We are following the translation of William Cleaver Wilkinson.

Gorgo.  Is Praxinoe at home?

Praxinoe.  My dear Gorgo, at last!  Yes, here I am.  Eunoe, find a chair—­get a cushion for it.

G. It will do beautifully as it is.

P. Do sit down.

G. Oh, this gadabout spirit!  I could hardly get to you, Praxinoe, through all the crowd and all the carriages.  Nothing but heavy boots, nothing but men in uniform.  And what a journey it is!  My dear child, you really live too far off.

P. It is all that insane husband of mine.  He has chosen to come out here to the end of the world, and take a hole of a place—­for a house it is not—­on purpose that you and I might not be neighbors.  He is always just the same—­anything to quarrel with one! anything for spite!

G. My dear, don’t talk so of your husband before the little fellow.  Just see how astonished he looks at you.  Never mind, Zopyrio, my pet, she is not talking about papa.

P. Good heavens! the child does really understand.

G. Pretty papa!

P. That pretty papa of his the other day (though I told him beforehand to mind what he was about), when I sent him to shop to buy soap and rouge, he brought me home salt instead—­stupid, great, big, interminable animal.

G. Mine is just the fellow to him....  But never mind; get on your things and let us be off to the palace to see the Adonis.  I hear the queen’s decorations are something splendid.

P. In grand people’s houses everything is grand.  What things you have seen in Alexandria!  What a deal you will have to tell anybody who has never been here!

G. Come, we ought to be going.

P. Every day is holiday to people who have nothing to do.  Eunoe, pick up your work; and take care, lazy girl, how you leave it lying about again; the cats find it just the bed they like.  Come, stir yourself; fetch me some water, quick!  I wanted the water first, and the girl brings me the soap.  Never mind, give it me.  Not all that, extravagant!  Now pour out the water—­stupid! why don’t you take care of my dress?  That will do.  I have got my hands washed as it pleases God.  Where is the key of the large wardrobe?  Bring it here—­quick!

G. Praxinoe, you can’t think how well that dress, made full, as you’ve got it, suits you.  Tell me, how much did it cost?—­the dress by itself, I mean.

P. Don’t talk of it, Gorgo; more than eight guineas of good hard money.  And about the work on it I have almost worn my life out.

G. Well, you couldn’t have done better.

P. Thank you.  Bring me my shawl, and put my hat properly on my head—­properly.  No, child (to her little boy), I am not going to take you; there is a bogey on horseback, who bites.  Cry as much as you like, I’m not going to have you lamed for life.  Now we’ll start.  Nurse, take the little one and amuse him; call the dog in, and shut the street door.  (They go out.)