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[100] 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![101] 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.[102] 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[103] 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,[104] 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.[105] 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.[106]