by Aristophanes
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I see them. What then?
DEMOSTHENES. Look at the storehouses and the shipping.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Yes, I am looking.
DEMOSTHENES. Exists there a mortal more blest than you? Furthermore, turn your right eye towards Caria and your left towards Chalcedon.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. ’Tis then a blessing to squint!
DEMOSTHENES. No, but ’tis you who are going to trade away all this.
According to the oracle you must become the greatest of men.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Just tell me how a sausage-seller can become a great man.
DEMOSTHENES. That is precisely why you will be great, because you are a sad rascal without shame, no better than a common market rogue.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I do not hold myself worthy of wielding power.
DEMOSTHENES. Oh! by the gods! Why do you not hold yourself worthy? Have you then such a good opinion of yourself? Come, are you of honest parentage?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. By the gods! No! of very bad indeed.
DEMOSTHENES. Spoilt child of fortune, everything fits together to ensure your greatness.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. But I have not had the least education. I can only read, and that very badly.
DEMOSTHENES. That is what may stand in your way, almost knowing how to read. The demagogues will neither have an educated nor an honest man; they require an ignoramus and a rogue. But do not, do not let go this gift, which the oracle promises.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. But what does the oracle say?
DEMOSTHENES. Faith! it is put together in very fine enigmatical style, as elegant as it is clear: “When the eagle-tanner with the hooked claws shall seize a stupid dragon, a blood-sucker, it will be an end to the hot Paphlagonian pickled garlic. The god grants great glory to the sausage-sellers unless they prefer to sell their wares.”
SAUSAGE-SELLER. In what way does this concern me? Pray instruct my ignorance.
DEMOSTHENES. The eagle-tanner is the Paphlagonian.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. What do the hooked claws mean?
DEMOSTHENES. It means to say, that he robs and pillages us with his claw-like hands.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And the dragon?
DEMOSTHENES. That is quite clear. The dragon is long and so also is the sausage; the sausage like the dragon is a drinker of blood. Therefore the oracle says, that the dragon will triumph over the eagle-tanner, if he does not let himself be cajoled with words.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. The oracles of the gods summon me! Faith! I do not at all understand how I can be capable of governing the people.
DEMOSTHENES. Nothing simpler. Continue your trade. Mix and knead together all the state business as you do for your sausages. To win the people, always cook them some savoury that pleases them. Besides, you possess all the attributes of a demagogue; a screeching, horrible voice, a perverse, cross-grained nature and the language of the market-place. In you all is united which is needful for governing. The oracles are in your favour, even including that of Delphi. Come, take a chaplet, offer a libation to the god of Stupidity and take care to fight vigorously.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Who will be my ally? for the rich fear the Paphlagonian and the poor shudder at the sight of him.
DEMOSTHENES. You will have a thousand brave Knights, who detest him, on your side; also the honest citizens amongst the spectators, those who are men of brave hearts, and finally myself and the god. Fear not, you will not see his features, for none have dared to make a mask resembling him. But the public have wit enough to recognize him.
NICIAS. Oh! mercy! here is the Paphlagonian!
CLEON. By the twelve gods! Woe betide you, who have too long been conspiring against Demos. What means this Chalcidian cup? No doubt you are provoking the Chalcidians to revolt. You shall be killed, butchered, you brace of rogues.
DEMOSTHENES. What! are you for running away? Come, come, stand firm, bold Sausage-seller, do not betray us. To the rescue, oh! Knights. Now is the time. Simon, Panaetius, get you to the right wing; they are coming on; hold tight and return to the charge. I can see the dust of their horses’ hoofs; they are galloping to our aid. Courage! Repel, attack them, put them to flight.
CHORUS. Strike, strike the villain, who has spread confusion amongst the ranks of the Knights, this public robber, this yawning gulf of plunder, this devouring Charybdis, this villain, this villain, this villain! I cannot say the word too often, for he is a villain a thousand times a day. Come, strike, drive, hurl him over and crush him to pieces; hate him as we hate him; stun him with your blows and your shouts. And beware lest he escape you; he knows the way Eucrates took straight to a bran sack for concealment.
CLEON. Oh! veteran Heliasts, brotherhood of the three obols, whom I fostered by bawling at random, help me; I am being beaten to death by rebels.
CHORUS. And ’tis justice; you devour the public funds that all should share in; you treat the officers answerable for the revenue like the fruit of the fig tree, squeezing them to find which are still green or more or less ripe; and, when you find one simple and timid, you force him to come from the Chersonese, then you seize him by the middle, throttle him by the neck, while you twist his shoulder back; he falls and you devour him. Besides, you know very well how to select from among the citizens those who are as meek as lambs, rich, without guile and loathers of lawsuits.
CLEON. Eh! what! Knights, are you helping them? But, if I am beaten, ’tis in your cause, for I was going to propose to erect you a statue in the city in memory of your bravery.
CHORUS. Oh! the impostor! the dull varlet! See! he treats us like old dotards and crawls at our feet to deceive us; but the cunning wherein lies his power shall this time recoil on himself; he trips up himself by resorting to such artifices.
CLEON. Oh Citizens! oh people! see how these brutes are bursting my belly.
CHORUS. What shouts! but ’tis this very bawling that incessantly upsets the city!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I can shout too — and so loud that you will flee with fear.
CHORUS. If you shout louder than he does, I will strike up the triumphal hymn; if you surpass him in impudence, the cake is ours.
CLEON. I denounce this fellow; he has had tasty stews exported from
Athens for the Spartan fleet.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I denounce him, who runs into the Prytaneum with empty belly and comes out with it full.
DEMOSTHENES. And by Zeus! he carries off bread, meat, and fish, which is forbidden. Pericles himself never had this right.
CLEON. You are travelling the right road to get killed.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I’ll bawl three times as loud as you.
CLEON. I will deafen you with my yells.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I you with my bellowing.
CLEON. I shall calumniate you, if you become a Strategus.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Dog, I will lay your back open with the lash.
CLEON. I will make you drop your arrogance.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I will baffle your machinations.
CLEON. Dare to look me in the face!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I too was brought up in the market-place.
CLEON. I will cut you to shreds if you whisper a word.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I will daub you with dung if you open your mouth.
CLEON. I own I am a thief; do you admit yourself another.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. By our Hermes of the market-place, if caught in the act, why, I perjure myself before those who saw me.
CLEON. These are my own special tricks. I will denounce you to the
Prytanes as the owner of sacred tripe, that has not paid tithe.
CHORUS. Oh! you scoundrel! you impudent bawler! everything is filled with your daring, all Attica, the Assembly, the Treasury, the decrees, the tribunals. As a furious torrent you have overthrown our city; your outcries have deafened Athens and, posted upon a high rock, you have lain in wait for the tribute moneys as the fisherman does for the tunny-fish.
CLEON. I know your tricks; ’tis an old plot resoled.
SAUSAGE-SELL
ER. If you know naught of soling, I understand nothing of sausages; you, who cut bad leather on the slant to make it look stout and deceive the country yokels. They had not worn it a day before it had stretched some two spans.
DEMOSTHENES ’Tis the very trick he served me; both my neighbours and my friends laughed heartily at me, and before I reached Pergasae I was swimming in my shoes.
CHORUS. Have you not always shown that blatant impudence, which is the sole strength of our orators? You push it so far, that you, the head of the State, dare to milk the purses of the opulent aliens and, at sight of you, the son of Hippodamus melts into tears. But here is another man, who gives me pleasure, for he is a much greater rascal than you; he will overthrow you; ’tis easy to see, that he will beat you in roguery, in brazenness and in clever turns. Come, you, who have been brought up among the class which to-day gives us all our great men, show us that a liberal education is mere tomfoolery.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Just hear what sort of fellow that fine citizen is.
CLEON. Will you not let me speak?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Assuredly not, for I also am a sad rascal.
CHORUS. If he does not give in at that, tell him your parents were sad rascals too.
CLEON. Once more, will you not let me speak?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. No, by Zeus!
CLEON. Yes, by Zeus, but you shall!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. No, by Posidon! We will fight first to see who shall speak first.
CLEON. I will die sooner.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I will not let you….
CHORUS. Let him, in the name of the gods, let him die.
CLEON. What makes you so bold as to dare to speak to my face?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. ’Tis that I know both how to speak and how to cook.
CLEON. Hah! the fine speaker! Truly, if some business matter fell your way, you would know thoroughly well how to attack it, to carve it up alive! Shall I tell you what has happened to you? Like so many others, you have gained some petty lawsuit against some alien. Did you drink enough water to inspire you? Did you mutter over the thing sufficiently through the night, spout it along the street, recite it to all you met? Have you bored your friends enough with it? ’Tis then for this you deem yourself an orator. Ah! poor fool!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And what do you drink yourself then, to be able all alone by yourself to dumbfound and stupefy the city so with your clamour?
CLEON. Can you match me with a rival? Me! When I have devoured a good hot tunny-fish and drunk on top of it a great jar of unmixed wine, I hold up the Generals of Pylos to public scorn.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I, when I have bolted the tripe of an ox together with a sow’s belly and swallowed the broth as well, I am fit, though slobbering with grease, to bellow louder than all orators and to terrify Nicias.
CHORUS. I admire your language so much; the only thing I do not approve is that you swallow all the broth yourself.
CLEON. E’en though you gorged yourself on sea-dogs, you would not beat the Milesians.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Give me a bullock’s breast to devour, and I am a man to traffic in mines.
CLEON. I will rush into the Senate and set them all by the ears.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I will lug out your gut to stuff like a sausage.
CLEON. As for me, I will seize you by the rump and hurl you head foremost through the door.
CHORUS. In any case, by Posidon, ‘twill only be when you have thrown me there first.
CLEON. Beware of the carcan!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I denounce you for cowardice.
CLEON. I will tan your hide.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I will flay you and make a thief’s pouch with the skin.
CLEON. I will peg you out on the ground.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I will slice you into mince-meat.
CLEON. I will tear out your eyelashes.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I will slit your gullet.
DEMOSTHENES. We will set his mouth open with a wooden stick as the cooks do with pigs; we will tear out his tongue, and, looking down his gaping throat, will see whether his inside has any pimples.
CHORUS. Thus then at Athens we have something more fiery than fire, more impudent than impudence itself! ’Tis a grave matter; come, we will push and jostle him without mercy. There, you grip him tightly under the arms; if he gives way at the onset, you will find him nothing but a craven; I know my man.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. That he has been all his life and he has only made himself a name by reaping another’s harvest; and now he has tied up the ears he gathered over there, he lets them dry and seeks to sell them.
CLEON. I do not fear you as long as there is a Senate and a people which stands like a fool, gaping in the air.
CHORUS. What unparalleled impudence! ’Tis ever the same brazen front. If I don’t hate you, why, I’m ready to take the place of the one blanket Cratinus wets; I’ll offer to play a tragedy by Morsimus. Oh! you cheat! who turn all into money, who flutter from one extortion to another; may you disgorge as quickly as you have crammed yourself! Then only would I sing, “Let us drink, let us drink to this happy event!” Then even the son of Iulius, the old niggard, would empty his cup with transports of joy, crying, “Io, Paean! Io, Bacchus!”
CLEON. By Posidon! You! would you beat me in impudence! If you succeed, may I no longer have my share of the victims offered to Zeus on the city altar.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I, I swear by the blows that have so oft rained upon my shoulders since infancy, and by the knives that have cut me, that I will show more effrontery than you; as sure as I have rounded this fine stomach by feeding on the pieces of bread that had cleansed other folk’s greasy fingers.
CLEON. On pieces of bread, like a dog! Ah! wretch! you have the nature of a dog and you dare to fight a cynecephalus?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I have many another trick in my sack, memories of my childhood’s days. I used to linger around the cooks and say to them, “Look, friends, don’t you see a swallow? ’tis the herald of springtime.” And while they stood, their noses in the air, I made off with a piece of meat.
CHORUS. Oh! most clever man! How well thought out! You did as the eaters of artichokes, you gathered them before the return of the swallows.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. They could make nothing of it; or, if they suspected a trick, I hid the meat in my breeches and denied the thing by all the gods; so that an orator, seeing me at the game, cried, “This child will get on; he has the mettle that makes a statesman.”
CHORUS. He argued rightly; to steal, perjure yourself and make a receiver of your rump are three essentials for climbing high.
CLEON. I will stop your insolence, or rather the insolence of both of you. I will throw myself upon you like a terrible hurricane ravaging both land and sea at the will of its fury.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Then I will gather up my sausages and entrust myself to the kindly waves of fortune so as to make you all the more enraged.
DEMOSTHENES. And I will watch in the bilges in case the boat should make water.
CLEON. No, by Demeter! I swear, ‘twill not be with impunity that you have thieved so many talents from the Athenians.
CHORUS (to the Sausage-seller). Oh! oh! reef your sail a bit! Here is
Boreas blowing calumniously.
CLEON. I know that you got ten talents out of Potidaea.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Hold! I will give you one; but keep it dark!
CHORUS. Hah! that will please him mightily; now you can travel under full sail.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Yes, the wind has lost its violence.
CLEON. I will bring four suits against you, each of one hundred talents.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I twenty against you for shirking duty and more than a thousand for robbery.
CLEON. I maintain that your parents were guilty of sacrilege against the goddess.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I, that one of your grandfathers was a satellite….
CLEON. To whom? Explain!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. To Byrsina, the mother of Hippias.
CLEON.
You are an impostor.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And you are a rogue.
CHORUS. Hit him hard.
CLEON. Oh, oh, dear! The conspirators are murdering me!
CHORUS. Strike, strike with all your might; bruise his belly, lashing him with your guts and your tripe; punish him with both arms! Oh! vigorous assailant and intrepid heart! Have you not routed him totally in this duel of abuse? how shall I give tongue to my joy and sufficiently praise you?
CLEON. Ah! by Demeter! I was not ignorant of this plot against me; I knew it was forming, that the chariot of war was being put together.
CHORUS (to Sausage-seller). Look out, look out! Come, outfence him with some wheelwright slang?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. His tricks at Argos do not escape me. Under pretence of forming an alliance with the Argives, he is hatching a plot with the Lacedaemonians there; and I know why the bellows are blowing and the metal that is on the anvil; ’tis the question of the prisoners.
CHORUS. Well done! Forge on, if he be a wheelwright.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And there are men at Sparta who are hammering the iron with you; but neither gold nor silver nor prayers nor anything else shall impede my denouncing your trickery to the Athenians.
CLEON. As for me, I hasten to the Senate to reveal your plotting, your nightly gatherings in the city, your trafficking with the Medes and with the Great King, and all you are foraging for in Boeotia.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. What price then is paid for forage by Boeotians?
CLEON. Oh! by Heracles! I will tan your hide.
CHORUS. Come, if you have both wit and heart, now is the time to show it, as on the day when you hid the meat in your breeches, as you say. Hasten to the Senate, for he will rush there like a tornado to calumniate us all and give vent to his fearful bellowings.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I am going, but first I must rid myself of my tripe and my knives; I will leave them here.
CHORUS. Stay! rub your neck with lard; in this way you will slip between the fingers of calumny.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Spoken like a finished master of fence.
CHORUS. Now, bolt down these cloves of garlic.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Pray, what for?