I’ll use illegal ways to block your path.

Look me right in the eye. Try not to blink.

I, too, was brought up in the marketplace.

If you make a sound, I’ll tear you apart.

Say a word and I’ll stuff your mouth with shit.

I admit I’m a thief. You don’t do that.

By Hermes of the marketplace, I do. And if anybody sees me stealing,

I just lie—perjure myself under oath.

Then you’re copying someone else’s tricks— doing what I do! And I denounce you

to the city council for possessing sacred tripe for which you’ve paid no taxes.

You’re a wretched, disreputable screamer!

The whole world is full of your impudent snorts— all meetings, all taxes, decrees, and the courts you stir up like mud and disrupt the whole town

and deafen our Athens by shouting us down.

For money from tribute you take careful stock, like spying out tuna from high on a rock.

I know what’s going on here—it’s been sliced out of an old piece of leather.

Well, if you don’t know a thing about cutting leather, then I know nothing about sausages. You’re the one who used a misleading cut to slice leather from a crappy ox hide and cheated country folk by selling it, so before they’d worn it a single day,

it had stretched and was two palm widths bigger.

Yes, by god, he did the same thing to me. It made me a huge laughing stock to friends

and neighbours. Before I’d reached Pergase, it was like I was swimming in my sandals.

And right from the start weren’t you shameless as hell, the single protection for those who speak well? Relying on your crassness you squeeze money out from strangers with cash, for you’ve got all the clout. Hippodamus’ son is watching in tears,

but now someone else I like better appears. He’s more shameless by far, and he will win through—

his impudent swindles will clearly beat you.

All right, you who were brought up in that place where men worthy of the name come from, show us now how a decent upbringing doesn’t mean a thing.

Well, then you must hear what sort of citizen this fellow is.

Will you let me speak?

No. Of course, I won’t, because I’m a low life, just like you.

If he doesn’t surrender on that point, tell him you come from a family of thieves.

Are you going to allow me to speak?

No, by god, I’m not!

Yes, by god, you will!

No, by Poseidon, I won’t. I’ll fight first to see who will speak before the other.

Bloody hell! I’m going to explode!

No, you’re not. I won’t allow it.

Let him burst, for god’s sake— let him!

And what makes you so confident you think can confront me face to face?

Because I am capable of prattling on and of cooking up some spicy sauces.

So you can speak! Bah! If some business matter— a ripped-up bloody mess—fell in your lap and you grabbed it, you’d handle it so well! O yes, you’d arrange things with such expertise! You know what I think has happened to you? Like many others, I suppose you gave a pretty speech in a petty lawsuit against some foreign resident. You rehearsed

it all night long and babbled it to yourself in the streets, slurping water, practising to friends and irritating them with it. And now you think you can speak in public.

You fool! You’ve mad!

What have you been drinking? You’ve turned the city into a place where you, all by yourself, shout everybody down and silence them.

Can you find any man to rival me? I’ll gobble up slices of hot tuna and wash that down with wine—

a full jug and unmixed—and after that I’ll bugger those generals at Pylos.

I’ll swallow a ox stomach and pig tripe and after that gulp down the sauce, as well— then without bothering to wash myself I’ll drown the politicians with my shouts and put Nicias in a tizzy.

I do like what you just said, but there is one thing I’m not happy with—you’re going to slurp all the political gravy by yourself.

But you’re not going to stuff yourself with sea bass from Miletus and later blow them off.

But I will dine on beef ribs. After that, I’ll buy up leases on some silver mines.

I’ll use force to jump into the Council— make them all panic.

I’ll stuff your arse hole— just like a sausage skin.

I’ll force you outside by your buttocks—head down through the door.

If you’re going to drag him outside, by god, then you’ll have to haul me out there, as well.

How I’ll clap you in the stocks!

I’ll denounce you as an bloody coward!

I’ll stretch your hide across my tanning bench.

I’ll skin you alive— turn you into a robber’s belly bag.

You’ll be pegged down—at full stretch on the ground.

I’ll slice you up, grind you into mincemeat.

I’ll pluck out your eyelashes.

I’ll slice your throat.

By god, we’ll force a peg inside his mouth, like cooks do with pigs, then tear out his tongue, and peer down past his gaping jaws to see

if there are any pimples up his ass.

There are things in the city, it’s clear from this case, which are hotter than fire, more full of disgrace than those scandalous speeches all over the place. This issue matters—it’s not just cheap smut, so let’s go at this man, twist him by his butt— no room for half measures now we’ve grabbed his gut.

If you wear him down now with a thrashing, you’ll find he’s a coward. I know his style.

He’s been that sort of fellow all his life,

but these days he thinks he’s a real man for harvesting someone else’s grain crop. And now he’s tied that crop up in prison, the ears of grain he carried back from there— he’s drying them out and wants to sell them.

I’m not afraid of you, not while the Senate is alive and kicking and the people just sit around looking like total fools.

Whatever happens he has no shame. His colour always remains the same.

If you’re not a fellow that I despise, let me be spread out under the thighs of Cratinus as his piss-soaked fleece,

or may I be taught to sing a piece by Morsimus, some tragical song. You pest, you’re always buzzing along, searching about all around the town, wherever you go, and settling down on bribery blooms. O may you please vomit mouthfuls of cash with the same ease

you swallowed them down—for then I would sing “Drink, let us drink—it’s such a good thing!”

And Ulius, I think, who checks grain, too, and keeps his eye cruising for lads to screw, would sing out to Bacchus, “O god, thank you.”

By Poseidon, you will not outdo me in shamelessness. If you do, may I never have any part of those offerings of meat to Zeus, god of our public meeting place!

And I swear by the many fists whose thrashings

I’ve had so often since I was a kid and by the cuts from butcher’s knives, I know in this business I will outperform you. If not, there’d be no point in being so large after eating nothing but finger wipes.

You mean bread for wiping hands, just like a dog? You silly fool, on a diet of dog food how will you battle a dog-faced baboon?

By god, my youth has taught me other tricks. I’d swindle the butchers by saying things like,

“Hey lads, take a look. You see that swallow? Springtime is here!” And when they’d look up, right then I’d snatch off some of their meat.

O cleverest of men! You planned that well— like those who eat nettles, you stole your meat before the swallows came.

And I did it without being noticed! If one of them saw, I’d hide the stuff—shove it in my butt crack and swear by the gods I’d done nothing wrong. When some politician saw what I did,

he said, “There’s no doubt about it—this child is someone who will rule the people.”

What he said was right. And it’s very clear what led him to arrive at that opinion— you could steal, perjure yourself, and shove meat way up your ass.

I’ll stop this man’s insolence— or rather, I’ll put an end to both of you. I’ll come at the two of you, sweeping down

with a driving mighty wind, confounding land and sea into a common chaos.

Then I’ll haul in the sausages and let myself sail along before the friendly breeze, while telling you to wail and howl away.

I’ll watch out for the bilges, just in case we start to spring a leak.

By Demeter, you’re not going to get away with stealing so many talents from the Athenians!

Keep your eyes peeled! Ease off on the sail rope! There’s a north-east wind starting to blow in a storm of accusations!

I understand you took ten talents from Potidaea.

What about it? Would you like one talent to keep your mouth shut?

He’d be happy to!

Slacken the main brace! The wind’s easing off.

You’ll be charged [with bribery]—four lawsuits— each one carries a hundred talent fine.

You’ll be charged with twenty for skipping out on military service—and thousands more for theft.

I claim you are a descendant of those who carried out a sacrilege

against our goddess.

And your grandfather, I proclaim, was one of the bodyguards . . .

What bodyguards? Tell us.

. . . to Bursina, who was wife of Hippias the tyrant.

You’re a total rogue!

And you’re a scoundrel.

Hit him! Give him a hefty swipe!

Oooowww! That hurts! These conspirators are assaulting me!

Hit him as hard as you can! And lash him on the stomach with your tripe and guts. Punch him in that paunch of his!

You brave heart!

The noblest of all slabs of meat! You show up as a saviour for our city and for us, its citizens—how well, how brilliantly your speeches have demoralized that man. What praise for you can match the joy we feel?

Hit him! Give him a hefty swipe!

Oooowww! That hurts! These conspirators are assaulting me!

Hit him as hard as you can! And lash him on the stomach with your tripe and guts. Punch him in that paunch of his!

You brave heart!

The noblest of all slabs of meat! You show up as a saviour for our city and for us, its citizens—how well, how brilliantly your speeches have demoralized that man. What praise for you can match the joy we feel?

By Demeter, I was not unaware of this conspiracy they were framing I knew what they were nailing together and hammering into one—the whole scheme!

And I’m not unaware of what you’re doing

in Argos. He pretends he’s making Argives our friends, but he’s negotiating there with Spartans—one of his private deals.

Come on, aren’t you going to use any words to match his language from the building trades?

And I know why the bellows are blowing— they’re forging something for the prisoners.

Good! O that’s good! His carpentry answered