_Hym._ No, nothing shall induce me to sleep with a murderer. _Le._ Don't be afraid, my dear. All that was in Paphlagonia. I am a man of peace now. _Hym._ No, you are unclean; the blood of the barbarian's head on the spear has dripped over you! I embrace and kiss a man like that? the Graces forbid! he is no better than the executioner. _Le._ I am certain you would be in love with me if you had seen me in my armour. _Hym._ I tell you it makes me sick and frightened even to hear of such things; I see the shades and ghosts of the slain; that poor officer with his head cloven! what would it be if I saw the thing done, and the blood, and the bodies lying there? I am sure I should die; I never saw a chicken killed, even. _Le._ Such a coward, girl? so poor of heart? I thought you would like to hear it. _Hym._ Well, try the Lemnian women, or the daughters of Danaus, if you want to please with that sort of tale. I shall run home to my mother, while there is some daylight left. Come along, Grammis. Good-bye, mightiest of colonels, and murderer of however many it is! _Le._ Stay, girl, stay.--Why, she is gone! _Che._ Well, Leontichus, you frightened the simple little thing with your nodding plumes and your incredible exploits. I saw her getting pale as far back as the officer story; her face was all puckered up and quivering when you split his head. _Le._ I thought it would make me more attractive. Well, but it was your fault too; you started the duel. _Che._ Well, I had to chime in when I saw what you were bragging for. But you laid it on so thick. Pass the cutting off the wretched Paphlagonian's head, what did you want to spike it on a spear for, and let the blood run down on you? _Le._ That was a bit too strong, I admit; the rest was rather well put together. Well, go and persuade her to come back. _Che._ Shall I tell her you lied to make her think you a fine fellow? _Le._ Oh, plague upon it! _Che._ It's the only way. Choose--a mighty champion, and loathed, or a confessed liar, and--Hymnis? _Le._ Bad is the best; but I say Hymnis. Go to her, then, Chenidas, and say I lied--in parts. H. XIV _Dorion. Myrtale_ _Do._ So, Myrtale! You ruin me first, and then close your doors on me! It was another tale when I brought you all those presents: I was your love, then; your lord, your life. But you have squeezed me dry now, and have got hold of that Bithynian merchant; so I am left to whimper on the wrong side of the door, while he, the favoured lover, enjoys your embraces, and is to become a father soon, so you tell him. _Myr._ Come, Dorion, that is too much! Ruined you, indeed! A lot you ever gave me! Let us go through the list of your presents, from the very beginning. _Do._ Very well; let us. First, a pair of shoes from Sicyon, two drachmae. Remember two drachmae. _Myr._ Ah, but you were here for two nights.