But who's garred this Council o' Women to meet here?

LYSISTRATA

I have.

LAMPITO

Propound then what you want o' us.

MYRRHINE

What is the amazing news you have to tell?

LYSISTRATA

I'll tell you, but first answer one small question.

MYRRHINE

As you like.

LYSISTRATA

Are you not sad your children's fathers Go endlessly off soldiering afar In this plodding war? I am willing to wager There's not one here whose husband is at home.

CALONICE

Mine's been in Thrace, keeping an eye on Eucrates For five months past.

MYRRHINE

And mine left me for Pylos Seven months ago at least.

LAMPITO

And as for mine No sooner has he slipped out frae the line He straps his shield and he's snickt off again.

LYSISTRATA

And not the slightest glitter of a lover!

And since the Milesians betrayed us, I've not seen The image of a single upright man To be a marble consolation to us.

Now will you help me, if I find a means To stamp the war out.

MYRRHINE

By the two G.o.ddesses, Yes!

I will though I've to p.a.w.n this very dress And drink the barter-money the same day.

CALONICE

And I too though I'm split up like a turbot And half is hackt off as the price of peace.

LAMPITO

And I too! Why, to get a peep at the shy thing I'd clamber up to the tip-top o' Taygetus.

LYSISTRATA

Then I'll expose my mighty mystery.

O women, if we would compel the men To bow to Peace, we must refrain--

MYRRHINE

From what?

O tell us!

LYSISTRATA

Will you truly do it then?

MYRRHINE

We will, we will, if we must die for it.

LYSISTRATA

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?

MYRRHINE

No, I won't do it. Let the war proceed.

CALONICE

No, I won't do it. Let the war proceed.

LYSISTRATA

You too, dear turbot, you that said just now You didn't mind being split right up in the least?

CALONICE

Anything else? O bid me walk in fire But do not rob us of that darling joy.

What else is like it, dearest Lysistrata?