urn? But tell me, where are you
flying to?

IRIS I? The messenger of Zeus to mankind, I am going to tell them to
sacrifice sheep and oxen on the altars and to fill their streets with
the rich smoke of burning fat.

PISTHETAERUS Of which gods are you speaking?

IRIS Of which? Why, of ourselves, the gods of heaven.

PISTHETAERUS You, gods?

IRIS Are there others then?

PISTHETAERUS Men now adore the birds as gods, and 'tis to them, by Zeus,
that they must offer sacrifices, and not to Zeus at all!

IRIS Oh! fool! fool! Rouse not the wrath of the gods, for 'tis 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.(1)

f(1) Iris' reply is a parody of the tragic style.--'Lycimnius' is,
according to the scholiast, the title of a tragedy by Euripides, which
is about a ship that is struck by lightning.

PISTHETAERUS Here! that's enough tall talk. Just you listen and keep
quiet! Do you take me for a Lydian or a Phrygian(1) 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.(2) I shall send more
than six hundred porphyrions clothed in leopards' skins(3) 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 stretching
your legs asunder, and so conduct myself, Iris though you be, that
despite my age, you will be astonished. I will show you something that
will make you three times over.

f(1) i.e. for a poltroon, like the slaves, most of whom came to Athens
from these countries.

f(2) A parody of a passage in the lost tragedy of 'Niobe' of Aeschylus.

f(3) Because this bird has a spotted plumage.--Porphyrion is also the
name of one of the Titans who tried to storm heave.

IRIS May you perish, you wretch, you and your infamous words!

PISTHETAERUS Won't you be off quickly? Come, stretch your wings or look
out for squalls!

IRIS If my father does not punish you for your insults...

PISTHETAERUS Ha!... but just you be off elsewhere to roast younger folk
than us with your lightning.

CHORUS 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.

PISTHETAER