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! the fool! Your tripe! Do you see these tiers of people?[23]
SAUSAGE-SELLER. Yes.
DEMOSTHENES. You shall be master to them all, governor of the market, of the harbours, of the Pnyx; you shall trample the Senate under foot, be able to cashier the generals, load them with fetters, throw them into gaol, and you will play the debauchee in the Prytaneum.[24]
SAUSAGE-SELLER. What! I?
DEMOSTHENES. You, without a doubt. But you do not yet see all the glory awaiting you. Stand on your basket and look at all the islands that surround Athens.[25]
SAUSAGE-SELLER. I see them. What then?