Fundada a 17 de agosto de 2007 por Carolina Marcello, Joana Coutinho e Paulo Brás, encerrou a sua atividade enquanto revista erótica a 17 de agosto de 2013, reabrindo a 12 de dezembro do mesmo ano como plataforma do projeto A MULHER É O FUTURO DO HOMEM.

Timon de Atenas (William Shakespeare)

Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more?

Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,
And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you sluts,
Your aprons mountant: you are not oathable,
Although, I know, you 'll swear, terribly swear
Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues
The immortal gods that hear you,--spare your oaths,
I'll trust to your conditions: be whores still;
And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you,
Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up;
Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
And be no turncoats: yet may your pains, six months,
Be quite contrary: and thatch your poor thin roofs
With burthens of the dead;--some that were hang'd,
No matter:--wear them, betray with them: whore still;
Paint till a horse may mire upon your face,
A pox of wrinkles!

Well, more gold: what then?
Believe't, that we'll do any thing for gold.

Consumptions sow
In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,
And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice,
That he may never more false title plead,
Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen,
That scolds against the quality of flesh,
And not believes himself: down with the nose,
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away
Of him that, his particular to foresee,
Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate
Ruffians bald;
And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war
Derive some pain from you: plague all;
That your activity may defeat and quell
The source of all erection. There's more gold:
Do you damn others, and let this damn you,
And ditches grave you all!

More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.

More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.

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