Hark me—when I seem to doze,
When my wearied eyelids close,
Then they think their tricks are hid;
But beneath the drooping lid
Still I keep a corner left,
Tracing every secret theft:
I shall match them by-and-by,
All the rogues you think so sly."—(F.)
The two candidates for office now run in from different directions, meeting and nearly upsetting each other, laden with trays of delicacies to tempt the master's appetite.
"Dem. Well, truly, indeed, I shall be feasted rarely;
My courtiers and admirers will quite spoil me.
Cleon. There, I'm the first, ye see, to bring ye a chair.
B.-P.-S. But a table—here, I've brought it first and foremost.
Cleon. See here, this little half-meal cake from Pylos,
Made from the flour of victory and success.
B.-P.-S. But here's a cake! see here! which the heavenly goddess
Patted and flatted herself, with her ivory hand,
For your own eating.
Dem. Wonderful, mighty goddess!
What an awfully large hand she must have had!"—(F.)
Ragouts, pancakes, fritters, wine, rich cake, hare-pie, are all tendered him in succession. This last is brought by Cleon; but the other cunningly directs his attention to some foreign envoys, whom he declares he sees coming with bags of gold; and while Cleon runs to pounce upon the money, he gets possession of the pie, and presents it as his own offering—"Just as you did the prisoners from Pylos, you know." Demus
