Nac. Ho, ho!
A little puff blow such a fire? The coals
Were hot then!
Myr. Nay, my girls, we'll douse you both
I' the river yonder if you flame at naught.
How, Dianessa, dance the maids of Athens?
But surely not in skirts!
Dia. My father saw them,
And so he said.
Myr. Why dance at all then? Grace
That cadent girdles the invisible waves
Of flute and harp is born of faining limbs,
And hide them who may see it?
The. No doubt they bob
Like bears in blankets, and believe they dance.
Nac. Pyrrha could say. But since she came from Athens
Who hears her speak?
Art. She keeps from all our games,
And scorns the wrestle, though our noblest youths
Have sent her challenge.
The. Ay! Lets Dianessa wear
The vestal bays, nor cares if Hieron
Be there to see.
Myr. Come, Pyrrha, tell us how
The Athenian maidens dance with shrouded feet.
Pyrr. They wear their robes as Morning does the mist
That makes her beauty greater and her dream
Live on in men.