CHORUS OF OLD MEN. I want to tell you a fable they used to relate to me when I was a little boy. This is it: Once upon a time there was a young man called Melanion, who hated the thought of marriage so sorely that he fled away to the wilds. So he dwelt in the mountains, wove himself nets, kept a dog and caught hares. He never, never came back, he had such a horror of women. As chaste as Melanion,[445] we loathe the jades just as much as he did. AN OLD MAN. You dear old woman, I would fain kiss you. A WOMAN. I will set you crying without onions. OLD MAN. ... And give you a sound kicking. OLD WOMAN. Ah, ha! what a dense forest you have there! (_Pointing._) OLD MAN. So was Myronides one of the best-bearded of men o' this side; his backside was all black, and he terrified his enemies as much as Phormio.[446] CHORUS OF WOMEN. I want to tell you a fable too, to match yours about Melanion. Once there was a certain man called Timon,[447] a tough customer, and a whimsical, a true son of the Furies, with a face that seemed to glare out of a thorn-bush. He withdrew from the world because he couldn't abide bad men, after vomiting a thousand curses at 'em. He had a holy horror of ill-conditioned fellows, but he was mighty tender towards women. A WOMAN. Suppose I up and broke your jaw for you! AN OLD MAN. I am not a bit afraid of you. A WOMAN. Suppose I let fly a good kick at you? OLD MAN. I should see your backside then. WOMAN. You would see that, for all my age, it is very well attended to, and all fresh singed smooth. LYSISTRATA. Ho there! come quick, come quick! FIRST WOMAN. What is it? Why these cries? LYSISTRATA. A man! a man! I see him approaching all afire with the flames of love. Oh! divine Queen of Cyprus, Paphos and Cythera, I pray you still be propitious to our emprise. FIRST WOMAN. Where is he, this unknown foe? LYSISTRATA. Yonder--beside the Temple of Demeter. FIRST WOMAN. Yes, indeed, I see him; but who is it? LYSISTRATA. Look, look! does any of you recognize him? FIRST WOMAN. I do, I do! 'tis my husband Cinesias. LYSISTRATA. To work then! Be it your task to inflame and torture and torment him. Seductions, caresses, provocations, refusals, try every means! Grant every favour,--always excepting what is forbidden by our oath on the wine-bowl. MYRRHINÉ. Have no fear, I undertake the work. LYSISTRATA. Well, I will stay here to help you cajole the man and set his passions aflame. The rest of you, withdraw. CINESIAS. Alas! alas! how I am tortured by spasm and rigid convulsion! Oh! I am racked on the wheel! LYSISTRATA. Who is this that dares to pass our lines? CINESIAS. It is I. LYSISTRATA. What, a man? CINESIAS. Yes, no doubt about it, a man! LYSISTRATA. Begone! CINESIAS. But who are you that thus repulses me? LYSISTRATA. The sentinel of the day. CINESIAS. By all the gods, call Myrrhiné hither. LYSISTRATA. Call Myrrhiné hither, quotha? And pray, who are you? CINESIAS. I am her husband, Cinesias, son of Peon.