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My dear, they'll come. It's hard for women, you know, To get away. There's so much to do; Husbands to be patted and put in good tempers: Servants to be poked out: children washed Or soothed with lullays or fed with mouthfuls of pap.
What is it all about, dear Lysistrata, That you've called the women hither in a troop? What kind of an object is it?
LYSISTRATA A tremendous thing! CALONICE And long? LYSISTRATA Indeed, it may be very lengthy. CALONICE Then why aren't they here? LYSISTRATA No man's connected with it; If that was the case, they'd soon come fluttering along.
It must be fine to stand such long attention.
Wipe out the Boeotians-- CALONICE Not utterly. Have mercy on the eels!
Will you or won't you, or what do you mean? MYRRHINE No, I won't do it. Let the war proceed.
Our sex is fitly food for Tragic Poets, Our whole life's but a pile of kisses and babies.
Yield then, but with a sluggish, cold indifference. There is no joy to them in sullen mating. Besides we have other ways to madden them; They cannot stand up long, and they've no delight Unless we fit their aim with merry succour.
CALONICE I'll never lie and stare up at the ceiling, LYSISTRATA Nor like a lion on all fours go kneeling.
"Cobbler, a sandal-strap of my wife's pinches her, Hurts her little toe in a place where she's sensitive. Come at noon and see if you can stretch out wider This thing that troubles her, loosen its tightness."
Is gold then the cause of the war? LYSISTRATA Yes, gold caused it and miseries more, too many to be told. 'Twas for money, and money alone, that Pisander with all of the army of mob-agitators.
But this matter's different. LYSISTRATA How is it different? MAGISTRATE Why, it deals chiefly with war-time supplies. LYSISTRATA But we abolish war straight by our policy.
Girdled now sit humbly at home, Munching beans, while you card wool and comb. For war from now on is the Women's affair.
It should not prejudice my voice that I'm not born a man, If I say something advantageous to the present situation. For I'm taxed too, and as a toll provide men for the nation While, miserable greybeards, you,
It is true, Contribute nothing of any importance whatever to our needs;
And if they mount, the Knights they'll rob Of a job, For everyone knows how talented they all are in the saddle, Having long practised how to straddle;
How unfortunate I am! O my poor flax! It's left at home unstript. LYSISTRATA So here's another That wishes to go home and strip her flax. Inside again!
By Aphrodite, it isn't. Your belly's hollow, And it has the feel of metal.... Well, I soon can see. You hussy, it's Athene's sacred helm, And you said you were with child.
There now, don't you feel pity for the child? He's not been fed or washed now for six days.
You love me! Then dear girl, let me also love you. MYRRHINE You must be joking. The boy's looking on. CINESIAS Here, Manes, take the child home!... There, he's gone. There's nothing in the way now. Come to the point.
Thwarted affection mine, They treat you just like Heracles at a feast With cheats of dainties, O disappointing arms!
Would you like me to perfume you? CINESIAS By Apollo, no! MYRRHINE By Aphrodite, I'll do it anyway.
O Zeus, what throbbing suffering!
There is no beast, no rush of fire, like woman so untamed. She calmly goes her way where even panthers would be shamed.
The situation swells to greater tension. Something will explode soon.
Hail O my fellow-sufferers, hail Spartans.
First I reproach you both sides equally That when at Pylae and Olympia, At Pytho and the many other shrines That I could name, you sprinkle from one cup The altars common to all Hellenes, yet
You wrack Hellenic cities, bloody Hellas With deaths of her own sons, while yonder clangs The gathering menace of barbarians.
ATHENIANS I want to strip at once and plough my land. SPARTANS And mine I want to fertilize at once.
See our ambassadors are always drunk. For when we visit Sparta sober, then We're on the alert for trickery all the while So that we miss half of the things they say, And misinterpret things that were never said, And then report the muddle back to Athens.