Poor, miserable wretch, baulked in your
amorousness!
Aristophanes
MYRRHINE. Coming, coming; I'm just slipping off my shoes. Dear boy, will
you vote for peace?
CINESIAS. I'll think about it. (_Myrrhine runs away. _) I'm a dead man,
she is killing me! She has gone, and left me in torment! I must have
someone to fuck, I must! Ah me! the loveliest of women has choused and
cheated me. Poor little lad (_addressing his penis_), how am I to give
you what you want so badly? Where is Cynalopex? quick, man, get him a
nurse, do! [451]
CHORUS OF OLD MEN.
Poor, miserable wretch, baulked in your amorousness!
what tortures are yours! Ah! you fill me with pity. Could any man's back
and loins stand such a strain? His organ stands stiff and rigid, and
there's never a wench to help him!
CINESIAS. Ye gods in heaven, what pains I suffer!
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Well, there it is; 'tis her doing, that abandoned
hussy!
CINESIAS. Nay, nay! rather say that sweetest, dearest darling.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. That dearest darling? no, no, that hussy, say I!
