Lines 218–401

DEMOSTHENES.
A brutal voice, low birth, an agora training;
Why you’ve got all one wants for public life.
The Pythian shrine and oracles concur.
Crown, crown your head; pour wine to mighty Dulness;
Prepare to fight the man.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
But what ally
Will stand beside me, for the wealthy men
Tremble before him, and the poor folk blench.

DEMOSTHENES.
A thousand Knights, all honest men and true,
Detest the scoundrel, and will help the cause;
And whosoe’er is noblest in the State,
And whosoe’er is brightest in the tiers,
And I myself. And God will lend his aid.

NICIAS.
And fear him not; he is not pictured really;
For all the mask-providers feared to mould
His actual likeness; but our audience here
Are shrewd and bright; they’ll recognize the man.

DEMOSTHENES.
Mercy upon us! here comes Paphlagon.

PAPHLAGON.
By the Twelve Gods,’ you two shall pay for this,
Always conspiring, plotting ill to Demus!
What’s this Chalcidian goblet doing here?
Hah! ye’re inciting Chalcis to revolt.
Villains and traitors! ye shall die the death.

DEMOSTHENES.
[To the Sausage-seller]
Hi! where are you off to? Stop!
For goodness’ sake,
Don’t fail us now, most doughty Sausage-seller!
Hasten up, my gallant horsemen,
now’s the time your foe to fight.
Now then Simon, now Panaetius,
charge with fury on the right.
Here they’re coming! Worthy fellow,
wheel about, commence the fray;
Lo, the dust of many horsemen
rushing on in close array!
Turn upon him, fight him, smite him,
scout him, rout him, every way.

CHORUS.
Smite the rascal, smite him, smite him,
troubler of our Knightly train,
Foul extortioner, Charybdis,
bottomless abyss of gain.
Smite the rascal; smite the rascal;
many times the word I’ll say,
For he proved himself a rascal
many, many times a day.
Therefore smite him, chase him, pound him,
rend and rattle and confound him!
Show your loathing, show as we do;
press with angry shouts around him,
Take you heed, or he’ll evade you;
watch him closely, for the man
Knows how Eucrates escaped us,
fleeing to his stores of bran.

PAPHLAGON.
O my Heliastic veterans,
of the great Triobol clan,
Whom through right and wrong I nourish,
bawling, shouting all I can,
Help me, by conspiring traitors
shamefully abused and beaten.

CHORUS.
Rightly, for the public commons
you before your turn have eaten,
And you squeeze the audit-passers,
pinching them like figs, to try
Which is ripe, and which is ripening,
which is very crude and dry.
Find you one of easy temper,
mouth agape, and vacant look,
Back from Chersonese you bring him,
grasp him firmly, fix your hook,
Twist his shoulder back and, glibly,
gulp the victim down at once.
And you search amongst the townsmen
for some lambkin-witted dunce,
Wealthy, void of tricks and malice,
shuddering at disputes and fuss.

PAPHLAGON.
You assail me too, my masters?
tis for you they beat me thus;
’Tis because I thought of moving
that ’twere proper here to make
Some memorial of your worships
for your noble valour’s sake.

CHORUS.
Hear him trying to cajole us!
O the supple-bending sneak,
Playing off his tricks upon us,
as on dotards old and weak.
Nay, but there my arm shall smite him
if to pass you there he seek;
If he dodge in this direction,
here against my leg he butts.

PAPHLAGON.
Athens! Demus! see the monsters,
see them punch me in the guts.

CHORUS.
Shouting, are you? you who always
by your shouts subvert the town.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
But in this I’ll first surpass him;
thus I shout the fellow down.

CHORUS.
If in bawling you defeat him,
sing we ho! for Victory’s sake.
If in shamelessness you beat him,
then indeed we take the cake.

PAPHLAGON.
I denounce this smuggling fellow;
contraband of war he takes
For the Peloponnesian galleys,
frapping them with—girdle-cakes.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
I denounce this juggling fellow;
at the Hall, from day to day,
In he runs with empty belly,
with a full one hies away.
Fish, and flesh, and bread exporting,
and a hundred things like these,
Contraband of peace, which never
were allowed to Pericles.

CHORUS.
Death awaits you at once, you two.

PAPHLAGON.
Thrice as loud can I squall as you.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
Now will I bawl you down by bawling.

PAPHLAGON.
Now will I squall you down by squalling.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
Lead our armies, and I’ll backbite you.

PAPHLAGON.
I’ll with dog-whips slash you and smite you.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
I’ll outwit you by fraud and lying.

PAPHLAGON.
I’ll your pettitoes chop for frying.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
Now unblinking regard me, you.

PAPHLAGON.
I was bred in the agora too.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
Say but g-r-r, and to strips I’ll tear you.

PAPHLAGON.
Speak one word, and as dung I’ll bear you.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
I confess that I steal. Do you?

PAPHLAGON.
Agora Hermes! yes, I do.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
If I’m seen, I’m a perjurer too.

PAPHLAGON.
Somebody else’s tricks you’re vaunting;
Now to the Prytanes off I’ll run,
Tell them you’ve got some holy pig-guts.
Tell them you’ve paid no tithe thereon.’

CHORUS.
O villain, O shameless of heart,
O Bawler and Brawler self-seeking,
The land, the Assembly, the Tolls,
are all with thine impudence reeking,
And the Courts, and the actions at law;
they are full unto loathing and hate!
Thou stirrest the mud to its depths,
perturbing the whole of the State.
Ruffian, who hast deafened Athens
with thine everlasting din,
Watching from the rocks the tribute,
tunny-fashion, shoaling in.

PAPHLAGON.
Well I know the very quarter
where they cobbled up the plot.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
You’re a knowing hand at cobbling,
else in mincing meat I’m not;
You who cheated all the rustics
with a flabby bullock-hide,
Cutting it aslant to make it
look like leather firm and dried;
In a day, the shoes you sold them
wobbled half a foot too wide.

NICIAS.
That’s the very trick the rascal
played the other day on me,
And my friends and fellow burghers
laughed with undissembled glee,
I was swimming in my slippers
ere I got to Pergasae.

CHORUS.
So then thou hast e’en from the first
that shameless bravado displayed
Which alone is the Orators’ Patron.
And foremost of all by its aid
Thou the wealthy strangers milkest,
draining off their rich supplies;
And the son of Hippodamus
watches thee with streaming eyes.
Ah, but another has dawned on us now,
Viler and fouler and coarser than thou,
Viler and fouler and coarser by far,
One who’ll beat thee and defeat thee
(therefore jubilant we are),
Beat thee in jackanapes tricks and rascality,
Beat thee in impudence, cheek, and brutality.
O trained where Men are trained who best
deserve that appellation,
Now show us of how little worth
is liberal education.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
The sort of citizen he is, I’ll first expose to view.

PAPHLAGON.
Give me precedence.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
No, by Zeus, for I’m a blackguard too.

CHORUS.
And if to that he yield not, add “as all my fathers were.”

PAPHLAGON.
Give me precedence.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
No, by Zeus.

PAPHLAGON.
O yes, by Zeus.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
I swear
I’ll fight you on that very point; you never shall be first.

PAPHLAGON.
O, I shall burst.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
You never shall.

CHORUS.
O let him, let him burst.

PAPHLAGON.
How dare you try in speech to vie
with Me? On what rely you?

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
Why I can speak first-rate, and eke
with piquant sauce supply you.

PAPHLAGON.
O speak you can! and you’re the man,
I warrant, who is able
A mangled mess full well to dress,
and serve it up to table.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
I know your case, the common case;
against some alien folk
You had some petty suit to plead,
and fairly well you spoke.
For oft you’d conned the speech by night,
and in the streets discussed it,
And, quaffing water,” shown it off,
and all your friends disgusted.
Now you’re an orator, you think.
O fool, the senseless thought!
Pray what’s the draught which you have quaffed
that Athens you have brought
Tongue-wheedled by yourself alone
to sit so mute and still?

PAPHLAGON.
Who to compare with me will dare?
I’ll eat my tunny grill,
And quaff thereon a stoup of wine
which water shall not touch,
And then with scurrilous abuse
the Pylian generals smutch.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
I’ll eat the paunch of cow and swine,
and quaff thereon their stew,
And rising from the board with hands
which water never knew
I’ll throttle all the orators, and flutter Nicias too.

CHORUS.
With all beside I’m satisfied,
but one thing likes me not,
You speak as if you ate alone
whatever stew you’ve got.

PAPHLAGON.
You’ll not consume your basse and then
Miletus bring to grief.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
But mines I’ll purchase when I’ve first
devoured my ribs of beef.

PAPHLAGON.
I’ll leap the Council-chamber in,
and put them all to rout.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
I’ll treat you like a sausage-skin,
and twirl your breech about.

PAPHLAGON.
I’ll hoist you by your crupper up,
and thrust you through the gate, sir.

CHORUS.
If him you thrust, me too you must;
you must as sure as fate, sir.

PAPHLAGON.
Your feet in the stocks I’ll fix full tight.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
And you for your cowardice I’ll indict.

PAPHLAGON.
Outstretched on my board your hide I’ll pin.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
“Pickpocket’s purse” I’ll make your skin.

PAPHLAGON.
Your limbs on the tanhouse floor I’ll stake.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
Your flesh into force-meat balls I’ll bake.

PAPHLAGON.
I’ll twitch the lashes off both your eyes.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
I’ll cut your gizzard out, poulterer-wise.

DEMOSTHENES.
Prop open his mouth with all your strength
Insert the extender from jaw to jaw;
Pull out his tongue to its utmost length,
And, butcher-fashion, inspect his maw,
And whilst his gape is so broad and fine,
See if he’s not The symptoms got
Which show that he’s nought but a measly swine.

CHORUS.
There are things, then, hotter than fire;
there are speeches more shameless still
Than the shameless speeches of those
who rule the City at will.
No trifling task is before you;
upon him and twist and garotte him.
Do nought that is little or mean;
for round the waist you have got him.
If in this assault you knead him
limp and supple to your hand,
You will find the man a craven;
I his habits understand.

SAUSAGE-SELLER.
Truly for an arrant coward
he has all his life been known;
Yet a Man he seemed but lately,
reaping where he had not sown.
Now the ears of corn he brought us,
he aspires to parch and dry,
Shuts them up in wood and fetters,
hopes to sell them by and by

PAPHLAGON.
You and your allies I fear not,
while the Council lives, and while
Demus moons upon the benches
with his own unmeaning smile.

CHORUS.
O see how he brazens it out!
The colour remains as before
In his shameless impudent face.
And O, if I hate you not sore,
Let me be a filthy sheepskin,
that whereon Cratinus lay,
Or let Morsimus instruct me
as the Chorus to his Play.