_Demus_ (_to Saus._) And yours? _Saus._ From Glanis, sir, his elder brother. _Demus._ Now mould them for my ears. _Cleon._ It shall be done, sir. * * * * * (_Reads._) In Athens the sacred, a cry’s heard for help, A woman’s in labour—a lion her whelp. For warfare he’s born, and will fight by the great, With the ants, and the gnats, and the vermin of state. On gratitude rests it this wall to environ With a wall of stout wood, and a turret of iron. _Demus._ Dost reach him? (_to Saus._) _Saus._ Sir, not I. _Cleon._ And yet the god Speaks clear. I am the lion, and I claim Protection. _Demus._ Good; his words sure stand with reason. Who else may plead a lion’s teeth and claws![105] _Saus._ Aye, but he sinks the iron wall and wood, Where Phœbus wills that you hold guard of him; And thus he falsifies the exposition. _Demus._ And how do you expound it? _Saus._ By the wood And iron wall, I understand the pillory: The oracle enjoins he takes his place there. _Demus._ And I subscribe me to its pleasure. _Cleon._ Nay, Not so, the envious crows are croaking round me. * * * * * But another prediction awaits my lord’s ear, ‘Tis Phœbus that warns—“of Cyllene beware.” _Demus._ Cyllene,[106] Cyllene, how this understand? (_to Saus._) _Saus._ Cyllene is lameness, and means a lame hand, To Cleon’s apply it: as with bruise or with maim Still ‘tis bent with—your honour, drop gift in the same. * * * * * _Cleon._ I have seen me a vision: I’ve dreamed me adream; Its author was Pallas, and Demus its theme; The cup arytœna[107] blazed broad in her hand, And plenty and riches fell wide o’er the land. _Saus._ I too have my visions and dreams of the night: Our lady[108] and owl stood confest to my sight; From the cup aryballus choice blessings she threw. (_To Cleon._) On him fell tan pickle, and nectar on you. (_to Demus._) Here ends the contest of oracles; and Demus, after expresssing his opinion that there never was a wiser man than Glanis, commits himself to the guidance and instruction of the sausage–seller. He is induced to pause, however, by the offers which Cleon makes, of supplying his table with provisions, and finally comes to the resolution of “giving the reins of the Pnyx” to which soever of the two candidates shall offer the most acceptable bribes. They quit the stage, each endeavouring to get the advantage in a false start; and the Chorus comes forward with an address to Demus. _Chorus._ Honour, power, and high estate, Demus, mighty lord, hast thou; To thy sceptre small and great In obeisance lowly bow!