SIXTH WOMAN. Well, then we are going to burn him.
MNESILOCHUS. Burn me, but then I shall rip this open instantly.
SIXTH WOMAN. 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!
MNESILOCHUS. This robe belongs to the priestess.[609]
SIXTH WOMAN. What belongs to the priestess?
MNESILOCHUS. Here, take it. (Throws her the Cretan robe.)