MNESILOCHUS. You carried it?
SIXTH WOMAN. I swear it by Artemis.
MNESILOCHUS. How much does it hold? Three cotylae?[607] Tell me.
SIXTH WOMAN. Oh! what have you done? You have stripped the poor child
quite naked, and it is so small, so small.
MNESILOCHUS. So small?
SIXTH WOMAN. Yes, quite small, to be sure.
MNESILOCHUS. How old is it? Has it seen the feast of cups thrice or four
times?
SIXTH WOMAN. It was born about the time of the last Dionysia.[608] But
give it back to me.
MNESILOCHUS. No, may Apollo bear me witness.
SIXTH WOMAN. Well, then we are going to burn him.
MNESILOCHUS. Burn me, but then I shall rip this open instantly.
SIXTH WOMAN. No, no, I adjure you, don't; do anything you like to me
rather than that.
MNESILOCHUS. What a tender mother you are; but nevertheless I shall rip
it open. (_Tears open the wine-skin_.)
SIXTH WOMAN. Oh, my beloved daughter! Mania, hand me the sacred cup, that
I may at least catch the blood of my child.
MNESILOCHUS. Hold it below; 'tis the sole favour I grant you.
SIXTH WOMAN. Out upon you, you pitiless monster!