Delphi Complete Works of Aristophanes (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics) by Aristophanes Page B

out with water; do you dare to accuse wine of clouding the reason? Quote me more marvellous effects than those of wine. Look! when a man drinks, he is rich, everything he touches succeeds, he gains lawsuits, is happy and helps his friends. Come, bring hither quick a flagon of wine, that I may soak my brain and get an ingenious idea.
    NICIAS. Eh, my god! What can your drinking do to help us?
    DEMOSTHENES. Much. But bring it to me, while I take my seat. Once drunk,
I shall strew little ideas, little phrases, little reasonings everywhere.
    NICIAS (returning with a flagon) . It is lucky I was not caught in the house stealing the wine.
    DEMOSTHENES. Tell me, what is the Paphlagonian doing now?
    NICIAS. The wretch has just gobbled up some confiscated cakes; he is drunk and lies at full-length a-snoring on his hides.
    DEMOSTHENES. Very well, come along, pour me out wine and plenty of it.
    NICIAS. Take it and offer a libation to your Good Genius; taste, taste the liquor of the genial soil of Pramnium.
    DEMOSTHENES. Oh, Good Genius! ’Tis thy will, not mine.
    NICIAS. Prithee, tell me, what is it?
    DEMOSTHENES. Run indoors quick and steal the oracles of the Paphlagonian, while he is asleep.
    NICIAS. Bless me! I fear this Good Genius will be but a very Bad Genius for me.
    DEMOSTHENES. And set the flagon near me, that I may moisten my wit to invent some brilliant notion.
    NICIAS (enters the house and returns at once) . How the Paphlagonian grunts and snores! I was able to seize the sacred oracle, which he was guarding with the greatest care, without his seeing me.
    DEMOSTHENES. Oh! clever fellow! Hand it here, that I may read. Come, pour me out some drink, bestir yourself! Let me see what there is in it. Oh! prophecy! Some drink! some drink! Quick!
    NICIAS. Well! what says the oracle?
    DEMOSTHENES. Pour again.
    NICIAS. Is “pour again” in the oracle?
    DEMOSTHENES. Oh, Bacis!
    NICIAS. But what is in it?
    DEMOSTHENES. Quick! some drink!
    NICIAS. Bacis is very dry!
    DEMOSTHENES. Oh! miserable Paphlagonian! This then is why you have so long taken such precautions; your horoscope gave you qualms of terror.
    NICIAS. What does it say?
    DEMOSTHENES. It says here how he must end.
    NICIAS. And how?
    DEMOSTHENES. How? the oracle announces clearly that a dealer in oakum must first govern the city.
    NICIAS. First dealer. And after him, who?
    DEMOSTHENES. After him, a sheep-dealer.
    NICIAS. Two dealers, eh? And what is this one’s fate?
    DEMOSTHENES. To reign until a greater scoundrel than he arises; then he perishes and in his place the leather-seller appears, the Paphlagonian robber, the bawler, who roars like a torrent.
    NICIAS. And the leather-seller must destroy the sheep-seller?
    DEMOSTHENES. Yes.
    NICIAS. Oh! woe is me! Where can another seller be found, is there ever a one left?
    DEMOSTHENES. There is yet one, who plies a firstrate trade.
    NICIAS. Tell me, pray, what is that?
    DEMOSTHENES. You really want to know?
    NICIAS. Yes.
    DEMOSTHENES. Well then! ’tis a sausage-seller who must overthrow him.
    NICIAS. A sausage-seller! Ah! by Posidon! what a fine trade! But where can this man be found?
    DEMOSTHENES. Let us seek him.
    NICIAS. Lo! there he is, going towards the market-place; ’tis the gods, the gods who send him!
    DEMOSTHENES. This way, this way, oh, lucky sausage-seller, come forward, dear friend, our saviour, the saviour of our city.
    SAUSAGE-SELLER. What is it? Why do you call me?
    DEMOSTHENES. Come here, come and learn about your good luck, you who are
Fortune’s favourite!
    NICIAS. Come! Relieve him of his basket-tray and tell him the oracle of the god; I will go and look after the Paphlagonian.
    DEMOSTHENES. First put down all your gear, then worship the earth and the gods.
    SAUSAGE-SELLER. ’Tis done. What is the matter?
    DEMOSTHENES. Happiness, riches, power; to-day you have nothing, to-morrow you will have all, oh! chief of happy Athens.
    SAUSAGE-SELLER. Why not leave me to wash my tripe and to sell my sausages instead of