Aristophanes: The Complete Plays Page 8

DEMOSTHENES: The oracle expressly says

  that first a rope peddler appears108

  and he takes over the city’s affairs.

  NICIAS: So that’s peddler number one. Who follows?

  DEMOSTHENES: After him another peddler, this time a sheep seller.109

  NICIAS: That makes two peddlers. What happened to the second?

  DEMOSTHENES: He goes on flourishing until another bastard appears

  even more disgusting than he is, so he goes under,

  for this bastard is none other than our own Paphlagon:

  leather seller, robber, and a howler

  with a voice like the Cycloborus in full flood.

  NICIAS: So that seller’s done in by the hide seller?

  DEMOSTHENES: Precisely.

  NICIAS: What the heck! All we need now is to add

  one more seller from somewhere.

  DEMOSTHENES: Quite likely! . . . As a matter of fact,

  there is one in the offing with a most unusual trade.

  NICIAS: Who’s he?

  DEMOSTHENES: Sure you want to know?

  NICIAS: I certainly do.

  DEMOSTHENES: A sausage seller, and that’s who does him in.

  NICIAS: What! . . . A sausage seller? . . . Holy Poseidon,

  fancy a trade like that!

  Come on, get going. We’ve got to find the man.

  DEMOSTHENES: It’ll take some searching. . . .

  Look, there he is on the way to the market.

  What a coincidence!

  [SAUSAGEMAN appears carrying brazier and utensils.]

  Come, immortal Sausageman.

  Come, dear comrade, this way, this way, savior of our land

  and our salvation.

  SAUSAGEMAN: What’s all this? Why the salutation?

  DEMOSTHENES: Approach and learn that from now on

  you are gloriously fortunate and heaped with every blessing.

  NICIAS: Yes, yes, but relieve him of his trestle

  and tell him about the god’s oracle

  while I go and keep an eye on Paphlagon.

  [He goes into the house.]

  DEMOSTHENES: Well now, the first thing to be done

  is to put down all your paraphernalia

  and prostrate yourself before the gods.

  SAUSAGEMAN: Say, what is all this palaver?

  DEMOSTHENES: Fortunate one,

  you are rich; it is in the cards:

  a cipher today, tomorrow a giant, and master

  of Athens, that brilliant town.

  SAUSAGEMAN: I’d appreciate it, sir,

  if you’d just let me

  wash my tripe and sell my sausages

  and stop making fun of me.

  DEMOSTHENES: Tripe indeed! You mutton head!

  Just take a look over there.

  D’you see these serried ranks of stooges?

  SAUSAGEMAN: Of course I do.

  DEMOSTHENES: You’re going to boss the lot:

  market, port, Pnyx, the Assembly—bah!—you’ll tread

  it underfoot and cut

  the generals down to size;

  chain people up, put them behind bars,

  go fucking in the Town Hall.

  SAUSAGEMAN: What, me?

  DEMOSTHENES: You indeed, and that’s not all.

  Climb up on your table.

  See those islands dotted around?

  SAUSAGEMAN: I do.

  DEMOSTHENES: Isn’t that enough to make you happy? Just take a glance with your right eye towards Cairo, and swivel the other left towards Carthage.

  SAUSAGEMAN: Ooh! . . . What a pledge! . . . But I’ll be cockeyed,

  damn it!

  DEMOSTHENES: It’s all yours to buy and sell. You’ll be the biggest shot on this planet—according to the oracle.

  SAUSAGEMAN: Fine, but please explain:

  how can I ever be such—I, a sausageman?

  DEMOSTHENES: Precisely because that’s what’s going to make you

  great.

  You’re common, pushy, and off the street.

  SAUSAGEMAN: But I don’t think I’m worthy of being Mr. Big.

  DEMOSTHENES: Bullshit! How can you say you’re not worthy?

  Don’t tell me that you’re not a bad egg

  and that your family has a reputation.

  SAUSAGEMAN: Shucks, no! We’re lowest of the low.

  DEMOSTHENES: Thank God for that!

  In the rat race that’s a start.

  SAUSAGEMAN: But, sir, I have no education.

  DEMOSTHENES: Not to worry!

  Your only handicap is having no money.

  Politics, these days, is no occupation

  for an educated man, a man of character.

  Ignorance and total lousiness are better.

  Don’t jettison such god-given advantages

  and what the oracle promises.

  SAUSAGEMAN: What does the oracle promise, then?

  DEMOSTHENES: Wondrous things, in a lofty enigmatic tongue.

  [reading from the scroll ] “Amen! Amen!110

  When the hidebound eagle with his crooked claws

  Shall the clumsy bloodsucking serpent seize,

  Then shall the garlicky breath of Paphlagons expire

  And the sellers of tripe be ripe

  For divine munificence; unless of course

  Selling sausages is more

  What they require.”

  SAUSAGEMAN: But how’s all that apply to me? Explain.

  DEMOSTHENES: [pointing a finger at Cleon, who was in the audience]

  This Paphlagon here is the hidebound one.

  SAUSAGEMAN: Then who’s the one with crooked claws?

  DEMOSTHENES: Him of course!

  He grabs whatever he gets his talons on.

  SAUSAGEMAN: And the snake, who’s he?

  DEMOSTHENES: That’s obvious, too, because

  a snake is long and a sausage is long

  and both are greedy—greedy for blood,

  and the oracle says the snake will beat the bird,

  unless, of course, fiddled out of it by words.

  SAUSAGEMAN: This prophecy makes me feel real good,

  but what amazes me is the idea

  that I could ever run the country.

  DEMOSTHENES: Nothing to it, my dear sir. Just do what you are doing: make hash and salami of everything in your pantry, with sweet pickle for the People in the form of twaddle, while pursuing everything you already have or need: a rasping voice, paltry origins, and being morally a mess. You have the complete recipe for political success. On top of that, you have both Delphi and the oracle on your side.

  [holding out the garland and the goblet]

  So put the garland on,

  pour a toast to the good god Goofy

  and watch out for Paphlagon.

  SAUSAGEMAN: But who will I have to help me? The rich are all a-quiver and the poor get diarrhea.

  DEMOSTHENES: You’ll have the Knights, a thousand strong,

  who have no love for him and will cheer you on,

  and every decent upright citizen.

  Then, of course, there’s me as well,

  and every person of goodwill.

  Don’t be dismayed by the fact that the face you see

  is hardly anything like him.

  The mask makers were too jittery to make a copy.

  But you spectators are smart enough to spot him.111

  NICIAS: [ from inside the house] Hey, look out! Paphlagon’s about to emerge.

  [PAPHLAGON stomps out of the house.]

  PAPHLAGON: You’ll never get away with this, I swear

  by all the twelve Olympians:

  not a chance you’ll be able to dodge

  even with your unending machinations. . . .

  Ho ho! What’s that Chaldean goblet doing there.

  It can only mean one thing: inciting

  the Chaldeans to rebel.

  Well, you’re finished, done for, you disgusting couple.

  DEMOSTHENE
S: [as SAUSAGEMAN gets ready to run]

  Noble Sausageman, don’t run away.

  You musn’t fail us in the struggle.

  Help, men of the cavalry!

  Help in the nick of the fray!

  Simon and Panaetius,112 attack him on the right.

  Sausageman, our forces are near, come back

  and put up a fight.

  They are almost here, scattering the dust

  as they gallop to attack.

  Turn and face him, for we must

  repel and chase him.

  [The CHORUS of KNIGHTS marches into view, chanting in trochaic octameter.]

  CHORUS: Smite him, smite him, smite the villain

  who upsets our knightly clan.

  He’s the pitfall, he’s the tax man,

  he’s the most voracious suck man.

  Villain, villain, I’ll say villain,

  which he is all through the day.

  Smite him, chase him, rout him, shake him,

  and as we do, greatly hate him.

  With a battle cry attack him

  but take care in case he may

  Elude you, for this is not a

  path he doesn’t know as well as

  Eucrates113 when he skedaddled

  to his mill and got away.

  PAPHLAGON: Elders of the jury help me,

  you whom I have made my brothers,

  And to three obols upped your fee:

  you whom my bullying furthers

  Whether I be right or wrong.

  Come to my defense, for I am

  At this moment being unstrung

  by these practitioners of crime.

  CHORUS: We have every right to do so

  because you help yourself to public

  Funds for office—an abuse so

  like a man who goes to pick

  Figs and squeezes one and thereby

  discovers whether it is ripe

  Or still too green, or if nearby

  some poor rich and guileless chap

  Who’s afraid of litigation

  is a juicy one to tap;

  And even distant isolation

  isn’t safety from attack.

  With lies and slanders you’ll extract

  a person from the far Crimea

  And twist his arms behind his back

  and trip him headlong on his ear.

  PAPHLAGON: So you’re joining in the attack?

  You ought to know that it’s for you

  That I’m being battered. It’s a fact.

  I was just about to do

  You a favor and to move

  a motion making it a must

  That a statue be approved

  in timely honor of your guts.

  LEADER: What a faker! What a fraud!

  Did you notice how he did his

  Best to get us on his side

  as if to trick old doddering biddies?

  Well, that way out he’ll get the stick

  And this way, if he dares, a kick.

  PAPHLAGON: My city! My people! What kind of creatures

  Are here and now disemboweling me?

  SAUSAGEMAN: Bawl your head off: it’s your usual way

  Of intimidating our poor city.

  PAPHLAGON: Bawl I shall, and you’ll be first to get the jitters.

  LEADER: If your bawling has him crawling

  You’re the champion of the hour,

  But if he trounces you in yawling

  We’re the ones who win the wager.

  PAPHLAGON: A stake for a steak and I’ll do what it takes

  To denounce the smuggling of nautical stakes

  For the triremes of Sparta.

  SAUSAGEMAN: And I, by Zeus, will do the same

  And denounce this man who dares to come

  To our City Hall with an empty belly

  And leave it again with a bursting one.

  DEMOSTHENES: Precisely that! And he sneaks away

  With bread and meat and fish fillet:

  Titbits that even Pericles

  Was never given, if you please.

  PAPHLAGON: Submit to the fact that you are dead.

  SAUSAGEMAN: I can outshout you three times over.

  PAPHLAGON: And I’ll blast your shouts out of your head.

  SAUSAGEMAN: I’ll holler and make your shouting wither.

  PAPHLAGON: I’ll slander you—as I slander a commander.

  SAUSAGEMAN: I’ll batter your bottom, you mongrel cur.

  PAPHLAGON: I’ll swallow you up in a mighty yelp.

  SAUSAGEMAN: I’ll cut you off from your lines of escape.

  PAPHLAGON: You, who can’t look me in the face!

  SAUSAGEMAN: Very like me—we’re a common disgrace.

  PAPHLAGON: Any more lip and I’ll make you rip.

  SAUSAGEMAN: I’ll chuck you away, you dirty turd.

  PAPHLAGON: I’m ready to own I’m a thief—you aren’t.

  SAUSAGEMAN: Hermes of the market knows I’m bent.

  Caught red-handed, I’ll say it’s absurd.

  PAPHLAGON: Then you’re a thief of others’ rackets,

  And I’ll report you to the police

  For the possession of tripish titbits

  Belonging to the gods. And that’s not nice,

  Especially when you evade the tax.

  CHORUS: You lousy and you loathsome and you bold

  Bellowing rat,

  Your effrontery knows no hold,

  Filling Parliament and land,

  The fiscal and the legal system and every court.

  You trash collector plunging our city into oceans of muck

  Who has made all Athens deaf with your din

  As you scan the sea from a high rock

  Like a tuna fisher hoping to spot

  Where the tribute shoals are thick and where they are thin.

  PAPHLAGON: This conspiracy was stitched together long ago.

  SAUSAGEMAN: If you can’t stitch

  I can’t make sausages. . . . Oh,

  You’re the expert at slicing the hide

  Of a substandard ox with sleight of hand

  And making it look oh so solid and thick,

  Then selling it to farmers at a phony price;

  Yet after a day’s wear

  It somehow seems to spread.

  DEMOSTHENES: Yes, by Zeus, I got caught in the same snare: My friends and neighbors thought it very funny When my shoes turned into paddles On the way to Pergase.114

  CHORUS: [to PAPHLAGON]

  From the beginning it seems you have practiced the fiddles

  Indispensable to every politician:

  Relying on them you pick the fruit

  Off the juiciest visitors coming in

  While Hippodamus’ son115

  Looks on in tears.

  However, I am glad to say

  There is someone here

  Even slimier than you are,

  Who from the very start I think we’ll see

  Outsleaze and outclass you

  In vice, trickery, and brass.

  LEADER: [to SAUSAGEMAN]

  All right then,

  Since you were reared

  In the environment that makes men what they are,

  Explain why a decent upbringing is bizarre.

  SAUSAGEMAN: [pointing to PAPHLAGON] Fine!

  I’ll show you what it’s done for this here citizen.

  PAPHLAGON: But first listen to me.

  SAUSAGEMAN: Why should I? In sliminess I’m equal to you.

  DEMOSTHENES: If that doesn’t disarm him, then

  tell him that your forebears were slimy, too.

  PAPHLAGON: So you won’t hear me speak first?

  SAUSAGEMAN: Absolutely not!

  PAPHLAGON: Absolutely, yes!

  SAUSAGEMAN: Holy Poseidon, I’ll fight you on the spot.

  PAPHLAGON: If you don’t hear me first, I’m going to burst.

  SAUSAGEMAN: Let me repeat: I won’t.

  DEMOSTHENES:
For the gods’ sakes, let him, let him burst.

  PAPHLAGON: What makes you think you’re fit to speak against me?

  SAUSAGEMAN:116 Because I’m as good as you at making a

  mess . . . see?

  Talk of speaking, I can just see you flogging some

  dead horse of a case with grim thoroughness, thinking it a

  success.

  Well, if you ask me, most people do the same.

  You, for instance, probably waffled brilliantly

  in a grungy little lawsuit against some poor immigrant

  after spending half the night getting it by heart,

  mumbling it in the streets, forswearing drink,

  and going over it again and again among your pals

  till you were driving them up the walls.

  And all this began to make you think

  you were a stupendous rhetorician.

  You damn fool! It’s pure delusion.

  So tell us the potent brew that’s enabled you

  to strike the whole town dumb

  with the brilliance of your tongue.

  PAPHLAGON: What kind of man do you take me for?

  I’m someone who can down

  a plate of tuna steaming hot,

  chase it with a flagon of unwatered wine—

  yes, on the spot—then, what is more,

  chew those ruddy generals up at Pylos.

  SAUSAGEMAN: And for me it’s chitlins and tripe to dine on,

  chased with greasy gravy, then

  with unwashed hands to go and choke those clueless

  politicians and chew up Nicias.

  DEMOSTHENES: Most of what you’ve said is on the ball

  but I’m not so sure about that guzzling the gravy all

  by yourself.

  PAPHLAGON: [to SAUSAGEMAN]

  But I don’t see you being all gung-ho for devouring

  the Milesian big fish and sending them scattering117.

  SAUSAGEMAN: Me? I’ll just have spareribs and invest in ore.

  PAPHLAGON: And I’ll do more.

  I’ll pounce on the Assembly and give it a battering.

  SAUSAGEMAN: And I’ll stuff your arsehole like a black pudding.

  PAPHLAGON: And I’ll grab you by the rump upside down.

  DEMOSTHENES: If you grab him you’ll have to grab me, too.

  PAPHLAGON: I’ll fix you to a stake like glue.

  SAUSAGEMAN: I’ll denounce you for a cowardly clown.

  PAPHLAGON: I’ll use your carcass as hide for leather.

  SAUSAGEMAN: I’ll pluck off your eyebrows with a tweezer.

  PAPHLAGON: I’ll have your skin to make a suitcase.

  SAUSAGEMAN: I’ll turn you into mince for pies.