Who love to laugh, think of our merry jests,
And choose me for my wit. And so, an't please you,
I bid you all to choose me for the crown.
And let not this be counted to my loss—
That 'twas my lot to be presented first:
But judge me by my merits, and your oaths;
And do not take those vile coquettes for tutors,
Who keep their best smiles for their latest suitors.
It is plain from the whole character of this play, as well as from the 'Lysistrata' and the 'Women's Festival,' that whatever reason the Athenian women might have had for complaining of their treatment at the hands of Euripides, they had little cause to congratulate themselves upon such an ally as Aristophanes. The whip of the tragic poet was as balm compared with the scorpions of the satirist. But it must be borne in mind, in estimating these unsparing jests upon the sex which we find in his comedies, as well as the coarseness which too often disfigures them—though it is but a poor apology for either—that it is very doubtful whether it was the habit for women to attend the dramatic performances. Their presence was certainly exceptional, and confined probably under any circumstances to the less public festivals, and to the exhibitions of tragedy. But women had few acknowledged rights among the polished Athenians. They laughed to scorn the notion of the ruder but more chivalric Spartan, who saluted his wife as his "lady," and their great philosopher Aristotle reproached the nation who could use such a term as being no better than "women-servers." These "women's rights" have
