The Birds [19]
Are there others then?
PITHETAERUS
Men now adore the birds as gods, and it's to them, by Zeus, that
they must offer sacrifices, and not to Zeus at all!
IRIS (in tragic style)
Oh! fool! fool! fool! Rouse not the wrath of the gods, for it is
terrible indeed. Armed with the brand of Zeus, justice would
annihilate your race; the lightning would strike you as it did
Licymnius and consume both your body and the porticos of your palace.
PITHETAERUS
Here! that's enough tall talk. Just you listen and keep quiet!
Do you take me for a Lydian or a Phrygian and think to frighten me
with your big words? Know, that if Zeus worries me again, I shall go
at the head of my eagles, who are armed with lightning, and reduce his
dwelling and that of Amphion to cinders. I shall send more than six
hundred porphyrions clothed in leopards' skins up to heaven against
him; and formerly a single Porphyrion gave him enough to do. As for
you, his messenger, if you annoy me, I shall begin by getting
between your thighs, and even though you are Iris, you will be
surprised at the erection the old man can produce; it's three times as
good as the ram on a ship's prow!
IRIS
May you perish, you wretch, you and your infamous words!
PITHETAERUS
Won't you get out of here quickly? Come, stretch your wings or
look out for squalls!
IRIS
If my father does not punish you for your insults...
(The Machine takes IRIS away.)
PITHETAERUS
Ha!... but just you be off elsewhere to roast younger folk than us
with your lightning.
CHORUS (singing)
We forbid the gods, the sons of Zeus, to pass through our city and
the mortals to send them the smoke of their sacrifices by this road.
PITHETAERUS
It's odd that the messenger we sent to the mortals has never
returned.
(The HERALD enters, wearing a golden garland on his head.)
HERALD
Oh! blessed Pithetaerus, very wise, very illustrious, very
gracious, thrice happy, very...Come, prompt me, somebody, do
PITHETAERUS
Get to your story!
HERALD
All peoples are filled with admiration for your wisdom, and they
award you this golden crown.
PITHETAERUS
I accept it. But tell me, why do the people admire me?
HERALD
Oh you, who have founded so illustrious a city in the air, you
know not in what esteem men hold you and how many there are who burn
with desire to dwell in it. Before your city was built, all men had
a mania for Sparta; long hair and fasting were held in honour, men
went dirty like Socrates and carried staves. Now all is changed.
Firstly, as soon as it's dawn, they all spring out of bed together
to go and seek their food, the same as you do; then they fly off
towards the notices and finally devour the decrees. The bird-madness
is so clear that many actually bear the names of birds. There is a
halting victualler, who styles himself the partridge; Menippus calls
himself the swallow; Opuntius the one-eyed crow; Philocles the lark;
Theogenes the fox-goose; Lycurgus the ibis; Chaerephon the bat;
Syracosius the magpie; Midias the quail; indeed he looks like a
quail that has been hit hard on the head. Out of love for the birds
they repeat all the songs which concern the swallow, the teal, the
goose or the pigeon; in each verse you see wings, or at all events a
few feathers. This is what is happening down there. Finally, there are
more than ten thousand folk who are coming here from earth to ask
you for feathers and hooked claws; so, mind you supply yourself with
wings for the immigrants.
PITHETAERUS
Ah! by Zeus, there's no time for idling. (To some slaves) Go as
quick as possible and fill every hamper, every basket you can find
with wings. Manes will bring them to me outside the walls, where I
will welcome those who present themselves.
CHORUS (Singing)
This town will soon be inhabited