MYRRHINÉ. I love him, oh! I love him; but he won't let himself be loved.
No! I shall not come.
CINESIAS. Myrrhiné, my little darling Myrrhiné, what are you saying? Come down to me quick.
MYRRHINÉ. No indeed, not I.
CINESIAS. I call you, Myrrhiné, Myrrhiné; will you not come?
MYRRHINÉ. Why should you call me? You do not want me.
CINESIAS. Not want you! Why, my weapon stands stiff with desire!
MYRRHINÉ. Good-bye.
CINESIAS. Oh! Myrrhiné, Myrrhiné, in our child's name, hear me; at any rate hear the child! Little lad, call your mother.
CHILD. Mammy, mammy, mammy!
CINESIAS. There, listen! Don't you pity the poor child? It's six days now you've never washed and never fed the child.