Get in line.

Ready!

Then off you go!

I won’t let you win by some secret trick!

By god, today my lovers will make me extremely happy or else I’ll have to keep playing the coy coquette.

Look at this! I’m the first here—I’m bringing you a chair!

But not a table—I was the first with that.

Look at this. I’ve brought you barley cake prepared by hand with grain from Pylos.

I’ve got some scooped out bread crusts. They were made by the goddess’s ivory hand.

Lady Athena, how huge your fingers are!

Get in line.

Ready!

Then off you go!

I won’t let you win by some secret trick!

By god, today my lovers will make me extremely happy or else I’ll have to keep playing the coy coquette.

Look at this! I’m the first here—I’m bringing you a chair!

But not a table—I was the first with that.

Look at this. I’ve brought you barley cake prepared by hand with grain from Pylos.

I’ve got some scooped out bread crusts. They were made by the goddess’s ivory hand.

Lady Athena, how huge your fingers are!

I have pea soup—

tasty and a splendid colour. Pallas, who fought at Pylos, stirred it herself.

O Demos, the goddess is watching you— that’s clear enough—and now above your head she holds a pot brim full of broth.

Do you think we’d still be inhabiting this city if she was not clearly holding over us a pan of broth?

And here’s a slice of fish— it’s a present to you from the goddess who strikes panic into every army.

And here is meat cooked in its own juices from the daughter of a mighty father— along with a slice of tripe and sausage.

She’s remembering the robe I gave her.

That’s nice.

The goddess of the dreadful plume bids you eat this pound cake—our ships oarsmen will row faster with these currants.

Take this, too.

What do I do with these bits of stomach?

The goddess sends these to you on purpose— to fix our ships bellies. That makes it clear

her eye is on our fleet. Have a drink now, two measures of wine and one of water.

Ah Zeus, how delicious that is—that mix of wine and water blends so perfectly.

Athena, thrice born, mixed all three parts.

Here, take this slice of rich flat-cake from me.

But from me you will get an entire cake.

But you don’t have stewed hare to give him. I do!

Damn and blast it! Where can I get a hare? Come on, brain, produce some devious trick.

You see this, you miserable devil!

I don’t give a damn. I see men coming— ambassadors bringing bags of cash to me.

Where? Where are they?

What do you care? Can’t you ever stop bothering foreigners? My dear little Demos, you see this hare— I’m bringing it for you.

You bloody cheat! You’ve stolen my stuff! That’s not fair!

Yes, I have, by Poseidon, just as you nicked those men from Pylos.

If you don’t mind my asking,

tell me this—how did you get that idea to steal the hare?

The idea is from Athena, but the theft is all my own.

I took the risk, and, in addition, I prepared the meat.

Get out of here. The one who brings the food is the only one to get my grateful thanks.

Good god, his shamelessness will conquer mine!

All right, Demos, why not judge which of us was the best to you and to your stomach?

How do I decide between the two of you,

using facts that will make the audience believe the judgment I pronounce is wise?

I’ll tell you. Don’t say a word. Go over there to my basket. Check out what’s inside it. Then, do that to the Paphlagonian’s. That’s all you need to judge correctly.

Well then, let’s see. What’s in here?

It’s empty. Can’t you see that? My dear little father, I brought everything to you.

This hamper is on the people’s side.

Now, stroll over here

to the Paphlagonian’s. Do you see?

O my, it’s full of so many good things! A huge piece of cake he’s keeping for himself! He cut off a slice and gave that to me— only this big!

That’s what he did before. He gave you a tiny part of what he took and set aside most of it for himself.

You wretch! Was that how you were cheating me, by stealing? That symbol of your office— I gave it to you. I showered you with gifts.

I did steal, but for the city’s benefit.

Take that badge off—and quickly, so that I can give it to this man.

Hand it over fast. You worthless rogue, you deserve a whipping.

No. There is a Pythian oracle which reveals the name of the only man who destiny says will overthrow me.

It spoke my name, and it was very clear.

All right. I wish to put you through a test with certain evidence, to make quite sure

you match what the god intended. And so I will start by examining who you are. As a boy, what schooling did you go through?

I was taught in the pits by being thrashed where pigs are singed.

What’s that you just said?

That oracle will give me a heart attack!

All right. What did you learn from the teacher in charge of wrestling?

Well, I learned this— when I was stealing, I looked straight ahead and told a lie.

“O Phoebus Apollo,

lord of Lycia, what will you do to me?”

When you were grown up, what was your trade?

I sold sausages and fucked a bit for cash.

My god, I’m screwed! I’m nothing anymore! But I’m still riding on one slender hope.

Tell me this—where did you sell sausages, in the market or at the city gates?

By the gates, where salted foods are sold.

Alas, The god’s oracle has been fulfilled! Roll this ill-fated wretch inside the house.

Farewell, my garland, you must now leave me. With great reluctance I abandon you.

Some other man will now take you up and will possess you—no greater thief, but perhaps a man with more good fortune.

O Zeus, god of the Greeks, this victory belongs to you.

Hail, glorious conqueror! Remember that you have become a man thanks to me. I ask for something trifling— to be your Phanos and sign your law suits.

Tell me your name.

Agoracritus— because I was raised on disagreements in the market.

Well then, I place myself in the care of Agoracritus—to him I hand over the Paphlagonian here.

Demos, I will look after you in style. You will agree you could not imagine any man more friendly to this city full of those who love to yawn and gape.

What is more beautiful than to sing

at the start or finish of our choral song of those who drive swift horses—with no jokes aimed at Lysistratus and in our hearts no deliberate wish to harm Thumantis, who has no home and craves food all the time— O dear Apollo, with many tears he clings