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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=528364" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Two Ladies of Syracuse</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">GORGO.<br>Is dame Praxinoa in?<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>Yes, Gorgo dear.<br>How late you are-the only marvel is<br>You're here at all! Quick, Eunoa, find a chair<br>And fling a cushion on it.<br> <br>GORGO.<br>Thanks.<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>Sit down.<br> <br>GORGO.<br>Oh what a thing is spirit! Here I am,<br>Praxinoa, safe at last from all that crowd<br>And all those chariots ... every street a mass<br>Of boots and soldiers' jackets! ... Oh! the road<br>Seemed endless ... and you live so far away!<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>This land's-end den-for dwelling it is not-<br>My madcap hired to keep us twain apart<br>And stir up strife. 'Twas like him, odious pest!<br> <br>GORGO.<br>Nay, call not, dear, your lord, your Deinon, names<br>To the babe's face. Look how it stares at you!<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>There, baby sweet, I never meant Papa.<br> <br>GORGO.<br>It understands, by'r lady! dear Papa!<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>Well, yesterday (that means what day you like)<br>'Papa' had rouge and hair-powder to buy;<br>He brought back salt! this oaf of six-foot-one!<br> <br>GORGO.<br>Just such another is that pickpocket<br>My Diocleides. He bought t'other day<br>Six fleeces at seven drachms, his last exploit.<br>What were they? Scraps of worn-out pedlar's-bags,<br>Sheer trash.-But put your gown and kirtle on;<br>And we'll to Ptolemy's, the sumptuous king,<br>To see the Adonis. As I hear, the queen<br>Provides us entertainment of the best.<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>The grand can do things grandly. Tell me more,<br>You that have seen: be eyes unto the blind.<br> <br>GORGO.<br>'Twere time we went-but all time's holiday<br>With idlers.<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>Eunoa, pampered minx, the jug!<br>Set it down here-you cats would sleep all day<br>On cushions-Stir yourself, fetch water, quick!<br>Water's our first want. How she holds the jug!<br>Now, pour-not, cormorant, in that wasteful way-<br>You've drenched my dress, bad luck t'you! There, enough:<br>I have made such toilet as my fates allowed.<br>Now for the key o' the plate-chest. Bring it, quick!<br> <br>GORGO.<br>My dear, that full pelisse becomes you well.<br>What did it stand you in, straight off the loom?<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>Don't ask me, Gorgo: two good pounds and more.<br>Then I gave all my mind to trimming it.<br> <br>GORGO.<br>Well, 'tis a great success. Where have you left<br>My mantle, Eunoa, and my parasol?<br>Arrange me nicely. Babe, you'll bide at home:<br>Horses might eat you, ghosts!-Yes, cry your fill,<br>But we won't have you maimed. Now let's be off.<br>You, Phrygia, take and nurse the tiny thing:<br>Call the dog in: make fast the outer door.<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>Gods! what a crowd! How, when shall we get past<br>This nuisance, these unending ant-like swarms?<br>Yet, Ptolemy, we owe thee thanks for much<br>Since heaven received thy sire! No miscreant now<br>Creeps Thug-like up, to maul the passer-by.<br>What games men played erewhile-men shaped in crime,<br>Birds of a feather, rascals every one!<br>-We're done for, Gorgo darling-here they are,<br>The Royal horse! Sweet sir, don't trample me!<br>That bay-the savage!-reared up straight on end!<br>Fly, Eunoa, can't you? Doggedly she stands.<br>He'll be his rider's death!-How glad I am<br>My babe's at home.<br> <br>GORGO.<br>Praxinoa, never mind!<br>See, we're before them now, and they're in line.<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>There, I'm myself. But from a child I feared<br>Horses, and slimy snakes. But haste we on:<br>A surging multitude is close behind.<br> <br>GORGO. [To Old Lady.]<br>From the palace, mother?<br> <br>OLD LADY.<br>Ay, child.<br> <br>GORGO.<br>Is it fair of access?<br> <br>OLD LADY.<br>Trying brought the Greeks to Troy.<br>Yound ladies, they must try who would succeed.<br> <br>GORGO.<br>The crone hath said her oracle and gone.<br>Women know all-how Adam married Eve.<br>-Praxinoa, look what crowds are round the door!<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>Fearful. Your hand, please, Gorgo. Eunoa, you<br>Hold Eutychis-hold tight or you'll be lost.<br>We'll enter in a body-hold us fast!<br>Oh dear, my muslin dress is torn in two,<br>Gorgo, already! Pray, good gentleman,<br>(And happiness be yours) respect my robe!<br> <br>STRANGER.<br>I could not if I would-nathless I will.<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>They come in hundreds, and they push like swine.<br> <br>STRANGER.<br>Lady, take courage: it is all well now.<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>And now and ever be it well with thee,<br>Sweet man, for shielding us! An honest soul<br>And kindly. Oh! we're smothering Eunoa:<br>Fight your way, trembler! Good! 'We're all in now,'<br>As quoth the goodman, and shut out his wife.<br> <br>GORGO.<br>Praxinoa, look! Note well this broidery first.<br>How exquisitely fine-too good for earth!<br>Empress Athene, what strange sempstress wrought<br>Such work? What painter painted, realized<br>Such pictures? Just like life they stand or move,<br>Facts and not fancies! What a thing is man!<br>How bright, how lifelike on his silvern couch<br>Lies, with youth's bloom scarce shadowing his cheek,<br>That dear Adonis, lovely e'en in death!<br> <br>A STRANGER.<br>Bad luck t'you, cease your censeless pigeon's prate!<br>Their brogue is killing-every word a drawl!<br> <br>GORGO.<br>Whence did he spring from? What is it to thee<br>If we two prattle? Order, sir, your slaves:<br>You're ordering Syracusan ladies now!<br>Corinthians bred (to tell you one fact more)<br>As was Bellerophon: islanders in speech,<br>For Dorians may talk Doric, I presume?<br> <br>PRAXINOA.<br>Persephone! Our master's yet unborn.<br>I've but one terror, lest he soil my gown.<br> <br>GORGO.<br>Hush, dear. Argeia's daughter's going to sing<br>The Adonis: that accomplished vocalist<br>Who has no rival in 'The Sailor's Grave.'<br>Mark her coquetting with her music now.<br> <br>SONG.<br>Queen, who lov'st Golgi and the Sicel hill<br>And Ida; Aphrodite radiant-eyed;<br>The dainty-footed Hours from Acheron's rill<br>Brought once again Adonis to thy side<br>How changed in twelve short months! They travel slow,<br>Those precious Hours: we hail their advent still,<br>For blessings do they bring to all below.<br>O Sea-born! thou didst erst, or legend lies,<br>Shed on a woman's soul thy grace benign,<br>And Berenice's dust immortalize.<br>O called by many names, at many a shrine!<br>For thy sweet sake doth Berenice's child<br>(Herself a second Helen) deck with all<br>That's fair, Adonis. On his right are piled<br>Ripe apples fallen from the oak-tree tall;<br>And silver caskets at his left support<br>Toy-gardens, Syrian scents enshrined in gold<br>And alabaster, cakes of every sort<br>That in their ovens the pastrywomen mould,<br>When with white meal they mix all flowers that bloom,<br>Oil-cakes and honey-cakes. There stand portrayed<br>Each bird, each butterfly; and in the gloom<br>Of foliage climbing high, and downward weighed<br>By graceful blossoms, do the young Loves play<br>Like nightingales, and perch on every tree,<br>And flit, to try their wings, from spray to spray.<br>Then see the gold, the ebony! O see<br>The ivory-carven eagles, bearing up<br>To Zeus the boy who fills his royal cup!<br>Soft as a dream, such tap'stry gleams o'erhead<br>As the Milesian's self would gaze on, charmed.<br>But sweet Adonis hath his own sweet bed:<br>Next Aphrodite sleeps the roseate-armed,<br>A bridegroom of eighteen or nineteen years.<br>Kiss the smooth boyish lip-there's no sting there!<br>The bride hath found her own: all bliss be hers!<br>And him at dewy dawn we'll troop to bear<br>To where the breakers hiss against the shore:<br>There, with dishevelled dress and unbound hair,<br>Bare-bosomed all, our descant wild we'll pour:<br> <br>'Thou haunt'st, Adonis, earth and heaven in turn,<br>Alone of heroes. Agamemnon ne'er<br>Could compass this, nor Ajax stout and stern:<br>Nor Hector, eldest-born of her who bare<br>Ten sons, not Patrocles, nor safe-returned<br>From Ilium Pyrrhus, such distinction earned:<br>Nor, elder yet, the sons of Lapithæ,<br>Of Pelops and Deucalion, and the crown<br>Of Greece, Pelasgians. Gracious may'st thou be,<br>Adonis, now: pour new-year's blessings down!<br>Right welcome dost thou come, Adonis dear:<br>Come when thou wilt, thou'lt find a welcome here.'<br> <br>GORGO.<br>'Tis fine, Praxinoa! How I envy her<br>Her learning, and still more her luscious voice!<br>We must go home: my husband's supperless:<br>And, in that state, he's simply vinegar.<br>Don't cross his path when hungry! So farewell,<br>Adonis, and be housed 'mid welfare aye!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Theocritus">Theocritus</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=528364" data-title="The Two Ladies of Syracuse de Theocritus" data-description="GORGO.
Is dame Praxinoa in?
 
PRAXINOA.
Yes, Gorgo dear.
How late you are-the only marvel is
You're here at all! Quick, Eunoa, find a chair
And fling a cushion on it.
 
GORGO.
Thanks.
 
PRAXINOA.
Sit down.
 
GORGO.
Oh what a thing is spirit! Here ..."></div>
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