Archilochus of Paros (c. 680-640 B.C.) (All translations by Richard Lattimore)

Epigram 3
Some barbarian is waving my shield, since I was obliged to
leave that perfectly good piece of equipment behind
under a bush. But I got away, so what does it matter?
Let the shield go; I can buy another one equally good.

Epigram 7: Two Captains
I don't like the towering captain with the spraddly length of leg,
one who swaggers in his lovelocks and cleanshaves beneath the chin.
Give me a man short and squarely set upon his legs, a man
full of heart, not to be shaken from the place he plants his feet.

Epigram 9
Heart, my heart, so battered with misfortune far beyond your strength,
up and face the men who hate us. Bare your chest to the assault
of the enemy, and fight them off. Stand fast among the beamlike spears.
Give no ground; and if you beat them, do not brag in open show,
nor, if they beat you, run home and lie down on your bed and cry.
Keep some measure in the joy you take in luck, and the degree
you give way to sorrow. All our life is up-and-down like this.

Epigram 17
The fox knows many tricks, the hedgehog only one.
One good one.

Theognis of Megara (c. 500 B.C.)

Elegy, lines 53-68
Kyrnos, this city is still the same city, but its people are different.
Those who before knew nothing of lawsuits, nothing of laws,
who went about in goatskins flapping over their shoulders,
who lived on the ranges, far out from the town, like wild deer,
these are now the Great Men, son of Polypas. Our former nobles
are Rabble now. Who could endure it when things are so?
They swindle each other, they mock at one another, and meanwhile
understand nothing at all of what good and bad men think.
Never make one of these citizens your friend, son of Polypas,
however much you may need to use them: not from the heart:
pretend to all that you are their friend: talk as if you were one:
but never communicate to any one of these men
anything important. You must know that their purposes are unpleasant,
and there is no trusting them in any matter at all,
but treachery, and deception, and catch-as-catch-can is their nature.
Such are the desperate men who have no future assured.

Lines 325-326
Try for nothing excessive. The middle degree is best. So,
Kyrnos, you will win virtue, a difficult thing to attain.

Semonides of Amorgos (c. 625 B.C.)

An Essay on Women

In the beginning God made various kinds of women
with various minds. He made one from the hairy sow,
that one whose house is smeared with mud, and all within
lies in dishevelment and rolls along the ground,
while the pig-woman in unlaundered clothing sits
unwashed herself among the dunghills, and grows fat.

God made another woman from the mischievous
vixen, whose mind gets into everything. No act
of wickedness unknown to her; no act of good
either, because the things she says are often bad
but sometimes good. Her temper changes all the time.

One from a bitch, and good-for-nothing like her mother.
She must be in on everything, and hear it all.
Our she goes ranging, poking her nose everywhere
and barking, whether she sees anyone about
or not. Her husband cannot cannot make her stop by threats,
neither when in a rage he knocks her teeth out with
a stone, nor when he reasons with her in soft words,
not even when there's company come, and she's with them.
Day in, day out, she keeps that senseless yapping up.

[...]

One from the sea. She has two different sorts of mood.
One day she is all smiles and happiness. A man
who comes to vosit her sees her in the house and says:
"There is no better wife than this one anywhere
in all mankind, nor prettier." The another day
there'll be no living with her, you can't get within
sight, or come near her, or she flies into a rage
and holds you at a distance like a bitch with pups,
cantankerous and cross with all the world. It makes
no difference if they are friends or enemies.
The sea is like that also. Often it lies calm
and innocent and still, the mariner's delight
in summer weather. Then again it will go wild
and turbulent with the thunder of crashing waves.
This woman's disposition is just like the sea's,
since the sea's temper also changes all the time.

One was a donkey, dusty-gray and obstinate.
It's hard to make her work. You have to curse and nag
to make her do it, but in the end she gets it done
quite well. Then she goes to her corner-crib and eats.
She eats all day, she eats all night, and by the fire
she eats. But when there's a chance to make love, she'll take
the first one of her husband's friends who comes along.

One from a weasel--miserable stinking thing.
There's nothing pretty about her. She has no kind
of charm, no kind of sweetness, and no sex appeal.
She's always crazy to make love and go to bed,
but makes her husband--if she has one--sick, when he
comes near her. And she steals from neighbors. She's all bad.
She robs the altar and eats up the sacrifice.

[...]

One was a monkey; and this is the very worst,
most exquisite disaster Zeus has wished on men.
Hers is the ugliest face of all. When such a woman
walks through the village, everybody turns to laugh.
Her neck's so short that she can scarcely turn her head
Slab-sided, skinny-legged. Oh, unhappy man
who has to take such a disaster in his arms!
Yet she has understanding of all tricks and turns,
just like a monkey. If they laugh, she doesn't mind.
Don't expect any good work done by her. She thinks
of only one thing, plans for one thing, all day long:
how she can do somebody else the biggest harm.

One from a bee. The man is lucky who gets her.
She is the only one no blams can settle on.
A man's life grows and blossoms underneath her touch.
She loves her husband, he loves her, and they grow old
together, while their glorious children rise to fame.
Among the throngs of other women this one shines
as an example. Heavenly grace surrounds her. She
alone takes no delight in sitting with the rest
when the conversation's about sex. It's wives like this
who are God's gift of happiness to mortal men.
These are the thoughtful wives, in every way the best.

But all those other breeds come to us too from God
and by his will. And they stay with us. They won't go.
For women are the biggest single bad thing Zeus
has made for us. Even when a wife appears to help,
her husband finds out in the end that after all
she didn't. No one day goes by from end to end
enjoyable, when you have to spend it with your wife.
She will not stir herself to push the hateful god
Hard Times--that most unwelcome caller--out of doors.
At home, when a man thinks that, by God's grace or by
men's good will, there'll be peace for him and all go well,
she finds some fault with him and starts a fight. For where
there is a woman in the house, no one can ask
a friend to come and stay with him, and still feel safe.
Even the wife who appears to be the best behaved
turns out to be the one who lets herself go wrong.
Her husband gawps and doesn't notice; neighbors do,
and smile to see how still another man gets fooled.
Each man will pick the faults in someone else's wife
and boast of his own each time he speaks of her. And yet
the same thing happens to us all. But we don't see.
For women are the biggest single bad thing Zeus
has made for us; a ball-and-chain; we can't get loose
since that time when the fight about a wife began
the Great War, and they volunteered, and went to hell.