SAUSAGE-SELLER. That's easily done; come, let's along without delay.
CLEON. Oh, Demos! Come, I adjure you to help me, my father!
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Come, oh, my dear little Demos; come and see how I am insulted.
DEMOS. What a hubbub! To the Devil with you, bawlers! alas! my olive branch, which they have torn down![84] Ah! 'tis you, Paphlagonian. And who, pray, has been maltreating you?
CLEON. You are the cause of this man and these young people having covered me with blows.
DEMOS. And why?
CLEON Because you love me passionately, Demos.
DEMOS. And you, who are you?
SAUSAGE-SELLER. His rival. For many a long year have I loved you, have I wished to do you honour, I and a crowd of other men of means. But this rascal here has prevented us. You resemble those young men who do not know where to choose their lovers; you repulse honest folk; to earn your favours, one has to be a lamp-seller, a cobbler, a tanner or a currier.