slept with another woman since his first lesson. Having bad presentiments in regard to my Clinias, I sent Nebris, my slave, to see if he was at the Agora or in the Poikile. Nebris tells me she saw him walking with Aristaenetus. She nodded to the boy from a distance, and Clinias blushed and was discomfited but did not look at her again. Then they reëntered the city. Nebris followed as far as the Dipylon, but, since they did not come out again, she returned without learning anything more.
You can imagine how worried I have been since then. I don't know what will become of the boy. I have always treated him fairly. At first I was afraid some other woman had got him and his love for me had turned to hate. It also seemed possible that his father forbade him to see his Drosis. This evening, however, Dromon, the boy's slave, came to me with this letter. Take it and read, Chelidonion. You can read, can't you?

§ 10.3  CHELIDONION: Let us see now. The penmanship is not especially good. You can see this letter was written in a hurry. He writes:
Oh, how much I love you, my Drosis! The gods, every one of them, will vouch for the degree of my affection. Know, therefore, that it is not by reason of dislike but by necessity that I have come to be separated from you. My father has intrusted me to Aristaenetus to study philosophy, and my master has found out everything about the two of us and has scolded me severely, saying it was not meet for the son of Architeles and Erasicleia to carry on with a courtesan. He says that he will convince me that virtue is preferable to voluptuousness.
DROSIS: May the imbecile suffer an apoplectic fit! Think of teaching such philosophy to a young man!
CHELIDONION: So that I am forced to obey my master. He follows me wherever I go and guards me carefully and lets no woman approach me. He promises me that if I learn his kind of wisdom and do what he requires of me, I shall, after some efforts, become a virtuous and happy man. I write this letter hurriedly. I hope no one is looking.
Be happy and think sometimes of your, Lost forever, ...Clinias.

§ 10.4  DROSIS: What do you think of the letter, Chelidonion?
CHELIDONION: The words of an uncultivated Scythian, Drosis. However, the last two lines suggest some possibilities. All in all, in my opinion, your Clinias will never become a great poet.
DROSIS: That's what I think, too. But I am dying for the little fellow's love. [He is like a kitten.] Dromon tells me that Aristaenetus is some kind of pederast. That is, under the pretext of teaching them rhetoric and philosophy, the whiskered codger has intercourse with the most handsome of his pupils. According to Dromon, Aristaenetus has already had an interesting conversation with Clinias on the subject and promises to make the boy like to the gods. He reads to him of the love affairs that the old philosophers had with their disciples, and tells him that the gods don't interest themselves in women, but prefer the company of good philosophers like himself. However, Dromon threatens to complain to the boy's father.
CHELIDONION: Dromon is good. We ought to reward him, Drosis. DROSIS: I have already done it, though there is little need of a gift to win him to my side. My Nebris, you know, rather tickles the slave's fancy.
CHELIDONION: In that case, do not worry, Drosis. Everything will turn out fine. In my opinion you ought to leave an inscription on the wall in the Kerameikos where Architeles takes his daily walk. He will understand the danger his son is in and will save him from his doom.
DROSIS: But shall we be able to write without being seen?
CHELIDONION: It will be done at night, Drosis, with a piece of charcoal that we shall pick up on the way.
DROSIS: Fine! Stand with me, Chelidonion, in my fight against the pedant. We courtesans must not allow those whiskered philosophers to mislead the young generation.

§ 11  XI Tryphaena. Charmides
TRY: Well, to be sure! Get a girl to keep company with you, and then turn your back on her! Nothing but tears and groans! The wine was not good enough, I suppose, and you didn't want a tête-à-tête dinner. Oh yes, I saw you were crying at dinner too. And now it is one continued wail like a baby's. What is it all about, Charmides? do tell me; let me get that much out of my evening with you.
CH: Love is killing me, Tryphaena; I can stand it no longer.
TRY: It is not love for me, that is clear. You would not be so cold to me, and push me away when I want to put my arms round you. It really is not fair to keep me off like this! Never mind, tell me who it is; perhaps I may help you to her; I know one ought to make oneself useful.
CH: Oh, you two know each other quite well; she is quite a celebrity.
TRY: Name, name, Charmides!
CH: Well then--Philematium.
TRY: Which? there are two of them; one in Piraeus, who has only just come there; Damyllus the governor's son is in love with her; is it that one? or the other, the one they call The Trap?
CH: Yes, that is she; she has caught me and got me tight, poor mouse.
TRY: And the tears were all for her?
CH: Even so.
TRY: Is this recent? or how long has it been going on?
CH: Oh, it is nothing new. I saw her first at the Dionysia; that makes seven months.
TRY: Had you a full view of her, or did you just see her face and as much as a woman of forty-five likes to show?
CH: Oh, come! I have her word for it she will be two-and-twenty next Elaphobolion.
TRY: Well, which are you going to trust--her word, or your own eyes? Just take a careful look at her temples some day; that is the only place where her own hair shows; all the rest is a thick wig; but at the temples, when the dye fades a little, you can easily detect the grey. But that is nothing; insist on seeing more than her face.
CH: Oh, but I am not favoured so far as that.
TRY: No, I should think not. She knows what the effect would be; why, she is all over--oh, talk of leopard-skins! And it was she made you cry like that, was it? I dare say, now, she was very cruel and scornful?
CH: Yes, she was, dear; and such a lot of money as she has from me! Just now she wants a thousand drachmas; well, I am dependent on my father, and he is very close, and I could not very well get it; so she is at home to Moschion, and will not see me. That is why you are here; I thought it might vex her.
TRY: Well, I'm sure I never never would have come if I had been told what it was for--just to vex somebody else, and that somebody old coffin-ripe Philematium! I shall go away; for that matter the third cock-crow is past.
CH: No, no, not so fast, Tryphaena. If it is all true--the wig, the dye, and the leopard-skin--I shall hate the sight of her.
TRY: If your mother has ever seen her at the bath, ask her. As to the age, you had better ask your grandfather about that, if he is alive.
CH: Well, as that is what she is like, come up close to me. Give me your arms--and your lips--and let us be friends. Philematium be hanged!

§ 12.1  XII Ioessa, Pythias, Lysias
IOESSA: Cross boy! But I deserve it all! I ought to have treated you as any other girl would do,--bothered you for money, and been engaged when you called, and made you cheat your father or rob your mother to get presents for me; instead of which, I have always let you in from the very first time, and it has never cost you a penny, Lysias. Think of all the lovers I have sent away: Ethocles, now a Chairman of Committees, and Pasion the shipowner, and young Melissus, who had just come into all his father's money. I would not have a word to say to one of them; I kept myself for you, hard-hearted Phaon that you are! I was fool enough to believe all your vows, and have been living like a Penelope for your sake; mother is furious about it, and is always talking at me to her friends. And now that you feel sure of me, and know how I dote on you, what is the consequence? You flirt with Lycaena under my very eyes, just to vex me; you sit next to me at dinner, and pay compliments to Magidium, a mere music-girl, and hurt my feelings, and make me cry. And that wine-party the other day, with Thraso and Diphilus, when Cymbalium the flute-girl was there, and Pyrallis: you know how I hate that girl: as for Cymbalium, whom you kissed no less than five times, I didn't mind so much about that,--it must have been sufficient punishment in itself:--but the way in which you were always making signs to Pyrallis to notice your cup, and whispering to the boy, when you gave it back to him, that he was not to fill it for any one but Pyrallis! and that piece of apple that you bit off and shot across right into her lap, when you saw that Diphilus was occupied with Thraso,--you never even tried to conceal it from me! and she kissed it, and hid it away beneath her girdle.

§ 12.2  What is the meaning of it all? What have I ever done to you? Did I ever displease you? ever look at any other man? Do I not live for you alone? A brave thing, is it not, Lysias, to vex a poor weak woman who loves you to distraction! There is a certain god Adrasteia who watches such deeds. You will be sorry some day, perhaps, when you hear of my hanging myself, or jumping head first into a well; for die I will, one way or another, rather than live to be an eyesore to you. There will be an achievement for you to boast of! You need not look at me like that, nor gnash your teeth: if you have anything to say against me, here is Pythias; let her judge between us. Oh, you are going away without a word?--You see what I have to put up with, Pythias!
PY: Monster! He cares nothing for her tears. He must be made of stone instead of flesh and blood. But the truth is, my dear, you have spoilt him, by letting him see how fond you are of him. It is a great mistake to make so much of them; they get uppish. Don't cry, dear: take my advice, and shut him out once or twice; it will be his turn to dote on you then.
IO: Shut him out? Don't breathe a word of such a thing! I only wish he would wait till I turned him out!
PY: Why, here he is back again.
IO: Pythias! What have you done? If he should have overheard that about shutting him out!

§ 12.3  LY: I am coming back on your account, Pythias, not on hers; I will never look at her again, after what she has done: but I don't want you to think badly of me; it shall not be said that Lysias was hard-hearted.
PY: Exactly what I was saying.
LY: But what would you have me do? This girl, who is so tearful now, has been disloyal to me, and received another lover; I actually found them together!
PY: Well, after all------. But when did you make this discovery?
LY: It must have been something like five days ago; yes, it was, because it was on the second, and to-day is the seventh. My father had found out about this precious Ioessa, and how long it had been going on, and he locked me in, and gave the porter orders not to open to me. Well, I wasn't going to be kept away from her, so I told Dromo to slip along the courtyard to the lowest part of the wall, and then let me mount on his back; I knew I could easily get over that way. To make a long story short, I got out, and came here. It was midnight, and I found the door carefully barred. Instead of knocking, I quietly lifted the door off its hinges (it was not the first time I had done so) and passed noiselessly in. Every one was asleep. I groped my way along the wall, and stopped at the bedside.

§ 12.4  IO: O Demeter! What is coming? I am in torment!
LY: I perceived from the breathing that there was more than one person there, and thought at first that Lyde must be sleeping with her. Pythias, I was mistaken! My hands passed over a smooth, beardless man's face; the fellow was close-cropped, and reeked of scent like any woman. I had not brought my sword with me, or you may be sure I should have known what to do with it--What are you both laughing at? Is it so amusing, Pythias?
IO: Oh, Lysias! is that all? Why, it was Pythias who was sleeping with me!
PY: Ioessa, don't tell him!
IO: Why not? Lysias, dear, it was Pythias; I had asked her to come and sleep with me; I was so lonely without you.
LY: Pythias? Then her hair has grown pretty fast in five days.
IO: She has been ill, and her hair was falling off, and she had to have it cropped. And now she has got false hair. Pythias, show him that it is so. Behold your rival, Lysias! this is the young gentleman of whom you were jealous.
LY: And what lover would not have been jealous? I had the evidence of my hands, remember.
IO: Well, you know better now. Suppose I were to return you evil for evil? What should you say to that? It is my turn to be angry with you now.
LY: No, you mustn't be angry. We will have some wine, and Pythias must IO:n us; the truce cannot be ratified without her.
IO: Of course not. A pretty scrape you have led me into, Pythias, you nice young man!
PY: The nice young man has led you out of it again too, so you must forgive him. I say, Lysias, you need not tell any one--about my hair, you know.

§ 13  Leontichus. Chenidas. Hymnis
LEONT: And then that battle with the Galatians; tell her about that, Chenidas — how I rode out in front on the grey, and the Galatians (brave fellows, those Galatians, too) — but they ran away directly they saw me; not a man stood his ground. That time, you know, I used my lance for a javelin, and sent it through their captain and his horse as well; and then, as some of them were left — the phalanx was broken up, you see, but a certain number had rallied— well, I pulled out my trusty blade, rode at them as hard as I could go, knocked over half a dozen of the front rank with the mere rush of my horse, brought down my sword on one of the officers, and clove his head in two halves, helmet and all. The rest of you came up shortly, you remember, when they were already running.
CHEN: Oh, but that duel of yours with the satrap in Paphlagonia! that was a fine display, too.
LEONT: Well remembered; yes, that was not so bad, either. A great big fellow that satrap was, supposed to be a champion fighter too — thought nothing of Greek science. Out he came, and challenged all corners to single combat. There was consternation among our officers, from the lowest to the general himself — though he was a pretty good man. Aristaechmus the Aitolian he was — very strong on the javelin; I was only a colonel then. However, I was not afraid. I shook off the friends who clung to me— they were anxious about me when they saw the barbarian resplendent in his gilded armour, towering high with his terrible plume and brandishing his lance—
CHEN: Yes, I was afraid that time; you remember how I clung to you and besought you not to sacrifice yourself; life would not have been worth living, if you had fallen.
LEONT: I ventured it, though. Out I went, as well armed as the Paphlagonian, all gold like him. What a shout there was on both sides! the barbarians recognized me too; they knew my buckler and medals and plume. Who was it they all compared me to, Chenidas?
CHEN: Why, who should it be? Achilles, of course; the son of Peleus and Thetis, of course. Your helmet was so magnificent, your purple so rich, your buckler so dazzling.
LEONT: We met. The barbarian drew first blood— just a scratch with his lance a little above the knee; but my great spear drove through his shield and right into the breast-bone. Then I ran up, just sliced his head off with my sword, and came back carrying his arms, the head spiked on my spear dripping gore upon me.
HYMN: How horrid, Leontichus! what disgusting frightful tales you tell about yourself! What girl would look at a man who likes such nastiness— let alone drink or sleep with him? I am going away.
LEONT: Pooh! I double your pay.
HYMN: No, nothing shall induce me to sleep with a murderer.
LEONT: Don't be afraid, my dear. All that was in Paphlagonia. I am a man of peace now.
HYMN: No, you are unclean; the blood of the barbarian's head on the spear has dripped over you! I embrace and kiss a man like that? the Graces forbid! he is no better than the executioner.
LEONT: I am certain you would be in love with me if you had seen me in my armour.
HYMN: I tell you it makes me sick and frightened even to hear of such things; I see the shades and ghosts of the slain; that poor officer with his head cloven! what would it be if I saw the thing done, and the blood, and the bodies lying there? I am sure I should die; I never saw a chicken killed, even.
LEONT: Such a coward, girl? so poor of heart? I thought you would like to hear it.
HYMN: Well, try the Lemnian women, or the daughters of Danaus, if you want to please with that sort of tale. I shall run home to my mother, while there is some daylight left. Come along, Grammis. Good-bye, mightiest of colonels, and murderer of however many it is!
LEONT: Stay, girl, stay.— Why, she is gone!
CHEN: Well, Leontichus, you frightened the simple little thing with your nodding plumes and your incredible exploits. I saw her getting pale as far back as the officer story; her face was all puckered up and quivering when you split his head.
LEONT: I thought it would make me more attractive. Well, but it was your fault too; you started the duel.
CHEN: Well, I had to chime in when I saw what you were bragging for. But you laid it on so thick. Pass the cutting off the wretched Paphlagonian's head, what did you want to spike it on a spear for, and let the blood run down on you?
LEONT: That was a bit too strong, I admit; the rest was rather well put together. Well, go and persuade her to come back.
CHEN: Shall I tell her you lied to make her think you a fine fellow?
LEONT: Oh, plague upon it!
CHEN: It's the only way. Choose— a mighty champion, and loathed, or a confessed liar, and— Hymnis?
LEONT: Bad is the best; but I say Hymnis. Go to her, then, Chenidas, and say I lied— in parts.

§ 14  A POOR SAILOR'S LOVE:
DORION: You have impoverished me, Myrtale, and now you won't let me in. Before, when I brought you fine gifts from abroad, you called me your beloved, your man, your master. I was your all in all. But now that I am miserably flat, and you have found for yourself a rich merchant from Bithynia, you won't let me approach you. I sit on your doorstep and shed bitter tears while he enjoys your kisses and shares your warm bed. And now you tell me you will have a child by the fat merchant. (He weeps.)
MYRTALE: Ah, you suffocate me, Dorion. You say that you have showered me with gifts and that I have impoverished you. How many gifts have you given me, you wet-nosed sailor? Count how many!
DORION: Very well, Myrtale, I shall count my gifts and estimate the total value of the wealth I have handed over to you, Myrtale, as proof of my love and esteem. To start with, you have those shoes from Sikyon. That's two drachmas. You won't deny that the shoes were worth two drachmas?
MYRTALE But you slept with me for two nights.
DORION: And when I returned from Syria, I brought you an alabaster full of Phoenician perfumes. By the tail of the great god Poseidon, that amounts to another two drachmas!
MYRTALE: And what about me? Didn't I give you, before you left for the same Syria, a little tunic reaching till the thighs for you to wear while rowing? Do you remember? The proreus Epioros forgot it one day in my rooms. Yes, the proreus Epioros himself slept with me. Must I remember a poor sailor's gifts?
DORION: He took the tunic away from me, your proreus. He saw me wearing the tunic on the shore at Samos, and he took it away from me — but only after a long struggle! And didn't I bring you a lot of onions from Cyprus and five saperdes and four perches when we returned from the Bosphorus? And when we returned from Patara, ten breads packed in one bundle and an amphora of Carian figs and a pair of sandals embroidered with gold thread? Oh, you ingrate! Dorion, the sailor, has presented you with sandals embroidered with gold. And I remember now, a huge Gythian cheese.
MYRTALE (Contemptuously) Altogether five drachmas. Five drachmas, and possibly less. Dorion (Sadly) Ah, Myrtale, it was all a sailor could afford. But now I am in charge of the right flank of rowers on our ship. Why do you look at me that way? And — remember! — at the last feast of Aphrodite, I left for your account a whole drachma at the feet of the goddess. Yes, a whole silver drachma! And I gave your mother two drachmas for shoes. Very often would I leave two oboles or four in the beckoning palm of the old Lyde. All that mounts up to a fortune for a sailor. MYRTALE Fish and onions, Dorion. Dorion Well, what if it is fish and onions? I can't afford more. I wouldn't find amusement at the oar of a ship if I were rich. I have never brought more than a head of garlic to my own mother. But I'd like to know what great gifts the Bithynian has ever presented you with.
MYRTALE Do you see this robe? It was he who bought it for me. And do your fish eyes perceive this heavy necklace? Dorion That? Why you have had it for some time!
MYRTALE The one you saw on me before was much thinner and had no emeralds. And look at these earrings and this rug! And yesterday he gave me two hundred drachmas, and he promised to pay the rent for us. This is not sandals from Patara or cheese from Gythion and a lot of worthless chatter about love, mournful sailor!
DORION: But you don't say how he is himself. You don't describe the man you prefer to me on account of his impossible riches. He is more than fifty years old. He is bald-headed. He is as red as a lobster. And you haven't noticed his teeth, I suppose. Where are his teeth, Myrtale? I ask you: Where are his teeth? And what grace is his? O Dioscuri, what grace! It is most evident when he tries to sing and play the young fellow. An ass strumming on a lyre! You can keep your Apollo! He is quite worthy of you. May you have a son that looks like the father! As for me, I'll find my Delphis or Kymbalion. Don't you worry! Your neighbor, the flute player, looks pretty good to me. Carpets, necklaces, gifts of two hundred drachmas aren't bad. You can't have a good-looking young man like me, but you must sleep with a sack of offal, insist on carpets, necklaces and rich gifts. We can't have everything, you know.
MYRTALE (Ironically) Oh, happy will be the woman whom you choose as your beloved! For you will bring her Cyprian onions and cheese upon your return from Gythion.

§ 15  THE LITTLE FLUTE PLAYER
COCHLIS Why the tears, Parthenis? Where do you hail from with your flutes all broken?
PARTHENIS: The soldier, the Aitolian, the big fellow, he beat me because he found me playing in the house of that Crocale woman. I was paid by Gorgos. Gorgos is his rival. And he broke my flutes and beat me and did all kinds of nasty things. And he turned over the table and threw himself on the krater and emptied it. And then he seized Gorgos, the farmer, by his hair and dragged him out of the banquet hall. And the soldier — I think Deinomachos is his name — and some of his comrades surrounded the farmer and beat him so hard. I don't know, Cochlis, if he'll ever recover. Blood flowed from his nostrils and his face was swollen and blue.
COCHLIS: Was the man insane or drunk? It sounds like the work of a drunkard.
PARTHENIS: I think it was jealousy, Cochlis, jealousy and too much love. Crocale asked the soldier for twelve hundred drachmas if he wanted to have her exclusively for himself. Deinomachos refused to give the sum, and she shut the door in his face and received instead Gorgos of Oinoe, a rich farmer who had been in love with her for some time. They drank together and I came to play the flute. The banquet was going along fine. I had just finished a Lydian melody and the farmer had got up and danced, while the Crocale beat time with her palms, and everything was joyful, when all of a sudden there was a noise and a shout and the front door burst off its hinges and eight young men rushed into the hall, the Megarian among them. Without stopping to explain, they overturned the table; and Gorgos, as I have said, was knocked down, kicked and beaten on his head. The Crocale woman succeeded in saving herself by running away to the house of her neighbor, the courtesan Thespias. As for me, Deinomachos slapped me good and hard and called me "Ball of Smut" and threw my flutes in my face. Then two of his soldier friends tore my robe and tunic off my body and played with me. They slapped and beat me about my thighs till my nether part was burning red. Then they lifted their own tunics and made me sink down in their laps so that I felt very much ashamed. Then they obliged me to take . . . . . . between my lips, saying: "Try a new melody, genial little flute player!" Now I am bound for my master's house. I am going to tell him everything that happened. The farmer went to find friends in the city to help him bring the Megarian to justice.
COCHLIS: That is what you get out of those resplendent military love affairs — blows and lawsuits. To hear them talk they are all chiliarchs or hegemons. But when it comes to paying for services rendered — "Wait," they say, "Wait till I get paid. As soon as I receive my salary, you will surely be made happy." Let those boasters carry themselves off to their wars! May they all be killed off! I believe I do best by not receiving any of that herd. All others are welcome: fishermen, sailors, farmers, they are all welcome. They don't know how to flatter, but they pay. Anyhow, those flaunters of plumes and tellers of martial tales are never serious lovers. What do they know about love!