Dem. How strange it is! Themistocles was reckoned mighty clever;
With all his wit he could not hit on such a project ever;
Such a device! so warm! so nice! in short it equals fairly
His famous wall, with port and all, that he contrived so rarely."—(F.)
Not to be outdone in such attentions, Cleon offers his cloak, to keep his master from the cold; but Demus, who is already turning his fickle affections towards his new flatterer, rejects it—it stinks so abominably of leather, "That's it," says the other; "he wants to poison you; he tried it once before!"
The old gentleman has made up his mind that the new claimant is his best friend, and desires the Paphlagonian to give up his seal of office. The discarded minister begs that at least his employer will listen to some new oracles which he has to communicate. They promise that he shall be sovereign of all Greece, and sit crowned with roses. The new man declares that he has oracles too—plenty of them; and they promise that he shall rule not Greece alone, but Thrace, and wear a golden crown and robe of spangles. So both rush off to fetch their documents, while the Chorus break into a chant of triumph, as they prognosticate the fall of the great Demagogue before the antagonist who thus beats him at his own weapons.
The rivals return, laden with rolls of prophecy. Cleon declares he has a trunkful more at home; the Black-pudding-man has a garret and two outhouses full of them. They proceed to read the most absurd
