Book XI, 298

See how the son athirst reaches out his hand to his mother, and the woman, being a thorough woman, overcome by wine, drinking from a jar, spoke thus, looking askance: “ How shall I give thee to drink, my son, from a little droppie, for this jar holds but thirty pints.” “Mother, who hast rather the harsh nature of a step-mother, give me to quaff these tears of the sweetest vine.” “ Mother, evil mother, pitiless at heart, if thou lovest me, thy son, give me but a little to quaff.”