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CHORUS. 'Tis past belief to be so criminal and so impudent!

MNESILOCHUS. Ah! you're not near the end of it yet.

SIXTH WOMAN. Little I care whence you come; you shall not return to boast
of having acted so odiously with impunity, for you shall be punished.

MNESILOCHUS. You won't do it, by the gods!

CHORUS. And what immortal would protect you for your crime?

MNESILOCHUS. 'Tis in vain you talk! I shall not let go the child.

CHORUS.
By the goddesses, you will not laugh presently over your crime
and your impious speech. For with impiety, as 'tis meet, shall we reply
to your impiety. Soon fortune will turn round and overwhelm you. Come!
bring wood along. Let us burn the wretch, let us roast him as quickly as
possible.

SIXTH WOMAN. Bring faggots, Mania! (_To Mnesilochus. _) You will be mere
charcoal soon.

CHORUS. Grill away, roast me, but you, my child, take off this Cretan
robe and blame no one but your mother for your death. But what does this
mean? The little girl is nothing but a skin filled with wine and shod
with Persian slippers. [605] Oh! you wanton, you tippling woman, who think
of nothing but wine; you are a fortune to the drinking-shops and are our
ruin; for the sake of drink, you neglect both your household and your
shuttle!