PEISTHETAERUS Why in the world have you whirled your splay foot hither?
CINESIAS (singing.) To be a bird, a bird, I long, A nightingale of thrilling song.
PEISTHETAERUS O stop that singing; prithee speak in prose.
CINESIAS O give me wings, that I may soar on high, And pluck poetic fancies from the clouds, Wild as the whirling winds, and driving snows.
PEISTHETAERUS What, do you pluck your fancies from the clouds?
CINESIAS Why our whole trade depends upon the clouds; What are our noblest dithyrambs but things Of air, and mist, and purple-gleaming depths, And feathery whirlwings? You shall hear, and judge.
PEISTHETAERUS No, no, I won’t.
CINESIAS By Heracles you shall. I’ll go through all the air, dear friend, for you. (Singing.) Shadowy visions of
CINESIAS Wing-spreading, air-treading, Taper-necked birds.
PEISTHETAERUS Steady, there!
CINESIAS (Singing.) Bounding along on the path to the seas, Fain would I float on the stream of the breeze.
PEISTHETAERUS O by the Powers, I’ll stop your streams and breezes.
CINESIAS (Singing.) First do I stray on a southerly way; Then to the northward my body I bear, Cutting a harbourless furrow of air. A nice trick that, a pleasant trick, old man.
PEISTHETAERUS O you don’t like being feathery-whirl-winged, do you?
CINESIAS That’s how you treat the Cyclian-chorus-trainer For whose possession all the tribes compete!
PEISTHETAERUS Well, will you stop and train a chorus here For Leotrophides, all flying birds,
CINESIAS Crake-oppidans?
CINESIAS You’re jeering me, that’s plain. But I won’t stop, be sure of that, until I get me wings, and peragrate the air.
SYCOPHANT (singing.) Who be these on varied wing, birds who have not anything? O tell me, swallow, tell me, tell me true, O long-winged bird, O bird of varied hue!
PEISTHETAERUS Come, it’s no joke, this plague that’s broken out; Here comes another, warbling like the rest.
SYCOPHANT (Singing.) Again I ask thee, tell me, tell me true, O long-winged bird, O bird of varied hue!
PEISTHETAERUS At his own cloke his catch appears to point; More than one swallow fat requires, I’m thinking.
SYCOPHANT Which is the man that wings the visitors?
PEISTHETAERUS He stands before you. What do you please to want?
SYCOPHANT Wings, wings I want. You need not ask me twice.
PEISTHETAERUS Is it Pellene that you’re going to fly to?
SYCOPHANT No, no: but I’m a sompnour for the Isles, Informer,—
PEISTHETAERUS O the jolly trade you’ve got!
SYCOPHANT And law-suit-hatcher; so I want the wings To scare the cities, serving writs all round.
PEISTHETAERUS You’ll summon them more cleverly, I suppose, To the tune of wings?
SYCOPHANT No, but to dodge the pirates, I then come flying homeward with the cranes, First swallowing down a lot of suits for ballast.
PEISTHETAERUS Is this your business? you, a sturdy youngster, Live by informing on the stranger-folk?
SYCOPHANT What can I do? I never learnt to dig.
PEISTHETAERUS O, but by Zeus, there’s many an honest calling Whence men like you can earn a livelihood, By means more suitable than hatching suits.
SYCOPHANT Come, come, no preaching; wing me, wing me, please.
PEISTHETAERUS I wing you now by talking.
SYCOPHANT What, by talk Can you wing men?
PEISTHETAERUS Undoubtedly. By talk All men are winged.
SYCOPHANT All!
PEISTHETAERUS Have you never heard The way the fathers in the barbers’ shops Talk to the children, saying things like these, “Diitrephes has winged my youngster By specious talk, he’s all for chariot-driving.” “Aye,” says another, “and that boy of mine Flutters his wings at every Tragic Play.”
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