Soc. It becomes the old man to speak words of good omen,
and to hearken to my prayer. O sovereign King,
immeasurable Air, who keepest the earth suspended, and
through bright Aether, and ye august goddesses, the
Clouds, sending thunder and lightning, arise, appear in
the air, O mistresses, to your deep thinker!

Strep. Not yet, not yet, till I wrap this around me lest
I be wet through. To think of my having come from home
without even a cap, unlucky man!

Soc. Come then, ye highly honoured Clouds, for a display
to this man. Whether ye are sitting upon the sacred
snow-covered summits of Olympus, or in the gardens of
Father Ocean form a sacred dance with the Nymphs, or
draw in golden pitchers the streams of the waters of the
Nile, or inhabit the Maeotic lake, or the snowy rock of
Mimas, hearken to our prayer, and receive the sacrifice,
and be propitious to the sacred rites.

[The following song is heard at a distance, accompanied
by loud claps of thunder.]

Chorus. Eternal Clouds! Let us arise to view with our
dewy, clear-bright nature, from loud-sounding Father
Ocean to the wood-crowned summits of the lofty
mountains, in order that we may behold clearly the
far-seen watch-towers, and the fruits, and the
fostering, sacred earth, and the rushing sounds of the
divine rivers, and the roaring, loud-sounding sea; for
the unwearied eye of Aether sparkles with glittering
rays. Come, let us shake off the watery cloud from our
immortal forms and survey the earth with far-seeing eye.

Soc. O ye greatly venerable Clouds, ye have clearly
heard me when I called.

[Turning to Strepsiades.]

Did you hear the voice, and the thunder which bellowed
at the same time, feared as a god?

Strep. I too worship you, O ye highly honoured, and am
inclined to reply to the thundering, so much do I
tremble at them and am alarmed. And whether it be
lawful, or be not lawful, I have a desire just now to
ease myself.

Soc. Don't scoff, nor do what these poor-devil-poets do,
but use words of good omen, for a great swarm of
goddesses is in motion with their songs.

Cho. Ye rain-bringing virgins, let us come to the
fruitful land of Pallas, to view the much-loved country
of Cecrops, abounding in brave men; where is reverence