HERALD. All peoples are filled with admiration for your wisdom, and they award you this golden crown. PISTHETAERUS. I accept it. But tell me, why do the people admire me? HERALD. Oh you, who have founded so illustrious a city in the air, you know not in what esteem men hold you and how many there are who burn with desire to dwell in it. Before your city was built, all men had a mania for Sparta; long hair and fasting were held in honour, men went dirty like Socrates and carried staves. Now all is changed. Firstly, as soon as 'tis dawn, they all spring out of bed together to go and seek their food, the same as you do; then they fly off towards the notices and finally devour the decrees. The bird-madness is so clear, that many actually bear the names of birds. There is a halting victualler, who styles himself the partridge; Menippus calls himself the swallow; Opontius the one-eyed crow; Philocles the lark; Theogenes the fox-goose; Lycurgus the ibis; Chaerephon the bat; Syracosius the magpie; Midias the quail;[325] indeed he looks like a quail that has been hit heavily over the head. Out of love for the birds they repeat all the songs which concern the swallow, the teal, the goose or the pigeon; in each verse you see wings, or at all events a few feathers. This is what is happening down there. Finally, there are more than ten thousand folk who are coming here from earth to ask you for feathers and hooked claws; so, mind you supply yourself with wings for the immigrants. PISTHETAERUS. Ah! by Zeus, 'tis not the time for idling. Go as quick as possible and fill every hamper, every basket you can find with wings. Manes[326] will bring them to me outside the walls, where I will welcome those who present themselves. CHORUS. This town will soon be inhabited by a crowd of men. PISTHETAERUS. If fortune favours us. CHORUS. Folk are more and more delighted with it. PISTHETAERUS. Come, hurry up and bring them along. CHORUS. Will not man find here everything that can please him--wisdom, love, the divine Graces, the sweet face of gentle peace? PISTHETAERUS. Oh! you lazy servant! won't you hurry yourself? CHORUS. Let a basket of wings be brought speedily. Come, beat him as I do, and put some life into him; he is as lazy as an ass. PISTHETAERUS. Aye, Manes is a great craven. CHORUS. Begin by putting this heap of wings in order; divide them in three parts according to the birds from whom they came; the singing, the prophetic[327] and the aquatic birds; then you must take care to distribute them to the men according to their character. PISTHETAERUS (_to Manes_). Oh! by the kestrels! I can keep my hands off you no longer; you are too slow and lazy altogether. A PARRICIDE.[328] Oh! might I but become an eagle, who soars in the skies! Oh! might I fly above the azure waves of the barren sea![329] PISTHETAERUS. Ha! 'twould seem the news was true; I hear someone coming who talks of wings.