And I too though I’m split up like a turbot
And half is hackt off as the price of peace.
And I too! Why, to get a peep at the shy thing
I’d clamber up to the tip-top o’ Taygetus.
Then I’ll expose my mighty mystery.
O women, if we would compel the men
To bow to Peace, we must refrain—
From what?
O tell us!
Will you truly do it then?
We will, we will, if we must die for it.
We must refrain from every depth of love....
Why do you turn your backs? Where are you going?
Why do you bite your lips and shake your heads?
Why are your faces blanched? Why do you weep?
Will you or won’t you, or what do you mean?
No, I won’t do it. Let the war proceed.
No, I won’t do it. Let the war proceed.
You too, dear turbot, you that said just now
You didn’t mind being split right up in the
least?
Anything else? O bid me walk in fire
But do not rob us of that darling joy.
What else is like it, dearest Lysistrata?
And you?
O please give me the fire instead.
Lewd to the least drop in the tiniest vein,
Our sex is fitly food for Tragic Poets,
Our whole life’s but a pile of kisses apd babies.
But, hardy Spartan, if you join with me
All may be righted yet. O help me, help me.
It’s a sair, sair thing to ask of us, by the
Twa,
A lass to sleep her lane and never fill
Love’s lack except wi’ makeshifts....
But let it be.
Peace maun be thought of first.
My friend, my friend!
The only one amid this herd of weaklings.
But if—which heaven forbid—we
should refrain
As you would have us, how is Peace induced?
