you say you really care for Demos
but when your leather selling’s going well,
do you ever think of giving him a tiny scrap
just to patch a sandal?
DEMOS: No, by Apollo, he never does!
SAUSAGEMAN: Now do you see the kind of man he is?
I on the other hand bring you this:
take it with my compliments—a pair of shoes.
DEMOS: You are in my opinion, of everyone I know,
the most dedicated to the cause of Demos,
to the city, and to my toes.
PAPHLAGON: I’m aghast that a pair of shoes
should loom so large and what I’ve done for you so little,
when it was I who got rid of the pansy boys
and deprived Grypus152 of the vote.
SAUSAGEMAN: And I’m surprised that you should go on an arse
hunt
after pansy boys when it’s obvious
you got rid of them because you’re jealous
of their political mettle.
On top of that, here is poor old Demos without a coat
and it’s never occurred to you that he ought
to have a coat in winter with two sleeves.
Here, take mine, Demos, please.
DEMOS: And it never occurred to Themistocles either,
though I have to admit that his Piraeus idea153
was a good one. . . . Still, not as important as this coat.
PAPHLAGON: What a load of monkey tricks!
SAUSAGEMAN: No, just borrowing some of yours,
as one might a pair of slippers at a party
to go rushing to the jakes to shit.
PAPHLAGON: There’s no one better at buttering up than I am, smarty.
[He takes off his coat and tries to force it on DEMOS.]
DEMOS: What a stink of ox hide, yuk! Piss off!
SAUSAGEMAN: He put it on you just to stifle you,
as once he tried before when that asafetida stuff154
was going cheap—remember?
DEMOS: Of course, I do.
SAUSAGEMAN: He rigged the market hoping that would cause
everyone to buy and eat this fare,
so that when the court was sitting, a single whiff
would gas the justices to death.
DEMOS: By Poseidon, yes! Precisely what a fellow
from Excreta City told me.
SAUSAGEMAN: And doubtless your united puff
turned you all brown and yellow?
DEMOS: By God, it did! A burnished freak, you could have called me.
PAPHLAGON: Scum head, what a puerile gimmick to upset me!
SAUSAGEMAN: Maybe, but the goddess told me
to whisk you into waffle flannel.
PAPHLAGON: There’ll be no need of whisking, Demos, you can bet,
and for doing nothing, I’ll make sure you get
a bowl of dole to slurp.
SAUSAGEMAN: And my contribution is this little jar of embrocation
to rub into your shanks.
PAPHLAGON: Mine will be to pull your white hairs out
and make you full of youthful pranks.
SAUSAGEMAN: And here’s a rabbit’s tail for dabbing your lovely
eyes.
PAPHLAGON: Have a nose blow, Demos,
and for wiping your fingers use the hair of my head.155
SAUSAGEMAN: No, no, mine instead.
PAPHLAGON: [to SAUSAGEMAN]
No, mine! No, mine! And for a prize
I’ll make you captain of a bark:
A rotting hulk with tattered sails.
To fit her out’ll make you broke
And you will see just how it feels.
SAUSAGEMAN: The fellow’s bubbling, on the boil.
Stop it! Stop it! Or you’ll spill.
Draw the fire, lower the heat:
His threats are coming to the top.
Here’s a ladle, skim the pot.
PAPHLAGON: Just you wait. I’ll fix your tax
And have you classed as deluxe.
SAUSAGEMAN: I’ll not threaten, but have a dream:
Your dish of squid is on the flame,
Nicely sizzling and you’re down
To make a motion, propose a plan
About Miletus.156 If it’s passed,
A thousand grand’ll be your graft.
But you’re dashing for your squid,
Bolting it and hoping you’d
Not be late for the session.
And as you guzzle squid with passion
A man comes in to make you speed,
And you choke to death because of greed.
LEADER: By Zeus, Apollo, and Demeter, I say well done!
DEMOS: I say so, too.
How long it’s been since we had a man like him!
As for you, Paphlagon,
when you say how fond of me you are
it fills me with such gloom
that I have to ask you here and now to surrender me my seal.
You’re not my steward anymore.
PAPHLAGON: Here it is then, but of this be sure:
if I’m not your steward anymore,
a greater fraud will soon appear—far greater still.
DEMOS: [staring at the seal]
That’s not my ring. It has a different seal. . . .
Or has my eyesight changed?
SAUSAGEMAN: Let’s have a peek. . . . What was your seal?
DEMOS: A hamburger rampant.
SAUSAGEMAN: That’s not what’s here. How strange!
DEMOS: Not rampant? Then, what?
SAUSAGEMAN: A gaping seagull with its pecker vacant
ranting at the people from a rock.
DEMOS: Heaven help us!
SAUSAGEMAN: Now what?
DEMOS: [to PAPHLAGON] Away with the ring. It was never mine.
It belonged to Cleonymus.157
Have this one instead and be my steward from now on.
PAPHLAGON: Good master, wait:
at least until you’ve heard what my oracles predict.
SAUSAGEMAN: And mine as well.
PAPHLAGON: You’ll be listening to hot air.
SAUSAGEMAN: And if you listen to him you’ll be skinning your prick.
PAPHLAGON: My prophecies predict
you’ll wear a crown of roses and be a swell,
ruling all the nations that there are.
SAUSAGEMAN: And mine predict you’ll wear a crown,
adorned in a raiment splashed with crimson,
and be carried in a golden carriage,
and put Smicythe and his boss on trial.
LEADER: Well, go and get the oracles for him to hear.
DEMOS: Sure will.
LEADER: [to PAPHLAGON] And you get yours.
PAPHLAGON: Of course!
SAUSAGEMAN: Of course! What are we waiting for?
[SAUSAGEMAN and PAPHLAGON retire.]
STROPHE
CHORUS: Sweet and bright will be the morn
That shines on citizen and alien
And sees the extinguishing of Cleon.
But at the chancery I heard
Two ancient legal relics claim,
Thrashing out the pros and cons,
That had not a Cleon been reared
In the town, loud and strong,
One thing wouldn’t be the same:
We’d have no pestle and no spoon.
ANTISTROPHE
But what is difficult to twig
Is his upbringing as a pig.
The boys who were at school with him
Say how he would often hum
With his lyre to a Dorian tune
And wouldn’t learn another one.
This drove his music master mad,
Who expelled him finally and said:
“This boy’s stuck with the Doric tribe,
What interests him is how to bribe.”158
[PAPHLAGON enters with bundles of scrolls.]
PAPHLAGON: Just look at them, and that’s not all.
[SAUSAGEMAN enters, also laden with scrolls.]
SAUSAGEMAN: Phew! I’m whacked, and that’s not all.
DEMOS: What are they?
PAPHLAGON: Oracles.
DEMOS: What, all?
PAPHLAGON: Surprised? I don’t wonder, by Zeus!
And I’ve got another boxful.
SAUSAGEMAN: I’ve got an attic full,
not to mention two flats full.
DEMOS: Let’s have a display. . . . What’s their source?
PAPHLAGON: Mine are from Bacis.159
DEMOS: And yours?
SAUSAGEMAN: Mine are from Glanis‡—Fishface—Bacis’ big brother.
DEMOS: And they are about—what?
PAPHLAGON: Athens and Pylos, you and me, everything of course.
DEMOS: And what are yours about?
SAUSAGEMAN: They’re about Spartans, pea soup, the grainmonger
in the market who gives you short measure,
about you, about me . . . and him? What the fuck! He sucks.
DEMOS: Come on, read them out,
especially the one about me being an eagle in the clouds—
my favorite.160
PAPHLAGON: [opening a scroll] All right,
pay attention and listen to the truth it sheds.
“Hearken, son of Erectheus
to the burden of what Apollo
Boomed from his shrine through the tripods:
see that thou cherish the watchdog,
Sacred and sharp of tooth,
who yawns at thy feet and for thee
Barks his terrible head off;
who sees thou art given fair wages
And would rather die than fail thee.
For many are the jays161 around him,
Cawing with hate against him.”
DEMOS: Holy Demeter, I haven’t an inkling of what this is all about:
Erectheus mixed up with dogs and daws!
PAPHLAGON: The watchdog is me. He barks on your behalf. Apollo bids you to keep him—that’s me—safe.
SAUSAGEMAN: That’s not what the oracle says.
That dog’s sneaking around wolfing whole dollops of oracle.
I have another version of that dog—the real.
DEMOS: Fine, let’s have it,
but let me find a stone first.
I don’t want to be bitten by an oracle.
SAUSAGEMAN: [unrolling a scroll and reading] “Hearken, son of Erectheus, the dog Cerberus‡ That makes men cringing slaves wags his tail at you
When you’re sitting at table
and fixes you with a stare,
But while you’re gazing at the view
he gobbles your dinner.
During the night unseen
into the kitchen he prowls
And with his doggy tongue
licks the platters clean,
And the islands in between.”162
PAPHLAGON: [unrolling his scroll again] Listen, mate, before you judge. “In holy Athens shall a certain woman bear A lion, which will fight for Demos valiantly As if he were his cub. Make sure you guard him well, And raise a wooden wall163 and towers of steel.” Do you know what is meant?
DEMOS: By Apollo, I do not!
PAPHLAGON: The god is plainly telling you to look after me: I’m the lion that is meant.
DEMOS: Lion or Liar? What d’you think?
SAUSAGEMAN: There’s one item of the prophecy he’s not
expounding,
the wooden wall and towers of steel
behind which Apollo told you to keep this shithead safe.
DEMOS: And the god intended . . . ? What’s your belief?
SAUSAGEMAN: He was telling you to clap the fellow in the stocks,
the wooden five-holed stocks.
DEMOS: I hope that prophecy works.
PAPHLAGON: [continuing to read from the scroll] “Be not shocked, it is only the raven and crow that squawk Against me. Have faith in the hawks who delivered into your hands In chains the Spartan fledglings.”164
SAUSAGEMAN: The truth is, Paphlagon was zonked out of his mind
when he made that reckless fling.
[reads from his scroll]
“Why dost thou think this so marvelous,
thou witless scion of Cecrops?165
A woman can bear every bit
as much burden as man,
But fight she cannot,
or she will certainly shit.”
PAPHLAGON: You also have to consider what the god said
about Pylos being before Pylos.
“There’s a Pylos before Pylos,” he said.166
DEMOS: “A Pylos before Pylos”? . . . I’m lost.
SAUSAGEMAN: Next, he says he’s going to destroy
every bath in the bathhouse.
DEMOS: So I can’t have a bath today?
SAUSAGEMAN: You cannot, because
he’s commandeered all the baths ....167
Here’s what he says about the navy. Attend closely.
DEMOS: I shall, but I hope you’re going to tell me
how I’m going to pay my tars.
SAUSAGEMAN: [reading again] “Scion of Aegeus,168 beware of the fox dog who will trick thee. He is crafty and fast, spare and a subtle deceiver.” Do you know who he is?
DEMOS: Of course! The fox dog’s Philostratus.169
SAUSAGEMAN: Wrong! The fox dog’s the one
who’s constantly pressing you
for wing-footed ships to round up some revenue.
Apollo’s forbidding you
to give him any such thing.
DEMOS: But how can a trireme be a fox dog?
SAUSAGEMAN: Because a trireme, like a fox dog, is speedy.
DEMOS: But why do you have to tack fox onto dog?
SAUSAGEMAN: Because sailors are like little foxes—greedy:
they gobble up the grapes in the vineyard.
DEMOS: How else are the “little foxes” going to get their
food?
SAUSAGEMAN: I’ll see to it, and within three days. Meanwhile, listen to what Apollo says.
[He reads from the scroll.]
“Keep clear of the wily Cyllene.”170
DEMOS: Who, pray, is Cyllene?
SAUSAGEMAN: The verse implies that he’s the itching palm
reaching for a handout.
PAPHLAGON: You’ve not got it right. By Cyllene, Apollo means, I assume,
the crooked hand of Diopeithes.171
No matter, here’s a prophecy about you—
a flying one: you’re going to be an eagle
and monarch of all you survey.
SAUSAGEMAN: I’ve had a dream, too:
You’ll rule over the whole
earth—including the Red Sea, and you’ll
preside as judge in the courts of Ecbatana
nibbling your canapé.
PAPHLAGON: Ah, but I’ve had a dream of no less than Pallas Athena
ladling out prosperity on Demos with a big spoon.
SAUSAGEMAN: Yes, but wait till you hear mine.
I, too, saw Pallas Athena coming from the Acropolis with an owl
perched on her helmet,
and over Demos’ head she poured a jug of ambrosia,
but over yours a jar of pickled garlic.
DEMOS: Hear, hear, to that!
Glanis,172 you’re the smartest of the lot
and I hereby ask you to be my housekeeper:
“To guide my steps when old age comes,
and thereby my way of life remake.”173
PAPHLAGON: Not yet, oh wait, please!
Give me another chance and I’ll serve you barley every day.
DEMOS: I’m sick of barley. . . . It’s all part of the way
that you and Thuphanes§
have been diddling me.
PAPHLAGON: But I’ll give you already ground self-raising barley.
SAUSAGEMAN: Me? I’ll give you already cooked cakes
of barley,
all you can eat.
DEMOS: Thrash it out between you, you two,
and whichever of you pampers me the most gets the post
of holding the reins of government on the Pnyx.
PAPHLAGON: I’ll beat you to it.
SAUSAGEMAN: I bet you won’t.
[SAUSAGEMAN and PAPHLAGON scamper into the house, SAUSAGEMAN leading.]
STROPHE
CHORUS: O Demos, you have what it takes:
All humanity quakes
Near your tyrannical power,
But you’re easy to flatter
And lead down a spurious way,
Taken in by a lie.
Every Tom, Dick, and Harry
Spouting his head off can carry
You away. And as for your mind,
It’s difficult to find.
ANTISTROPHE
If you think I’m not very cool
Your long locks harbor a fool.
And as a matter of fact
I know very well what I’m at.
What I really enjoy
Is being a sort of decoy
For some political chap—
A rascal of course—and fatten him,
And when he’s all puffed up
To flatten him.
STROPHE
Well, you’re exceedingly smart:
Your behavior’s so much a part
Of the way you really are—
Perfectly packed with craft:
Fattening men that are spare
Like victims for sacrifice
On the Pnyx. And what is so nice
Is that when you are ready for dinner
You choose as an act of grace
One who used to be thinner.
ANTISTROPHE
Like to see how it’s done?
Can be a lot of fun!
They think they’re oh so clever
And I’m completely dumb.
But I have them undercover
Though I seem not even to see them
Gorging themselves with plunder.
Of course in the end I get them
And make them disgorge their fodder
With the probe of a long subpoena.
[SAUSAGEMAN and PAPHLAGON, jostling each other, come in, each carrying a large basket.]
PAPHLAGON: Get out of my blooming way.