Strepsiades.
Ah me, what madness! How mad, then, I was when I ejected the gods on account of Socrates! But O dear Hermes, by no means be wroth with me, nor destroy me; but pardon me,
since I have gone crazy through prating. And become my adviser, whether I shall bring an action and prosecute them, or whatever you think. You advise me rightly, not permitting me to get up a lawsuit, but as soon as possible to set fire to the house
1480
of the prating fellows. Come hither, come hither, Xanthias! Come forth with a ladder and with a mattock and then mount upon the thinking-shop and dig down the roof, if you love your master, until you tumble the house upon them.
1485
Xanthias mounts upon the roof.
But let some one bring me a lighted torch and I’ll make some of them this day suffer punishment, even if they be ever so much impostors.
1490
1st Disciple.
(from within). Hollo! Hollo!
Strepsiades.
It is your business, O torch, to send forth abundant flame.
Mounts upon the roof.
1st Disciple.
What are you doing, fellow?
1495
Strepsiades.
What am I doing? Why, what else, than chopping logic with the beams of your house?
Sets the house on fire.
2nd Disciple.
(from within). Ah me! Who is setting fire to our house?
Strepsiades.
The man whose cloak you have taken.
2nd Disciple.
(from within). You will destroy us! You will destroy us!
Strepsiades.
For I also wish this very thing;
unless my mattock deceive my hopes, or I should somehow fall first and break my neck.
1500
Socrates.
(from within). Hollo you! What are you doing, pray, you fellow on the roof?
Strepsiades.
I am walking on air, and speculating about the sun.
Socrates.
Ah me, unhappy! I shall be suffocated, wretched man!
Chaerephon.
And I, miserable man, shall be burnt to death!
1505
Strepsiades.
For what has come into your heads that you acted insolently toward the gods, and pried into the seat of the moon?
Hermes
1
Chase, pelt, smite them, for many reasons, but especially because you know that they offended against the gods!
The thinking shop is burned down.
Chorus.
Lead the way out; for we have sufficiently acted as chorus for today.
1510
Exeunt omnes.Clouds. Aristophanes. William James Hickie (Translator). London. 1853.
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