YOUNG MAN. For the moment I really have no need for old leather.
FIRST OLD WOMAN. I know that you love me; perhaps you are surprised to find me at the door. But come, let me kiss you.
YOUNG MAN. No, no, my dear, I am afraid of your lover.
FIRST OLD WOMAN. Of whom?
YOUNG MAN. The most gifted of painters.
FIRST OLD WOMAN. Why, whom do you mean to speak of?
YOUNG MAN. The artist who paints the little bottles on coffins.[721] But get you indoors, lest he should find you at the door.
FIRST OLD WOMAN. I know what you want.
YOUNG MAN. I can say as much of you.
FIRST OLD WOMAN. By Aphrodite, who has granted me this good chance, I won't let you go.
[721] It was customary to paint phials or little bottles on the coffins of the poor; these emblems took the place of the perfumes that were sprinkled on the bodies of the rich.