Lysistrata

Aristophanes

• Editorial: Passerino
• Año: 2016
• ISBN:
  9788893450621
• Categoría: Literature
• Categoría: Classics

"Lysistrata" is a comedy by Aristophanes. Originally performed in classical Athens in 411 BC, it is a comic account of one woman's extraordinary mission to end the Peloponnesian War. Lysistrata persuades the women of Greece to withhold sexual privileges from their husbands and lovers as a means of forcing the men to negotiate peace—a strategy, however, that inflames the battle between the sexes. The play is notable for being an early exposé of sexual relations in a male-dominated society. Aristophanes was a comic playwright of ancient Athens. Edition published in 1912 for the Athenian Society.

Lysistrata

[Scene:— At the base of the Orchestra are two buildings, the house of Lysistrata and the entrance to the Acropolis; a winding and narrow path leads up to the latter. Between the two buildings is the opening of the Cave of Pan. Lysistrata is pacing up and down in front of her house.]

Lysistrata

Ah! if only they had been invited to a Bacchic revelling, or a feast of Pan or Aphrodite or Genetyllis, why! the streets would have been impassable for the thronging tambourines! Now there's never a woman here — ah! except my neighbour Cleonice, whom I see approaching yonder. . . . Good day, Cleonice.

Cleonice

Good day, Lysistrata; but pray, why this dark, forbidding face, my dear? Believe me, you don't look a bit pretty with those black lowering brows.

Lysistrata

Oh, Cleonice, my heart is on fire; I blush for our sex. Men will have it we are tricky and sly. . . .

Cleonice

And they are quite right, upon my word!

Lysistrata

Yet, look you, when the women are summoned to meet for a matter of the greatest importance, they lie in bed instead of coming.

Cleonice

Oh! they will come, my dear; but it's not easy, you know, for women to leave the house. One is busy pottering about her husband; another is getting the servant up; a third is putting her child asleep or washing the brat or feeding it.

Lysistrata

But I tell you, the business that calls them here is far and away more urgent.

Cleonice

And why do you summon us, dear Lysistrata? What is it all about?

Lysistrata

About a big thing.

Cleonice [taking this in a different sense; with great interest]

And is it thick too?

Lysistrata

Yes, very thick.

Cleonice

And we are not all on the spot! Imagine!

Lysistrata [wearily]

Oh! if it were what you suppose, there would be never an absentee. No, no, it concerns a thing I have turned about and about this way and that so many sleepless nights.

Cleonice [still unable to be serious]

It must be something mighty fine and subtle for you to have turned it about so!

Lysistrata

So fine, it means just this, Greece saved by the women!

Cleonice

By the women! Why, its salvation hangs on a poor thread then!

Lysistrata

Our country's fortunes depend on us — it is with us to undo utterly the Peloponnesians.

Cleonice

That would be a noble deed truly!

Lysistrata

To exterminate the Boeotians to a man!

Cleonice

But surely you would spare the eels.

Lysistrata

For Athens' sake I will never threaten so fell a doom; trust me for that. However, if the Boeotian and Peloponnesian women join us, Greece is saved.

Cleonice

But how should women perform so wise and glorious an achievement, we women who dwell in the retirement of the household, clad in diaphanous garments of yellow silk and long flowing gowns, decked out with flowers and shod with dainty little slippers?

Lysistrata

Ah, but those are the very sheet-anchors of our salvation — those yellow tunics, those scents and slippers, those cosmetics and transparent robes.

Cleonice

How so, pray?

Lysistrata

There is not a man will wield a lance against another . . .

Cleonice

Quick, I will get me a yellow tunic from the dyer's.

Lysistrata

. . . or want a shield.

Cleonice

I'll run and put on a flowing gown.

Lysistrata

. . . or draw a sword.

Cleonice

I'll haste and buy a pair of slippers this instant.

Lysistrata

Now tell me, would not the women have done best to come?

Cleonice

Why, they should have flown here!

Lysistrata

Ah! my dear, you'll see that like true Athenians, they will do everything too late. . . . Why, there's not a woman come from the shore, not one from Salamis.

Cleonice

But I know for certain they embarked at daybreak.

Lysistrata

And the dames from Acharnae! why, I thought they would have been the very first to arrive.

Cleonice

Theagenes' wife at any rate is sure to come; she has actually been to consult Hecate. . . . But look! here are some arrivals — and there are more behind. Ah! ha! now what countrywomen may they be?

Lysistrata

They are from Anagyra.

Cleonice

Yes! upon my word, 'tis a levy en masse of all the female population of Anagyra!

[Myrrhine enters, followed by other women.]

Myrrhine

Are we late, Lysistrata? Tell us, pray; what, not a word?

Lysistrata

I cannot say much for you, Myrrhine! you have not bestirred yourself overmuch for an affair of such urgency.

Myrrhine

I could not find my girdle in the dark. However, if the matter is so pressing, here we are; so speak.

Cleonice

No, let's wait a moment more, till the women of Boeotia arrive and those from the Peloponnese.

Lysistrata

Yes, that is best. . . . Ah! here comes Lampito. [Lampito, a husky Spartan damsel, enters with three others, two from Boeotia and one from Corinth.] Good day, Lampito, dear friend from Lacedaemon. How well and handsome you look! what a rosy complexion! and how strong you seem; why, you could strangle a bull surely!

Lampito

Yes, indeed, I really think I could. It's because I do gymnastics and practise the bottom-kicking dance.

Cleonice [opening Lampito's robe and baring her bosom]

And what superb breasts!

Lampito

La! you are feeling me as if I were a beast for sacrifice.

Lysistrata

And this young woman, where is she from?

Lampito

She is a noble lady from Boeotia.

Lysistrata

Ah! my pretty Boeotian friend, you are as blooming as a garden.

Cleonice [making another inspection]

Yes, on my word! and her "garden" is so thoroughly weeded too!

Lysistrata [pointing to the Corinthian]

And who is this?

Lampito

'Tis an honest woman, by my faith! she comes from Corinth.

Cleonice

Oh! Honest, no doubt then — as honesty goes at Corinth.

Lampito

But who has called together this council of women, pray?

Lysistrata

I have.

Lampito

Well then, tell us what you want of us.

Cleonice

Yes, please tell us! What is this very important business you wish to inform us about?

Lysistrata

I will tell you. But first answer me one question.

Cleonice

Anything you wish.

Lysistrata

Don't you feel sad and sorry because the fathers of your children are far away from you with the army? For I'll wager there is not one of you whose husband is not abroad at this moment.

Cleonice

Mine has been the last five months in Thrace — looking after Eucrates.

Myrrhine

It's seven long months since mine left for Pylos.

Lampito

As for mine, if he ever does return from service, he's no sooner home than he takes down his shield again and flies back to the wars.

Lysistrata

And not so much as the shadow of a lover! Since the day the Milesians betrayed us, I have never once seen an eight-inch gadget even, to be a leathern consolation to us poor widows. . . . Now tell me, if I have discovered a means of ending the war, will you all second me?

Cleonice

Yes verily, by all the goddesses, I swear I will, though I have to put my gown in pawn, and drink the money the same day.

Myrrhine

And so will I, though I must be split in two like a flat-fish, and have half myself removed.

Lampito

And I too; why to secure peace, I would climb to the top of Mount Taygetus.

Lysistrata

Then I will out with it at last, my mighty secret! Oh! sister women, if we would compel our husbands to make peace, we must refrain . . .

Cleonice

Refrain from what? tell us, tell us!

Lysistrata

But will you do it?

Myrrhine

We will, we will, though we should die of it.

Lysistrata

We must refrain from the male altogether. . . . Nay, why do you turn your backs on me? Where are you going? So, you bite your li...