Lysistrata.
By Artemis, the virgin goddess! if he touches me with the tip of his finger, officer of the public peace though he be, let him look out for himself!
Magistrate (to the officer).
How now, are you afraid? Seize her, I tell you, round the body. Two of you at her, and have done with it!
First Woman.
By Pandrosos! if you lay a hand on her, I'll trample you underfoot till you shit your guts!
Magistrate.
Oh, there! my guts! Where is my other officer? Bind that minx first, who speaks so prettily!
Second Woman.
By Phœbé, 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.
