TRYGAEUS. Don't talk, for 'tis divine Peace to whom we are sacrificing.
HIEROCLES. Oh! wretched mortals, oh, you idiots!
TRYGAEUS. Keep such ugly terms for yourself.
HIEROCLES. What! you are so ignorant you don't understand the will of the gods and you make a treaty, you, who are men, with apes, who are full of malice!371
TRYGAEUS. Ha, ha, ha!
HIEROCLES. What are you laughing at?
TRYGAEUS. Ha, ha! your apes amuse me!
HIEROCLES. You simple pigeons, you trust yourselves to foxes, who are all craft, both in mind and heart.
TRYGAEUS. Oh, you trouble-maker! may your lungs get as hot as this meat!
HIEROCLES. Nay, nay! if only the Nymphs had not fooled Bacis, and Bacis mortal men; and if the Nymphs had not tricked Bacis a second time372….
TRYGAEUS. May the plague seize you, if you won't stop wearying us with your Bacis!
HIEROCLES. … it would not have been written in the book of Fate that the bonds of Peace must be broken; but first….
TRYGAEUS. The meat must be dusted with salt.
HIEROCLES. … it does not please the blessed gods that we should stop the War until the wolf uniteth with the sheep.
TRYGAEUS. How, you cursed animal, could the wolf ever unite with the sheep?
HIEROCLES. As long as the wood-bug gives off a fetid odour, when it flies; as long as the noisy bitch is forced by nature to litter blind pups, so long shall peace be forbidden.
TRYGAEUS. Then what should be done? Not to stop the War would be to leave it to the decision of chance which of the two people should suffer the most, whereas by uniting under a treaty, we share the empire of Greece.
HIEROCLES. You will never make the crab walk straight.
TRYGAEUS. You shall no longer be fed at the Prytaneum; the war done, oracles are not wanted.
HIEROCLES. You will never smooth the rough spikes of the hedgehog.
TRYGAEUS. Will you never stop fooling the Athenians?
HIEROCLES. What oracle ordered you to burn these joints of mutton in honour of the gods?
TRYGAEUS. This grand oracle of Homer's: "Thus vanished the dark war-clouds and we offered a sacrifice to new-born Peace. When the flame had consumed the thighs of the victim and its inwards had appeased our hunger, we poured out the libations of wine." 'Twas I who arranged the sacred rites, but none offered the shining cup to the diviner.373
HIEROCLES. I care little for that. 'Tis not the Sibyl who spoke it.374
TRYGAEUS. Wise Homer has also said: "He who delights in the horrors of civil war has neither country nor laws nor home." What noble words!
HIEROCLES. Beware lest the kite turn your brain and rob….
TRYGAEUS. Look out, slave! This oracle threatens our meat. Quick, pour the libation, and give me some of the inwards.
HIEROCLES. I too will help myself to a bit, if you like.
TRYGAEUS. The libation! the libation!
HIEROCLES. Pour out also for me and give me some of this meat.
TRYGAEUS. No, the blessed gods won't allow it yet; let us drink; and as for you, get you gone, for 'tis their will. Mighty Peace! stay ever in our midst.
HIEROCLES. Bring the tongue hither.
TRYGAEUS. Relieve us of your own.
HIEROCLES. The libation.
TRYGAEUS. Here! and this into the bargain (strikes him).
HIEROCLES. You will not give me any meat?
TRYGAEUS. We cannot give you any until the wolf unites with the sheep.
HIEROCLES. I will embrace your knees.
TRYGAEUS. 'Tis lost labour, good fellow; you will never smooth the rough spikes of the hedgehog…. Come, spectators, join us in our feast.
HIEROCLES. And what am I to do?
TRYGAEUS. You? go and eat the Sibyl.
HIEROCLES. No, by the Earth! no, you shall not eat without me; if you do not give, I take; 'tis common property.
TRYGAEUS (to the servant). Strike, strike this Bacis, this humbugging soothsayer.
HIEROCLES. I take to witness….
TRYGAEUS. And I also, that you are a glutton and an impostor. Hold him tight and beat the impostor with a stick.
SERVANT. You look to that; I will snatch the skin from him, which he has stolen from us.375 Are you going to let go that skin, you priest from hell! do you hear! Oh! what a fine crow has come from Oreus! Stretch your wings quickly for Elymnium.376
CHORUS. Oh! joy, joy! no more helmet, no more cheese nor onions!377 No, I have no passion for battles; what I love, is to drink with good comrades in the corner by the fire when good dry wood, cut in the height of the summer, is crackling; it is to cook pease on the coals and beechnuts among the embers; 'tis to kiss our pretty Thracian378 while my wife is at the bath. Nothing is more pleasing, when the rain is sprouting our sowings, than to chat with some friend, saying, "Tell me, Comarchides, what shall we do? I would willingly drink myself, while the heavens are watering our fields. Come, wife, cook three measures of beans, adding to them a little wheat, and give us some figs. Syra! call Manes off the fields, 'tis impossible to prune the vine or to align the ridges, for the ground is too wet to-day. Let someone bring me the thrush and those two chaffinches; there were also some curds and four pieces of hare, unless the cat stole them last evening, for I know not what the infernal noise was that I heard in the house. Serve up three of the pieces for me, slave, and give the fourth to my father. Go and ask Aeschinades for some myrtle branches with berries on them, and then, for 'tis the same road, you will invite Charinades to come and drink with me to the honour of the gods who watch over our crops."
When the grasshopper sings its dulcet tune, I love to see the Lemnian vines beginning to ripen, for 'tis the earliest plant of all. I love likewise to watch the fig filling out, and when it has reached maturity I eat with appreciation and exclaim, "Oh! delightful season!" Then too I bruise some thyme and infuse it in water. Indeed I grow a great deal fatter passing the summer this way than in watching a cursed captain with his three plumes and his military cloak of a startling crimson (he calls it true Sardian purple), which he takes care to dye himself with Cyzicus saffron in a battle; then he is the first to run away, shaking his plumes like a great yellow prancing cock,379 while I am left to watch the nets.380 Once back again in Athens, these brave fellows behave abominably; they write down these, they scratch through others, and this backwards and forwards two or three times at random. The departure is set for to-morrow, and some citizen has brought no provisions, because he didn't know he had to go; he stops in front of the statue of Pandion,381 reads his name, is dumbfounded and starts away at a run, weeping bitter tears. The townsfolk are less ill-used, but that is how the husbandmen are treated by these men of war, the hated of the gods and of men, who know nothing but how to throw away their shield. For this reason, if it please heaven, I propose to call these rascals to account, for they are lions in times of peace, but sneaking foxes when it comes to fighting.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! oh! what a crowd for the nuptial feast! Here! dust the tables with this crest, which is good for nothing else now. Halloa! produce the cakes, the thrushes, plenty of good jugged hare and the little loaves.
A SICKLE-MAKER. Trygaeus, where is Trygaeus?
TRYGAEUS. I am cooking the thrushes.
SICKLE-MAKER. Trygaeus, my best of friends, what a fine stroke of business you have done for me by bringing back Peace! Formerly my sickles would not have sold at an obolus apiece, to-day I am being paid fifty drachmas for every one. And here is a neighbour who is selling his casks for the country at three drachmae each. So come, Trygaeus, take as many sickles and casks as you will for nothing. Accept them for nothing; 'tis because of our handsome profits on our sales that we offer you these wedding presents.
TRYGAEUS. Thanks. Put them all down inside there, and come along quick to the banquet. Ah! do you see that armourer yonder coming with a wry face?
A CREST-MAKER. Alas! alas! Trygaeus, you have ruined me utterly.
TRYGAEUS. What! won't the crests go any more, friend?
CREST-MAKER. You have killed my business, my livelihood, and that of this poor lance-maker too.
TRYGAEUS. Come, come, what are you asking for these two crests?
CREST-MAKER. What do you bid for them?
TRYGAEUS. What do I bid? Oh! I am ashamed to say. Still, as the clasp is of good workmanship, I would give two, even three measures of dried figs; I could use 'em for dusting the table.
CREST-MAKER. All right, tell them to bring me the dried figs; 'tis always better than nothing.
TRYGAEUS. Take them away, be off with your crests and get you gone; they are moulting, they are losing all their hair; I would not give a single fig for them.
A BREASTPLATE-MAKER. Good gods, what am I going to do with this fine ten-minae breast-plate, which is so splendidly made?
TRYGAEUS. Oh, you will lose nothing over it.
BREASTPLATE-MAKER. I will sell it you at cost price.
TRYGAEUS. 'Twould be very useful as a night-stool….
BREASTPLATE-MAKER. Cease your insults, both to me and my wares.
TRYGAEUS. … if propped on three stones. Look, 'tis admirable.
BREASTPLATE-MAKER. But how can you wipe, idiot?
TRYGAEUS. I can pass one hand through here, and the other there, and so….
BREASTPLATE-MAKER. What! do you wipe with both hands?
TRYGAEUS. Aye, so that I may not be accused of robbing the State, by blocking up an oar-hole in the galley.382
BREASTPLATE-MAKER. So you would pay ten minae383 for a night-stool?
TRYGAEUS. Undoubtedly, you rascal. Do you think I would sell my rump for a thousand drachmae?384
BREASTPLATE-MAKER. Come, have the money paid over to me.
TRYGAEUS. No, friend; I find it hurts me to sit on. Take it away, I won't buy.
A TRUMPET-MAKER. What is to be done with this trumpet, for which I gave sixty drachmae the other day?
TRYGAEUS. Pour lead into the hollow and fit a good, long stick to the top; and you will have a balanced cottabos.385
TRUMPET-MAKER. Ha! would you mock me?
TRYGAEUS. Well, here's another notion. Pour in lead as I said, add here a dish hung on strings, and you will have a balance for weighing the figs which you give your slaves in the fields.
A HELMET-MAKER. Cursed fate! I am ruined. Here are helmets, for which I gave a mina each. What am I to do with them? who will buy them?
TRYGAEUS. Go and sell them to the Egyptians; they will do for measuring loosening medicines.386
A SPEAR-MAKER. Ah! poor helmet-maker, things are indeed in a bad way.
TRYGAEUS. That man has no cause for complaint.
SPEAR-MAKER. But helmets will be no more used.
TRYGAEUS. Let him learn to fit a handle to them and he can sell them for more money.387
SPEAR-MAKER. Let us be off, comrade.
TRYGAEUS. No, I want to buy these spears.
SPEAR-MAKER. What will you give?
TRYGAEUS. If they could be split in two, I would take them at a drachma per hundred to use as vine-props.
SPEAR-MAKER. The insolent dog! Let us go, friend.
TRYGAEUS. Ah! here come the guests, children from the table to relieve themselves; I fancy they also want to hum over what they will be singing presently. Hi! child! what do you reckon to sing? Stand there and give me the opening line.
THE SON OF LAMACHUS. "Glory to the young warriors…."
TRYGAEUS. Oh! leave off about your young warriors, you little wretch; we are at peace and you are an idiot and a rascal.
SON OF LAMACHUS. "The skirmish begins, the hollow bucklers clash against each other."388
TRYGAEUS. Bucklers! Leave me in peace with your bucklers.
SON OF LAMACHUS. "And then there came groanings and shouts of victory."
TRYGAEUS. Groanings! ah! by Bacchus! look out for yourself, you cursed squaller, if you start wearying us again with your groanings and hollow bucklers.
SON OF LAMACHUS. Then what should I sing? Tell me what pleases you.
TRYGAEUS. "'Tis thus they feasted on the flesh of oxen," or something similar, as, for instance, "Everything that could tickle the palate was placed on the table."
SON OF LAMACHUS. "'Tis thus they feasted on the flesh of oxen and, tired of warfare, unharnessed their foaming steeds."
TRYGAEUS. That's splendid; tired of warfare, they seat themselves at table; sing, sing to us how they still go on eating after they are satiated.
SON OF LAMACHUS. "The meal over, they girded themselves …"
TRYGAEUS. With good wine, no doubt?
SON OF LAMACHUS. "… with armour and rushed forth from the towers, and a terrible shout arose."
TRYGAEUS. Get you gone, you little scapegrace, you and your battles! You sing of nothing but warfare. Who is your father then?
SON OF LAMACHUS. My father?
TRYGAEUS. Why yes, your father.
SON OF LAMACHUS. I am Lamachus' son.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! oh! I could indeed have sworn, when I was listening to you, that you were the son of some warrior who dreams of nothing but wounds and bruises, of some Boulomachus or Clausimachus;389 go and sing your plaguey songs to the spearmen…. Where is the son of Cleonymus? Sing me something before going back to the feast. I am at least certain he will not sing of battles, for his father is far too careful a man.
SON OF CLEONYMUS. "An inhabitant of Saďs is parading with the spotless shield which I regret to say I have thrown into a thicket."390
TRYGAEUS. Tell me, you little good-for-nothing, are you singing that for your father?
SON or CLEONYMUS. "But I saved my life."
TRYGAEUS. And dishonoured your family. But let us go in; I am very certain, that being the son of such a father, you will never forget this song of the buckler. You, who remain to the feast, 'tis your duty to devour dish after dish and not to ply empty jaws. Come, put heart into the work and eat with your mouths full. For, believe me, poor friends, white teeth are useless furniture, if they chew nothing.
CHORUS. Never fear; thanks all the same for your good advice.
TRYGAEUS. You, who yesterday were dying of hunger, come, stuff yourselves with this fine hare-stew; 'tis not every day that we find cakes lying neglected. Eat, eat, or I predict you will soon regret it.
CHORUS. Silence! Keep silence! Here is the bride about to appear! Take nuptial torches and let all rejoice and join in our songs. Then, when we have danced, clinked our cups and thrown Hyperbolus through the doorway, we will carry back all our farming tools to the fields and shall pray the gods to give wealth to the Greeks and to cause us all to gather in an abundant barley harvest, enjoy a noble vintage, to grant that we may choke with good figs, that our wives may prove fruitful, that in fact we may recover all our lost blessings, and that the sparkling fire may be restored to the hearth.
TRYGAEUS. Come, wife, to the fields and seek, my beauty, to brighten and enliven my nights. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!
CHORUS. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus! oh! thrice happy man, who so well deserve your good fortune!
TRYGAEUS. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!
CHORUS. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!
FIRST SEMI-CHORUS. What shall we do to her?
SECOND SEMI-CHORUS. What shall we do to her?
FIRST SEMI-CHORUS. We will gather her kisses.
SECOND SEMI-CHORUS. We will gather her kisses.
CHORUS. Come, comrades, we who are in the first row, let us pick up the bridegroom and carry him in triumph. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!
TRYGAEUS. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!
CHORUS. You shall have a fine house, no cares and the finest of figs. Oh!
Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!
TRYGAEUS. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!
CHORUS. The bridegroom's fig is great and thick; the bride's is very soft and tender.
TRYGAEUS. While eating and drinking deep draughts of wine, continue to repeat: Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!
CHORUS. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!
TRYGAEUS. Farewell, farewell, my friends. All who come with me shall have cakes galore.
* * * * *
FINIS OF "PEACE"
* * * * *
LYSISTRATA
INTRODUCTION
The 'Lysistrata,' the third and concluding play of the War and Peace series, was not produced till ten years later than its predecessor, the 'Peace,' viz. in 411 B.C. It is now the twenty-first year of the War, and there seems as little prospect of peace as ever. A desperate state of things demands a desperate remedy, and the Poet proceeds to suggest a burlesque solution of the difficulty.
The women of Athens, led by Lysistrata and supported by female delegates from the other states of Hellas, determine to take matters into their own hands and force the men to stop the War. They meet in solemn conclave, and Lysistrata expounds her scheme, the rigorous application to husbands and lovers of a self-denying ordinance—"we must refrain from the male organ altogether." Every wife and mistress is to refuse all sexual favours whatsoever, till the men have come to terms of peace. In cases where the women must yield 'par force majeure,' then it is to be with an ill grace and in such a way as to afford the minimum of gratification to their partner; they are to lie passive and take no more part in the amorous game than they are absolutely obliged to. By these means Lysistrata assures them they will very soon gain their end. "If we sit indoors prettily dressed out in our best transparent silks and prettiest gewgaws, and with our 'mottes' all nicely depilated, their tools will stand up so stiff that they will be able to deny us nothing." Such is the burden of her advice.
After no little demur, this plan of campaign is adopted, and the assembled women take a solemn oath to observe the compact faithfully. Meantime as a precautionary measure they seize the Acropolis, where the State treasure is kept; the old men of the city assault the doors, but are repulsed by "the terrible regiment" of women. Before long the device of the bold Lysistrata proves entirely effective, Peace is concluded, and the play ends with the hilarious festivities of the Athenian and Spartan plenipotentiaries in celebration of the event.
This drama has a double Chorus—of women and of old men, and much excellent fooling is got out of the fight for possession of the citadel between the two hostile bands; while the broad jokes and decidedly suggestive situations arising out of the general idea of the plot outlined above may be "better imagined than described."
* * * * *
LYSISTRATA
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
LYSISTRATA.
CALONICÉ.
MYRRHINÉ.
LAMPITO.
STRATYLLIS.
A MAGISTRATE.
CINESIAS.
A CHILD.
HERALD OF THE LACEDAEMONIANS.
ENVOYS OF THE LACEDAEMONIANS.
POLYCHARIDES.
MARKET LOUNGERS.
A SERVANT.
AN ATHENIAN CITIZEN.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN.
CHORUS OF WOMEN.
SCENE: In a public square at Athens; afterwards before the gates of the Acropolis, and finally within the precincts of the citadel.
* * * * *
LYSISTRATA
LYSISTRATA (alone). Ah! if only they had been invited to a Bacchic revelling, or a feast of Pan or Aphrodité or Genetyllis,391 why! the streets would have been impassable for the thronging tambourines! Now there's never a woman here-ah! except my neighbour Calonicé, whom I see approaching yonder…. Good day, Calonicé.
CALONICÉ. Good day, Lysistrata; but pray, why this dark, forbidding face, my dear? Believe me, you don't look a bit pretty with those black lowering brows.
LYSISTRATA. Oh! Calonicé, my heart is on fire; I blush for our sex. Men will have it we are tricky and sly….
CALONICÉ. And they are quite right, upon my word!
LYSISTRATA. Yet, look you, when the women are summoned to meet for a matter of the last importance, they lie abed instead of coming.
CALONICÉ. Oh! they will come, my dear; but 'tis not easy, you know, for women to leave the house. One is busy pottering about her husband; another is getting the servant up; a third is putting her child asleep, or washing the brat or feeding it.
LYSISTRATA. But I tell you, the business that calls them here is far and away more urgent.
CALONICÉ. And why do you summon us, dear Lysistrata? What is it all about?
LYSISTRATA. About a big affair.392
CALONICÉ. And is it thick too?
LYSISTRATA. Yes indeed, both big and great.
CALONICÉ. And we are not all on the spot!
LYSISTRATA. Oh! if it were what you suppose, there would be never an absentee. No, no, it concerns a thing I have turned about and about this way and that of many sleepless nights.
CALONICÉ. It must be something mighty fine and subtle for you to have turned it about so!
LYSISTRATA. So fine, it means just this, Greece saved by the women!
CALONICÉ. By women! Why, its salvation hangs on a poor thread then!
LYSISTRATA. Our country's fortunes depend on us—it is with us to undo utterly the Peloponnesians….
CALONICÉ. That would be a noble deed truly!
LYSISTRATA. To exterminate the Boeotians to a man!
CALONICÉ. But surely you would spare the eels.393
LYSISTRATA. For Athens' sake I will never threaten so fell a doom; trust me for that. However, if the Boeotian and Peloponnesian women join us, Greece is saved.
CALONICÉ. But how should women perform so wise and glorious an achievement, we women who dwell in the retirement of the household, clad in diaphanous garments of yellow silk and long flowing gowns, decked out with flowers and shod with dainty little slippers?
LYSISTRATA. Nay, but those are the very sheet-anchors of our salvation—those yellow tunics, those scents and slippers, those cosmetics and transparent robes.
CALONICÉ. How so, pray?
LYSISTRATA. There is not a man will wield a lance against another …
CALONICÉ. Quick, I will get me a yellow tunic from the dyer's.
LYSISTRATA. … or want a shield.
CALONICÉ. I'll run and put on a flowing gown.
LYSISTRATA. … or draw a sword.
CALONICÉ. I'll haste and buy a pair of slippers this instant.
LYSISTRATA. Now tell me, would not the women have done best to come?
CALONICÉ. Why, they should have flown here!
LYSISTRATA. Ah! my dear, you'll see that like true Athenians, they will do everything too late394…. Why, there's not a woman come from the shoreward parts, not one from Salamis.395
CALONICÉ. But I know for certain they embarked at daybreak.
LYSISTRATA. And the dames from Acharnae!396 why, I thought they would have been the very first to arrive.
CALONICÉ. Theagenes wife397 at any rate is sure to come; she has actually been to consult Hecaté…. But look! here are some arrivals—and there are more behind. Ah! ha! now what countrywomen may they be?
LYSISTRATA. They are from Anagyra.398
CALONICÉ. Yes! upon my word, 'tis a levy en masse of all the female population of Anagyra!
MYRRHINÉ. Are we late, Lysistrata? Tell us, pray; what, not a word?
LYSISTRATA. I cannot say much for you, Myrrhiné! you have not bestirred yourself overmuch for an affair of such urgency.
MYRRHINÉ I could not find my girdle in the dark. However, if the matter is so pressing, here we are; so speak.
LYSISTRATA. No, but let us wait a moment more, till the women of Boeotia arrive and those from the Peloponnese.
MYRRHINÉ Yes, that is best…. Ah! here comes Lampito.
LYSISTRATA. Good day, Lampito, dear friend from Lacedaemon. How well and handsome you look! what a rosy complexion! and how strong you seem; why, you could strangle a bull surely!
LAMPITO. Yes, indeed, I really think I could. 'Tis because I do gymnastics and practise the kick dance.399
LYSISTRATA. And what superb bosoms!
LAMPITO. La! you are feeling me as if I were a beast for sacrifice.
LYSISTRATA. And this young woman, what countrywoman is she?
LAMPITO. She is a noble lady from Boeotia.
LYSISTRATA. Ah! my pretty Boeotian friend, you are as blooming as a garden.
CALONICÉ. Yes, on my word! and the garden is so prettily weeded too!400
LYSISTRATA. And who is this?
LAMPITO. 'Tis an honest woman, by my faith! she comes from Corinth.
LYSISTRATA. Oh! honest, no doubt then—as honesty goes at Corinth.401
LAMPITO. But who has called together this council of women, pray?
LYSISTRATA. I have.
LAMPITO. Well then, tell us what you want of us.
LYSISTRATA. With pleasure, my dear.
MYRRHINÉ. What is the most important business you wish to inform us about?
LYSISTRATA. I will tell you. But first answer me one question.
MYRRHINÉ. What is that?
LYSISTRATA. Don't you feel sad and sorry because the fathers of your children are far away from you with the army? For I'll undertake, there is not one of you whose husband is not abroad at this moment.
CALONICÉ. Mine has been the last five months in Thrace—looking after Eucrates.402
LYSISTRATA. 'Tis seven long months since mine left me for Pylos.403
LAMPITO. As for mine, if he ever does return from service, he's no sooner back than he takes down his shield again and flies back to the wars.
LYSISTRATA. And not so much as the shadow of a lover! Since the day the Milesians betrayed us, I have never once seen an eight-inch-long godemiche even, to be a leathern consolation to us poor widows…. Now tell me, if I have discovered a means of ending the war, will you all second me?
MYRRHINÉ. Yes verily, by all the goddesses, I swear I will, though I have to put my gown in pawn, and drink the money the same day.404
CALONICÉ. And so will I, though I must be split in two like a flat-fish, and have half myself removed.
LAMPITO. And I too; why, to secure Peace, I would climb to the top of Mount Taygetus.405
LYSISTRATA. Then I will out with it at last, my mighty secret! Oh! sister women, if we would compel our husbands to make peace, we must refrain….
MYRRHINÉ. Refrain from what? tell us, tell us!
LYSISTRATA. But will you do it?
MYRRHINÉ. We will, we will, though we should die of it.
LYSISTRATA. We must refrain from the male organ altogether…. Nay, why do you turn your backs on me? Where are you going? So, you bite your lips, and shake your heads, eh? Why these pale, sad looks? why these tears? Come, will you do it—yes or no? Do you hesitate?
MYRRHINÉ. No, I will not do it; let the War go on.
LYSISTRATA. And you, my pretty flat-fish, who declared just now they might split you in two?
CALONICÉ. Anything, anything but that! Bid me go through the fire, if you will; but to rob us of the sweetest thing in all the world, my dear, dear Lysistrata!
LYSISTRATA. And you?
MYRRHINÉ. Yes, I agree with the others; I too would sooner go through the fire.
LYSISTRATA. Oh, wanton, vicious sex! the poets have done well to make tragedies upon us; we are good for nothing then but love and lewdness!406 But you, my dear, you from hardy Sparta, if you join me, all may yet be well; help me, second me, I conjure you.
LAMPITO. 'Tis a hard thing, by the two goddesses407 it is! for a woman to sleep alone without ever a standing weapon in her bed. But there, Peace must come first.
LYSISTRATA. Oh, my dear, my dearest, best friend, you are the only one deserving the name of woman!
CALONICÉ. But if—which the gods forbid—we do refrain altogether from what you say, should we get peace any sooner?
LYSISTRATA. Of course we should, by the goddesses twain! We need only sit indoors with painted cheeks, and meet our mates lightly clad in transparent gowns of Amorgos408 silk, and with our "mottes" nicely plucked smooth; then their tools will stand like mad and they will be wild to lie with us. That will be the time to refuse, and they will hasten to make peace, I am convinced of that!
LAMPITO. Yes, just as Menelaus, when he saw Helen's naked bosom, threw away his sword, they say.
CALONICÉ. But, poor devils, suppose our husbands go away and leave us.
LYSISTRATA. Then, as Pherecrates says, we must "flay a skinned dog,"409 that's all.
CALONICÉ. Bah! these proverbs are all idle talk…. But if our husbands drag us by main force into the bedchamber?
LYSISTRATA. Hold on to the door posts.
CALONICÉ. But if they beat us?
LYSISTRATA. Then yield to their wishes, but with a bad grace; there is no pleasure for them, when they do it by force. Besides, there are a thousand ways of tormenting them. Never fear, they'll soon tire of the game; there's no satisfaction for a man, unless the woman shares it.
CALONICÉ. Very well, if you will have it so, we agree.
LAMPITO. For ourselves, no doubt we shall persuade our husbands to conclude a fair and honest peace; but there is the Athenian populace, how are we to cure these folk of their warlike frenzy?
LYSISTRATA. Have no fear; we undertake to make our own people hear reason.
LAMPITO. Nay, impossible, so long as they have their trusty ships and the vast treasures stored in the temple of Athené.
LYSISTRATA. Ah! but we have seen to that; this very day the Acropolis will be in our hands. That is the task assigned to the older women; while we are here in council, they are going, under pretence of offering sacrifice, to seize the citadel.
LAMPITO. Well said indeed! so everything is going for the best.
LYSISTRATA. Come, quick, Lampito, and let us bind ourselves by an inviolable oath.
LAMPITO. Recite the terms; we will swear to them.
LYSISTRATA. With pleasure. Where is our Usheress?410 Now, what are you staring at, pray? Lay this shield on the earth before us, its hollow upwards, and someone bring me the victim's inwards.
CALONICÉ. Lysistrata, say, what oath are we to swear?
LYSISTRATA. What oath? Why, in Aeschylus, they sacrifice a sheep, and swear over a buckler;411 we will do the same.
CALONICÉ. No, Lysistrata, one cannot swear peace over a buckler, surely.
LYSISTRATA. What other oath do you prefer?
CALONICÉ. Let's take a white horse, and sacrifice it, and swear on its entrails.
LYSISTRATA. But where get a white horse from?
CALONICÉ. Well, what oath shall we take then?
LYSISTRATA. Listen to me. Let's set a great black bowl on the ground; let's sacrifice a skin of Thasian412 wine into it, and take oath not to add one single drop of water.
LAMPITO. Ah! that's an oath pleases me more than I can say.
LYSISTRATA. Let them bring me a bowl and a skin of wine.
CALONICÉ. Ah! my dears, what a noble big bowl! what a delight 'twill be to empty it!
LYSISTRATA. Set the bowl down on the ground, and lay your hands on the victim…. Almighty goddess, Persuasion, and thou, bowl, boon comrade of joy and merriment, receive this our sacrifice, and be propitious to us poor women!
CALONICÉ. Oh! the fine red blood! how well it flows!
LAMPITO. And what a delicious savour, by the goddesses twain!
LYSISTRATA. Now, my dears, let me swear first, if you please.
CALONICÉ. No, by the goddess of love, let us decide that by lot.
LYSISTRATA. Come then, Lampito, and all of you, put your hands to the bowl; and do you, Calonicé, repeat in the name of all the solemn terms I am going to recite. Then you must all swear, and pledge yourselves by the same promises.—"I will have naught to do whether with lover or husband…."