A Slave Is But Half A Man.

To Plunder, To Lie, To Show Your Arse, Are Three Essentials For Climbing High.

Chorus Of Women: [...] Oh! My Good, Gallant Lysistrata, And All My Friends, Be Ever Like A Bundle Of Nettles; Never Let You Anger Slacken; The Wind Of Fortune Blown Our Way.

You Vote Yourselves Salaries Out Of The Public Funds And Care Only For Your Own Personal Interests; Hence The State Limps Along.

Only By Being Suspended Aloft, By Dangling My Mind In The Heavens And Mingling My Rare Thought With The Ethereal Air, Could I Ever Achieve Strict Scientific Accuracy In My Survey Of The Vast Empyrean. Had I Pursued My Inquiries From Down There On The Ground, My Data Would Be Worthless. The Earth, You See, Pulls Down The Delicate Essence Of Thought To Its Own Gross Level.

Calonice: My Dear Lysistrata, Just What Is This Matter You've Summoned Us Women To Consider.what's Up? Something Big? Lysistrata: Very Big. Calonice: (interested) Is It Stout Too? Lysistrata: (smiling) Yes, Indeed -- Both Big And Stout. Calonice: What? And The Women Still Haven't Come? Lysistrata: It's Not What You Suppose; They'd Come Soon Enough For That.