"What is life made for then, if a man who has spent all his days studying it is as good as helpless! Look at me! Have I not hands, feet, a head, and wits?
Am I not as well informed and naturally capable as three fine ladies out of every four?
Would I not look as handsome as they, if I had a chance to wear their dresses and jewels?
Have I any blemish, any defect, that makes me cease to be a woman, and become a thing?
Bah, master _Pisander!_ I am only a slave, but I will talk.

Why does my blood boil at the fate of Agias, if it was not meant that it should heat up for some end?
And yet I am as much a piece of property of that woman whom I hate, as this chair or casket.

I have a right to no hope, no ambition, no desire, no reward.

I can only aspire to live without brutal treatment.
That would be a sort of Elysium.

If I was brave enough, I would kill myself, and go to sleep and forget it all.