are we to let
ourselves
be bested by a mob of women?
Aristophanes
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.
