And I thought that, having renounced all selfish hope,
To-day I would work with my hands.
You speak of desire, the necessity of the present hour constrains me!
The rapacious desire drags me forward through this place of horror.
And he asks, and I cannot reply to this poor luckless child, and he is dying before my eyes!
Cébès: You weep? Is that your only answer?
Tête-d'or: I beg you
To leave me alone and not to question me. What do you want of me? Shall I hide you in my belly and give birth to you again?
It is most horrible
That you should draw these woman's tear-drops from me.