Dialogi meretricii

Musarium Oh well, mother, are the rest of them happier or better-looking than I am?

Mother No; but they have more sense; they know their business better than to pin their faith to the idle words of a boy with a mouthful of lover’s oaths. But you go in for constancy and true love, and will have nothing to say to anybody but your Chaereas. There was that farmer from Acharnae the other day; his chin was smooth too; and he brought the two minae he had just got for his father’s wine; but oh dear me no! you send him away with a sneer; none but your Adonis for you.

Musarium Mother, you ould not expect me to desert Chaereas and let that nasty working-man (faugh!) come near me. Poor Chaereas! he is a pet and a duck.

Mother Well, the Acharnian did smell rather of the farm. But there was Antiphon—son to Menecrates—and a whole mina; why not him? he is handsome, and a gentleman, and no older than Chaereas.

Musarium Ah, but Chaereas vowed he would cut both our throats if he caught me with him.

Mother The first time such a thing was ever threatened, I suppose. So you will go without your lovers for this, and be as good a girl as if you were a priestess of Demeter instead of what you are. And if that were all!—but to-day i is harvest festival; and where is his present?

Musarium Mammy dear, he has none to give.

Mother They don’t all find it so hard to get round their fathers; why can’t he get a slave to wheedle him? why not

Musarium Qh yes, he will. They have done everything to make him marry now; and he wouldn’t! that shows.

Mother I only hope it shows true. I shall remind you of all this when the time comes.

Ampelis Well, but, Chrysis, I don’t call a man in love at all, if he doesn’t get jealous, and storm, and slap one, and clip one’s hair, and tear one’s clothes to pieces.

Chrysis Is that the only way to tell?

Ampelis To tell a serious passion, yes. The kisses and tears and vows, the constant attendance,—all that only shows that he’s beginning to be in love; it’s still coming on. But the real flame is jealousy, pure and simple. So if Gorgias is jealous, and slaps you, as you say, you may hope for the best; pray that he may always go on as he has begun!

Chrysis Go on slapping me?

Ampelis No, no; but getting angry if you ever look at any one else. If he were not in love with you, why should he mind your having another lover?

Chrysis Oh, but I haven't! It’s all a mistake! He took it into his head that old Moneybags had been paying me

Ampelis Well, that’s very nice, too. You want him to think that there are rich men after you. It will make him all the more angry, and all the more liberal; he’ll be afraid of being cut out by his rivals.

Chrysis But Gorgias never gives me anything. He only storms and slaps.

Ampelis Oh, you wait. Nothing tames them like jealousy.

Chrysis Ampelis, I believe you want me to be slapped!

Ampelis Nonsense! All I mean is this: if you want to make a man wildly in love with you, let him see that you can do without him. When he thinks that he has you all to himself, he is apt to cool down. You see I’ve had twenty years’ experience: whereas you, I suppose, are about eighteen, perhaps not that. Come now; I’ll tell you what happened to me, not so many years ago. Demophantus was my admirer in those days; the usurer, you know, at the back of the Poecile. He had never given me more than five drachmae at a time, and he wanted to have everything his own way. The fact was, my dear, his love was only skin-deep. There were no sighs or tears with him; no knocking me up at unearthly hours; he would spend an evening with me now and then—very occasionally—and that was all.

But one day when he called, I was ‘not at home’; I had Callides the painter with me (he had given me ten drachmae). Well, at the time Demophantus said some very rude things, and walked off. However, the days went by, and I never sent to him; and at last (finding that Callides had been with me again) even Demophantus began to catch fire, and to get into a passion about it; so one day he stood outside, and waited till he found the door open: my dear, I don’t know what he didn’t do! cried, beat me, vowed he would murder Me, tore my clothes dreadfully! And it all ended with his