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 three hundred and fifty concubines in all his wars; as Dicæearchus relates in the third book of his Life in Greece. "But Philip," says he, "was always marrying new wives in war time. For, in the twenty-two years which he reigned, as Satyrus relates in his History of his Life, having married Audata the Illyrian, he had by her a daughter named Cynna; and he also married Phila, a sister of Derdas and Machatas. And wishing to conciliate the nation of the Thessalians, he had children by two Thessalian women; one of whom was Nicesipolis of Pheræ, who brought him a daughter named Thessalonica; and the other was Philenora of Larissa, by whom he had Aridæus. He also acquired the kingdom of the Molossi, when he married Olympias, by whom he had Alexander and Cleopatra. And when he subdued Thrace, there came to him Cithelas, the king of the Thracians, bringing with him Meda his daughter, and many presents: and having married her, he added her to Olympias. And after all these, being violently in love, he married Cleopatra, the sister of Hippostratus and niece of Attalus. And bringing her also home to Olympias, he made all his life unquiet and troubled. For, as soon as this marriage took place, Attalus said, 'Now, indeed, legitimate kings shall be born, and not bastards.' And Alexander having heard this, smote Attalus with a goblet which he had in his hand; and Attalus in return struck him with his cup. And after that Olympias fled to the Molossi; and Alexander fled to the Illyrians. And Cleopatra bore to Philip a daughter who was named Europa."

Euripides the poet, also, was much addicted to women: at all events Hieronymus in his Historical Commentaries speaks as follows,—"When some one told Sophocles that Euripides was a woman-hater, 'He may be,' said he, 'in his tragedies, but in his bed he is very fond of women.'"

6. But our married women are not such as Eubulus speaks of in his Female Garland-sellers—

By Jove, we are not painted with vermilion. Nor with dark mulberry juice, as you are often: And then, if in the summer you go out, Two rivulets of dark discoloured hue Flow from your eyes, and sweat drops from your jaws, And makes a scarlet furrow down your neck; And the light hair, which wantons o'er your face, Seems grey, so thickly is it plastered over.