Lysistrata: "Before now, and for quite some time, we maintained our decorum and suffered in silence whatever you men did, because you wouldn't let us make a sound. But you weren't exactly all we could ask for. No, we knew only too well what you were up to, and many a time we'd hear in our homes about a bad decision you'd made on some great issue of state. Then, masking the pain in our hearts, we'd put on a smile and ask you, 'How did the Assembly go today? Any decision about a rider to the peace treaty?' And my husband would say, 'What's that to you? Shut up!' And I'd shut up. […] But later on we began to hear about even worse decisions you'd made, and then we would ask, 'Husband, how come you're handling this so stupidly?' And right away he'd glare at me and tell me to get back to my sewing if I didn't want major damage to my head: 'War shall be the business of menfolk,' unquote."
Magistrate: "He was right on the mark, I say."
Lysistrata: "How could he be right, you sorry fool, when we were forbidden to offer advice even when your policy was wrong? But then, when we began to hear you in the streets openly crying, 'There isn't a man left in the land,' and someone else saying, 'God knows, there isn't, not a one,' after that we women decided to lose no more time, and to band together to save Greece. What was the point of waiting any longer?" (507-515, 518-526)
When perseverance turns bad, it usually becomes one of two things: stubbornness or apathy. In this exchange, we can see hints of the bad forms of perseverance in both Lysistrata and the Magistrate. Lysistrata's bad perseverance comes in the form of apathy: as she explains, for a long time she (like the other women in the city) listened in silence to her husband's stories of the daily business in the assembly, without speaking up to suggest changes. The Magistrate's bad form of perseverance is stubbornness: he stubbornly sticks to the traditional mindset when he says that Lysistrata's husband was "right on the mark" for prohibiting her from offering advice.