MYRRHINÉ (_coming back with a blanket_). Now, get up for one moment.
CINESIAS. But I tell you, our friend here is up--all stiff and ready!
MYRRHINÉ. Would you like me to scent you?
MYRRHINÉ. Yes, by Aphrodité, but I will, whether you wish it or no.
CINESIAS. Ah! great Zeus, may she soon be done!
MYRRHINÉ (_coming back with a flask of perfume_). Hold out your hand; now rub it in.
CINESIAS. Oh! in Apollo's name, I don't much like the smell of it; but perhaps 'twill improve when it's well rubbed in. It does not somehow smack of the marriage bed!
MYRRHINÉ. There, what a scatterbrain I am; if I have not brought Rhodian perfumes![450]
CINESIAS. Never mind, dearest, let be now.
CINESIAS. Deuce take the man who first invented perfumes, say I!
MYRRHINÉ (_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.
MYRRHINÉ. 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![451]
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.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. That dearest darling? no, no, that hussy, say I! Zeus, thou god of the skies, canst not let loose a hurricane, to sweep them all up into the air, and whirl 'em round, then drop 'em down crash! and impale them on the point of his weapon!
A HERALD. Say, where shall I find the Senate and the Prytanes? I am bearer of despatches.
MAGISTRATE. But are you a man or a Priapus, pray?[452]