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Rh

I always liked to follow some one else:

Suppose we join and dance?

Why, so say I.

[They join the Dance.

[These verses satirise Archedêmus, the politician, who has never succeeded in making out a clear Athenian pedigree for himself; Cleisthenes, who went into mourning for imaginary relatives lost at Arginusae; and Callias, the lady-killer, who professed a descent from Heracles, and wore a lion-skin in token thereof.

Perhaps 'twill best beseem us

To deal with Archedêmus,

Who is toothless still and rootless, at seven years from birth:

Yet he leads the public preachers

Of those poor dead upper creatures,

And is prince of all the shadiness on earth!

And Cleisthenes, says rumour,

In a wild despairing humour

Sits huddled up and tearing out his hair among the graves.