CHORUS OF OLD MEN. I will make you hold your tongue, never fear!
CHORUS OF WOMEN. Ah, ha! you shall never sit more amongst the heliasts.[418]
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Burn off her hair for her!
CHORUS OF WOMEN. Water, do your office! (The women pitch the water in their water-pots over the old men.)
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!
CHORUS OF WOMEN. Was it hot?
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Hot, great gods! Enough, enough!
CHORUS OF WOMEN. I'm watering you, to make you bloom afresh.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Alas! I am too dry! Ah, me! how I am trembling with cold!
MAGISTRATE. These women, have they made din enough, I wonder, with their tambourines? bewept Adonis enough upon their terraces?[419] I was listening to the speeches last assembly day,[420] and Demostratus,[421] whom heaven confound! was saying we must all go over to Sicily—and lo! his wife was dancing round repeating: Alas! alas! Adonis, woe is me for Adonis!