Come, stretch your wings or look
out for squalls!
out for squalls!
Aristophanes
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 Lycimnius and consume both your
body and the porticos of your palace. [321]
PISTHETAERUS. Here! that's enough tall talk. Just you listen and keep
quiet! Do you take me for a Lydian or a Phrygian[322] 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. [323] I shall send
more than six hundred porphyrions clothed in leopards' skins[324] 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 a fine long
tool that will fuck you three times over.
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.
PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis odd that the messenger we sent to the mortals has
never returned.
indeed. Armed with the brand of Zeus, Justice would annihilate your race;
the lightning would strike you as it did Lycimnius and consume both your
body and the porticos of your palace. [321]
PISTHETAERUS. Here! that's enough tall talk. Just you listen and keep
quiet! Do you take me for a Lydian or a Phrygian[322] 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. [323] I shall send
more than six hundred porphyrions clothed in leopards' skins[324] 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 a fine long
tool that will fuck you three times over.
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.
PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis odd that the messenger we sent to the mortals has
never returned.
