Aristophanes on Women

“These impossible women! How they do get around us! The poet was right: Can’t live with them, or without them!”

“Lysistrata: My heart is hot within me, Calonice, And sore I grieve for sake of womankind, Because the men account us all to be Sly, shifty rogues, Calonice: And so, by Zeus, we are.”

“They're always abusing the women,    As a terrible plague to men: They say we're the root of all evil,    And repeat it again and again; Of war and quarrels and bloodshed,    All mischief, be what it may: And pray, then, why do you marry us,    If we're all the plagues you say? And why do you take such care of us,    And keep us so safe at home, And are never easy a moment,    If ever we chance to roam? When you ought to be thanking heaven    That your Plague is out of the way— You all keep fussing and fretting—    "Where is my Plague today?" If a Plague peeps out of the window,    Up go the eyes of the men; If she hides then they all keep staring    Until she looks out again.”