from The Clouds,
* Lines 1036-1111, * Translator anonymous, *
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Page 4
JUSΤ. Suppose your pupil, following your advice, gets the radish
rammed up his arse and then is depilated with a hot coal; how are you
going to prove to him that he is not a broad-arse?
UNJ. What's the matter with being a broad-arse?
JUSΤ. Is there anything worse than that?
UNJ. Now what will you say, if I beat you even on this point?
JUSΤ. I should certainly have to be silent then.
UNJ. Well then, reply! Our advocates, what are they?
JUSΤ. Sons of broad-arses.
UNJ. Nothing is more true. And our tragic poets?
JUSΤ. Sons of broad-arses.
UNJ. Well said again. And our demagogues?
JUSΤ. Sons of broad-arses.
UNJ. You admit that you have spoken nonsense. And the spectators, what
are they for the most part? Look at them.