THIRD WOMAN. Oh! my dear, I have had such trouble in getting away! My husband ate such a surfeit of sprats last evening that he was coughing and choking the whole night long.
PRAXAGORA. Take your seats, and, since you are all gathered here at last, let us see if what we decided on at the feast of the Scirophoria has been duly done.
FOURTH WOMAN. Yes. Firstly, as agreed, I have let the hair under my armpits grow thicker than a bush; furthermore, whilst my husband was at the Assembly, I rubbed myself from head to foot with oil and then stood the whole day long in the sun.[651]
FIFTH WOMAN. So did I. I began by throwing away my razor, so that I might get quite hairy, and no longer resemble a woman.
PRAXAGORA. Have you the beards that we had all to get ourselves for the
Assembly?
FOURTH WOMAN. Yea, by Hecaté! Is this not a fine one?
FIFTH WOMAN. Aye, much finer than Epicrates'.[652]
PRAXAGORA (to the other women). And you?
FOURTH WOMAN. Yes, yes; look, they all nod assent.
PRAXAGORA. I see that you have got all the rest too, Spartan shoes, staffs and men's cloaks, as 'twas arranged.