MAGISTRATE. And 'tis well done too, by Poseidon! We men must share the blame of their ill conduct; it is we who teach them to love riot and dissoluteness and sow the seeds of wickedness in their hearts. You see a husband go into a shop: "Look you, jeweller," says he, "you remember the necklace you made for my wife. Well, t'other evening, when she was dancing, the catch came open. Now, I am bound to start for Salamis; will you make it convenient to go up to-night to make her fastening secure?" Another will go to a cobbler, a great, strong fellow, with a great, long tool, and tell him: "The strap of one of my wife's sandals presses her little toe, which is extremely sensitive; come in about midday to supple the thing and stretch it." Now see the results. Take my own case--as a Magistrate I have enlisted rowers; I want money to pay 'em, and lo! the women clap to the door in my face.[424] But why do we stand here with arms crossed? Bring me a crowbar; I'll chastise their insolence!--Ho! there, my fine fellow! (_addressing one of his attendant officers_) what are you gaping at the crows about? looking for a tavern, I suppose, eh? Come, crowbars here, and force open the gates. I will put a hand to the work myself. LYSISTRATA. No need to force the gates; I am coming out--here I am. And why bolts and bars? What we want here is not bolts and bars and locks, but common sense. MAGISTRATE. Really, my fine lady! Where is my officer? I want him to tie that woman's hands behind her back. 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 Phoebé, 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. MAGISTRATE. Forward, Scythians, and bind them!