Herm. That is for you to decide, in virtue of your office. You have only to give your orders; it is as you think best.
Par. As I think best? Then I will be thorough.
Herm. Get ready, ladies. Now, Mr. Umpire.—I will look the other way.
Hera. I approve your decision, Paris. I will be the first to submit myself to your inspection. You shall see that I have more to boast of than white arms and large eyes: nought of me but is beautiful.
Par. Aphrodite, will you also prepare?
Ath. Oh, Paris,—make her take off that girdle, first; there is magic in it; she will bewitch you. For that matter, she has no right to come thus tricked out and painted,—just like a courtesan! She ought to show herself unadorned.
Par. They are right about the girdle, madam; it must go.
Aph. Oh, very well, Athene: then take off that helmet, and show your head bare, instead of trying to intimidate the judge with that waving plume. I suppose you are afraid the colour of your eyes may be noticed, without their formidable surroundings.
Ath. Oh, here is my helmet.
Aph. And here is my girdle.