No More Learning

Ah! by Posidon! what a fine trade! But where
can this man be found?

DEMOSTHENES. Let us seek him.

NICIAS. Lo! there he is, going towards the market-place; 'tis the gods,
the gods who send him!

DEMOSTHENES. This way, this way, oh, lucky sausage-seller, come forward,
dear friend, our saviour, the saviour of our city.

SAUSAGE-SELLER. What is it? Why do you call me?

DEMOSTHENES.
Come here, come and learn about your good luck, you who are
Fortune's favourite!

NICIAS. Come! Relieve him of his basket-tray and tell him the oracle of
the god; I will go and look after the Paphlagonian.

DEMOSTHENES. First put down all your gear, then worship the earth and the
gods.

SAUSAGE-SELLER. 'Tis done. What is the matter?

DEMOSTHENES. Happiness, riches, power; to-day you have nothing, to-morrow
you will have all, oh! chief of happy Athens.

SAUSAGE-SELLER. Why not leave me to wash my tripe and to sell my sausages
instead of making game of me?

DEMOSTHENES. Oh!