CHARICLEA.
Would you have me betray my sex? Would you have me forget his
Phaedras and Sthenoboeas? No if I ever suffer any lines of that
woman-hater, or his imitators, to be sung in my presence, may I
sell herbs (The mother of Euripides was a herb-woman. This was a
favourite topic of Aristophanes.) like his mother, and wear rags
like his Telephus. (The hero of one of the lost plays of
Euripides, who appears to have been brought upon the stage in the
garb of a beggar. See Aristophanes; Acharn. 430; and in other
places.)

ALCIBIADES.
Then, sweet Chariclea, since you have silenced Speusippus, you
shall sing yourself.

CHARICLEA.
What shall I sing?

ALCIBIADES.
Nay, choose for yourself.

CHARICLEA.
Then I will sing an old Ionian hymn, which is chanted every
spring at the feast of Venus, near Miletus. I used to sing it in
my own country when I was a child; and--ah, Alcibiades!

ALCIBIADES.
Dear Chariclea, you shall sing something else. This distresses
you.