No More Learning

CALONICE. 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, Calonice, 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. . . . _"

CALONICE. _I will have naught to do whether with lover or husband. . . . _

LYSISTRATA. _Albeit he come to me with stiff and standing tool. . . . _

CALONICE. _Albeit he come to me with stiff and standing tool. . . . _ Oh!
Lysistrata, I cannot bear it!

LYSISTRATA. _I will live at home in perfect chastity. . . . _

CALONICE. _I will live at home in perfect chastity. . . . _

LYSISTRATA. _Beautifully dressed and wearing a saffron-coloured gown. . . . _

CALONICE. _Beautifully dressed and wearing a saffron-coloured gown. . . . _

LYSISTRATA. _To the end I may inspire my husband with the most ardent
longings. _

CALONICE. _To the end I may inspire my husband with the most ardent
longings. _

LYSISTRATA. _Never will I give myself voluntarily. . . . _

CALONICE. _Never will I give myself voluntarily. . . . _

LYSISTRATA. _And if he has me by force. . . . _

CALONICE. _And if he has me by force. . . . _

LYSISTRATA. _I will be cold as ice, and never stir a limb. . . . _

CALONICE. _I will be cold as ice, and never stir a limb. . . . _

LYSISTRATA. _I will not lift my legs in air. . . . _

CALONICE. _I will not lift my legs in air. . . . _

LYSISTRATA. _Nor will I crouch with bottom upraised, like carven lions on
a knife-handle_.

CALONICE. _Nor will I crouch with bottom upraised, like carven lions on a
knife-handle_.

LYSISTRATA. _An if I keep my oath, may I be suffered to drink of this
wine. _

CALONICE. _An if I keep my oath, may I be suffered to drink of this
wine_.

LYSISTRATA. _But if I break it, let my bowl be filled with water_.

CALONICE. _But if I break it, let my bowl be filled with water_.

LYSISTRATA. Will ye all take this oath?

MYRRHINE. Yes, yes!

LYSISTRATA. Then lo! I immolate the victim. (_She drinks. _)

CALONICE. Enough, enough, my dear; now let us all drink in turn to cement
our friendship.

LAMPITO. Hark! what do those cries mean?

LYSISTRATA. 'Tis what I was telling you; the women have just occupied the
Acropolis. So now, Lampito, do you return to Sparta to organize the plot,
while your comrades here remain as hostages. For ourselves, let us away
to join the rest in the citadel, and let us push the bolts well home.

CALONICE. But don't you think the men will march up against us?

LYSISTRATA. I laugh at them. Neither threats nor flames shall force our
doors; they shall open only on the conditions I have named.

CALONICE. Yes, yes, by the goddess of love! let us keep up our old-time
repute for obstinacy and spite.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. [412] Go easy, Draces, go easy; why, your shoulder is
all chafed by these plaguey heavy olive stocks. But forward still,
forward, man, as needs must. What unlooked-for things do happen, to be
sure, in a long life! Ah! Strymodorus, who would ever have thought it?
Here we have the women, who used, for our misfortune, to eat our bread
and live in our houses, daring nowadays to lay hands on the holy image of
the goddess, to seize the Acropolis and draw bars and bolts to keep any
from entering! Come, Philurgus man, let's hurry thither; let's lay our
faggots all about the citadel, and on the blazing pile burn with our
hands these vile conspiratresses, one and all--and Lycon's wife,
Lysistrata, first and foremost! Nay, by Demeter, never will I let 'em
laugh at me, whiles I have a breath left in my body. Cleomenes
himself,[413] the first who ever seized our citadel, had to quit it to
his sore dishonour; spite his Lacedaemonian pride, he had to deliver me
up his arms and slink off with a single garment to his back. My word! but
he was filthy and ragged! and what an unkempt beard, to be sure! He had
not had a bath for six long years! Oh! but that was a mighty siege! Our
men were ranged seventeen deep before the gate, and never left their
posts, even to sleep. These women, these enemies of Euripides and all the
gods, shall I do nothing to hinder their inordinate insolence? else let
them tear down my trophies of Marathon. But look ye, to finish our
toilsome climb, we have only this last steep bit left to mount. Verily
'tis no easy job without beasts of burden, and how these logs do bruise
my shoulder! Still let us on, and blow up our fire and see it does not go
out just as we reach our destination. Phew! phew! (_blows the fire_). Oh!
dear! what a dreadful smoke! it bites my eyes like a mad dog. It is
Lemnos[414] fire for sure, or it would never devour my eyelids like this.
Come on, Laches, let's hurry, let's bring succour to the goddess; it's
now or never! Phew! phew! (_blows the fire_). Oh! dear! what a confounded
smoke! --There now, there's our fire all bright and burning, thank the
gods! Now, why not first put down our loads here, then take a
vine-branch, light it at the brazier and hurl it at the gate by way of
battering-ram? If they don't answer our summons by pulling back the
bolts, then we set fire to the woodwork, and the smoke will choke 'em. Ye
gods! what a smoke! Pfaugh! Is there never a Samos general will help me
unload my burden? [415]--Ah! it shall not gall my shoulder any more.
(_Tosses down his wood. _) Come, brazier, do your duty, make the embers
flare, that I may kindle a brand; I want to be the first to hurl one. Aid
me, heavenly Victory; let us punish for their insolent audacity the women
who have seized our citadel, and may we raise a trophy of triumph for
success!

CHORUS OF WOMEN. [416] Oh! my dears, methinks I see fire and smoke; can it
be a conflagration? Let us hurry all we can. Fly, fly, Nicodice, ere
Calyce and Critylle perish in the fire, or are stifled in the smoke
raised by these accursed old men and their pitiless laws. But, great
gods, can it be I come too late? Rising at dawn, I had the utmost trouble
to fill this vessel at the fountain. Oh! what a crowd there was, and what
a din! What a rattling of water-pots! Servants and slave-girls pushed and
thronged me! However, here I have it full at last; and I am running to
carry the water to my fellow townswomen, whom our foes are plotting to
burn alive. News has been brought us that a company of old, doddering
greybeards, loaded with enormous faggots, as if they wanted to heat a
furnace, have taken the field, vomiting dreadful threats, crying that
they must reduce to ashes these horrible women. Suffer them not, oh!
goddess, but, of thy grace, may I see Athens and Greece cured of their
warlike folly. 'Tis to this end, oh! thou guardian deity of our city,
goddess of the golden crest, that they have seized thy sanctuary. Be
their friend and ally, Athene, and if any man hurl against them lighted
firebrands, aid us to carry water to extinguish them.

STRATYLLIS. Let me be, I say. Oh! oh! (_She calls for help. _)

CHORUS OF WOMEN.
What is this I see, ye wretched old men? Honest and
pious folk ye cannot be who act so vilely.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Ah, ha! here's something new! a swarm of women stand
posted outside to defend the gates!

CHORUS OF WOMEN. Ah! ah! we frighten you, do we; we seem a mighty host,
yet you do not see the ten-thousandth part of our sex.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Ho, Phaedrias! shall we stop their cackle? Suppose one
of us were to break a stick across their backs, eh?

CHORUS OF WOMEN. Let us set down our water-pots on the ground, to be out
of the way, if they should dare to offer us violence.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Let someone knock out two or three teeth for them, as
they did to Bupalus;[417] they won't talk so loud then.

CHORUS OF WOMEN. Come on then; I wait you with unflinching foot, and I
will snap off your testicles like a bitch.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Silence! ere my stick has cut short your days.

CHORUS OF WOMEN. Now, just you dare to touch Stratyllis with the tip of
your finger!

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. And if I batter you to pieces with my fists, what will
you do?

CHORUS OF WOMEN. I will tear out your lungs and entrails with my teeth.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Oh! what a clever poet is Euripides! how well he says
that woman is the most shameless of animals.

CHORUS OF WOMEN. Let's pick up our water-jars again, Rhodippe.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Ah! accursed harlot, what do you mean to do here with
your water?

CHORUS OF WOMEN. And you, old death-in-life, with your fire? Is it to
cremate yourself?

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. I am going to build you a pyre to roast your female
friends upon.

CHORUS OF WOMEN. And I,--I am going to put out your fire.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. You put out my fire--you!

CHORUS OF WOMEN. Yes, you shall soon see.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. I don't know what prevents me from roasting you with
this torch.

CHORUS OF WOMEN. I am getting you a bath ready to clean off the filth.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. A bath for me, you dirty slut, you!

CHORUS OF WOMEN. Yes, indeed, a nuptial bath--he, he!

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Do you hear that? What insolence!

CHORUS OF WOMEN. I am a free woman, I tell you.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. I will make you hold your tongue, never fear!

CHORUS OF WOMEN. Ah, ha! you shall never sit more amongst the
heliasts. [418]

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Burn off her hair for her!

CHORUS OF WOMEN. Water, do your office! (_The women pitch the water in
their water-pots over the old men. _)

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!

CHORUS OF WOMEN. Was it hot?

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Hot, great gods! Enough, enough!

CHORUS OF WOMEN. I'm watering you, to make you bloom afresh.

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Alas! I am too dry! Ah, me! how I am trembling with
cold!

MAGISTRATE. These women, have they made din enough, I wonder, with their
tambourines? bewept Adonis enough upon their terraces? [419] I was
listening to the speeches last assembly day,[420] and Demostratus,[421]
whom heaven confound! was saying we must all go over to Sicily--and lo!
his wife was dancing round repeating: Alas! alas! Adonis, woe is me for
Adonis!

Demostratus was saying we must levy hoplites at Zacynthus[422]--and lo!
his wife, more than half drunk, was screaming on the house-roof: "Weep,
weep for Adonis! "--while that infamous _Mad Ox_[423] was bellowing away
on his side. --Do ye not blush, ye women, for your wild and uproarious
doings?

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. But you don't know all their effrontery yet! They
abused and insulted us; then soused us with the water in their
water-pots, and have set us wringing out our clothes, for all the world
as if we had bepissed ourselves.

MAGISTRATE. And 'tis well done too, by Poseidon! We men must share the
blame of their ill conduct; it is we who teach them to love riot and
dissoluteness and sow the seeds of wickedness in their hearts. You see a
husband go into a shop: "Look you, jeweller," says he, "you remember the
necklace you made for my wife. Well, t'other evening, when she was
dancing, the catch came open. Now, I am bound to start for Salamis; will
you make it convenient to go up to-night to make her fastening secure? "
Another will go to a cobbler, a great, strong fellow, with a great, long
tool, and tell him: "The strap of one of my wife's sandals presses her
little toe, which is extremely sensitive; come in about midday to supple
the thing and stretch it. " Now see the results. Take my own case--as a
Magistrate I have enlisted rowers; I want money to pay 'em, and lo! the
women clap to the door in my face. [424] But why do we stand here with
arms crossed? Bring me a crowbar; I'll chastise their insolence! --Ho!
there, my fine fellow! (_addressing one of his attendant officers_) what
are you gaping at the crows about? looking for a tavern, I suppose, eh?
Come, crowbars here, and force open the gates. I will put a hand to the
work myself.

LYSISTRATA. No need to force the gates; I am coming out--here I am. And
why bolts and bars? What we want here is not bolts and bars and locks,
but common sense.

MAGISTRATE. Really, my fine lady! Where is my officer? I want him to tie
that woman's hands behind her back.

LYSISTRATA. By Artemis, the virgin goddess! if he touches me with the tip
of his finger, officer of the public peace though he be, let him look out
for himself!

MAGISTRATE (_to the officer_). How now, are you afraid? Seize her, I tell
you, round the body. Two of you at her, and have done with it!

FIRST WOMAN. By Pandrosos! if you lay a hand on her, I'll trample you
underfoot till you shit your guts!

MAGISTRATE. Oh, there! my guts! Where is my other officer? Bind that minx
first, who speaks so prettily!

SECOND WOMAN. By Phoebe, if you touch her with one finger, you'd better
call quick for a surgeon!

MAGISTRATE. What do you mean? Officer, where are you got to? Lay hold of
her. Oh! but I'm going to stop your foolishness for you all!

THIRD WOMAN. By the Tauric Artemis, if you go near her, I'll pull out
your hair, scream as you like.

MAGISTRATE. Ah! miserable man that I am! My own officers desert me. What
ho! are we to let ourselves be bested by a mob of women? Ho! Scythians
mine, close up your ranks, and forward!

LYSISTRATA. By the holy goddesses! you'll have to make acquaintance with
four companies of women, ready for the fray and well armed to boot.

MAGISTRATE. Forward, Scythians, and bind them!

LYSISTRATA. Forward, my gallant companions; march forth, ye vendors of
grain and eggs, garlic and vegetables, keepers of taverns and bakeries,
wrench and strike and tear; come, a torrent of invective and insult!
(_They beat the officers. _) Enough, enough! now retire, never rob the
vanquished!

MAGISTRATE. Here's a fine exploit for my officers!

LYSISTRATA. Ah, ha! so you thought you had only to do with a set of
slave-women! you did not know the ardour that fills the bosom of
free-born dames.

MAGISTRATE. Ardour! yes, by Apollo, ardour enough--especially for the
wine-cup!

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Sir, sir! what use of words? they are of no avail with
wild beasts of this sort. Don't you know how they have just washed us
down--and with no very fragrant soap!

CHORUS OF WOMEN. What would you have? You should never have laid rash
hands on us. If you start afresh, I'll knock your eyes out. My delight is
to stay at home as coy as a young maid, without hurting anybody or moving
any more than a milestone; but 'ware the wasps, if you go stirring up the
wasps' nest!

CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Ah! great gods! how get the better of these ferocious
creatures? 'tis past all bearing! But come, let us try to find out the
reason of the dreadful scourge. With what end in view have they seized
the citadel of Cranaus,[425] the sacred shrine that is raised upon the
inaccessible rock of the Acropolis? Question them; be cautious and not
too credulous. 'Twould be culpable negligence not to pierce the mystery,
if we may.

MAGISTRATE (_addressing the women_).