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A Literal Translation, with Notes.
69 pages - You are on Page 33
CHORUS. Bravo! you are the spoilt child of Fortune. Ah! our knave has found his match in another, who has far better tricks in his sack, a thousand kinds of knaveries and of wily words. But the fight begins afresh; take care not to weaken; you know that I have long been your most faithful ally.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Ah! ah! here comes the Paphlagonian! One would say, 'twas a hurricane lashing the sea and rolling the waves before it in its fury. He looks as if he wanted to swallow me up alive! Ye gods! what an impudent knave!
CLEON. To my aid, my beloved lies! I am going to destroy you, or my name is lost.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Oh! how he diverts me with his threats! His bluster makes me laugh! And I dance the mothon for joy,[83] and sing at the top of my voice, cuckoo!
CLEON. Ah! by Demeter! if I do not kill and devour you, may I die!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. If you do not devour me? and I, if I do not drink your blood to the last drop, and then burst with indigestion.
CLEON. I, I will strangle you, I swear it by the precedence which Pylos gained me.
SAUSAGE-SELLER. By the precedence! Ah! might I see you fall from your precedence into the hindmost seat!
[83] The [Greek: mothon], a rough, boisterous, obscene dance.
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