Socrates.
O ye greatly venerable Clouds, ye have clearly heard me when I called.
Turning to Strepsiades. Did you hear the voice, and the thunder which bellowed at the same time, feared as a god?
Strepsiades.
I too worship you, O ye highly honoured, and am inclined to reply to the thundering, so much do I tremble at them and am alarmed. And whether it be lawful, or be not lawful, I have a desire just now to ease myself.
Socrates.
Don’t scoff, nor do what these poor-devil-poets do, but use words of good omen, for a great swarm of goddesses is in motion with their songs.
Clouds. Aristophanes. William James Hickie (Translator). London. 1853.
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