LYSISTRATA. Then secondly, instead of enjoying the pleasures of love and
making the best of our youth and beauty, we are left to languish far from
our husbands, who are all with the army. But say no more of ourselves;
what afflicts me is to see our girls growing old in lonely grief.
MAGISTRATE. Don't the men grow old too?
LYSISTRATA. That is not the same thing. When the soldier returns from the
wars, even though he has white hair, he very soon finds a young wife. But
a woman has only one summer; if she does not make hay while the sun
shines, no one will afterwards have anything to say to her, and she
spends her days consulting oracles, that never send her a husband.
MAGISTRATE. But the old man who can still erect his organ ...
LYSISTRATA. But you, why don't you get done with it and die? You are
rich; go buy yourself a bier, and I will knead you a honey-cake for
Cerberus. Here, take this garland. (_Drenching him with water._)