Part 17 (2/2)

Why are you calling me? You don't want me.

CINESIAS

Not want you! with this week-old strength of love.

MYRRHINE

Farewell.

CINESIAS

Don't go, please don't go, Myrrhine.

At least you'll hear our child. Call your mother, lad.

CHILD

Mummy ... mummy ... mummy!

CINESIAS

There now, don't you feel pity for the child?

He's not been fed or washed now for six days.

MYRRHINE

I certainly pity him with so heartless a father.

CINESIAS

Come down, my sweetest, come for the child's sake.

MYRRHINE

A trying life it is to be a mother!

I suppose I'd better go. _She comes down._

CINESIAS

How much younger she looks, How fresher and how prettier! Myrrhine, Lift up your lovely face, your disdainful face; And your ankle ... let your scorn step out its worst; It only rubs me to more ardor here.

MYRRHINE (_playing with the child_)

You're as innocent as he's iniquitous.

Let me kiss you, honey-petting, mother's darling.

CINESIAS

How wrong to follow other women's counsel And let loose all these throbbing voids in yourself As well as in me. Don't you go throb-throb?

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