From the start, the gods made women different. One type is from a pig — a hairy sow whose house is like a rolling heap of filth; and she herself, unbathed, in unwashed clothes, reposes on the shit-pile, growing fat. Another type the gods made from a fox: pure evil, and aware of everything. This woman misses nothing: good or bad, she notices, considers, and declares that good is bad and bad is good. Her mood changes from one moment to the next. One type is from a dog — a no-good bitch, a mother through and through; she wants to hear everything, know everything, go everywhere, and stick her nose in everything, and bark whether she sees anyone or not. A man can't stop her barking; not with threats, not (when he's had enough) by knocking out her teeth with a stone, and not with sweet talk either; even among guests, she'll sit and yap; the onslaught of her voice cannot be stopped. One type the gods of Mount Olympus crafted out of Earth — their gift to man! She's lame and has no sense of either good or bad. She knows no useful skill, except to eat — and, when the gods make winter cold and hard to drag her chair up closer to the fire. Another type is from the Sea; she's two-faced. One day she's calm and smiling — any guest who sees her in your home will praise her then: "This woman is the best in all the world and also the most beautiful." The next day she's wild and unapproachable, unbearable even to look at, filled with snapping hate, ferocious, like a bitch with pups, enraged at loved ones and at enemies alike. Just as the smooth unrippled sea at times stands still, a joy to mariners in summer, and then at times is wild with pounding waves — This woman's temperament is just like that. The ocean has its own perplexing ways. Another type is from a drab, gray ass; she's used to getting smacked, and won't give in until you threaten her and really force her. She'll do her work all right, and won't complain; but then she eats all day, all night — she eats everything in sight, in every room. And when it comes to sex, she's just as bad; she welcomes any man that passes by. Another loathsome, miserable type is from a weasel: undesirable in every way--un-charming, un-alluring. She's sex-crazed, too; but any man who climbs aboard her will get seasick. And she steals from neighbors, and from sacrificial feasts. Another type a horse with flowing mane gave birth to. She avoids all kinds of work and hardship; she would never touch a mill or lift a sieve, or throw the shit outside, or sit beside the oven (all that soot!). She'll touch her husband only when she has to. She washes off her body every day twice, sometimes three times! then rubs herself with perfumed oil. She always wears her hair combed-out, and dressed with overhanging flowers. Such a wife is beautiful to look at for others; for her keeper, she's a pain — unless he is a king, or head of state who can afford extravagant delights. Another type is from an ape. I'd say that Zeus made her the greatest pain of all — his gift to man! Her face is hideous. This woman is a total laughingstock when she walks through the town. She has no neck, no butt — she's all legs. You should see the way she moves around. I pity the poor man who holds this horrid woman in his arms. She's well-versed in every kind of trick just like an ape; what's more, she has no shame and doesn't care if people laugh at her. She'd never think of doing something kind to anyone; she plots the whole day long to see how she can do the greatest harm. Another type is from a bee. Good luck in finding such a woman! Only she deserves to be exempt from stinging blame. The household that she manages will thrive; a loving wife beside her loving man, she'll grow old, having borne illustrious and handsome children; she herself shines bright among all women. Grace envelops her. She doesn't like to sit with other women discussing sex. Zeus gratifies mankind with these most excellent and thoughtful wives. But by the grim contrivances of Zeus all these other types are here to stay side by side with man forever. Yes, Zeus made this the greatest pain of all: Woman. If she seems to want to help that's when she does her keeper the most harm. A man who's with a woman can't get through a single day without a troubled mind. He'll never banish Hunger from his house: unwelcome, hateful lodger, hostile god. Just when a man seems most content at home and ready for enjoyment, by the grace of god or man, that's when she'll pick a fight, her battle-helmet flashing, full of blame. A household with a woman is at a loss to give a decent welcome to a guest. The wife who seems the most restrained and good, she's the most disastrous of them all; for while her slack-jawed husband gapes at her the neighbors laugh at how he's been deceived. Each man will diligently praise his own and blame the next man's wife; we just don't see that we all share alike in this hard luck. For Zeus made this the greatest pain of all and locked us in a shackle hard as iron and never to be broken, ever since the day that Hades opened up his gates for all the men who fought that woman's war.
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My wife, of course, is of this type, for I am most blessed by Zeus of all men:
Another type is from a bee. Good luck
in finding such a woman! Only she
deserves to be exempt from stinging blame.
The household that she manages will thrive;
a loving wife beside her loving man,
she'll grow old, having borne illustrious
and handsome children; she herself shines bright
among all women. Grace envelops her.
She doesn't like to sit with other women
discussing sex. Zeus gratifies mankind
with these most excellent and thoughtful wives.