_Gly._ Thais, that Acarnanian soldier, who used to be so fond of Abrotonum, and then fell in love with me--he was decorated, and wore a military cloak--do you know the man I mean? I suppose you have forgotten him? _Th._ Oh no, dear, I know; why, he shared our table last harvest festival. Well? you look as if you had something to tell me about him. _Gly._ That wicked Gorgona (such a _friend_ of mine, to be sure!)--she has stolen him away from me. _Th._ What! he has given you up, and taken her in your place? _Gly._ Yes, dear; isn't it _horrid_ of her? _Th._ Well, Glycera darling, it _is_ wicked, of course; but it is not very surprising; it is what all we poor girls do. You mustn't be too much vexed; I shouldn't blame her, if I were you; Abrotonum never blamed you about him, you know; and you were friends, too. But _I_ cannot think what he _finds_ in her; where are his eyes? has he never found out how thin her hair is? what a lot of forehead she shows! and her lips! all livid; they might be a dead woman's; and that scraggy neck, veined all over; and what an amount of nose! I grant you she is tall and straight; and she has quite a nice smile. _Gly._ Oh, Thais, you don't think it was her _looks_ caught him. Don't you know? her mother Chrysarium is a witch; she knows Thessalian charms, and can draw down the moon; they do say she flies o' nights. It was she bewitched him with drugs in his drink, and now they are making their harvest out of him. _Th._ Ah well, dear, you will get a harvest out of some one else; never mind him. H. II _Myrtium. Pamphilus. Doris_ _Myr._ Well, Pamphilus? So I hear you are to marry Phido the shipmaster's daughter,--if you have not done so already! And this is the end of your vows and tears! All is over and forgotten! And I so near my time! Yes, that is all I have to thank my lover for; that, and the prospect of having a child to bring up; and you know what that means to us poor girls. I mean to keep the child, especially if it is a boy: it will be some comfort to me to call him after you; and perhaps some day you will be sorry, when he comes to reproach you for betraying his poor mother. I can't say much for the lady's looks. I saw her only the other day, with her mother, at the Thesmophoria; little did I know then that she was to rob me of my Pamphilus! Hadn't you better see what she is like first? Take a good look at her eyes; and try not to mind the colour, and the cast (she has such a squint!). Or no: there is no need for you to see her: you have seen Phido; you know what a face _he_ has.