Chorus of old men: But for me, the road itself...
Chorus of old men: Well then, there is a place.
Chorus of old men: the part towards the city, which I pursue with zeal;
Chorus of old men: And how, I wonder, shall we ever shine forth?
Chorus of old men: This without the cantharus.
290
Chorus of old men: how, if I had been given two pieces of wood, I would have hit the shoulder!
Chorus of old men: But still, one must walk,
Chorus of old men: And the fire must be blown on,
Chorus of old men: May I not be extinguished unnoticed at the end of the road.
Chorus of old men: phoo phoo.
295
Chorus of old men: Oh, oh, the smoke!
Lysistrata. Aristophanes. . 2026-09-08.