Lysistrata   

MYRRHINE


By Phoebe, if you touch her with one finger, you'd better call


quick for a surgeon!


(The third Scythian defecates in terror.)


MAGISTRATE


What's that? Where's the officer? (To the fourth Scythian) Lay


hold of her. Oh! but I'm going to stop your foolishness for you all


CLEONICE


By the Tauric Artemis, if you go near her, I'll pull out your


hair, scream as you like.


(The fourth Scythian defecates in terror.)


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!


(The Scythians advance reluctantly.)