Are you blaming us for not laying you out for burial? Well then, on the third day, we’ll come and offer up a sacrifice on your behalf first thing in the morning.

LEADER OF THE MEN’S CHORUS

You men, no more sleeping on the job for anyone born free! Let’s strip ourselves for action on this issue. It seems to me this business stinks—it’s large and getting larger.

And I especially smelled some gas— the tyrant rule of Hippias. I’ve a great fear that Spartan men collected here with Cleisthenes, have with their trickery stirred up these women, whom the gods all hate, to seize the treasury and our pay, the funds I need to live my way. It’s terrible these women here are thinking about politics

and prattling on about bronze spears— they’re women!—and making peace on our behalf with Spartan types, whom I don’t trust, not any more than gaping wolves. In this affair, those men are weaving plots for us,

so they can bring back tyranny. But me, I won’t give any ground, not to a tyrant. I’ll stand guard, from now on carrying a sword

inside my myrtle bough. I’ll march with weapons in the market place with Aristogeiton at my side. I’ll stand with him. And now it’s time I struck those hostile to gods’ law and hit that old hag on the jaw.

LEADER OF WOMEN’S CHORUS

When you get back home, your own mother won’t know who you are. Come on, old ladies, you friends of mine, let’s first set our burdens on the ground.

WOMEN’S CHORUS

All you fellow citizens,

we’ll start to give the city good advice and rightly, since it raised us splendidly

so we lived very well. At seven years old, I carried sacred vessels, and at ten I pounded barley for Athena’s shrine. Later as bear, I shed my yellow dress for the rites of Brauronian Artemis. And once I was a lovely full-grown girl, I wore strings of figs around my neck and was one of those who carried baskets.

So I am indebted to the city. Why not pay it back with good advice? I was born a woman, but don’t hold that against me if I introduce a plan to make our present situation better.

For I make contributions to the state— I give birth to men. You miserable old farts, you contribute nothing! That pile of cash which we collected from the Persian Wars you squandered. You don’t pay any taxes.

What’s more, the way you act so stupidly endangers all of us. What do you say? Don’t get me riled up. I’ll take this filthy shoe and smack you one right on the jaw.

Is this not getting way too insolent? I think it’s better if we paid them back.

We have to fight this out. So any one who’s got balls enough to be a man take off your clothes so we men can smell the way we should—like men. We should strip.

It’s not right to keep ourselves wrapped up. We’re the ones who’ve got white feet. We marched to Leipsydrion years ago. And now let’s stand erect again, aroused in our whole bodies—shake off our old age.

If one of us gives them the slightest chance there’s nothing these women won’t continue trying to work on—building fighting ships, attacking us at sea like Artemesia. If they switch to horses, I draw the line.

For women are the best at riding bareback— their shapely arses do a lovely job. They don’t slip off when grinding at a gallop. Just look how Micon painted Amazons fighting men on horseback hand to hand. So we must take a piece of wood with holes,

and fit a yoke on them, around their necks.

By the two goddesses, if you get me roused, I’ll let my wild sow’s passion loose and make you yell to all the people here today

how I’m removing all your hair.

LEADER OF WOMEN’S CHORUS

You ladies, let’s not delay—let’s take off all our clothes, so we can smell a woman’s passion when we’re in a ferocious mood.

WOMEN’S CHORUS

Now let any man step out against me— he won’t be eating garlic any more,

and no black beans. Just say something nasty, I’m so boiling mad, I’ll treat you the same way the beetle did the eagle—smash your eggs.

LEADER OF WOMEN’S CHORUS

Not that I give a damn for you, not while

I have Lampito here—Ismenia, too, my young Theban friend. You have no power, not even with seven times as many votes. You’re such a miserable old man, even those who are you neighbours find you hateful. Just yesterday for the feast of Hecate,

I planned a party, so I asked my neighbours in Boeotia for one of their companions, a lovely girl—she was for my children— a splendid pot of eels. But they replied

they couldn’t send it because you’d passed another one of your decrees. It doesn’t seem you’ll stop voting in these laws, not before someone takes your leg, carries you off, and throws you out.

Here’s our glorious leader, who does the planning for this enterprise. Why have you come here, outside the building, and with such a sad expression on your face?

It’s the way these women act so badly, together with their female hearts, that makes

me lose my courage and walk in circles.

LEADER OF WOMEN’S CHORUS

What are you saying? What do you mean?