By the goddesses, you will not laugh presently over your crime and your impious speech. For with impiety, as 'tis meet, shall we reply to your impiety. Soon fortune will turn round and overwhelm you. Come! bring wood along. Let us burn the wretch, let us roast him as quickly as possible.

SIXTH WOMAN: Bring faggots, Mania! (_To Mnesilochus._) You will be mere charcoal soon.

CHORUS: Grill away, roast me, but you, my child, take off this Cretan robe and blame no one but your mother for your death. But what does this mean? The little girl is nothing but a skin filled with wine and shod with Persian slippers. Oh! you wanton, you tippling woman, who think of nothing but wine; you are a fortune to the drinking-shops and are our ruin; for the sake of drink, you neglect both your household and your shuttle!

Faggots, Mania, plenty of them.

MNESILOCHUS: Bring as many as you like. But answer me; are you the mother of this brat?

SIXTH WOMAN: I carried it ten months.

MNESILOCHUS: You carried it?

SIXTH WOMAN: I swear it by Artemis.

MNESILOCHUS: How much does it hold? Three cotylae? Tell me.

SIXTH WOMAN: Oh! what have you done? You have stripped the poor child quite naked, and it is so small, so small.

So small?

SIXTH WOMAN: Yes, quite small, to be sure.

MNESILOCHUS: How old is it? Has it seen the feast of cups thrice or four times?

SIXTH WOMAN: It was born about the time of the last Dionysia. But give it back to me.

MNESILOCHUS: No, may Apollo bear me witness.

SIXTH WOMAN: Well, then we are going to burn him.

MNESILOCHUS: Burn me, but then I shall rip this open instantly.

No, no, I adjure you, don't; do anything you like to me rather than that.

MNESILOCHUS: What a tender mother you are; but nevertheless I shall rip it open. (_Tears open the wine-skin_.)

SIXTH WOMAN: Oh, my beloved daughter! Mania, hand me the sacred cup, that I may at least catch the blood of my child.

MNESILOCHUS: Hold it below; 'tis the sole favour I grant you.

SIXTH WOMAN: Out upon you, you pitiless monster!

This robe belongs to the priestess.

SIXTH WOMAN: What belongs to the priestess?

MNESILOCHUS: Here, take it. (_Throws her the Cretan robe._)

SEVENTH WOMAN: Ah! unfortunate Mica! who has robbed you of your daughter, your beloved child?

SIXTH WOMAN: That wretch. But as you are here, watch him well, while I go with Clisthenes to the Prytanes and denounce him for his crimes.

MNESILOCHUS: Ah! how can I secure safety? what device can I hit on? what can I think of? He whose fault it is, he who hurried me into this trouble, will not come to my rescue. Let me see, whom could I best send to him? Ha! I know a means taken from Palamedes; like him, I will write my misfortune on some oars, which I will cast into the sea. But there are no oars here. Where might I find some? Where indeed? Bah! what if I took these statues instead of oars, wrote upon them and then threw them towards this side and that. 'Tis the best thing to do. Besides, like oars they are of wood. Oh! my hands, keep up your courage, for my safety is at stake. Come, my beautiful tablets, receive the traces of my stylus and be the messengers of my sorry fate. Oh! oh! this B looks miserable enough! Where is it running to then? Come, off with you in all directions, to the right and to the left; and hurry yourselves, for there's much need indeed!