Then why aren’t they here?
No man’s connected with it;
If that was the case, they’d soon come fluttering
along.
No, no. It concerns an object I’ve felt
over
And turned this way and that for sleepless nights.
It must be fine to stand such long attention.
So fine it comes to this—Greece saved by
Woman!
By Woman? Wretched thing, I’m sorry for
it.
Our country’s fate is henceforth in our hands:
To destroy the Peloponnesians root and branch—
What could be nobler!
Wipe out the Boeotians—
Not utterly. Have mercy on the eels!
[Footnote: The Boeotian eels were highly esteemed
delicacies in Athens.]
But with regard to Athens, note I’m careful
Not to say any of these nasty things;
Still, thought is free.... But if the women join
us
From Peloponnesus and Boeotia, then
Hand in hand we’ll rescue Greece.
How could we do
Such a big wise deed? We women who dwell
Quietly adorning ourselves in a back-room
With gowns of lucid gold and gawdy toilets
Of stately silk and dainty little slippers....
These are the very armaments of the rescue.
These crocus-gowns, this outlay of the best myrrh,
Slippers, cosmetics dusting beauty, and robes
With rippling creases of light.
Yes, but how?
No man will lift a lance against another—
I’ll run to have my tunic dyed crocus.
Or take a shield—
I’ll get a stately gown.
Or unscabbard a sword—
Let me buy a pair of slipper.
Now, tell me, are the women right to lag?
