Racine: Phaedra

ARISTOPHANES
174
Cleon.— I'm waylaid and beaten,
By that rogue there, and the rake-helly young fellows.
All for your sake.
Demus.— How so?
Cleon.— Because I love you.
And court you, and wait on you, to win your favor.
Demus.—And you there, sirrah I tell me what are you ?
Sausage-Seller.—A lover of yours, and a rival of his, this long
time;
That have wished to oblige ye and serve ye in every way
And many there are besides, good gentlefolks.
That adore ye, and wish to pay their court to ye
— But he contrives to baffle and drive them off.
In short, you're like the silly spendthrift heirs,
That keep away from civil well-bred company,
To pass their time with grooms and low companions,
Cobblers, and curriers, tanners, and such like.
Cleon.—And have not I merited that preference.
By my service ?
Sausage-Seller.— In what way ?
Cleon.— By bringing back
The Spartan captives tied and bound from Pylos.
Sausage-Seller.—And would not I bring back from the cook's
shop
A mess of meat that belonged to another man ?
Cleon.—Well, Demus, call an Assembly then directly,
To decide between us, which is your best friend
And when you've settled it, fix and keep to him.
[Exit Cleon.
Sausage-Seller.—Ah, do! pray do decide!—but not in the
Pnyx
Demus.—It must be there ; it can't be anywhere else
It's quite impossible : you must go to the Pnyx.
Sausage-Seller.—Oh dear ! I'm lost and ruined then ! the old
fellow
Is sharp and clever enough in his own home
But planted with his feet upon that rock,
He grows completely stupefied and bothered.
Chorus.—Now you must get your words and wit, and all your
tackle ready.