University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Pisthetærus, Chorus, and Messenger.
Pisthetærus.
All speeds, ye birds, right fairly with our sacrifice.
But from the walls how chances there is come
No herald to tell us how things there proceed?
But lo! here runneth one, breathing Alphæus!

Messenger.
Where, where, where, where, where, where's he, where; where, where's he, where,
Where is our archon, Pisthetærus?

Pisthetærus.
Here.

Messenger.
Our wall is built.

Pisthetærus.
'Tis well; thou sayest well.

Messenger.
A work most beautiful and most magnificent!
So that Proxenides of Bragland, and
Theagenes, if their cars should meet, with horses
Large as the Wooden, might drive past each other,—
So spacious is the breadth.

Pisthetærus.
O Hercules!

Messenger.
And for the length, I measured it myself,
An hundred cubits.

Pisthetærus.
Neptune! what a size!
And who are they that built it of such bulk?

Messenger.
Birds, not a soul beside: Ægyptian none,
Bricklayer or stone-mason or carpenter;
But the birds with their own hands; that 'twas marvelous!
From Libya came about three myriad cranes,
Who had swallow'd stones for the foundation; these
The cornrails with their beaks did chip and hew.
The storks, another myriad, bare the bricks;
While water to the air from underneath
Was brought by sea-larks and each river-bird.

Pisthetærus.
And who with mortar serv'd them?

Messenger.
Herons with hods.

Pisthetærus.
And how did they the mortar throw therein?

Messenger.
That too was managed, sir, most dexterously;
For by their feet the geese with understroke
As 'twere with trowels cast it in the hods.

Pisthetærus.
O what may not by help of feet be done!

Messenger.
Ay, and the drakes, by Jove, with aprons tuck'd up,
Bare bricks; and after them, like serving lads,
Flew up with cement in their mouths, the swallows.

Pisthetærus.
Who now would pay hired labourers for his work?
But let me see: the timber work o'th'wall,
Who wrought at that?

Messenger.
Those carpenter fowls, the hickwalls,
Who with their beaks did hack the gates out workmanly,
And of their hacking the like sound arose
As in a dock-yard. And now all's complete,
Gates, bars, and bolts; all strictly guarded round;
Watch visited, and larums pass'd; and sentinels
Set every where, and beacons on the towers.
But now must I run off and wash me. Meanwhile
Thyself look to the rest.

Chorus.
Well, sir, how now?
Dost not admire how expeditiously our wall
Hath been erected?

Pisthetærus.
Yea, by the Gods do I,
And most deservedly; for it all, in sooth,
Doth seem like falsehoods to me. But hitherward
A guard, as seems, from thence despatch'd, a messenger,
Comes running towards us, looking fierce defiance.

SCENE II.

Pisthetærus, Chorus, and another Messenger.
Messenger.
Oh! Oh! Alas! Alas!

Pisthetærus.
What hap hath chanced?

Messenger.
Ill, ill; most direful chance:
For some one of the Gods, that are with Jove,
E'en now, escaping through our gates, hath flown
Down into th'air, unnoticed by our guard,
The jackdaws, station'd there for daily watch.

Pisthetærus.
Which of the Gods?

Messenger.
We know not; but that 'twas
One who hath wings, thus much we know.

Pisthetærus.
Behoved not
To send forth scouts against them straight?

Messenger.
That did we;
Sent out three myriad hawks, equestrian bowyers;
Them, each one, arm'd with crooked talon, joins,
Owl, buzzard, vulture, eagle, falcon, kite;
With clang and winnowing and rush of wings,
All ether is turmoil'd, while they the God
Are seeking, who methinks is not far off,
But somewhere hereabout lurks even now.

Pisthetærus.
Must we not then make ready slings and bows?
Haste hither all in battailous array;
Draw each his bow; and reach me swift a sling.

Chorus.
War is afoot, unspeakable war,
Waged between me and heaven.
Ye, every one, watch well around
The air with cloudy girdle bound,
Whom Erebus to light did bring;
Lest any of the Gods by stealth
Passing this way escape.
And every one fling round a glance
Of eager vigilance.
For now, as from some deity sailing near,
A winged sound of whirling meets mine ear.

SCENE III.

Pisthetærus, Chorus, Iris.
Pisthetærus.
Hilloah! thou! whither, whither in such haste?
Halt; stay thy flight; stand where thou art; advance not.
Who art thou? whence? thou shouldst have told ere now.

Iris.
From the Gods, I, th'Olympians.

Pisthetærus.
What thy name?
Vessel or herald's cap?

Iris.
Iris the swift.

Pisthetærus.
Paralus or Salaminian?

Iris.
Why? what's here?

Pisthetærus.
Will not some buzzard fly and seize her?

Iris.
Me?
Seize me? And what, the mischief! means all this?

Pisthetærus.
O thou shalt have it soundly.

Iris.
Strange this! Strange!

Pisthetærus.
Through what gates hast thou come within our wall,
Thou most audacious?

Iris.
I know not, I, by Jove,
Thorough what gates.

Pisthetærus.
Heard'st thou that, how she scoffs us?
Didst go to th'captain's guard of jackdaws? hast thou
The signet from the storks? Sayst?

Iris.
What? the mischief!

Pisthetærus.
Didst take it?

Iris.
Art i'thy senses?

Pisthetærus.
Nor did none
O'th'birds that are in command pass thee the sign?

Iris.
By Jove, wretch! none.

Pisthetærus.
And dost thou then in silence
Fly through a foreign state and chaos thus?

Iris.
What other way should the Gods fly?

Pisthetærus.
That, by Jupiter,
Is more than I can tell; but not by this.
And thou'rt e'en now on trespass. Know'st thou not
Of all the Irises that ever were,
None ever was more justly doom'd to die
Than thou, being ta'en thus, if thou'dst thy desert?

Iris.
But I am deathless.

Pisthetærus.
Yet thou shouldst have died.
For 'twere intolerable methinks if we
O'er others ruled, and you Gods lived as rebels,
Nor should acknowledge that to us in turn
Allegiance must be paid, as to your betters.
But tell me whither are thy pennons bound?

Iris.
Mine? From the Father down to men,—to bid them
Do sacrifice unto the Olympian Gods,
Slay victims on our sacrificial shrines,
And steam the ways with fat.

Pisthetærus.
To what Gods sayst thou?

Iris.
To what? To us, the Gods in heav'n.

Pisthetærus.
Ye! Gods?

Iris.
And who is God beside?

Pisthetærus.
The birds to men
Are now the Gods, to whom they must do sacrifice;
But, by Jove, not to Jove.

Iris.
Fool! fool! beware
How thou dost stir the terrible mind o'th'Gods,
Lest all the generation of ye doom'd
To ruin, justice with Jove's spade upset,
And sooty blaze thy body, house and all,
Resolve to ashes with Licymnian bolts.

Pisthetærus.
Hearken thyself. No more of this wild rant:
Be still: for whether dost thou think to scare
Some Lydian slave or Phrygian with these bugbears?
Know'st thou if Jove shall anger me yet more,
That I his roofs and houses of Amphion
Will with fire-bearing eagles burn to ashes?
And up to heav'n flamingos will I send,
Porphyrion fowls against him, and all cased
In leopard's skins, more than six thousand of them.
He knows how one Porphyrion plagued him once.
And thou, if thou shalt anger me a whit,
Shalt try an old man's prowess, my coy lady.
So shalt thou wonder enough, young mistress Wonder!

Iris.
Thou and thy words be split. Confusion to thee!

Pisthetærus.
Whew! whew! wilt not be off? wilt not whirr with thee?

Iris.
If my father doth not make thee smart for this—

Pisthetærus.
Gramercy, madam: to some younger spark;
And him resolve to ashes an thou wilt.

Chorus.
Aloud we declare
That of Jupiter's Gods
None henceforth should dare
To pass our abodes.
Nor in sacrifice
Let a mortal again
Presume from his fane
To send any incense this way to the skies.

SCENE IV.

Pisthetærus, Chorus, Herald.
Pisthetærus.
Strange if this herald we have sent to men
Should ne'er return again! But here he comes.

Herald.
O Pisthetærus, excellent Pisthetærus!
O thou discreetest, wisest, famousest, most blest!
O bid all here give hearing.

Pisthetærus.
Well! What sayst?

Herald.
Thee with a crown of gold do crown and honour
All people for thy wisdom's sake.

Pisthetærus.
Accepted.
But wherefore honour me the people thus?

Herald.
O thou, that hast a city most illustrious
Founded i'th'air, thou know'st not all the glory
Thou'st gain'd from mortals, nor how many lovers
Thou of this place hast won; for till the founding
Of this state all were Lacedæmon-mad,
Wore tresses long, kept fast, went filthily,
Acted to the life the part of Socrates,
Bare Spartan staffs; but now they have turn'd about,
And are grown bird-crazy; mimicking through pleasure
Whate'er the birds do. First, as soon as day dawns,
All fly together to the courts, like us;
And in a herd they flutter to the leaves,
And peck and feed away upon decrees
Most lustily. Nay, to such a pitch of frenzy
Is this bird-mania grown, that many of them
Have got fowl names: one fellow, a limping vintner,
Is nicknamed Partridge; and as to Menippus,
He is entitled Swallow; Opuntius
Is Raven the one-eyed; Philocles, Lark;
Theagenes, Barnacle; Lycurgus, Stork;
Chærephon, Bat; and Syracosius, Magpie.
For Midias, he is known there commonly
By th'name of Quail, since he's most like a quail
That by a game-cock has been maul'd and batter'd.
Then for the songs they all sing, not one's made
Without some swallow in it, or some widgeon,
Or may be goose or stockdove; or at least
They manage to bring in something about wings
Or pinions, be it never such a scrap.
So matters go on there. But I can tell you
One thing; that we shall have ten thousand of them,
Or upwards, coming here to beg for wings
And talons; so that from some where or other
Wings must be had for these new colonists.

Pisthetærus.
By Jove, then, we've no business to stand here.
Quick, quick; as many baskets as thou find'st,
And all the boxes, fill brimfull of wings.
Let Manes fetch the wings out. I meantime
Shall be ready to receive them as they come.

Chorus.
Our city soon may bear the style
Of populous.

Pisthetærus.
So Fortune smile.

Chorus.
The ardour for our city grows.

Pisthetærus.
Bestir thee; for no time's to lose.

Chorus.
What is not here that men seek most
Who settle on a foreign coast?
Wisdom and Love; the Graces three;
Ambrosia, and Tranquillity,
Breathing from her gentle face
Holy calm around the place.

Pisthetærus.
How sluggishly thy work is done!
Wilt thou not budge? Wilt thou not run?

Chorus.
Bear some one quick a pannier full
Of wings. This fellow is too dull.
Go thou, and make him stir for us,
The doltish ass—lay on him thus.

Pisthetærus.
Right, 'tis but Manes; never spare:
The coward slave was made to bear.

Chorus.
First lay the wings in order all;
Together place the musical;
Next the prophetic; and last these
Adapted to the billowy seas.
Then carefully each comer scan,
And dress in fitting plumes the man.

Pisthetærus.
Yea, by the screech-owls, but I can hold off
No longer, seeing thee so slack and lubberly.

[Beats Manes.

SCENE V.

Pisthetærus, Chorus, and a Parricide.
Parricide.
‘Oh for an eagle's lofty pinion
To bear me with supreme dominion
O'er the blue barren ocean's swell!’

Pisthetærus.
Well, our reporter seems to have been no false one.
Here's one hath set the eagle to a tune.

Parricide.
O what's so sweet as flying? I'm fall'n in love
With the birds' polity. I'm downright bird-mad.
I feel a fluttering. I've a longing wish
To dwell with you, a vehement coveting for
Your laws.

Pisthetærus.
What laws? for the birds' laws are many.

Parricide.
All, all; but most because by them 'tis honourable
To throttle one's own father.

Pisthetærus.
True, by Jove;
They judge it very manly, at the least,
If one, being a chick, hath struck its father.

Parricide.
This is the reason of my settling with you.
I long to throttle my father, and have all.

Pisthetærus.
But we've an ancient law among the birds
('Tis in the tablet of the storks inscribed),
Whenso the father-stork hath nourish'd all
His young, and made them able to take wing,
That they in turn must yield their father nourishment.

Parricide.
A pretty journey then I've made, by Jove!
If all I've got by coming is, that I
Must feed my father.

Pisthetærus.
Nay, not so; for since
Thou'rt come, poor fellow, with good will here, we
Will as an orphan fledge thee. I've besides,
Young sir, some counsel for thee, which thou'lt find
Not ill, such as my younger days have taught me.
Smite not thy father. But here, take this wing;
And in the other hand this spur: believe
Thou hast a cock's crest on; disgrace it not;
Keep watch; serve bravely; be thy pay thy sustenance;
And for thy father, let him live: but since
Thou art for battling, fly away to Thrace,
And there fight.

Parricide.
This sounds well, at least, by Bacchus!
And I'll e'en do't.

Pisthetærus.
By Jove, 'twill be thy wisdom.

SCENE VI.

Pisthetærus. Chorus, Cinesias.
Cinesias.
‘On wings fluttering light,
To Olympus my flight,
Through many a lay,
Winds its aery way.’

Pisthetærus.
This thing doth want a ballast of stout pennons.

Cinesias.
‘Undaunted the spirit
And frame I inherit,
That would ever pursue
Varied numbers light and new.’

Pisthetærus.
We greet the linden lath, Cinesias.
Why hast thou hither wheel'd thy limping gait?

Cinesias.
‘My ambition presumes
At sweet Philomel's plumes.’

Pisthetærus.
Nay, cease thy warbling. Tell me what thou mean'st.

Cinesias.
This plainly. I would fain be fledg'd by thee,
And soar aloft, and pluck me some new ditties
Air-whirled, and snow-smitten from the clouds.

Pisthetærus.
What, and could one pluck ditties from the clouds?

Cinesias.
Our art depends thence; for in dithyrambics
The finest things are all aërial,
Shadowy, dim-gleaming, like to viewless plumes
That pant and whirl along th'etherial void.
But thou shalt have an instance.

Pisthetærus.
Nay, not I.

Cinesias.
By Hercules, but thou shalt; for I will course
All air through for thee.
‘Winged ghosts in airy rank
Stretching long necks, lean and lank’—

Pisthetærus.
Soho! soho!

Cinesias.
‘Oh for a blast of the invisible breeze,
My wings to uplift,
And send me adrift
Wand'ring, wand'ring, wand'ring,
Wand'ring o'er the wavy seas!’

Pisthetærus.
By Jove, I'll put a period to thy blasts.

Cinesias.
‘Now a southward voyage steering,
Now to north my body nearing;
Cutting the havenless furrow of the air.’
[Pisthetærus whips him.
A tricksy rare device of thine, old gentleman.

Pisthetærus.
Does not this whirling suit thy fancy? I thought
Thou hadst liked whirling.

Cinesias.
Is it thus thou dost
Misuse the Master of the Cyclian song,
Whom all the tribes contend for?

Pisthetærus.
Wilt thou stay
With us, and be the Master to a Chorus
Of flying fowl; cramming the tribe of Cecrops
For Leotrophidas?

Cinesias.
I mark thy jeering.
But be assured of this; I will not stop
Till I get wings, and cleave the buxom air.

SCENE VII.

Pisthetærus, Chorus, an Informer.
Informer.
‘What birds are these, with plumes so gay,
That live of nought possest?
O wide-wing'd swallow, pause, and say,
Upon thy speckled breast.’

Pisthetærus.
No slight annoyance this that we have stirr'd.
Here comes another in the sing-song mood.

Informer.
‘O wide-wing'd swallow, pause again
Upon thy speckled breast.’

Pisthetærus.
Methinks he hums a catch for his own doublet,
That's worn so bare he had need of many swallows
To keep the cold out.

Informer.
Who's he that wings the comers?

Pisthetærus.
Here is he. But thou must say what thou'dst have.

Informer.
Wings, wings. Ask not a second time.

Pisthetærus.
Dost think, then,
To fly with them direct unto Pellene?

Informer.
Not so, by Jove. But I am an informer,
That seek defaulters through our friendly isles,
And summon them to justice.

Pisthetærus.
Blessed trade!

Informer.
Now in this my office of a pettifogger
Some wings would serve me well to whir about,
When I go round on my citations.

Pisthetærus.
And couldst thou cite the better for thy wings?

Informer.
Not so, by Jove! but that, to avoid pirates,
I may return thence with the cranes. The lawsuits
I shall have swallow'd down will serve for ballast.

Pisthetærus.
Is this thy occupation? is thy youth
Employ'd in this vile service of informing?

Informer.
What should I do? I know not how to dig.

Pisthetærus.
But there are other decent ways, by Jove,
Which one of thy age should live honestly by,
Rather than pandering for the hungry courts.

Informer.
Good sir, I came for wings, and not for counsel.

Pisthetærus.
I now, in thus discoursing, wing thee.

Informer.
How?
Could a man be wing'd with discourses?

Pisthetærus.
All are so.

Informer.
All?

Pisthetærus.
Hast thou never heard what every where
Fathers do say to the boys in barbers' shops?
‘My son is on the wing for chariot-driving,
Plague on it! This is what Diitriphes' discourse
Has done for him.’ Another tells you, ‘his
Has had his mind fly off to tragedies,
And that his thoughts still hover o'er the stage.’

Informer.
And doth discourse indeed give wings?

Pisthetærus.
Believe me, does it;
Raises the soul aloft, and lifteth up
The very man. And so I now am willing,
By good discourse, to give thee wings, and turn
To lawful acting.

Informer.
But I'm not willing, I.

Pisthetærus.
What wilt thou do?

Informer.
I will not shame my breeding.
The informer's life is that my fathers left me.
Give me then wings, and be they swift and light,
A hawk's, or mousing owl's, that having cited
Our island friends, and then accused them here,
I then again may fly back there.

Pisthetærus.
I understand.
Thou mean'st it thus: that he should be cast and fined,
The islander, ere he come.

Informer.
Right, right; thou understand'st.

Pisthetærus.
Then he sails hither, and thou fly'st back there
To seize upon his goods.

Informer.
Thou hast it all.
I must in nothing differ from a top.

Pisthetærus.
I understand: a top. And here, by Jove,
I have some excellent Corcyræan wings.

Informer.
Mercy! thou hast a whip.

Pisthetærus.
And therein the wings,
With which this day I'll make thee spin.

Informer.
Oh mercy!
Wretch that I am!

Pisthetærus.
Wilt thou not wing thee hence?
Wilt not drop off, thou most accursed villain?
I'll show thee a twist-whirligig of justice.
Come, let us gather up the wings, and go.

[Exeunt Pisthetærus and Informer.
Chorus.