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WOMEN. Your own mother will not know you when you get back to the town. But first, my friends and allies, let us lay these garments down, And all ye fellow-citizens, hark to me while I tell What will aid Athens well. Just as is right, for I Have been a sharer In all the lavish splendour Of the proud city. I bore the holy vessels At seven, then I pounded barley At the age of ten, And clad in yellow robes, Soon after this, I was Little Bear to Brauronian Artemis; Then neckletted with figs, Grown tall and pretty, I was a Basket-bearer, And so it's obvious I should Give you advice that I think good, The very best I can.
Chorus of WOMEN. For I am told a dribbling band Of greybeards hobble to the field, Great faggots in each palsied hand, As if a hot bath to prepare, And threatening that out they'll drive These wicked women or soon leave them charring into ashes there. O Goddess, suffer not, I pray, this harsh deed to be done, But show us Greece and Athens with their warlike acts repealed! For this alone, in this thy hold, Thou Goddess with the helm of gold, We laid hands on thy sanctuary, Athene.... Then our ally be And where they cast their fires of slaughter Direct our water!