SCYTHIAN. Ah! yes, seat yourself, my little girl, ah! yes, to be sure.
What a firm little bosom! 'tis just like a turnip.
EURIPIDES (to the flute-girl). An air on the flute, quick! (To the dancing-girl.) Well! are you still afraid of the Scythian?
SCYTHIAN. What beautiful thighs!
EURIPIDES. Come! keep still, can't you?
SCYTHIAN. 'Tis altogether a very fine morsel to make a man's cock stand.
EURIPIDES. That's so! (To the dancing-girl.) Resume your dress, it is time to be going.
SCYTHIAN. Give me a kiss.
EURIPIDES (to the dancing-girl). Come, give him a kiss.
SCYTHIAN. Oh! oh! oh! my goodness, what soft lips! 'tis like Attic honey.
But might she not stop with me?
EURIPIDES. Impossible, archer; good evening.