No More Learning

If I am not to-day the happiest of men, 'tis
because I shall be the most disgusted.

CLEON. Look! 'tis I who am the first to bring you a seat.

SAUSAGE-SELLER. And I a table.

CLEON. Hold, here is a cake kneaded of Pylos barley. [127]

SAUSAGE--SELLER. Here are crusts, which the ivory hand of the goddess has
hallowed. [128]

DEMOS. Oh! Mighty Athene! How large are your fingers!

CLEON.
This is pea-soup, as exquisite as it is fine; 'tis Pallas the
victorious goddess at Pylos who crushed the peas herself.

SAUSAGE-SELLER. Oh, Demos! the goddess watches over you; she is
stretching forth over your head . . . a stew-pan full of broth.

DEMOS. And should we still be dwelling in this city without this
protecting stew-pan?

CLEON. Here are some fish, given to you by her who is the terror of our
foes.

SAUSAGE-SELLER. The daughter of the mightiest of the gods sends you this
meat cooked in its own gravy, along with this dish of tripe and some
paunch.

DEMOS. 'Tis to thank me for the Peplos I offered to her; 'tis well.

CLEON.