Altho' by nature form'd
Without a genius apt for virtuous deeds.
We women are in mischiefs most expert.
[tr. Wodhull (1782)]

Nature form'd our sex to good
Of slight capacity, but to revenge
Of ready and inventive subtlety.
[tr. Potter (1814)]

We women too art born
Most profitless indeed to noble works,
But cunningest devisers of all harms.
[tr. Webster (1868)]

We women, though by nature little apt for virtuous deeds, are most expert to fashion any mischief.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

Besides also we women are, by nature, to good actions of the least capacity, but the most cunning inventors of every ill.
[tr. Buckley (1892)]

Yea, our woman-nature 'tis --
Say they -- to be most helpless for all good,
But fashioners most cunning of all ill.
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1894)]

And God hath made thee woman, things most vain
For help, but wondrous in the paths of pain.
[tr. Murray (1906)]

And women, though most helpless in doing good deeds,
Are of every evil the cleverest of contrivers.
[tr. Warner (1944)]

We were born women -- useless for honest purposes,
But in all kinds of evil skilled practitioners.
[tr. Vellacott (1963)]

And what is more,
We're women, quite unable to manage good
But none more skilled when it comes to doing harm.
[tr. Podlecki (1989)]

And furthermore we are women, unable to perform great deeds of valor, but most skillful architects of every evil.
[tr. Kovacs (Perseus)]

What's more, we are women, quite helpless in doing good but surpassing any master craftsman in working evil.
[tr. Davie (1996)]

We women might be awful at doing something good but we are very competent when we’re doing something evil. No one is better than us.
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]

And besides we are
women, most helpless for the good,
but skilled craftsmen of all that is evil.
[tr. Luschnig (2007)]

Besides, we possess a woman’s nature --
powerless to perform fine noble deeds,
but very skilled in every form of evil.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]

Also we were born as women, very helpless when it comes to doing good, but very wise creators of all kinds of harm.
[tr. Ewans (2022)]

And more than this, we are women, naturally most helpless [amēkhanai], when it comes to noble deeds [esthla], but for all evils [kaka] we are most skilled [sophai] contrivers.
[tr. Coleridge / Ceragioli / Nagy / Hour25]

They still contend
That we, at home remaining, lead a life
Exempt from danger, while they launch the spear:
False are these judgements; rather would I thrice,
Arm'd with a target, in th' embattled field
Maintain my stand, than suffer once the throes
Of childbirth.
[tr. Wodhull (1782)]

Yet will they say
We live an easy life, at home, secure
From danger, whilst they lift the spear in war:
Misjudging men; thrice would I stand in arms
On the rough edge of battle, e'er once bear
The pangs of childbirth.
[tr. Potter (1814)]

But, say they, we, while they fight with the spear,
Lead in our homes a life undangerous:
Judging amiss; for I would liefer thrice
Bear brunt of arms than once bring forth a child.
[tr. Webster (1868)]

And yet they say we live secure at home, while they are at the wars, with their sorry reasoning, for I would gladly take my stand in battle array three times o'er, than once give birth.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

But they say of us that we live a life of ease at home, but they are fighting with the spear; judging ill, since I would rather thrice stand in arms, than once suffer the pangs of child-birth.
[tr. Buckley (1892)]

But we, say they, live an unperilled life
At home, while they do battle with the spear.
Falsely they deem: twice would I under shield
Stand, rather than bear childbirth peril once.
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1894)]

And then, forsooth, 'tis they that face the call
Of war, while we sit sheltered, hid from all
Peril! -- False mocking! Sooner would I stand
Three times to face their battles, shield in hand,
Than bear one child.
[tr. Murray (1906)]

But we, they say, live a safe life at home,
While they, the men, go forth in arms to war.
Fools! Three times would I rather take my stand
With sword and shield than bring to birth one child.
[tr. Murray (1906), per Yeroulanos]

They tell us we live a sheltered life at home while they go to the wars; but that is nonsense. For I would rather go into battle twice than bear a child once.
[Source (1927)]

What they say of us is that we have a peaceful time
Living at home, while they do the fighting in war.
How wrong they are! I would very much rather stand
Three times in the front of battle than bear one child.
[tr. Warner (1944)]

Men boast their battles: I tell you this, and we know it:
It is easier to stand in battle three times, in the front line, in the stabbing fury, than to bear one child.
[tr. Jeffers (1946)]

And, they tell us, we at home
Live free from danger, they go out to battle: fools!
I'd rather stand three times in the front line than bear
One child.
[tr. Vellacott (1963)]

They say that we spend all our time at home,
And live safe lives, while they go out to battle.
What fools they are! I'd rather stand three times
Behind a shield, than bear a child once!
[tr. Podlecki (1989)]

Men say that we live a life free from danger at home while they fight with the spear. How wrong they are! I would rather stand three times with a shield in battle than give birth once.
[tr. Kovacs (1994)]

They say we live sheltered lives in the home, free from danger, while they wield their spears in battle -- what fools they are! I would rather face the enemy three times over than bear a child once.
[tr. Davie (1996)]

Then people also say that while we live quietly and without any danger at home, the men go off to war. Wrong! One birth alone is worse than three times in the battlefield behind a shield.
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]

They say that we live a life free of danger
at home while they face battle with the spear.
How wrong they are. I would rather stand three times
in the line of battle than once bear a child.
[tr. Luschnig (2007)]

[...] I would rather stand behind a shield three times than give birth once.
[tr. @sentantiq (2011)]

They say that we live a peaceful life at home, while they do battle at spear point, but they reckon wrongly: I would rather stand armed with a shield thrice than give birth once.
[tr. @sentantiq [Erik] (2015)]

They say we live secure in our households [oikoi], while they are off at war -- how worthlessly [kakōs] they think! How gladly would I three times over take my stand behind a shield rather than once give birth!
[tr. Coleridge / Ceragioli / Nagy / Hour25]

Hence bliss supreme arises, when the bond
Of concord joins them.
[tr. Wodhull (1782)]

This is the state of firmest happiness,
When from the husband no discordant will
The wife estranges.
[tr. Potter (1814)]

In which the better part of safety lies
That the woman should not differ from the man.
[tr. Webster (1868)]

The greatest safeguard this when wife and husband do agree.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

Which is the surest support of conjugal happiness, when the wife is not estranged from the husband.
[tr. Buckley (1892)]

Which is the chief salvation of the home,
When wife stands not at variance with her lord.
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1894)]

This is indeed the greatest salvation of all --
For the wife not to stand apart from the husband.
[tr. Warner (1944)]

Happy is the house
Where the man and the woman love and are faithful.
[tr. Jeffers (1946)]

And in a marriage that's the saving thing,
When a wife obediently accepts her husband's will.
[tr. Vellacott (1963)]

This, to my mind, is a woman’s greatest safety:
Not to take the opposite side from her husband.
[tr. Podlecki (1989)]

This it is that most rescues life from trouble, when a woman is not at variance with her husband.
[tr. Kovacs (1994)]

This is what keeps a marraige intact more than anything, when a husband can count on complete support from his wife.
[tr. Davie (1996)]

That, you see, is how a woman earns her security: never argue with your husband!
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]

This is what brings the greatest stability at home:
when a woman does not challenge her husband.
[tr. Luschnig (2007)]

That’s when life is most secure and safe,
when woman and her husband stand as one.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]

This provides the greatest security,
when a wife doesn't oppose her husband.
[tr. Kovacs / Kitzinger (2016)]

That is the best security,
when the wife does not quarrel with her husband.
[tr. Ewans (2022)]

This is the greatest safety [sōtēriā], when wife does not stand apart from husband.
[tr. Coleridge / Ceragioli / Nagy / Hour25]

AGAMΕΜΝΟΝ. How shall weak women; over men prevail?
HECUBA. Numbers are strong; add stratagem, resistless.
[tr. Potter (1781)]

AGAMEMNON:How can the female sex
O'er men obtain a conquest?
HECUBA:Numbers strike
A foe with terror, and the wiles of women
Are hard to be withstood.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]

AGAMEMNON: And how shall the victory over men be to women?
HECUBA: Numbers are powerful, with stratagem invincible.
[tr. Edwards (1826)]

AGAMEMNON: How? -- women gain the mastery over men?
HECUBA: Mighty are numbers: joined with craft, resistless.
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1894)]

AGAMEMNON: How are women to master men?
HECUBA: Numbers are a fearful thing, and joined to craft a desperate foe.
[tr. Coleridge (1938)]

AGAMEMNON: How can women win against men?
HECUBA: Who can stand against a tribe
A wild tribe of wise women?
[tr. McGuinness (2004)]

AGAMEMNON: How can you women overpower a man?
HECUBA: Enough of them would scare you soon enough and with cunning they're a force hard to resist.
[tr. Harrison (2005)]

AGAMEMNON: But how will the women be able to overcome the strength of men?
HEKABE: Numbers, when joined with treachery, can cause great terror.
[tr. Theodoridis (2007)]

AGAMEMNON:But how?
You are women. How will women defeat men?
HECUBA: There is unnerving strength in numbers, especially when
you add deceit.
[tr. Karden/Street (2011)]

• Is This a Real Quote by Nelson Mandela? | Snopes.com.
• Fact check: Quote on a divided world misattributed to Nelson Mandela | Reuters.

But let us re-affirm this one thing here today; it is not our diversity which divides us; it is not our ethnicity, or religion or culture that divides us. Since we have achieved our freedom, there can only be one division amongst us: between those who cherish democracy and those who do not.

We must ensure that color, race and gender become only a God-given gift to each one of us and not an indelible mark or attribute that accords a special status to any.

• Is This a Real Quote by Nelson Mandela? | Snopes.com.
• Fact check: Quote on a divided world misattributed to Nelson Mandela | Reuters.

"Wendy," he continued, in a voice that no woman has ever yet been able to resist, “Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys.”

You cloath'd in purple, and in scarlet are,
Are pleas'd with sloth, in wanton dances pride;
Your coats have hanging sleeves, your myters tide:
True female Phrygians; men you are not: Go
To Dyndimus, whose well-set tunes you know,
Where lutes and harps of Bericynthian Ide
Invites; and let Men war; lay arms aside.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]

Your vests embroider'd with rich purple shine;
In sloth you glory, and in dances join.
Your vests have sweeping sleeves; with female pride
Your turbants underneath your chins are tied.
Go, Phrygians, to your Dindymus again!
Go, less than women, in the shapes of men!
Go, mix'd with eunuchs, in the Mother's rites,
Where with unequal sound the flute invites;
Sing, dance, and howl, by turns, in Ida's shade:
Resign the war to men, who know the martial trade!
[tr. Dryden (1697)]

Your very dress is embroidered with saffron-hues and gaudy purple; indolence is your heart's delight; to indulge in dances you love; your vests have sleeves, and your mitres ribands. O Phrygian women, surely, for Phrygian men you cannot be! go range along the lofty tops of Dindymus, where pipe sounds the discordant note to you accustomed. The timbrels and Berecynthian flute of the Ideaean mother Cybele invite you: leave arms to men, and from the sword refrain.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]

You flaunt your robes in all men's eyes,
Your saffron and your purple dyes,
Recline on downy couch, or weave
The dreamy dance from morn to eve:
Sleeved tunics guard your tender skins,
And ribboned mitres prop your chins.
Phrygians! -- nay rather Phrygian fair!
Hence, to your Dindymus repair!
Go where the flute's congenial throat
Shrieks through two doors its slender note,
Where pipe and cymbal call the crew;
These are the instruments for you:
Leave men, like us, in arms to deal,
Nor bruise your lily hands with steel.
[tr. Conington (1866)]

You, in your broidered vests of saffron hue
And glowing purple, indolently live;
Delighting in your dances, and your sleeves.
And caps, with lappets underneath your chins.
Yea, Phrygian women, verily, not men!
Hence to the summits of your Dindymus,
Where breathes the flute in your accustomed ear
Its two weak notes. The Berecynthian pipe
And timbrels call you. Throw your weapons down!
Leave arms to heroes of a sturdier stuff.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 757ff]

Yours is embroidered raiment of saffron and shining sea-purple. Indolence is your pleasure, your delight the luxurious dance; you wear sleeved tunics and ribboned turbans. O right Phrygian women, not even Phrygian men! traverse the heights of Dindymus, where the double-mouthed flute breathes familiar music. The drums call you, and the Berecynthian boxwood of the mother of Ida; leave arms to men, and lay down the sword.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]

But ye -- the raiment saffron-stained, with purple glow tricked out --
These are your heart-joys: ye are glad to lead the dance about.
Sleeve-coated folk, O ribbon-coifed, not even Phrygian men,
But Phrygian wives, to Dindymus the high go get ye then!
To hear the flute's twin-mouthèd song as ye are wont to do!
The Berecynthian Mother's box and cymbals call to you
From Ida: let men deal with war, and drop down your swords.
[tr. Morris (1900)]

Ye love to dance, and dally with the fair,
In saffron robes with purple flounces gay.
Your toil is ease, and indolence your care,
And tunics hung with sleeves, and ribboned coifs ye wear.
Go Phrygian women, for ye are not men!
Hence, to your Dindymus, and roam her heights
With Corybantian eunuchs! Get ye, then,
And hear the flute, harsh-grating, that invites
With two-mouthed music to her lewd delights,
Where boxen pipe and timbrel from afar
Shriek forth the summons to her sacred rites.
Put by the sword, poor dotards as ye are,
Leave arms to men, like us, nor meddle with the war.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 79-80, l. 708ff.]

But ye! your gowns are saffron needlework
or Tyrian purple; ye love shameful ease,
or dancing revelry. Your tunics fiow
long-sleeved, and ye have soft caps ribbon-bound.
Aye, Phrygian girls are ye, not Phrygian men!
Hence to your hill of Dindymus! Go hear
the twy-mouthed piping ye have loved so long.
The timbrel, hark! the Berecynthian flute
calls you away, and Ida's goddess calls.
Leave arms to men, true men! and quit the sword!
[tr. Williams (1910)]

But ye are clothed in embroidered saffron and gleaming purple; sloth is your joy, your delight is to indulge the dance; your tunics have sleeves and your turbans ribbons. O ye Phrygian women, indeed! -- for Phrygian men are ye not -- go ye over the heights of Dindymus, where to accustomed ears the pipe utters music from double mouths! The timbrels call you, and the Berecynthian boxwood of the mother of Ida: leave arms to men, and quit the sword.
[tr. Fairclough (1918)]

But you -- O wonderful in purple and saffron! --
Love doing nothing, you delight in dancing,
And oh, those fancy clothes, sleeves on the tunics,
And ribbons in the bonnets! Phrygian women,
By God, not Phrygian men! Be gone forever
Over the heights of Dindymus; pipe and timbrel
Call you to female rites: leave arms to men,
The sword to warriors!
[tr. Humphries (1951), l. 253ff]

But you, in your dresses embroidered with yellow and loud purple,
You with the hearts of loafers, you devotees of dancing,
With frilly sleeves to your tunics, and bonnets kept on by ribbons! --
You Phrygian women (for Phrygian men you are not), run away
To Mount Dindymus, where the double-mouthed pipe dweedles for addicts!
The timbrels and Berecynthian fife of Cybele call you.
Leave fighting to men, I advise you; relinquish sword-play to others.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]

But you wear robes of saffron, ornamented
and gleaming purole; you like laziness,
and you delight in dances; and your tunics
have sleeves, your bonnets, ribbons. You indeed
are Phrygian women -- hardly Phrygian men:
now gow, prance through high Dindyma, there where
the twin-mouthed pipes delight familiar ears!
The timbrel and the Berecynthian flute
of Ida's mother summon you to revels;
leave arms to men, you have had enough of swords.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 820ff]

You people dress in yellow and glowing red,
You live for sloth, and you go in for dancing,
Sleeves to your tunics, ribbons to your caps.
Phrygian women, in truth, not Phrygian men!
Climb Mount Dindyma where the double pipes
Make song for the effet, where the small drums
And the Idaean Mother's Berecynthian
Boxwood flute are always wheedling you!
Leave war to fighting men, give up the sword.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 855ff]

But you like your clothes dyed with yellow saffron and the bright juice of the purple fish. Your delight is in dancing and idleness. You have sleeves to your tunics and ribbons to keep your bonnets on. You are Phrygian women, not Phrygian men! Away with you over the heights of Mount Dindymus, where you can hear your favourite tunes on the double pipe. The tambourines are calling you and the boxwood fifes of the Berecyntian Mother of Mount Ida. Leave weapons to the men. Make way for the iron of our swords.
[tr. West (1990)]

You wear embroidered saffron and gleaming purple,
idleness pleases you, you delight in the enjoyment of dance,
and your tunics have sleeves, and your hats have ribbons.
O truly you Phrygian women, as you’re not Phrygian men,
run over the heights of Dindymus, where a double-reed
makes music for accustomed ears. The timbrels call to you,
and the Berecynthian boxwood flute of the Mother of Ida:
leave weapons to men and abandon the sword.
[tr. Kline (2002)]

But you, with your saffron braided dress, your flashy purple,
you live for lazing, lost in your dancing, your delight,
blowzy sleeves on your war-shirts, ribbons on bonnets.
Phrygian women -- that’s what you are -- not Phrygian men!
Go traipsing over the ridge of Dindyma, catch the songs
on the double pipe you dote on so! The tambourines,
they’re calling for you now, and the boxwood flutes
of your Berecynthian Mother perched on Ida!
Leave the fighting to men. Lay down your swords!
[tr. Fagles (2006)]

For when women
Share at their feasts the grape's bewitching juice;
From their licentious orgies, I pronounce
No good results.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]

For where women have the delight of the grape-cluster at a feast, I say that none of their rites is healthy any longer.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]

For where ’mong women
The grape’s sweet poison mingles with the feast,
Nought holy may we augur of such worship.
[tr. Milman (1865)]

When women drain the wine-cup at the feast,
Foul is the orgie, dangerous the disease.
[tr. Rogers (1872)]

For where the gladsome grape is found at women’s feasts, I deny that their rites have any longer good results.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

For when
In women's feasts the cluster's pride hath part,
No good, say I, comes of their revelry.
[tr. Way (1898)]

When once the gleam
Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival,
In all their prayers is no more health at all!
[tr. Murray (1902)]

For where women
have the sparkle of the vine in their festivities,
there, I say, nothing wholesome remains in their rituals.
[tr. Kirk (1970)]

As for women, my opinion is this: when the sparkle of sweet wine appears at their feasts, no good can be expected from their ceremonies.
[tr. Vellacott (1973)]

I tell you, when women
have the cluster’s refreshment at banquets,
there’s nothing healthy left about their orgies.
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]

Take my word,
when women are allowed to fast on wine, there is no
telling to what lengths their filthy minds will go!
[tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]

I say that feast where a woman takes
The gleaming grape is most diseased.
[tr. Blessington (1993)]

For whenever the liquid joy
of the grape comes into women's festivals, then, I assure, you,
there's nothing wholesome in their rites.
[tr. Esposito (1998)]

Because when women
get their sparkle at a feast from wine,
I say the entire ritual is corrupt.
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]

For when the women have
The bright grape-cluster gleaming at their feasts,
There’s nothing healthy in these rites, I say.
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000)]

Wherever women get the gleaming grape to drink in their feasts, everything about their rites is diseased.
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]

I’m telling you both, no good comes out of drunk women.
Wine wisdom and orgies are dangerous.
[tr. Theodoridis (2005)]

For whenever the pleasure of the grape's
cluster comes shimmering to women in feast, I say no-
thing is left wholesome in their orgies!
[tr. Valerie (2005)]

Whenever women at some banquet start to take pleasure in the gleaming wine, I say there's nothing healthy in their worship.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]

It's always the same: as soon as you allow drink and women at a festival, everything gets sordid.
[tr. Robertson (2014)]

When women start getting into the wine, I say it’s gone too far. It’s not healthy.
[tr. Pauly (2019)]

There is no good in these festivals where shimmering wine corrupts women.
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]

For where women have the delight of the grape at a feast, I say that none of their rites is healthy any longer.
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]

               Their homes
Our women have deserted, on pretence
That they in mystic orgies are engaged;
On the umbrageous hills they chant the praise
Of this new God, whoe'er he be, this Bacchus;
Him in their dances they revere, and place
Amid their ranks huge goblets fraught with wine:
Some fly to pathless deserts, where they meet
Their paramours, while they in outward shew
Are Mænedes by holy rites engrossed.
Yet Venus more than Bacchus they revere.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]

The women have left our homes in contrived Bacchic rites, and rush about in the shadowy mountains, honoring with dances this new deity Dionysus, whoever he is. I hear that mixing-bowls stand full in the midst of their assemblies, and that they each creep off different ways into secrecy to serve the beds of men, on the pretext that they are Maenads worshipping; but they consider Aphrodite before Bacchus.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]

Our women all have left their homes, to join
These fabled mysteries. On the shadowy rocks
Frequent they sit, this God of yesterday,
Dionysus, whosoe'er he be, with revels
Dishonorable honoring. In the midst
Stand the crowned goblets; and each stealing forth,
This way and that, creeps to a lawless bed;
In pretext, holy sacrificing Mænads,
But serving Aphrodite more than Bacchus.
[tr. Milman (1865)]

Our women have deserted from their homes,
Pretending Bacchic rites, and now they lurk
In the shady hill-tops reverencing forsooth
This Dionysus, this new deity.
Full bowls of wine are served out to the throng;
And scattered here and there through the glades,
The wantons hurry to licentious love.
They call themselves the priestess Mænades;
Bacchus invoke, but Aphrodite serve.
[tr. Rogers (1872), l. 200ff]

I hear that our women-folk have left their homes on pretence of Bacchic rites, and on the wooded hills rush wildly to and fro, honouring in the dance this new god Dionysus, whoe’er he is; and in the midst of each revel-rout the brimming wine-bowl stands, and one by one they steal away to lonely spots to gratify their lust, pretending forsooth that they are Mænads bent on sacrifice, though it is Aphrodite they are placing before the Bacchic god.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

How from their homes our women have gone forth
Feigning a Bacchic rapture, and rove wild
O'er wooded hills, in dances honouring
Dionysus, this new God -- whoe'er he be. ⁠
And midst each revel-rout the wine-bowls stand
Brimmed: and to lonely nooks, some here, some there,
They steal, to work with men the deed of shame,
In pretext Maenad priestesses, forsooth,
But honouring Aphroditê more than Bacchus.
[tr. Way (1898)]

               Our own
Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown
To wild and secret rites; and cluster there
High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer
To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse,
Whate'er he be! -- And in their companies
Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon
Away into the loneliness now one
Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame,
Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame,
They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay,
'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray.
[tr. Murray (1902)]

That our women have abandoned their homes
in fake bacchic revels, and in the deep-shaded
mountains are roaming around, honoring with dances
the new-made god Dionysus, whoever he is;
that wine-bowls are set among the sacred companies
full to the brim, and that one by one the women go crouching
into the wilderness, to serve the lechery of men --
they profess to be maenads making sacrifice,
but actually they put Aphrodite before the Bacchic god.
[tr. Kirk (1970)]

Our women, I discover, have abandoned their homes on some pretence of Bacchic worship, and go gadding about in the woods on the mountain side, dancing in honour of this upstart god Dionysus, whoever he may be. They tell me, in the midst of each group of revellers stands a bowl full of wine; and the women go creeping off this way and that to lonely places and there give themselves to lecherous men, under the excuse that they are Maenad priestesses; though in their ritual Aphrodite comes before Bacchus.
[tr. Vellacott (1973)]

They leave their home, desert their children
Follow the new fashion and join the Bacchae
Flee the hearth to mob the mountains -- those contain
Deep shadows of course, secret caves to hide
Lewd games for this new god -- Dionysos!
That's the holy spirit newly discovered.
Dionysos! Their ecstasy is flooded down
In brimming bowls of wine -- so much for piety!
Soused, with all the senses roused, they crawl
Into the bushes and there of course a man
Awaits them. All part of the service for for this
Mysterious deity. The hypocrisy? All they care about
Is getting serviced.
[tr. Soyinka (1973)]

Our women gone, abandoning their homes,
pretending to be bacchae, massing
in the bushy mountains, this latest divinity
Dionysos (whoever he is) honouring and chorusing,
filling and setting amidst the thiasus
wine-bowls, and one by one in solitude
sneaking off to cater to male bidding, --
supposedly as sacrificial maenads,
but Aphrodite ranks before their Bacchic One.
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]

Our women, I am told, have left their homes,
in a religious trance -- what travesty! --
and scamper up and down the wooded mountains, dancing
in honor of this newfangled God, Dionysus,
whoever he might be.
In the middle of each female group
of revelers, I hear,
stands a jar of wine, brimming! And that taking turns,
they steal away, one here, one there, to shady nooks,
where they satisfy the lechery of men,
pretending to be priestesses,
performing their religious duties. Ha!
That performance reeks more of Aphrodite than of Bacchus.
[tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]

Our women have abandoned our homes
And, in a jacked-up frenzy of phony inspiration,
Riot in the dark mountains,
Honoring this upstart god, Dionysos --
Whatever he is -- dancing in his chorus.
Full jugs of wine stand in their midst
And each woman slinks off
To the wilderness to serve male lust,
Pretending they are praying priestesses,
But Aphrodite leads them, not Bacchus.
[tr. Blessington (1993)]

Our women have abandoned their homes
for the sham revelries of Bacchus
frisking about on the dark-shadowed mountains
honoring with their dances the latest god, Dionysius, whoever he is.
They've set up their mixing bowls brimming with wine
amidst their cult gatherings, and each lady slinks off in a different direction
to some secluded wilderness to service the lusts of men.
They pretend to be maenads performing sacrifices
but in reality they rank Aphrodite's pleasures before Bacchus!
[tr. Esposito (1998)]

These women of ours have left their homes
and run away to the dark mountains, pretending
to be Bacchants. It's this brand-new god,
Dionysus, whoever that is; they're dancing for him!
They gather in throngs around full bowls
of wine; then one by one they sneak away
to lonely places where they sleep with men.
Priestesses they call themselves! Maenads!
It's Aphrodite they put first, not Bacchus.
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]

               Women leave
Our houses for bogus revels (“Bakkhic” indeed!),
Dashing through the dark shade of mountain forests
To honor with their dancing this new god,
Dionysos -- whoever he may be --
And right in their midst they set full bowls of wine,
And slink into the thickets to meet men there,
Saying they are maenads sacrificing
When they really rank Aphrodite first,
Over Bakkhos!
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000)]

The women have left our homes in fictitious ecstatic rites and flit about on the thick-shaded mountains, honoring the new god Dionysus, whoever he is, with their dancing. They set up full wine bowls in the middle of their assembles and sneak off, one here, one there, to tryst in private with men. The pretext for all of this is that they are maenads, performing their rites, but they hold Aphrodite in higher regard than the bacchic god.
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]

I hear our women have flown from their proper place in the home -- dancing about in the shadowy hills in sham ecstasy for this newfound Dionysus! And these wine-befuddled women slink into the darkness, drawn by the sirens of lust. Fine high priestesses of the new god! They seem to make more worship of Aphrodite than of Bacchus!
[tr. Rao/Wolf (2004)]

I heard that our women have left their homes and gone off to the mountains dancing the Bacchic dances! Some new, young god! Utter rubbish! There they are, placing great tubs full of wine in the centre of their group, in the middle of nowhere and off they go, one here, another there, rolling around with any man they come across and giving the excuse that they are maenads; but what are they doing? Serving Dionysos? No way! They’re serving Aphrodite!
[tr. Theodoridis (2005)]

The women have left us, abandoning their homes in
phony Bacchic worship and that they gad about on
the bushy mountaintops; that this "new" god Dio-
nysus, whoever he really is, is honoured in their dances,
and that they set the sacred wine-bowls, fill'd, in the
midst of the thiasoi, each slinking off her sep'rate
way to serve males' hot lust in the woods, pre-
tending to be Maenads sacrificing; and so
they place Aphrodite on top of Bacchus.
[tr. Valerie (2005)]

               ... women leaving home
to go to silly Bacchic rituals,
cavorting there in mountain shadows,
with dances honoring some upstart god,
this Dionysus, whoever he may be. Mixing bowls
in the middle of their meetings filled with wine,
they creep off one by one to lonsely spots
to have sex with men, claiming they're Maenads
busy worshipping. But they rank Aphrodite,
goddess of sexual desire, ahead of Bacchus.
[tr. Johnston (2008), l. 272ff]

Women have deserted their homes for these
fraudulent rites -- up in the woods and mountains,
dancing to celebrate some new god --
Dionysus, whoever he is.
Drink is at the bottom of it all.
Huge bowls stand in their midst, I'm told,
brimming with wine, and one by one the women
slip into the shadows to satisfy the lusts of men.
They say they are priestesses, sworn to Bacchus,
but it's clearly Aphrodite they adore.
[tr. Robertson (2014)]

     Women have forsaken their homes. It’s a front, it’s a fake, a false Bacchic rite, an excuse for them to cavort in the mountain’s shade, dancing to honor this "new god" Dionysus.
     Whoever that is. Whoever he really is.
     I hear they’ve got casks of wine up there, full to the brim, just sitting there in the midst of their frolicking. And that they sneak off into secluded corners, servicing men, excusing it as a sacred thing, a Maenad’s ritual.
     If it is a ritual, it’s to Aphrodite, not this Bacchus of theirs.
[tr. Pauly (2019)]

How our women
had run off
to celebrate
perferse rites
     in the mountains,
roaming about with this
brand new god, Dionysus --
     whoever he is.
Everywhere
     in the midst of their revels
          stand full wine bowls.
And women slink off
one by one
to copulate
with any man
     who happens by.
They pretend to be Maenads, priestesses.
It's Aphrodite,
not Bacchus,
     they worship.
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]

Our women have left our homes in contrived Bacchic rites, and rush about in the shadowy mountains, honoring with khoroi this new daimōn Dionysus, whoever he is. I hear that mixing-bowls stand full in the midst of their assemblies, and that each woman, flying to secrecy in different directions, yields to the embraces of men, on the pretext that they are Maenads worshipping. They consider Aphrodite of greater priority than Dionysus.
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]

And yield to title to a woman's will.
Better, if needs be, men should cast us out
Than hear it said, a woman proved his match.
[tr. Campbell (1873)]

And not go down before a woman's will.
Else, if I fall, 'twere best a man should strike me;
Lest one should say, 'a woman worsted him.'
[tr. Storr (1859)]

And in no way can we let a woman defeat us. It is better to fall from power, if it is fated, by a man's hand, than that we be called weaker than women.
[tr. Jebb (1891)]

We will not yield
To a weak woman; if we must submit,
At least we will be conquered by a man,
Nor by a female arm thus fall inglorious.
[tr. Werner (1892)]

In no wise suffer a woman to worst us. Better to fall from power, if we must, by a man's hand; then we should not be called weaker than a woman.
[tr. Jebb (1917)]

And no woman shall seduce us. If we must lose,
Let's lose to a man, at least! Is a woman stronger than we?
[tr. Fitts/Fitzgerald (1939), ll. 539-40]

... not let myself be beaten by a woman.
Better, if it must happen, that a man
should overset me.
I won't be called weaker than womankind.
[tr. Wyckoff (1954)]

We must not be
Defeated by a woman. Better far
Be overthrown, if need be, by a man
Than to be called the victim of a woman.
[tr. Kitto (1962)]

Never let some woman triumph over us.
Better to fall from power, if fall we must,
at the hands of a man -- never be rated
inferior to a woman, never.
[tr. Fagles (1982)]

And there must be no surrender to a woman.
No! If we call, better a man should take us down.
Never say that a woman bested us!
[tr. Woodruff (2001), l. 669 ff]

Defeat by a woman must never happen.
It is better, if it is bound to happen, to be expelled by a man.
We could not be called "defeated by women" -- could not.
[tr. Tyrell/Bennett (2002), l. 678ff]

Under no circumstances must he allow a woman to defeat him. It would be best -- if needs be -- to be defeated by a man, rather then allow it to be said that women have taken over.
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]

And never let some woman beat us down.
If we must fall from power, let that come
at some man's hand -- at least, we won't be called
inferior to any woman.
[tr. Johnston (2005), l. 770ff]

To spare a long harangue.
The whole of what 'gainst woman hath been said
By those of antient times, is saying now.
Or shall be said hereafter, in few words
Will I comprise; nor ocean's waves, nor earth,
Nurture so vile a race, as he who most
Hath with the sex conversed, but knows too well.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]

But that I may not extend my speech to a greater length, if any one of those of ancient times hath reviled women, or if any one doth now, or shall hereafter revile them, I will comprise the whole when I say, that such a race neither doth the sea nor the earth produce, but he who is always with them knows it best.
[tr. Edwards (1826)]

To be brief,
If any in past times with severe taunts
Have censured women, if now any vents
His obloquies, or shall hereafter vent,
In one brief sentence I comprise the whole,
It is a breed, not all th’ extended earth,
Nor the sea’s ample depths produce the like;
This truth he feels the most who knows them best.
[ed. Ramage (1864)]

Wherefore needeth many words?
Whoso ere now hath spoken ill of women,
Or speaketh now, or shall hereafter speak,
All this in one word will I close and say: --
Nor sea nor land doth nurture such a breed:
He knoweth, who hath converse with them most.
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1894)]

But to spare you a lengthy speech, if any of the men of former times have spoken ill of women, if any does so now, or shall do so hereafter, I will say all this in one short sentence; for neither land or sea produces such a race, as whoever has had to do with them knows.
[tr. Coleridge (1938)]

On behalf of all those dead
who learned their hatred of women long ago,
for those who hate them now, for those unborn
who shall live to hate them yet, I now declare
my firm conviction:
neither earth nor ocean
produces a creature as savage and monstrous
as woman.
This is my experience.
I know that this is true.
[tr. Arrowsmith (1958)]

I'll say no more than this:
The old saying is true now
As ever was and will be.
They are a breed apart
On earth and on sea.
Any man in a woman's power
He knows that in his bones.
[tr. McGuinness (2004)]

Not to go on too long, if any man in the past, the present or the future said bad things about women, let me top them all and say: sea or land breeds nothing worse. Even a brief encounter proves it true.
[tr. Harrison (2005)]

But let me spare you the many words: If any of the men from olden days or if any of them now, or in the future, will utter ill words against women, let me put all those words in one short sentence: Neither land nor sea produces such a race and whoever had any dealings with them knows this very well.
[tr. Theodoridis (2007)]

Let me tell you, if anyone in the past has spoken
ill of women, or speaks so now or will speak so
in the future, I’ll sum it up for him: Neither sea
nor land has ever produced a more monstrous
creature than woman. I say this for a fact.
[tr. Karden/Street (2011)]