Read. "And besides this a goblet of wine and a good share of the entrails
of the victim."
PISTHETAERUS. Of the entrails--is it so written?
PROPHET. Read. "If you do as I command, divine youth, you shall be an
eagle among the clouds; if not, you shall be neither turtle-dove, nor
eagle, nor woodpecker."
PISTHETAERUS. Is all that there?
PROPHET. Read.
PISTHETAERUS. This oracle in no sort of way resembles the one Apollo
dictated to me: "If an impostor comes without invitation to annoy you
during the sacrifice and to demand a share of the victim, apply a stout
stick to his ribs."
PROPHET. You are drivelling.
PISTHETAERUS. "And don't spare him, were he an eagle from out of the
clouds, were it Lampon himself[291] or the great Diopithes."[292]
PROPHET. Is all that there?
PISTHETAERUS. Here, read it yourself, and go and hang yourself.
PROPHET. Oh! unfortunate wretch that I am.
PISTHETAERUS. Away with you, and take your prophecies elsewhere.
METON.[293] I have come to you.
PISTHETAERUS. Yet another pest. What have you come to do? What's your
plan? What's the purpose of your journey? Why these splendid buskins?
METON. I want to survey the plains of the air for you and to parcel them
into lots.
PISTHETAERUS. In the name of the gods, who are you?