DEMOSTHENES. You really want to know?
NICIAS. Yes.
DEMOSTHENES. Well then! 'tis a sausage-seller who must overthrow him.
NICIAS. A sausage-seller! 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.