FIRST OLD WOMAN. Ah! poor child, desire is consuming you like an Ionian woman; I think you are no stranger to the wanton arts of the Lesbian women, but you shall not rob me of my pleasures; you will not be able to reduce or filch the time that first belongs to me, for your own gain. Sing as much as you please, peep out like a cat lying in wait, but none shall pass through your door without first having been to see me.
YOUNG GIRL. If anyone enter your house, 'twill be to carry out your corpse.
FIRST OLD WOMAN. That's new to me.
YOUNG GIRL. What! you rotten wretch, can anything be new to an old hag like you?
FIRST OLD WOMAN. My old age will not harm you.
YOUNG GIRL. Ah! shame on your painted cheeks!
FIRST OLD WOMAN. Why do you speak to me at all?
YOUNG GIRL. And why do you place yourself at the window?
FIRST OLD WOMAN. I am singing to myself about my lover, Epigenes.
YOUNG GIRL. Can you have any other lover than that old fop Geres?
FIRST OLD WOMAN. Epigenes will show you that himself, for he is coming to me. See, here he is.
Studies
