knowing the sort of language which pleases the Senate best, said, "Friends, I am resolved to offer one hundred oxen to the goddess in recognition of this happy event." The Senate at once veered to his side. So when I saw myself defeated by this ox filth, I outbade the fellow, crying, "Two hundred!" And beyond this I moved, that a vow be made to Diana of a thousand goats if the next day anchovies should only be worth an obol a hundred. And the Senate looked towards me again. The other, stunned with the blow, grew delirious in his speech, and at last the Prytanes and the guards dragged him out. The Senators then stood talking noisily about the anchovies. Cleon, however, begged them to listen to the Lacedaemonian envoy, who had come to make proposals of peace; but all with one accord, cried, "'Tis certainly not the moment to think of peace now! If anchovies are so cheap, what need have we of peace? Let the war take its course!" And with loud shouts they demanded that the Prytanes should close the sitting and then leapt over the rails in all directions. As for me, I slipped away to buy all the coriander seed and leeks there were on the market and gave it to them gratis as seasoning for their anchovies. 'Twas marvellous! They loaded me with praises and caresses; thus I conquered the Senate with an obol's worth of leeks, and here I am. CHORUS. Bravo! you are the spoilt child of Fortune. Ah! our knave has found his match in another, who has far better tricks in his sack, a thousand kinds of knaveries and of wily words. But the fight begins afresh; take care not to weaken; you know that I have long been your most faithful ally. SAUSAGE-SELLER. Ah! ah! here comes the Paphlagonian! One would say, 'twas a hurricane lashing the sea and rolling the waves before it in its fury. He looks as if he wanted to swallow me up alive! Ye gods! what an impudent knave! CLEON. To my aid, my beloved lies! I am going to destroy you, or my name is lost. SAUSAGE-SELLER. Oh! how he diverts me with his threats! His bluster makes me laugh! And I dance the _mothon_ for joy,[83] and sing at the top of my voice, cuckoo! CLEON. Ah! by Demeter! if I do not kill and devour you, may I die! SAUSAGE-SELLER. If you do not devour me? and I, if I do not drink your blood to the last drop, and then burst with indigestion. CLEON. I, I will strangle you, I swear it by the precedence which Pylos gained me. SAUSAGE-SELLER. By the precedence! Ah! might I see you fall from your precedence into the hindmost seat! CLEON. By heaven! I will put you to the torture. SAUSAGE-SELLER. What a lively wit! Come, what's the best to give you to eat? What do you prefer? A purse? CLEON. I will tear out your inside with my nails. SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I will cut off your victuals at the Prytaneum. CLEON. I will haul you before Demos, who will mete out justice to you. SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I too will drag you before him and belch forth more calumnies than you.