Keep after him! Don’t give him any peace! Show you hate that man as much as we do, and shout out as you swarm all over him! Take care he doesn’t get away from you. He knows the alleyways Eucrates took to scurry off back to the marketplace.

You old jurymen, my three-obol brothers, whom I nourish with my raucous shouting

of just and unjust things, help me out now! I’m being lambasted by conspirators.

And justly so! Because you gobble up public funds before you’re picked for office, and when state officers submit accounts, you squeeze them, as if you were picking figs to see which ones are green and hard, or ripe,

or not yet fully seasoned. And what’s more, you keep your eye peeled for any citizen who’s stupid as a sheep but has money

and who’s terrified of public business, and if you find one, some simple fool who avoids all politics, you haul him back from the Chersonese, then wrap him up in slanders, hook his knees, twist his shoulder, fall all over him, and swallow him up.

You’re attacking me as well? But, my good men, it’s because of you I’m being beaten up— I was just on the point of proposing we ought to set up a memorial

to your bravery here in the city.

O you impostor! You slippery rogue! See how he sweet talks and swindles us, as if we were senile old men? But if

he jumps this way, I’ll thump him with this fist. If he slips down here my legs will kick him.

O you people! O city! Look at this— savage beasts are pummelling my belly.

Ah, are you now rabble-rousing, the way you always do when bullying the city?

With this loud voice of mine I’ll make a start by forcing you to run away.

If your shouting defeats him, then bully for you—you win. But if his shamelessness surpasses yours, then the victory cake belongs to us.

I denounce this man. I claim he smuggles soup out to the Peloponnesian warships!

And I, by god, am accusing this man

of running into the Prytaneum with an empty stomach, then coming out

with his guts crammed full.

That’s right, by god. And he carries off prohibited stuff— bread, meat, slices of fried fish. The people never considered Pericles worthy of that honour.

The two of you will die— right on the spot!

I’ll keep on screaming out three times as loud as you!

I’ll yell so loud I’ll drown out your noise!

And when I bellow, your hollering will cease.

If you become a general, I’ll smear your name with dirt.

I’ll thrash your back, as if you were a dog.

I’ll skin you alive with false accusations.