by Aristophanes
LYSISTRATA. Silence then! Now— “Whenas the swallows, fleeing before the hoopoes, shall have all flocked together in one place, and shall refrain them from all amorous commerce, then will be the end of all the ills of life; yea, and Zeus, which doth thunder in the skies, shall set above what was erst below….”
CHORUS OF WOMEN. What! shall the men be underneath?
LYSISTRATA. “But if dissension do arise among the swallows, and they take wing from the holy Temple, ‘twill be said there is never a more wanton bird in all the world.”
CHORUS OF WOMEN. Ye gods! the prophecy is clear. Nay, never let us be cast down by calamity! let us be brave to bear, and go back to our posts. ‘Twere shameful indeed not to trust the promises of the Oracle.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. I want to tell you a fable they used to relate to me when I was a little boy. This is it: Once upon a time there was a young man called Melanion, who hated the thought of marriage so sorely that he fled away to the wilds. So he dwelt in the mountains, wove himself nets, kept a dog and caught hares. He never, never came back, he had such a horror of women. As chaste as Melanion, we loathe the jades just as much as he did.
AN OLD MAN. You dear old woman, I would fain kiss you.
A WOMAN. I will set you crying without onions.
OLD MAN. … And give you a sound kicking.
OLD WOMAN. Ah, ha! what a dense forest you have there! (Pointing.)
OLD MAN. So was Myronides one of the best-bearded of men o’ this side; his backside was all black, and he terrified his enemies as much as Phormio.
CHORUS OF WOMEN. I want to tell you a fable too, to match yours about Melanion. Once there was a certain man called Timon, a tough customer, and a whimsical, a true son of the Furies, with a face that seemed to glare out of a thorn-bush. He withdrew from the world because he couldn’t abide bad men, after vomiting a thousand curses at ‘em. He had a holy horror of ill-conditioned fellows, but he was mighty tender towards women.
A WOMAN. Suppose I up and broke your jaw for you!
AN OLD MAN. I am not a bit afraid of you.
A WOMAN. Suppose I let fly a good kick at you?
OLD MAN. I should see your backside then.
WOMAN. You would see that, for all my age, it is very well attended to, and all fresh singed smooth.
LYSISTRATA. Ho there! come quick, come quick!
FIRST WOMAN. What is it? Why these cries?
LYSISTRATA. A man! a man! I see him approaching all afire with the flames of love. Oh! divine Queen of Cyprus, Paphos and Cythera, I pray you still be propitious to our emprise.
FIRST WOMAN. Where is he, this unknown foe?
LYSISTRATA. Yonder — beside the Temple of Demeter.
FIRST WOMAN. Yes, indeed, I see him; but who is it?
LYSISTRATA. Look, look! does any of you recognize him?
FIRST WOMAN. I do, I do! ’tis my husband Cinesias.
LYSISTRATA. To work then! Be it your task to inflame and torture and torment him. Seductions, caresses, provocations, refusals, try every means! Grant every favour, — always excepting what is forbidden by our oath on the wine-bowl.
MYRRHINÉ. Have no fear, I undertake the work.
LYSISTRATA. Well, I will stay here to help you cajole the man and set his passions aflame. The rest of you, withdraw.
CINESIAS. Alas! alas! how I am tortured by spasm and rigid convulsion!
Oh! I am racked on the wheel!
LYSISTRATA. Who is this that dares to pass our lines?
CINESIAS. It is I.
LYSISTRATA. What, a man?
CINESIAS. Yes, no doubt about it, a man!
LYSISTRATA. Begone!
CINESIAS. But who are you that thus repulses me?
LYSISTRATA. The sentinel of the day.
CINESIAS. By all the gods, call Myrrhiné hither.
LYSISTRATA. Call Myrrhiné hither, quotha? And pray, who are you?
CINESIAS. I am her husband, Cinesias, son of Peon.
LYSISTRATA. Ah! good day, my dear friend. Your name is not unknown amongst us. Your wife has it for ever on her lips; and she never touches an egg or an apple without saying: “‘Twill be for Cinesias.”
CINESIAS. Really and truly?
LYSISTRATA. Yes, indeed, by Aphrodité! And if we fall to talking of men, quick your wife declares: “Oh! all the rest, they’re good for nothing compared with Cinesias.”
CINESIAS. Oh! I beseech you, go and call her to me.
LYSISTRATA. And what will you give me for my trouble?
CINESIAS.
This, if you like (handling his tool). I will give you what I have there!
LYSISTRATA. Well, well, I will tell her to come.
CINESIAS. Quick, oh! be quick! Life has no more charms for me since she left my house. I am sad, sad, when I go indoors; it all seems so empty; my victuals have lost their savour. Desire is eating out my heart!
MYRRHINÉ. I love him, oh! I love him; but he won’t let himself be loved.
No! I shall not come.
CINESIAS. Myrrhiné, my little darling Myrrhiné, what are you saying? Come down to me quick.
MYRRHINÉ. No indeed, not I.
CINESIAS. I call you, Myrrhiné, Myrrhiné; will you not come?
MYRRHINÉ. Why should you call me? You do not want me.
CINESIAS. Not want you! Why, my weapon stands stiff with desire!
MYRRHINÉ. Good-bye.
CINESIAS. Oh! Myrrhiné, Myrrhiné, in our child’s name, hear me; at any rate hear the child! Little lad, call your mother.
CHILD. Mammy, mammy, mammy!
CINESIAS. There, listen! Don’t you pity the poor child? It’s six days now you’ve never washed and never fed the child.
MYRRHINÉ. Poor darling, your father takes mighty little care of you!
CINESIAS. Come down, dearest, come down for the child’s sake.
MYRRHINÉ. Ah! what a thing it is to be a mother! Well, well, we must come down, I suppose.
CINESIAS. Why, how much younger and prettier she looks! And how she looks at me so lovingly! Her cruelty and scorn only redouble my passion.
MYRRHINÉ. You are as sweet as your father is provoking! Let me kiss you, my treasure, mother’s darling!
CINESIAS. Ah! what a bad thing it is to let yourself be led away by other women! Why give me such pain and suffering, and yourself into the bargain?
MYRRHINÉ. Hands off, sir!
CINESIAS. Everything is going to rack and ruin in the house.
MYRRHINÉ. I don’t care.
CINESIAS. But your web that’s all being pecked to pieces by the cocks and hens, don’t you care for that?
MYRRHINÉ. Precious little.
CINESIAS. And Aphrodite, whose mysteries you have not celebrated for so long? Oh! won’t you come back home?
MYRRHINÉ. No, at least, not till a sound Treaty put an end to the War.
CINESIAS. Well, if you wish it so much, why, we’ll make it, your Treaty.
MYRRHINÉ. Well and good! When that’s done, I will come home. Till then, I am bound by an oath.
CINESIAS. At any rate, let’s have a short time together.
MYRRHINÉ. No, no, no! … all the same I cannot say I don’t love you.
CINESIAS. You love me? Then why refuse what I ask, my little girl, my sweet Myrrhiné.
MYRRHINÉ. You must be joking! What, before the child!
CINESIAS. Manes, carry the lad home. There, you see, the child is gone; there’s nothing to hinder us; let us to work!
MYRRHINÉ. But, miserable man, where, where are we to do it?
CINESIAS. In the cave of Pan; nothing could be better.
MYRRHINÉ. But how to purify myself, before going back into the citadel?
CINESIAS. Nothing easier! you can wash at the Clepsydra.
MYRRHINÉ. But my oath? Do you want me to perjure myself?
CINESIAS. I take all responsibility; never make yourself anxious.
MYRRHINÉ. Well, I’ll be off, then, and find a bed for us.
CINESIAS. Oh! �
��tis not worth while; we can lie on the ground surely.
MYRRHINÉ. No, no! bad man as you are, I don’t like your lying on the bare earth.
CINESIAS. Ah! how the dear girl loves me!
MYRRHINÉ (coming back with a bed). Come, get to bed quick; I am going to undress. But, plague take it, we must get a mattress.
CINESIAS. A mattress! Oh! no, never mind!
MYRRHINÉ. No, by Artemis! lie on the bare sacking, never! That were too squalid.
CINESIAS. A kiss!
MYRRHINÉ. Wait a minute!
CINESIAS. Oh! by the great gods, be quick back!
MYRRHINÉ (coming back with a mattress). Here is a mattress. Lie down, I am just going to undress. But, but you’ve got no pillow.
CINESIAS. I don’t want one, no, no.
MYRRHINÉ. But I do.
CINESIAS. Oh! dear, oh, dear! they treat my poor penis for all the world like Heracles.
MYRRHINÉ (coming back with a pillow). There, lift your head, dear!
CINESIAS. That’s really everything.
MYRRHINÉ. Is it everything, I wonder.
CINESIAS. Come, my treasure.
MYRRHINÉ. I am just unfastening my girdle. But remember what you promised me about making Peace; mind you keep your word.
CINESIAS. Yes, yes, upon my life I will.
MYRRHINÉ. Why, you have no blanket.
CINESIAS. Great Zeus! what matter of that? ’tis you I want to fuck.
MYRRHINÉ Never fear — directly, directly! I’ll be back in no time.
CINESIAS. The woman will kill me with her blankets!
MYRRHINÉ (coming back with a blanket). Now, get up for one moment.
CINESIAS. But I tell you, our friend here is up — all stiff and ready!
MYRRHINÉ. Would you like me to scent you?
CINESIAS. No, by Apollo, no, please!
MYRRHINÉ. Yes, by Aphrodité, but I will, whether you wish it or no.
CINESIAS. Ah! great Zeus, may she soon be done!
MYRRHINÉ (coming back with a flask of perfume). Hold out your hand; now rub it in.
CINESIAS. Oh! in Apollo’s name, I don’t much like the smell of it; but perhaps ‘twill improve when it’s well rubbed in. It does not somehow smack of the marriage bed!
MYRRHINÉ. There, what a scatterbrain I am; if I have not brought Rhodian perfumes!
CINESIAS. Never mind, dearest, let be now.
MYRRHINÉ. You are joking!
CINESIAS. Deuce take the man who first invented perfumes, say I!
MYRRHINÉ (coming back with another flask). Here, take this bottle.
CINESIAS. I have a better all ready for your service, darling. Come, you provoking creature, to bed with you, and don’t bring another thing.
MYRRHINÉ. Coming, coming; I’m just slipping off my shoes. Dear boy, will you vote for peace?
CINESIAS. I’ll think about it. (Myrrhiné runs away.) I’m a dead man, she is killing me! She has gone, and left me in torment! I must have someone to fuck, I must! Ah me! the loveliest of women has choused and cheated me. Poor little lad (addressing his penis), how am I to give you what you want so badly? Where is Cynalopex? quick, man, get him a nurse, do!
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Poor, miserable wretch, baulked in your amorousness! what tortures are yours! Ah! you fill me with pity. Could any man’s back and loins stand such a strain? His organ stands stiff and rigid, and there’s never a wench to help him!
CINESIAS. Ye gods in heaven, what pains I suffer!
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Well, there it is; ’tis her doing, that abandoned hussy!
CINESIAS. Nay, nay! rather say that sweetest, dearest darling.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. That dearest darling? no, no, that hussy, say I! Zeus, thou god of the skies, canst not let loose a hurricane, to sweep them all up into the air, and whirl ‘em round, then drop ‘em down crash! and impale them on the point of his weapon!
A HERALD. Say, where shall I find the Senate and the Prytanes? I am bearer of despatches.
MAGISTRATE. But are you a man or a Priapus, pray?
HERALD. Oh! but he’s mighty simple. I am a herald, of course, I swear I am, and I come from Sparta about making peace.
MAGISTRATE. But look, you are hiding a lance under your clothes, surely.
HERALD. No, nothing of the sort.
MAGISTRATE. Then why do you turn away like that, and hold your cloak out from your body? Have you gotten swellings in the groin with your journey?
HERALD. By the twin brethren! the man’s an old maniac.
MAGISTRATE. Ah, ha! my fine lad, why I can see it standing, oh fie!
HERALD. I tell you no! but enough of this foolery.
MAGISTRATE. Well, what is it you have there then?
HERALD. A Lacedaemonian ‘skytalé.’
MAGISTRATE. Oh, indeed, a ‘skytalé,’ is it? Well, well, speak out frankly; I know all about these matters. How are things going at Sparta now?
HERALD. Why, everything is turned upside down at Sparta; and all the allies are half dead with lusting. We simply must have Pellené.
MAGISTRATE. What is the reason of it all? Is it the god Pan’s doing?
HERALD. No, but Lampito’s and the Spartan women’s, acting at her instigation; they have denied the men all access to their cunts.
MAGISTRATE. But whatever do you do?
HERALD. We are at our wits’ end; we walk bent double, just as if we were carrying lanterns in a wind. The jades have sworn we shall not so much as touch their cunts till we have all agreed to conclude peace.
MAGISTRATE. Ha, ha! So I see now, ’tis a general conspiracy embracing all Greece. Go you back to Sparta and bid them send Envoys with plenary powers to treat for peace. I will urge our Senators myself to name Plenipotentiaries from us; and to persuade them, why, I will show them this. (Pointing to his erect penis.)
HERALD. What could be better? I fly at your command.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. No wild beast is there, no flame of fire, more fierce and untameable than woman; the panther is less savage and shameless.
CHORUS OF WOMEN. And yet you dare to make war upon me, wretch, when you might have me for your most faithful friend and ally.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Never, never can my hatred cease towards women.
CHORUS OF WOMEN. Well, please yourself. Still I cannot bear to leave you all naked as you are; folks would laugh at me. Come, I am going to put this tunic on you.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. You are right, upon my word! it was only in my confounded fit of rage I took it off.
CHORUS OF WOMEN. Now at any rate you look like a man, and they won’t make fun of you. Ah! if you had not offended me so badly, I would take out that nasty insect you have in your eye for you.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Ah! so that’s what was annoying me so! Look, here’s a ring, just remove the insect, and show it me. By Zeus! it has been hurting my eye this ever so long.
CHORUS OF WOMEN. Well, I agree, though your manners are not over and above pleasant. Oh! what a huge great gnat! just look! It’s from Tricorysus, for sure.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. A thousand thanks! the creature was digging a regular well in my eye; now it’s gone, my tears flow freely.
CHORUS OF WOMEN. I will wipe them for you — bad, naughty man though you are. Now, just one kiss.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. No — a kiss, certainly not!
CHORUS OF WOMEN. Just one, whether you like it or not.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Oh! those confounded women! how they do cajole us! How true the saying: “’Tis impossible to live with the baggages, impossible to live without ‘em”! Come, let us agree for the future not to regard each other any more as enemies; and to clinch the bargain, let us sing a choric song.
CHORUS OF WOMEN. We desire, Athenians, to speak ill of no man; but on the contrary to say much good of everyone, and to do the like. We have had enough of misfortunes and calamities. Is there any, man or woman, wants a bit of money — two or three minas or so; well, our purse is full. If only peace is concluded, the borrower will
not have to pay back. Also I’m inviting to supper a few Carystian friends, who are excellently well qualified. I have still a drop of good soup left, and a young porker I’m going to kill, and the flesh will be sweet and tender. I shall expect you at my house to-day; but first away to the baths with you, you and your children; then come all of you, ask no one’s leave, but walk straight up, as if you were at home; never fear, the door will be … shut in your faces!
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Ah! here come the Envoys from Sparta with their long flowing beards; why, you would think they wore a cage between their thighs. (Enter the Lacedaemonian Envoys.) Hail to you, first of all, Laconians; then tell us how you fare.
A LACONIAN. No need for many words; you see what a state we are in.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Alas! the situation grows more and more strained! the intensity of the thing is just frightful.
LACONIAN. ’Tis beyond belief. But to work! summon your Commissioners, and let us patch up the best peace we may.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Ah! our men too, like wrestlers in the arena, cannot endure a rag over their bellies; ’tis an athlete’s malady, which only exercise can remedy.
AN ATHENIAN. Can anybody tell us where Lysistrata is? Surely she will have some compassion on our condition.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Look! ’tis the very same complaint. (Addressing the
Athenian.) Don’t you feel of mornings a strong nervous tension?
ATHENIAN. Yes, and a dreadful, dreadful torture it is! Unless peace is made very soon, we shall find no resource but to fuck Clisthenes.
CHORUS OF OLD MEN. Take my advice, and put on your clothes again; one of the fellows who mutilated the Hermae might see you.
ATHENIAN. You are right.
LACONIAN. Quite right. There, I will slip on my tunic.
ATHENIAN. Oh! what a terrible state we are in! Greeting to you, Laconian fellow-sufferers.
LACONIAN (addressing one of his countrymen). Ah! my boy, what a thing it would have been if these fellows had seen us just now when our tools were on full stand!
ATHENIAN. Speak out, Laconians, what is it brings you here?
LACONIAN. We have come to treat for peace.
ATHENIAN. Well said; we are of the same mind. Better call Lysistrata then; she is the only person will bring us to terms.
LACONIAN. Yes, yes — and Lysistratus into the bargain, if you will.