by Aristophanes
CLEON. No, my brave friends, no, you are running too fast; I have done a sufficiently brilliant deed to shut the mouth of all enemies, so long as one of the bucklers of Pylos remains.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Of the bucklers! Hold! I stop you there and I hold you fast. For if it be true, that you love the people, you would not allow these to be hung up with their rings; but ’tis with an intent you have done this. Demos, take knowledge of his guilty purpose; in this way you no longer can punish him at your pleasure. Note the swarm of young tanners, who really surround him, and close to them the sellers of honey and cheese; all these are at one with him. Very well! you have but to frown, to speak of ostracism and they will rush at night to these bucklers, take them down and seize our granaries.
DEMOS. Great gods! what! the bucklers retain their rings! Scoundrel! ah! too long have you had me for your tool, cheated and played with me!
CLEON. But, dear sir, never you believe all he tells you. Oh! never will you find a more devoted friend than me; unaided, I have known how to put down the conspiracies; nothing that is a-hatching in the city escapes me, and I hasten to proclaim it loudly.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. You are like the fishers for eels; in still waters they catch nothing, but if they thoroughly stir up the slime, their fishing is good; in the same way ’tis only in troublous times that you line your pockets. But come, tell me, you, who sell so many skins, have you ever made him a present of a pair of soles for his slippers? and you pretend to love him!
DEMOS. No, he has never given me any.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. That alone shows up the man; but I, I have bought you this pair of shoes; accept them.
DEMOS. None ever, to my knowledge, has merited so much from the people; you are the most zealous of all men for your country and for my toes.
CLEON. Can a wretched pair of slippers make you forget all that you owe me? Is it not I who curbed Gryttus, the filthiest of the lewd, by depriving him of his citizen rights?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Ah! noble inspector of back passages, let me congratulate you. Moreover, if you set yourself against this form of lewdness, this pederasty, ’twas for sheer jealousy, knowing it to be the school for orators. But you see this poor Demos without a cloak and that at his age too! so little do you care for him, that in mid-winter you have not given him a garment with sleeves. Here, Demos, here is one, take it!
DEMOS. This even Themistocles never thought of; the Piraeus was no doubt a happy idea, but meseems this tunic is quite as fine an invention.
CLEON. Must you have recourse to such jackanapes’ tricks to supplant me?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. No, ’tis your own tricks that I am borrowing, just as a guest, driven by urgent need, seizes some other man’s shoes.
CLEON. Oh! you shall not outdo me in flattery! I am going to hand Demos this garment; all that remains to you, you rogue, is to go and hang yourself.
DEMOS. Faugh! may the plague seize you! You stink of leather horribly.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Why, ’tis to smother you that he has thrown this cloak around you on top of the other; and it is not the first plot he has planned against you. Do you remember the time when silphium was so cheap?
DEMOS. Aye, to be sure I do!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Very well! it was Cleon who had caused the price to fall so low so that all could eat it and the jurymen in the Courts were almost poisoned with farting in each others’ faces.
DEMOS. Hah! why, indeed, a scavenger told me the same thing.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Were you not yourself in those days quite red in the gills with farting?
DEMOS. Why, ’twas a trick worthy of Pyrrandrus!
CLEON. With what other idle trash will you seek to ruin me, you wretch!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Oh! I shall be more brazen than you, for ’tis the goddess who has commanded me.
CLEON. No, on my honour, you will not! Here, Demos, feast on this dish; it is your salary as a dicast, which you gain through me for doing naught.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Hold! here is a little box of ointment to rub into the sores on your legs.
CLEON. I will pluck out your white hairs and make you young again.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Take this hare’s scut to wipe the rheum from your eyes.
CLEON. When you wipe your nose, clean your fingers on my head.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. No, on mine.
CLEON. On mine. (To the Sausage-seller.) I will have you made a trierarch and you will get ruined through it; I will arrange that you are given an old vessel with rotten sails, which you will have to repair constantly and at great cost.
CHORUS. Our man is on the boil; enough, enough, he is boiling over; remove some of the embers from under him and skim off his threats.
CLEON. I will punish your self-importance; I will crush you with imposts;
I will have you inscribed on the list of the rich.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. For me no threats — only one simple wish. That you may be having some cuttle-fish fried on the stove just as you are going to set forth to plead the cause of the Milesians, which, if you gain, means a talent in your pocket; that you hurry over devouring the fish to rush off to the Assembly; suddenly you are called and run off with your mouth full so as not to lose the talent and choke yourself. There! that is my wish.
CHORUS. Splendid! by Zeus, Apollo and Demeter!
DEMOS. Faith! here is an excellent citizen indeed, such as has not been seen for a long time. ’Tis truly a man of the lowest scum! As for you, Paphlagonian, who pretend to love me, you only feed me on garlic. Return me my ring, for you cease to be my steward.
CLEON. Here it is, but be assured, that if you bereave me of my power, my successor will be worse than I am.
DEMOS. This cannot be my ring; I see another device, unless I am going purblind.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. What was your device?
DEMOS. A fig-leaf, stuffed with bullock’s fat.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. No, that is not it.
DEMOS. What is it then?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. ’Tis a gull with beak wide open, haranguing from the top of a stone.
DEMOS. Ah! great gods!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. What is the matter?
DEMOS. Away! away out of my sight! ’Tis not my ring he had, ’twas that of Cleonymus. (To the Sausage-seller.) Hold, I give you this one; you shall be my steward.
CLEON. Master, I adjure you, decide nothing till you have heard my oracles.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And mine.
CLEON. If you believe him, you will have to suck his tool for him.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. If you listen to him, you’ll have to let him skin your penis to the very stump.
CLEON. My oracles say that you are to reign over the whole earth, crowned with chaplets.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And mine say that, clothed in an embroidered purple robe, you shall pursue Smicythes and her spouse, standing in a chariot of gold and with a crown on your head.
DEMOS. Go, fetch me your oracles, that the Paphlagonian may hear them.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Willingly.
DEMOS. And you yours.
CLEON. I run.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I run too; nothing could suit me better!
CHORUS. Oh! happy day for us and for our children, if Cleon perish. Yet just now I heard some old cross-grained pleaders on the market-place who hold not this opinion discoursing together. Said they, “If Cleon had not had the power we should have lacked two most useful tools, the pestle and the soup-ladle.” You also know what a pig’s education he has had; his school-fellows can recall that he only liked the Dorian style and would study no other; his music-master in displeasure sent him away, saying: “This youth in matters of harmony, will only learn the Dorian style because ’tis akin to bribery.”
CLEON. There, behold and look at this heap; and yet I do not bring all.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Ugh! I pant and puff under the weight and yet I do not bring all.
DEMOS. What are these?
CLEON. Oracles.
DEMOS. All these?
CLEON. Does that astonish y
ou? Why, I have another whole boxful of them.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I the whole of my attics and two rooms besides.
DEMOS. Come, let us see, whose are these oracles?
CLEON. Mine are those of Bacis.
DEMOS (to the Sausage-seller). And whose are yours?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Glanis’s, the elder brother of Bacis.
DEMOS. And of what do they speak?
CLEON. Of Athens, of Pylos, of you, of me, of all.
DEMOS. And yours?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Of Athens, of lentils, of Lacedaemonians, of fresh mackerel, of scoundrelly flour-sellers, of you, of me. Ah! ha! now let him gnaw his own penis with chagrin!
DEMOS. Come, read them out to me and especially that one I like so much, which says that I shall become an eagle and soar among the clouds.
CLEON. Then listen and be attentive! “Son of Erectheus, understand the meaning of the words, which the sacred tripods set resounding in the sanctuary of Apollo. Preserve the sacred dog with the jagged teeth, that barks and howls in your defence; he will ensure you a salary and, if he fails, will perish as the victim of the swarms of jays that hunt him down with their screams.”
DEMOS. By Demeter! I do not understand a word of it. What connection is there between Erectheus, the jays and the dog?
CLEON. ’Tis I who am the dog, since I bark in your defence. Well! Phoebus commands you to keep and cherish your dog.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. ’Tis not so spoken by the god; this dog seems to me to gnaw at the oracles as others gnaw at doorposts. Here is exactly what Apollo says of the dog.
DEMOS. Let us hear, but I must first pick up a stone; an oracle which speaks of a dog might bite me.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. “Son of Erectheus, beware of this Cerberus that enslaves freemen; he fawns upon you with his tail, when you are dining, but he is lying in wait to devour your dishes, should you turn your head an instant; at night he sneaks into the kitchen and, true dog that he is, licks up with one lap of his tongue both your dishes and … the islands.”
DEMOS. Faith, Glanis, you speak better than your brother.
CLEON. Condescend again to hear me and then judge: “A woman in sacred Athens will be delivered of a lion, who shall fight for the people against clouds of gnats with the same ferocity as if he were defending his whelps; care ye for him, erect wooden walls around him and towers of brass.” Do you understand that?
DEMOS. Not the least bit in the world.
CLEON. The god tells you here to look after me, for, ’tis I who am your lion.
DEMOS. How! You have become a lion and I never knew a thing about it?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. There is only one thing which he purposely keeps from you; he does not say what this wall of wood and brass is in which Apollo warns you to keep and guard him.
DEMOS. What does the god mean, then?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. He advises you to fit him into a five-holed wooden collar.
DEMOS. Hah! I think that oracle is about to be fulfilled.
CLEON. Do not believe it; these are but jealous crows, that caw against me; but never cease to cherish your good hawk; never forget that he brought you those Lacedaemonian fish, loaded with chains.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Ah! if the Paphlagonian ran any risk that day, ’twas because he was drunk. Oh, too credulous son of Cecrops, do you accept that as a glorious exploit? A woman would carry a heavy burden if only a man had put it on her shoulders. But to fight! Go to! he would shit himself, if ever it came to a tussle.
CLEON. Note this Pylos in front of Pylos, of which the oracle speaks,
“Pylos is before Pylos.”
DEMOS. How “in front of Pylos”? What does he mean by that?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. He says he will seize upon your bath-tubs.
DEMOS. Then I shall not bathe to-day.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. No, as he has stolen our baths. But here is an oracle about the fleet, to which I beg your best attention.
DEMOS. Read on! I am listening; let us first see how we are to pay our sailors.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. “Son of Aegeus, beware of the tricks of the dog-fox, he bites from the rear and rushes off at full speed; he is nothing but cunning and perfidy.” Do you know what the oracle intends to say?
DEMOS. The dog-fox is Philostratus.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. No, no, ’tis Cleon; he is incessantly asking you for light vessels to go and collect the tributes, and Apollo advises you not to grant them.
DEMOS. What connection is there between a galley and a dog-fox?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. What connection? Why, ’tis quite plain — a galley travels as fast as a dog.
DEMOS. Why, then, does the oracle not say dog instead of dog-fox?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Because he compares the soldiers to young foxes, who, like them, eat the grapes in the fields.
DEMOS. Good! Well then! how am I to pay the wages of my young foxes?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I will undertake that, and in three days too! But listen to this further oracle, by which Apollo puts you on your guard against the snares of the greedy fist.
DEMOS. Of what greedy fist?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. The god in this oracle very clearly points to the hand of
Cleon, who incessantly holds his out, saying, “Fill it.”
CLEON. ’Tis false! Phoebus means the hand of Diopithes. But here I have a winged oracle, which promises you shall become an eagle and rule over all the earth.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I have one, which says that you shall be King of the Earth and of the Sea, and that you shall administer justice in Ecbatana, eating fine rich stews the while.
CLEON. I have seen Athené in a dream, pouring out full vials of riches and health over the people.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I too have seen the goddess, descending from the Acropolis with an owl perched upon her helmet; on your head she was pouring out ambrosia, on that of Cleon garlic pickle.
DEMOS. Truly Glanis is the wisest of men. I shall yield myself to you; guide me in my old age and educate me anew.
CLEON. Ah! I adjure you! not yet; wait a little; I will promise to distribute barley every day.
DEMOS. Ah! I will not hear another word about barley; you have cheated me too often already, both you and Theophanes.
CLEON. Well then! you shall have flour-cakes all piping hot.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I will give you cakes too, and nice cooked fish; you will only have to eat.
DEMOS. Very well, mind you keep your promises. To whichever of you twain shall treat me best I hand over the reins of state.
CLEON. I will be first.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. No, no, I will.
CHORUS. Demos, you are our all-powerful sovereign lord; all tremble before you, yet you are led by the nose. You love to be flattered and fooled; you listen to the orators with gaping mouth and your mind is led astray.
DEMOS. ’Tis rather you who have no brains, if you think me so foolish as all that; it is with a purpose that I play this idiot’s role, for I love to drink the lifelong day, and so it pleases me to keep a thief for my minister. When he has thoroughly gorged himself, then I overthrow and crush him.
CHORUS. What profound wisdom! If it be really so, why! all is for the best. Your ministers, then, are your victims, whom you nourish and feed up expressly in the Pnyx, so that, the day your dinner is ready, you may immolate the fattest and eat him.
DEMOS. Look, see how I play with them, while all the time they think themselves such adepts at cheating me. I have my eye on them when they thieve, but I do not appear to be seeing them; then I thrust a judgment down their throat as it were a feather, and force them to vomit up all they have robbed from me.
CLEON. Oh! the rascal!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Oh! the scoundrel!
CLEON. Demos, all is ready these three hours; I await your orders and I burn with desire to load you with benefits.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I ten, twelve, a thousand hours, a long, long while, an infinitely long while.
DEMOS. As for me, ’tis thirty thousand hours that I have been impatient;
very long, infinitely long that I have cursed you.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Do you know what you had best do?
DEMOS. If I do not, tell me.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Declare the lists open and we will contend abreast to determine who shall treat you the best.
DEMOS. Splendid! Draw back in line!
CLEON. I am ready.
DEMOS. Off you go!
SAUSAGE-SELLER (to Cleon). I shall not let you get to the tape.
DEMOS. What fervent lovers! If I am not to-day the happiest of men, ’tis because I shall be the most disgusted.
CLEON. Look! ’tis I who am the first to bring you a seat.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I a table.
CLEON. Hold, here is a cake kneaded of Pylos barley.
SAUSAGE — SELLER. Here are crusts, which the ivory hand of the goddess has hallowed.
DEMOS. Oh! Mighty Athené! How large are your fingers!
CLEON. This is pea-soup, as exquisite as it is fine; ’tis Pallas the victorious goddess at Pylos who crushed the peas herself.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Oh, Demos! the goddess watches over you; she is stretching forth over your head … a stew-pan full of broth.
DEMOS. And should we still be dwelling in this city without this protecting stew-pan?
CLEON. Here are some fish, given to you by her who is the terror of our foes.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. The daughter of the mightiest of the gods sends you this meat cooked in its own gravy, along with this dish of tripe and some paunch.
DEMOS. ’Tis to thank me for the Peplos I offered to her; ’tis well.
CLEON. The goddess with the terrible plume invites you to eat this long cake; you will row the harder on it.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Take this also.
DEMOS. And what shall I do with this tripe?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. She sends it you to belly out your galleys, for she is always showing her kindly anxiety for our fleet. Now drink this beverage composed of three parts of water to two of wine.
DEMOS. Ah! what delicious wine, and how well it stands the water.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. ’Twas the goddess who came from the head of Zeus that mixed this liquor with her own hands.
CLEON. Hold, here is a piece of good rich cake.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. But I offer you an entire cake.
CLEON. But you cannot offer him stewed hare as I do.