(414 B.C.)
Characters of the Play
EUELPIDES (i.e., Hopeful) an Athenian
PISTHETAIROS (i.e., Plausible), an Athenian
SANDPIPER, servant of Epops the Hoopoe
EPOPS, OR HOOPOE, otherwise known as Tereus
CHORUS OF BIRDS KORYPHAIOS
PRIEST
POET
PROPHET
METON
INSPECTOR
LEGISLATOR
FIRST MESSENGER SENTRY
IRIS
HERALD
DELINQUENT
KINESIAS, a dithyrambic poet
INFORMER
PROMETHEUS
POSEIDON
TRIBALLOS
HERAKLES
SECOND MESSENGER
SCENE: A desolate wilderness.* In the background is a single
tree and the sheer rock-face of a cliff. Enter, in the last
stages of exhaustion, Euelpides and Pisthetairos. On his arm
Euelpides carries a Magpie; Pisthetairos holds a Crow. They
are followed by slaves with their luggage, consisting mostly
of kitchen equipment, cauldrons, pots, spits, etc.
EUELPIDES
To his Magpie.
Straight ahead, croaker? Over by that tree?
PISTHETAIROS
Damn this cracked Crow! He keeps cawing me backwards.
EUELPIDES
Look, halfwit, what's the point of hiking these hills?
If we don't stop this zigzagging pretty soon,
I'm through.
PISTHETAIROS
I must have been mad--trusting a Crow
to go trudging off on this hundred-mile hike.
EUELPIDES
You're mad?
Look at me, man--hitched to a Magpie
and my toenails worn away right down to the nub.
PISTHETAIROS
I'll be damned if I know where we are.
EUELPIDES
Say,
do you suppose we could find our way back home
from here?
PISTHETAIROS
Friend, even Exekestides couldn't do that.*
EUELPIDES
Stumbling.
Hell.
PISTHETAIROS
That's just where we're headed now, old man.
EUELPIDES
You know,
that birdseller Philokrates who sold us these damn Birds
was a filthy fraud, that's what. Swearing up and down
that these two Birds here would lead us to the Hoopoe,
old Tereus the Bird who used to be a man,*
and swindling us with this stinking, jabbering Magpie here*
for two bits and that cluckhead Crow of yours for six!
And what do they do but nip our fingers off?
To the Magpie.
Well, what are you gaping at, imbecile? Where?
Straight into the cliff? But there's no road there, idiot.
PISTHETAIROS
A road? Sweet gods, there isn't even a track!
EUELPIDES
Say, isn't your Crow croaking something about a road?
PISTHETAIROS
You know, now that you mention it, I think he is croaking
in a different key.
EUELPIDES
Something about a road, isn't it?
PISTHETAIROS
Naw, he's cawing he'll gnaw my fingers off.
EUELPIDES
It's a filthy shame, that's what. Think of it, man:
here we are dying to go tell it to the Birds,*
and then, by god, we can't even find the way.
To the Audience.
Yes, dear people, we confess we're completely mad.
But it's not like Sakas'* madness. Not a bit.
For he, poor dumb foreigner, wants in, while we,
born and bred Athenians both, true blue,
true citizens, not afraid of any man,
want out.
Yes, we've spread our little feet
and taken off. Not that we hate Athens--
heavens, no. And not that dear old Athens
isn't grand, that blessed land where men are free--
to pay their taxes. *
No, look to the locust
who, one month or two, drones and shrills
among the little thickets, while the men of Athens,
perched upon the thorny thickets of the law, sit
shrilling out their three score years and ten.
Because of legal locusts,* gentlemen, we have left,
lugging these baskets and pots and boughs of myrtle,
looking for some land of soft and lovely leisure*
where a man may loaf and play and settle down
for good. Tereus the Hoopoe is our journey's end.
From him we hope to learn if he has seen
in all his many travels such a place
on earth.
PISTHETAIROS
Pssst! Hey!
EUELPIDES
What's up?
PISTHETAIROS
Look at my Crow
staring up in the air.
EUELPIDES
And my Magpie's gaping too.
It looks as though he's pointing his beak at the sky.
I'll bet that means there's Birds somewhere hereabouts.
We'll find out soon enough if we make a ruckus.
PISTHETAIROS
I know. Try kicking the side of the cliff with your foot.*
EUELPIDES
Go bash it with your head. You'll make more noise.
PISTHETAIROS
Pick up a rock and pound.
EUELPIDES
Good idea. I'll try.
He picks up a rock and pounds on the cliff, shouting.
Boy! Hey, boy!
PISTHETAIROS
Don't call old Hoopoe "boy."
You'd better say, "Ho, Hoopoe!" or "Hey, Epops!"
EUELPIDES
Hey, Hoopoe!
No answer.
Hmmm. Shall I try him again?
Yoohoo, Hoopoe!
A concealed door in the cliff suddenly swings open and a
Sandpiper with an enormous curved beak peers out, almost
spitting Pisthetairos.
SANDPIPER
What are you whooping about?
EUELPIDES
Apollo help us! What a beak on the Bird!
In his fright he lets go of his Magpie who flaps off Pisthetairos
falls backward, losing his Crow. while the Sandpiper retreats in horror.
SANDPIPER
Halp!
Nest-robbers! Egg-stealers! Bird-catchers!
Halp!
EUELPIDES
You hear that? His bark is worse than his beak.
SANDPIPER
Mortals, you die!
AJELPIDES
But we're not men.
SANDPIPER
What are you?
EUELPIDES
Me? I'm turdus turdus. An African migrant.*
SANDPIPER
What nonsense.
EUELPIDES
Not nonsense, crap. Look at my feet.
SANDPIPER
Indicating Pisthetairos.
And that bird over there? What's his species?
PISTHETAIROS
Me?
Brown-tailed Smellyrump. Quail family.
EUELPIDES
To Sandpiper.
Say, what about you, Birdie? What the hell are you?
SANDPIPER
I'm a Slavebird.*
EUELPIDES
I see. Some bantam thrash you
in a scrap?
SANDPIPER
No, but when the boss got himself changed
into a Hoopoe, I put in my application for feathers too
so I could stay in his service, doing odd jobs and buttling.
EUELPIDES
And since when have our Birds been having butler
SANDPIPER
He gets the habit, I think, from having once been human.
But suppose he wants some sardines. Up I jump.
dash down with a dish and catch him some fish.
If it's soup he wants, I grab a little ladle
and skitter to the kettle.
EUELPIDES
Quite the runner, eh?
Tell you what, runner-bird: just skitter inside
and fetch your master out.
SANDPIPER
But he's napping now.
He gorged himself silly on a mess of midges and myrtle.
EUELPIDES
His nap be damned. Go wake him.
SANDPIPER
I warn you:
He'll be grumpy. But just for a favor I'll do it.
Exit Sandpiper.
PISTHETAIROS
And then drop dead.
To Fuelpides.
--Whoosh, I'm still shaking.
EUELPIDES
Me too. And guess what. My Magpie's gone, got
clear away.
PISTHETAIROS
Got away? Why you big baby,
were you so scared you dropped your load?
EUELPIDES
Well,
what about you? Where's your bird?
PISTHETAIROS
Where's my bird?
Right here in my hand.
EUELPIDES
Right where?
PISTHETAIROS
Well, he was here.
EUELPIDES
And where were you? Holding on for dear life?
HOOPOE
From within.
CLEAR THE COPSE, I SAY, AND WHEEL ME OUT!
The eccyclema wheels out the Hoopoe, sitting on a pile of
brush and peering out from a thicket. Except for his huge
crest and beak and a few bedraggled feathers here and there,
the Hoopoe is human.
EUELPIDES
Holy Herakles! That's no Bird, it's a freak.
Get a load of that plumage! What a tiara!
HOOPOE
Who are you?
EUELPIDES
Birdie, you looked bedraggled.
I'll bet the gods* gave you some nasty knocks.
HOOPOE
You dare sneer at my plumage? I, strangers.
was once a man.
EUELPIDES
Oh, we're not laughing at you.
HOOPOE
Then, what's so funny?
EUELPIDES
Your beak. It tickles me.
HOOPOE
I am dressed as the poet Sophokles disfigures me*
in that atrocious tragedy of his entitled Tereus.
EUELPIDES
Gee,
you're Tereus in person?
Are you Bird or Peacock?
HOOPOE
With ferocious dignity.
I am a Bird.
EUELPIDES
Then what happened to your feathers, Bird?
HOOPOE
They've fallen out.
EUELPIDES
Caught the mange, I suppose?
HOOPOE
I'll ignore that remark.
All Birds moult in winter,*
and then in spring we grow fresh feathers back.
Now then, suppose you tell me who you are.
EUELPIDES
Mortals.
HOOPOE
Country?
EUELPIDES
Athens, land of lovely--warships.
HOOPOE
Then you must be jurymen.*
EUELPIDES
No, just the reverse:
we're non-jurymen.
HOOPOE
I thought that species had become extinct
in Athens.
EUELPIDES
You can still find a few growing wild--*
if you look hard enough.
HOOPOE
But what brings you here, gentlemen?
EUELPIDES
Your assistance and advice.
HOOPOE
My advice? About what?
EUELPIDES
You were mortal once as we are mortal now.
You once were plagued with creditors, and we're plague
now.
You welshed on your debts; we welsh on our debts now
But though you were mortal once, you became a Bird
and flew the circuit of the spreading earth and sea;
yet both as Bird and Man you understand.
And so we come to you, to ask your help,
bearing our hope that you may know some land,
some country like a blanket, soft and snug,*
between whose folds two tired men might flop.
HOOPOE
And Athens won't do? You want something more...
splendid?
EUELPIDES
It wasn't exactly splendor we had in mind. No,
we wanted a country that was made for just us.
HOOPOE
Ah, something more exclusive? An Aristocracy perhaps?
EUELPIDES
Ugh. Can't abide that Aristokrates.
HOOPOE
But my dear fellow,
what do you want?
EUELPIDES
Oh, the sort of country
where the worst trouble I could have would be
friends trooping to my door bright and early
in the morning to pester me with invitations to dinner:
"C'mon, old boy, I'm throwing a big celebration.
So fresh up, give your kiddies a bath,
and come on over. And don't go standing me up,
or I won't turn to you when I'm in trouble."
HOOPOE
Zeus, you like your troubles pleasant, don't you?
To Pisthetairos. And you?
PISTHETAIROS
I like pleasant troubles too.
HOOPOE
For instance?
PISTHETAIROS,
For instance, this. Some pretty little boy's old man
comes up, really peeved, giving me hell:
`Fine way you treat my son, you old stinker!
You met the boy coming home from the baths
and never fondled him, never even kissed him
or tickled his balls And you, his daddy's pal!"
HOOPOE
Poor old bastard, you are in love with trouble.
Well. I've got just the place to please you both.
Now. down on the Red Sea--
EUELPIDES
Sweet gods, not the sea!
No. sir. I don't want any court-officials with summons*
and subpoenas showing up on ships at the crack of dawn.
Look here, don't you know of some city in Hellas?
HOOPOE
Well now, there's always Lepreus? How would that suit you?
EUELPIDES
Lepreus? Never heard of it. Offhand. I'd say no.
Smacks of old Melanthios. He's leprous.
HOOPOE
Hmmm.
Well, how about Opous then?
EUELPIDES
Count me out
If Opountios comes from Opous,* then Opous
isn't for me. You couldn't pay me to live there.
But look here, what kind of life do you Birds lead?
You should know. You've lived here long enough.
HOOPOE
Life among the Birds? Not bad. And you don't need cash.
EUELPIDES
Well, that's the worst of life's big swindles disposed of.
HOOPOE
We scour the gardens for food, pecking mint,
scrabbling for poppyseed, sesame and myrtle-berries...
EUELPIDES
Gods alive, that's not life! That's a honeymoon!*
PISTHETAIROS
Suddenly illuminated.
WAIT!
WONDERFUL!
I'VE GOT IT!
WHAT A SCHEME!
If you Birds will just do what I say, we'll make it succeed.
HOOPOE
Do what?
PISTHETAIROS
First, take my advice. For instance,
stop flapping around with your beaks hanging open.
It looks undignified and people jeer at the Birds.
In Athens whenever we see some silly ass,
we ask, "Hey, who's that Bird? and people say,*
"Oh, him? He's a real bat, dumb as a dodo,
booby, that's what, hasn't got the brains of a Bird."
HOOPOE
A palpable hit. And we deserve it too.
But what remedy do you suggest?
PISTHETAIROS
Found your own city.
HOOPOE
Found our own city? But who ever heard
of a City of Birds?
PISTHETAIROS
O Hebetude, thy name is Hoopoe!
Look down there.
HOOPOE
I'm looking.
PISTHETAIROS
Now look up there.
HOOPOE
I'm looking.
PISTHETAIROS
Way up. Crane your neck.
HOOPOE
By Zeus, I'll be a helluva sight if I sprain my neck looking.
PISTHETAIROS
See anything?
HOOPOE
Nothing but clouds and a mess of sky.
PISTHETAIROS
Precisely. That mess of sky is the sphere of the Birds.
HOOPOE
Sphere? How do you mean?
PISTHETAIROS
Habitat, as it were.
The heavens, you see, revolve upon a kind of pole*
or axis, whence we call the sky a sphere.
Well then, you settle in your sphere, you build your walls,
and from this sphere of yours a city will appear.
And then, my friend, you'll be lords of all mankind
as once you were merely lords of locusts and bugs.
As for the gods, if they object or get in your way,
you can wipe them, all out by starvation.*
HOOPOE
Wipe them out?
But how?
PISTHETAIROS
Your air is the boundary between earth and heaven.
Now just as we, when we make a trip to Delphi,
are required to secure a visa from the Theban government,
so you, when men propose a sacrifice to heaven,
impose a boycott, refusing your passport to these offerings
and forbidding any transit through your land,
until the gods agree to pay you tribute.
HOOPOE
By Earth!
Holy Snares! Sweep Springes and Nets!
A trickier gimmick I never heard of yet!
We'll put it to a vote. A referendum. We'll enlist your help
and build our city, provided the Birds agree.
PISTHETAIROS
But who will make the motion?
HOOPOE
You, of course.
Don't worry. They don't twitter nonsense any more.
They used to chirp, but now I've taught them Greek.
PISTHETAIROS
But can we muster a quorum?
HOOPOE
Nothing simpler.
I'll just step behind this little thicket here
and wake my sleeping wife, my lovely Nightingale.
We'll do a small duet and whistle them here.
They'll all come flocking in when they hear our song
PISTHETAIROS
Hoopoe, old Bird, you're wonderful!
But hurry. Quick.
Go wake your sleeping Nightingale and sing your song.
The Hoopoe retires and begins to sing.
HOOPOE
Awake from sleep, my love!
Sing, O tawnythroat,
bird with honeyed tongue!
Awake and sing
your song and mine,
Itys, Itys!
From the thicket the flute beings its obbligato in imitation
of the song of the Nightingale at her most melancholy.
Pure sound of sorrow!
Hear it rise,
a grief that goes,
Itys, Itys!
from the ivy's dark,
the tangled leaves,
and climbs and soars,
Itys, Itys!
till lord Apollo hears,
god with golden hair,
and sweeps his lovely lyre
in echo of your song,
Itys, Itys!
and throats that cannot die
sing the sorrow back,
ltvs! Itys! Itys!
There is a short coda by the flute, accompanied now by the
distant sweeping of the lyre.
EUELPIDES
Holy Zeus, just hear the little Birdie's song!
A sound like honey streaming through the woods.
PISTHETAIROS
Pssst.
Hush.
EUELPIDES
Hush? But why?
PISTHETAIROS
Shush.
EUELPIDES
But why?
PISTHETAIROS
The Hoopoe is preening to sing another song.
HOOPOE
Singing, with flute obbligato.
Epopopopopopopopoi!
Popopopopopopoi!
lo! lo! lo!
Hear ye ye ye ye ye ye ye!
Calling first to the landbirds.
O Birds of fellow feather come!
Come, you Birds who graze, who feed
over the farmers' fresh-sown fields!
Barley-eating tribes, in thousands come!
O peckers after seeds, hungry nations,
swift of wing! Come, O chirrupers!
All you who flitter in the furrows,
who throng, who flock the new-turned sod,
who sing your chirrup, chirrup-song,
tio tio tio tio tio tio tio!
All you who in the gardens nest,
who perch beneath the ivy's leaves!
O rangers on the mountain, come,
arbutus-stealers, olive-thieves!
Flock, fly to my call! Come, O come!
trio trio trio totobrix!
To the Birds of marsh and meadow.
O Birds of swamp and river, come!
You whose beaks snap up the whining gnats,
who splash in water where the earth is wet
or skim the meadows over Marathon!
O Birds of blazoned feather, come!
To the Seabirds.
Come, Birds who soar upon the sea
where the kingfisher swoops!
O Birds with delicate necks,
O taper-throated, come! Come
and see the world remade!
Come and see the Birds reborn!
Lo, a MAN has come, of skill and craft,
whose wit cuts like a knife,
and to the Birds he brings the Word
of more abundant life.
Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye!
Come to council, come!
Hither, hither, hither!
Toro :torn toro tix
kikka bau, kikka bau
toro toro toro li
li lix!
PISTHETAIROS
Hey, seen any Birds yet?
EUELPIDES
Not a sign of one.
And my neck's damn near broken from looking too.
PISTHETAIROS
The way it looks to me, the Hoopoe hopped in
and whooped himself hoarse, and all for nothing.
HOOPOE
Toro fix! Toro fix!
As the Hoopoe's call ends, the first member of the Chorus
enters. He is dressed as a Flamingo and is shortly followed
by other members, each costumed in broad representation
of some bird.
PISTHETAIROS
Pssst. Euelpides! Look over there! There's a Bird coming in!
EUELPIDES
By Zeus, it is a Bird! What do you suppose he is? A
Peacock?
Enter Hoopoe.
PISTHETAIROS
The Hoopoe will tell us.
--Say, what sort of Bird is that?
HOOPOE
That, my friend, is a rare marshbird. Not the sort of Bird
you run into every day.
EUELPIDES
Golly, what a flaming red!
HOOPOE
Exactly. That Bird's a Flamingo.
EUELPIDES
Oooh. Look.
PISTHETAIROS
What is it?
EUELPIDES
That Bird.
Enter a second bird, dressed in gorgeous Persian costume,
with a magnificent strut.
PISTHETAIROS
Say, he's exotic. Like something out of Aischylos.*
Prithee, sir.
how is yon strange and mountain-ranging mantic Bird
yclept?
HOOPOE
We call him the Bedouin Bird.
PISTHETAIROS
You don't say? The Bedouin
Bird! But how could a Bedouin Bird get to Greece without
a Camel Bird?
EUELPIDES
And look there! There comes another Bird with a
whopping crest.
Enter a Hoopoe.
PISTHETAIROS
Say, that's odd. You mean you aren't the only Hoopoe
going? Is he a Hoopoe too?
HOOPOE
Yes indeed, he's a Hoopoe too.
But he's the son of the Hoopoe in Philokles' tragedy of
Tereus.* I'm his grandpa, and he's my namesake,
Hoopoe Jr.--You know the pattern, the way Kallias calls
his son Hipponikos, and then these Hipponikoses call all
their sons Kalliases.
EUELPIDES
So this is the Kallias Hoopoe. Well, he sure looks plucked.
HOOPOE
He's quite the bird about town, so parasites strip him bare
and the chorus girls keep yanking his pretty feathers out.
Enter a dazzlingly brilliant bird with an enormous crest and
a great protruding belly.
EUELPIDES
Sweet Poseidon! Look at that gorgeous Birdie strutting in!
What's he called?
HOOPOE
That one? He's the Crested Guzzleguzzle.
EUELPIDES
The Guzzleguzzle, eh? I thought that was our boy
Kleonymos. *
PISTHETAIROS
No, this Bird has a crest. Our man is crestfallen now.
Don't you remember how he ditched his helmet and ran
away?
EUELPIDES
Look, Hoopoe, what's the point of all this crestwork on the
Birds?* Dress parade?
HOOPOE
No. Partly self-defense, partly
sanitation.
Some towns are built on crests of hills, others in the passes.
So some Birds sport their plumes on top, but others on
their asses.
PISTHETAIROS
What an ungodly crowd of Birds! It gives me the jitters.
The rest of the Chorus, birds of every size and description,
now stream into the orchestra.
Look, Birds everywhere!
EUELPIDES
Apollo, what a bevy of Birds:
Why, when they lift up their wings, they block out the
entrance.
PISTHETAIROS
Look, there's the Partridge!
EUELPIDES
And here's the Hooded Ptarmigan!
PISTHETAIROS
And there's a Widgeon. I think.
EUELPIDES
Here comes a female Plover.
But who's that Bird on her tail?
PISTHETAIROS
Her lover. The Horny Pecker. *
EUELPIDES
What does her husband say?
PISTHETAIROS
He's a queer Bird and doesn't care.
HOOPOE
Here's the Owl.
PISTHETAIROS
Now there's a thought! Bringing Owls to Athens.*
HOOPOE
And Jay and Pigeon. Lark, Wren, Wheatear, and
Turtledove. Ringdove, Stockdove, Cuckoo, and Hawk.
Firecrest and Wren, Rail and Kestrel and Gull. Waxwing.
Woodpecker, and Vulture .
In one last surge the remaining members of the Chorus
stream into the orchestra, ruffling their feathers and chirping
and hissing.
PISTHETAIROS
Birds, Birds, billions of Birds!
EUELPIDES
Indicating the Audience
But most of them Cuckoos and Geese
PISTHETAIROS
What a skittering and cackling!
EUELPIDES
Unless I'm much mistaken.
I detect a note of menace.*
PISTHETAIROS
They do seem somewhat peeved.
You know, I think they're glaring at us
EUELPIDES
Damn right they are.
KORYPHAIOS
Who-oo-chee-who-chee-who-oo-oo-oo
who-oo-chee-oo-oo has summoned me?
HOOPOE
Me, that's who. Your old friend Hoopoe.
KORYPHAIOS
Spea-pea-pea-pea-speak, Hoopopopopopoi.
HOOPOE
Listen. Great news! Glorious news!
News of Profit, gravy for all!
Two brilliant men have come to call
on me.
KORYPHAIOS
On YOU?
But HOW?
And WHO?
HOOPOE
But I'm trying to tell you.
Two old men have come to call,
two old refugees who have renounced the human race for
good
and who bring us a glorious scheme, a Plan of fantastic
proportions,
gigantic, sublime, colossal--
KORYPHAIOS
Colossal's the word for your blunder.
Have you lost your mind?
HOOPOE
Wait, listen...
KORYPHAIOS
Explain. And fast.
HOOPOE
Listen. I welcomed two old men. Harmless ornithologists.
infatuated with the Birds. They want to live with their
Feathered Friends.
KORYPHAIOS
What? You welcomed TWO MEN?
HOOPOE
What's more. I'd do it again.
KORYPHAIOS
You mean they're here? In our midst?
HOOPOE
As much as I. Look.
He raises his wings, revealing the two men cowering
behind him.
CHORUS
--O Treachery!
O Treason!
--O!
BAD Hoopoe, to betray us so!
To think that you, the Birdies' friend.
could come to such a wicked end!
To think that 1 should one day see
the Bird who pecked the corn with me
dishonor and disgrace
The MAGNA CARTA of our race.
and sell us to our foe!
--O Treachery!
O Treason!
--O!
KORYPHAIOS
All right, we'll settle accounts with this treacherous Hoopoe
later
As for these venerable old fools, we'll settle with them right
now.
We'll shred them into tatters.
PISTHETAIROS
Gods, they're shredding us to tatters!
EUELPIDES
Well, it's all your fault. This whole damn trip was your idea.
Why in god's name did you lead me here?
PISTHETAIROS
To bring up my rear.
EUELPIDES
It's so hopeless I could cry.
PISTHETAIROS
Fat chance you'll have of crying.
Once those Birds are through with you, you won't have any
eyes.
CHORUS
Advance the wings and charge the flanks!
The Rooster shrills ATTACK!
Aerial squadrons, take to the air!
Beat your enemy back.
These men are spies, their lives are lies,
so kill without regrets!
The skill to kill lies in your bills.
Your beaks are bayonets.
No cloud exists, no breaker is,
no fog on mountain peaks,
quite big or thick or black enough
to save them from our beaks!
KORYPHAIOS
Mount the attack!
Charge them, Birds! Bite them, tear them!
On the double!
Captain on the right! Advance your wing and charge!
The Chorus wheels in massed formation toward the stage,
Euelpides in terror starts to run.
EUELPIDES
They're charging! Where can we run?
PISTHETAIROS
Run, man? Stand and fight!
EUELPIDES
And get torn to tatters?
PISTHETAIROS
What good's running? They're flying.
EUELPIDES
But what should I do?
PISTHETAIROS
Listen to me and follow my orders.
First pick up that platter and use it as a shield. Now HOLD
THAT LINE!
EUELPIDES
But what good's a platter?
PISTHETAIROS
Birds are skittish of platters.*
They'll scatter.
EUELPIDES
Yeah? Well, what about that vulture there?
PISTHETAIROS
Snatch up a skewer.
Now stick it out front like a spear.
EUELPIDES
But what about my eyes?
PISTHETAIROS
Jam a jug on your head. Now cover your eyes with saucers.
EUELPIDES
What a kitchen tactician! What crockery-strategy! Gee,
old Nikias is tricky, but he can't compare with you.
KORYPHAIOS
FORWARD!
Spit them with your beaks! At 'em, Birds!
CHARGE!
Rip 'em, scratch 'em, flay 'em, bite! BUT BREAK THAT
POT!
HOOPOE
Intervening.
Truce, truce.
No more of this bitterness. You Birds should be
ashamed.
Why should you kill these men? What harm have they done
to you?
Somewhat more to the point, they're both closely related to
my wife.*
KORYPHAIOS
Why spare these men any more than wolves? What worse
enemy than men do we Birds have?
HOOPOE
Enemies by nature, I admit.
But these men are exceptions to the rule. They come to you
as friends.
Moreover, they bring a scheme from which we Birds stand
to profit.
KORYPHAIOS
Are you suggesting that Birds should take advice from men?
What can we learn from men?
HOOPOE
If wise men learn from their enemies,
then why not you?
Remember the advantage of keeping
an open mind.
Preparedness, after all, is not a lesson taught us by our
friends
but by our enemies. It is our enemies, not our friends, who
teach us to survive.
I might cite the case of cities: was it from their friends or
their foes
that mankind first learned to build walls and ships in self-
defense? But that one lesson still preserves us all and all we have.
KORYPHAIOS
There's something in what you say.
Perhaps we'd better hear them
PISTHETAIROS
To Euelpides.
They're beginning to show signs of reason. Don't say a word.
HOOPOE
To the Chorus.
That's better, friends. You're doing right, and you'll thank
me for it later.
KORYPHAIOS
We've never disobeyed your advice before.
PISTHETAIROS
They seem more
peaceful now.
So you can ground the pan
and put the platter down.
But stand your ground
and keep that spit on hand,
while I look round
our little camp of crocks
and see how matters stand
by peeking over pots.
EUELPIDES
Chief, suppose we die
in combat?
PISTHETAIROS
Then we'll lie
in Athens at public cost.*
They'll give us hero's honors
and bury us like gods
when we say our lives were lost
fighting foreign soldiers
at very heavy odds.
In fact, I'll use those very words
(omitting, for effect, of course
any reference to Birds.)*
KORYPHAIOS
All right, you Birds, FALL IN!
The war's over.
AT EASE!
You there, quiet!
QUIET, PLEASE!
The Chorus returns to its normal position in the orchestra.
Much whispering, nodding, and shuffling. Then silence.
Now we have to inquire
who these strangers are
and why they've come.
Look here, Hoopoe.
HOOPOE
Um?
KORYPHAIOS
Who are these fellows?
HOOPOE
Two humans from Hellas
where genius grows greener than grass.
KORYPHAIOS
But why have they come?
What do they hope to get from the Birds?
HOOPOE
Their motive is Love.
Love is the burden of all their words.
Love of your life
and Love of you,
to live with you
in Love always.
KORYPHAIOS
Is that what they say?
But what is the gist of their scheme?
HOOPOE
They envisage a vision of glory,
a dream so fantastic
it staggers the sensible mind.
KORYPHAIOS
Well, it doesn't stagger mine.
What's in it for them?
Who are they trying to stick?
HOOPOE
No one.
This is no trick.
What this means is bliss.
Believe me, utter bliss. Sheer
and absolute.
Viz.
all shall be yours,
whatever is,
here or there,
far or near,
all, everywhere.
And this they swear.
KORYPHAIOS
Crackpots, eh?
HOOPOE
Right as rain.
Foxes, not men.
Boxes of slyness,
brimming with brain.
KORYPHAIOS
Then let them talk! We're all in a twitter to hear.
HOOPOE
So be it, then.
--Men, take these weapons inside
the house and hang them up beside the blazing hearth
where the god of fire presides. They'll bring us luck
Servants pick up the pots and plates and skewers and carry
them inside. The Hoopoe turns to Pisthetairos.
Pisthetairos, you have the floor. Proceed with your case.
Explain your proposal.
PISTHETAIROS
By Apollo, only on condition
that you Birds agree to swear a solemn truce with me
like the truce which that armor-making baboon--you know
who I mean--*
signed with his wife: no biting, scratching, or cutting
no hauling around by the balls, no shoving things--
EUELPIDES
Bending over.
--Up there?
PISTHETAIROS
In my eyes, I was going to say.
KORYPHAIOS
We accept your terms.
PISTHETAIROS
First you have to swear to them
KORYPHAIOS
We swear it then, but on this one condition only:
that you guarantee that this comedy of ours will win First
Prize by completely unanimous vote of the Judges.
PISTHETAIROS
Agreed.
KORYPHAIOS
Splendid. If. however, we Birds should break the truce.
we agree to forfeit. say. forty-nine per cent
of the votes.
HOOPOE
To the Chorus
Fall out!
Pick up your weapons, men
and return at once to your quarters On the double!
Company Assignments will be posted on the bulletin boards.
CHORUS
--Man by nature is a liar made.
He plays a double game:
--Dishonesty's his stock-in-trade.
Deception is his name.
--We say no more.
--But it may be
your canny mortal brain may see
what our poor feeble wits cannot
--some gift of noble intellect
we once possessed and then forgot
as our race declined;
--some genius of the will
or wisdom of the mind,
--grown rusty with neglect,
but fusting in us still.
--It seems to us fantastic.
--But still, it could be true.
--And, of course, we'd split the profits
--if any such accrue.
KORYPHAIOS
Pisthetairos, proceed. You may say whatever you wish. With
impunity
We pledge you our words as Birds: we won't renege on the
truce.
PISTHETAIROS
By god, I'm wild to begin!
The dough of my vision has risen
and there's nothing now but the kneading.
--Boy, bring me a wreath,
Someone fetch water for my hands.*
EUELPIDES
Hey, we going to a
feast?
PISTHETAIROS
A dinner of words, a fat and succulent haunch of speech,
a meal to shiver the soul.
--Unhappy Birds, I grieve for you,
you who once were kings--
KORYPHAIOS
--Kings? Of what?
PISTHETAIROS
Kings of everything,
Kings of creation. My kings. This man's kings. Kings of
king Zeus.
More ancient than Kronos. Older than Titans. Older than
Earth.
KORYPHAIOS
Older than Earth?
PISTHETAIROS
Older than Earth:
KORYPHAIOS
And to think I never suspected!
PISTHETAIROS
Because you're a lazy Bird* and you haven't reread your
Aesop.
For Aesop states that the Lark is the oldest thing in the
world,
older than Earth. So ancient, in fact, that when her father
died,
she couldn't find him a grave, for the Earth hadn't yet been
made,
and therefore couldn't be dug. So what on earth could she
do?
Well, the little Lark was stumped. Then suddenly she had it!
She laid her daddy out and buried him under her tail.
EUELPIDES
She did for a fact.
And that's how Asbury* got its name.
PISTHETAIROS
Hence my argument stands thus: if the Birds are older than
Earth,
and therefore older than gods, then the Birds are the heirs
of the world.
For the oldest always inherits.
EUELPIDES
It stands to reason, friends.
So pack some bone in your bills and hone them down to
a point.
Old Zeus won't rush to resign and let the Woodpeckers
reign. *
PISTHETAIROS
Think of it, the springtime of the world!
The Age of the Birds!
Primal lords of Creation! Absolute masters of man!
But the gods are mere upstarts and usurpers of very recent
date.
And proof abounds.
Let me adduce, for instance, the case of
the Rooster.
Aeons and aeons ago, ages before the age of Darius,
the kingdom of Persia lay prostrate beneath the sway of the
Rooster
And the Rooster, ever since, has been called the Persian Red.
EUELPIDES
And that's why, even now, he swaggers and struts like a
king
and keeps a harem of hens. And, unique among the Birds,
he wears the royal red tiara of the ancient Persian kings.
PISTHETAIROS
And talk of power!
Why, even now its memory remains,
enshrined in habit. For when the Cock his matins crows,
mankind goes meekly off to work--bakers, smiths, and
potters,
tanners and merchants and musical-instrument makers,
And when he crows at dusk, the night-shift goes.
EUELPIDES
I'll vouch for that.
It was thanks to his night-shift crowing that I lost my
warmest coat.
I'd gone downtown to dinner, see, in honor of a birth.
Well, after a while I'd had five or six and passed out cold,
when that blasted Rooster started to crow. Needless to say,
I thought it was dawn, jumped into my clothes and tore off
to work.
But just outside the gate, somebody conked me with a club
and I passed out cold again. And when I came to, no coat!
PISTHETAIROS
What's more, once upon a time the Kites were the kings of
Hellas.
KORYPHAIOS
The kings of Hellas?
PISTHETAIROS
Right. The Kites were the kings of Hellas.
And it was during their reign that the custom began in
Greece
of falling flat on your face whenever you saw a Kite. *
EUELPIDES
You know, I once spotted a Kite and went down on the
ground--
so damn hard I swallowed my money* and two of my teeth.
I damn near starved.
PISTHETAIROS
And once the Cuckoo was king of Egypt.
And when the call of the Cuckoo was heard in the land,
every Egyptian
grabbed his scythe and ran to the fields to reap.
EUELPIDES
That's a fact.
And that's why, even today, we still call the Egyptians
cuckoo.*
PISTHETAIROS
Why, so great was the power of the Birds that even the
greatest kings--
Agamemnon and Menelaos, to name only two of the
greatest--
had their sceptres tipped with Birds, and the Birds got a cut
in the take.
EUELPIDES
So that's it. That explains all that funny business in the plays
I never understood before--where Priam, for instance,
walks in,
and there on his sceptre, large as life, some Bird is perching.
I used to think he was there to keep an eye peeled down
below
on the rows where the politicians sit,* to see where our
money goes.
PISTHETAIROS
But the crowning proof is this: the present incumbent, Zeus,
wears an Eagle upon his helmet as the symbol of royal
power.
Athena uses the Owl, and Apollo, as aide to Zeus, a Hawk.
EUELPIDES
By Demeter, they do! But why do the gods use these
as emblems?
PISTHETAIROS
An unconscious admission of the Birds' ancient power and
supremacy.
That's why when men sacrifice to the gods, the Birds swoop
down and snatch the food,
thereby beating out the gods, and so asserting their old
priority.
Again, no one ever swore by the gods, but always by the
Birds.
EUELPIDES
Doctors still swear by the Duck. * That's why we call them
quacks.
PISTHETAIROS
But these were the honors you held in the days of your
greatness.
Whereas now you've been downgraded.
You're the slaves, not lords, of men.
They call you brainless or crazy.
They kill you whenever they can.
The temples are no protection:
the hunters are lying in wait
with traps and nooses and nets
and little limed twigs and bait.
And when you're taken, they sell you
as tiny hors d'oeuvres for a lunch.
And you're not even sold alone,
but lumped and bought by the bunch.
And buyers come crowding around
and pinch your breast and your rump,
to see if your fleshes are firm
and your little bodies are plump.
Then, as if this weren't enough,
they refuse to roast you whole,
but dump you down in a dish
and call you a casserole.
They grind up cheese and spices
with some oil and other goo,
and they take this slimy gravy
and they pour it over you!
Yes. they pour it over you!
It's like a disinfectant,
and they pour it piping hot,
as though your meat were putrid,
to sterilize the rot!
Yes. to sterilize the rot!
As Pisthetairos finishes, a long low susurrus of grief runs
through the Chorus and the Birds sigh, weep. and beat their
breasts with their wings.
CHORUS
Stranger, forgive us if we cry,
reliving in your words
those years of cowardice that brought
disaster to the Birds:
--that tragic blunder
and our fathers' crime,
complacency whose cost
was greatness and our name,
as dignity went under
in a chicken-hearted time,
and all was lost.
But now, by luck,
or heaven-sent,
a Man has come
to pluck us from disgrace.
Hail, Pisthetairos!
Hail, Savior of the Birds,
Redeemer of our Race!
To you we now commit:
ourselves,
our nests,
our chicks,
et cet.
KORYPHAIOS
Sir, you have the floor once more. Proceed with your
explanation. Until our power is restored, life means less
than nothing to the Birds.
PISTHETAIROS
My Plan, in gist, is this--a city of the Birds,
whose walls and ramparts shall include the atmosphere of
the world
within their circuit. But make the walls of brick, like
Babylon.
EUELPIDES
A Babylon of the Birds!* What a whopping, jumbo-size city!
PISTHETAIROS
The instant your walls are built, reclaim your sceptre from
Zeus.
If he shilly-shallies or fobs you off with a lot of excuses,
proclaim a Holy War, a Great Crusade against the gods.
Then slap embargoes on their lust, forbidding any gods
in manifest state of erection to travel through your sky
on amatory errands down to Earth to lay their women--
their Semeles, Allcmenes, and so forth. Then, if they attempt
to ignore
your warning, place their offending peckers under bond
as contraband and seal them shut. That will stop their fun,
I think.
Second, appoint some Bird as your official ambassador
to men, and serve them formal notice that the Birds demand
priority
in all their sacrifices. The leftovers, of course, will go to the
gods.
But for the future, even when they offer sacrifices to the
gods,
each Bird must be paired with a god*--whichever one seems
most apt.
Thus, if Aphrodite is offered a cake, the Wagtail will get one
too.
When Poseidon gets his sheep, the Seagull must have his
wheat.
Greedy Herakles shall eat--when the glutton Jay is fed.
And as for Zeus, why, Zeus must wait his turn until the
Kinglet,
lord of all the Birds, receives his sacrificial gnat.
EUELPIDES
I like that gnat. Old has-been Zeus can rumble with rage!
KORYPHAIOS
But why should men believe we're gods and not just shabby
Birds? These wings are a giveaway.
PISTHETAIROS
Rubbish. Hermes is a god, isn't he?
But he goes flapping around on wings. And so do loads of
gods.
There's Victory on "gildered wings," and don't forget the
god of Love.
And Homer says that Iris looks like a dove with the jitters.
EUELPIDES
And lightning too, that's got wings. Hey, what if lightning
fell on us?
KORYPHAIOS
And what if men are blind and go on truckling to Olympos
and refuse to worship the Birds?
PISTHETAIROS
Then swarms of starving Sparrows
shall descend on their fields in millions and gobble up their
seeds.
They'll damn well go hungry. We'll see then if Demeter will
feed them.
EUELPIDES
If I know that Demeter. she'll have plenty of excuses ready.
PISTHETAIROS
Then we'll muster the Crows and Ravens and send them
down in droves
to peck out the eyes of the oxen and make the sheep go
blind.
Dr. Apollo can cure them--but I'd hate to pay the fee.
EUELPIDES
Give me the nod when you're ready. I want to unload my
ox.
PISTHETAIROS
If, on the other hand, mankind accepts you as their gods,
their manifest Poseidon, their Earth, their Principle of Life,
all their wishes shall come true.
KORYPHAIOS
All their wishes? For instance?
PISTHETAIROS
Why, enormous plagues of locusts will not infest their vines:
a single regiment of our Owls will wipe the locusts out.
And the gallfly and the mite will no longer blight their figs
since we'll send down troops of Thrushes to annihilate the
bugs.
KORYPHAIOS
But what about money? Money's Man's dominant passion.
PISTHETAIROS
Duck soup for you. Your oracles will tell them what they
want--the whereabouts of the richest mines, when the
market is right to make a killing, and so forth. And no
more shipwrecks either.
KORYPHAIOS
No more shipwrecks?
PISTHETAIROS
No shipwrecks. You take your omens, you see,
and some Bird pipes up, "Bad weather brewing" or "Fore-
cast: fair."
EUELPIDES
To hell with the Birds! A ship for me! I'm off to sea!
PISTHETAIROS
You'll show them buried treasure; you'll tell them where to
find gold. For Birds know all the answers, or so the saying goes
"A little Bird told me." People are always saying that.
EUELPIDES
The hell with the sea! A shovel for me! I'm off to dig for
gold!
KORYPHAIOS
But how will we give them health? That lies in the hands of
the gods.
PISTHETAIROS
Give them wealth, you give them health. They're reall
much the same.
EUELPIDES
And that's a fact. The man who's sick is always doing badly.
KORYPHAIOS
But longevity and old age also lie in the hands of the gods.
How will a man grow old if the gods refuse him Old Age?
Will he die in childhood?
PISTHETAIROS
Die? The Birds will add to his
three centuries at least.
KORYPHAIOS
But how?
PISTHETAIROS
From their own lives, of course.
What doth the poet say?
"Five lives of men the cawing Crow
outliveth."*
EUELPIDES
Long live the Birds! Down with Zeus!
PISTHETAIROS
I'm with you there,
and think of the money we'll save!
For Birds won't want any shrines;
marble just leaves them cold.
They don't give a hoot for temples
with doors of beaten gold.
They'll live in woodses and copses--
that's plenty of shrine for them.
And the social-register swells
can strut on an olive limb.*
And we'll go no more to Delphi!
To hell with Ammon's seat!
We'll amble out under the olives
and toss them bits of wheat,
and hold up our paws to heaven
and make the Birds a prayer,
and the Birds will grant all our wishes
for cutting them a share.
And we won't be out of pocket.
No, the only dough we'll need
is a little loaf of barley
and a tiny pinch of seed.
KORYPHAIOS
The Birds' best friend! And to think how we misjudged you
once, most generous of men!
Ask us what you will. It shall be done,
CHORUS
Amen, we say.
And now, presuming you concur,
we Birds propose an oath
of mutual assistance, sir,
and binding on us both.
Arm to wing, we'll soar to war!
Our cause needs no excuse.
We'll storm up Mt. Olympos, friend,
and make a pulp of Zeus!
KORYPHAIOS
We await your orders, sir. Tasks that need mere brawn
and muscle
we Birds can do. The complicated mental stuff we leave to
you.
HOOPOE
Action, dammit, action! That's what we need.
Strike while the iron's hot. Not dawdling around
like slowpoke Nikias.
--Dear me, I nearly forgot.
You two gentlemen must see my little nest,
my trash of sticks and straw and kickshaw stuff.
And good heavens! We haven't been formally introduced.
PISTHETAIROS
Pisthetairos here.
HOOPOE
Ah. And this gentleman?
EUELPIDES
Euelpides.
From Athens.
HOOPOE
Enchanted, I'm sure.
PISTHETAIROS
The pleasure's ours.
HOOPOE
Please come in
PISTHETAIROS
No, after you.
HOOPOE
This way. gentlemen.
The Hoopoe begins to flap his wings to flutter into his nest
PISTHETAIROS
Hey. you!
Damn it, stop! Back water, blast you!
Look here. what sort of partnership is this supposed to be
if you start taking off when we can't even fly?
HOOPOE
Does it matter?
PISTHETAIROS
Remember what old Aesop tells us*
in his fable of the Eagle and the Fox in business
who couldn't get along? The Fox got swindled by the Eagle.
HOOPOE
Don't be nervous. I know of a wonderful magic root.
Merely nibble on it and you'll sprout a set of wings.
PISTHETAIROS
Splendid. Then let's go in.
--You there, Xanthias.
Hey, Manodorus! Bring our luggage inside the house.
KORYPHAIOS
One moment, please, Hoopoe, when you go inside...
HOOPOE
Yes?
KORYPHAIOS
By all means take your human guests and feast them well.
But first do one little favor for the Chorus, please.
Bring out your wife, your lovely Nightingale,
the bird with honeyed tongue, the Muses' love,
and let the Chorus play with her a little while.
PISTHETAIROS
I add my entreaty to theirs. In the name of heaven,
bring her out from the bed of rushes where she hides.
EUELPIDES
Please, please do. Bring the pretty Birdie out.
I've never met a Nightingale before.
HOOPOE
With all my heart.
I'd be delighted, gentlemen.
Calling inside.
Oh Prokne! Prokne.
Please come out, my dear, and meet our visitors.
A lovely well-rounded young flutegirl shyly appears. She is
dressed in the rich gold-encrusted robes of a young Athenian
matron of high birth. On her head she wears the mask of the
Nightingale.
PISTHETAIROS
Almighty Zeus! Gosh, what a baby of a Birdie!
What curves! What grace! What a looker!
EUELPIDES
Gee! By god,
I'd like to bounce between her thighs right now!
PISTHETAIROS
And what a shimmer of gold! Just like a bride.
EUELPIDES
By god, I've got half a mind to kiss her!
PISTHETAIROS
Look out,
you old lecher, her beak's a pair of skewers.
EUELPIDES
Very well.
Then I'll treat her like an egg and peel her shell.
I'll lift her little mask and kiss her--so.
HOOPOE
Harrumph. This way.
PISTHETAIROS
And may good fortune go with us.
Exeunt Pisthetairos, Euelpides, and Hoopoe, followed by the
slaves with the luggage.
CHORUS
O love, tawnythroat!
Sweet nightingale,
musician of the Birds
Come and sing,
honey-throated one!
Come, O love,
flutist of the Spring,
accompany our song.
The Chorus turns sharply and faces the audience, while the
flutegirl begins the song of the nightingale at its most
mournful. The flute obbligato accompanies the Chorus
throughout.
O suffering mankind,
lives of twilight,
race feeble and fleeting,
like the leaves scattered!
Pale generations,
creatures of clay,
the wingless, the fading!
Unhappy mortals,
shadows in time,
flickering dreams!
Hear us now,
the ever-living Birds,
the undying,
the ageless ones,
scholars of eternity.
Hear and learn from us
the truth
of all there is to know--
what we are,
and how the gods began,
of Chaos and Dark.
(And when you know
tell Prodikos to go
hang:* he's had it!)
There was Chaos
at first and Night
and Space and Tartaros.
There was no Earth.
No Heaven was.
But sable-winged Night
laid her wind-egg there*
in the boundless lap
of infinite Dark.
And from that egg,
in the seasons' revolving,
Love was born,
the graceful, the golden,
the whirlwind Love
on gleaming wings.
And there in the waste
of Tartaros,
Love with Chaos lay
and hatched the Birds.
We come from Love.
Love brought us
to the light.
There were no gods
till Love had married
all the world in love.
Then the world was made.
Blue Heaven stirred,
and Ocean,
the Earth and ageless gods,
the blessed one
who do not die.
But we came first.
We Birds were born
the first-born sons of Love,
in proof whereof
we wear Love's wings,
we help his lovers.
How many pretty boys,
their prime not past,
abjuring Love,
have opened up their thighs
and yielded,
overborne by us,
bribed by a Bird,
a Coot, a Goose,
Think of the services
a little Persian Cock!
we Birds perform
for all mankind.
We mark your seasons off,
summer, spring,
winter, fall.
When for Africa
the screaming Crane departs,
you sow your fields.
And then the sailor
takes his ease
and hangs his rudder up,
and thief Orestes
weaves himself a cloak
and robs no man.
And then the Kite appears,
whose coming says
the Spring is here,
the time has come
to shear the sheep.
And so the Swallow
brings his summer,
when mankind lays
its winter weeds away.
And we are Ammon
and Dodona.
We are your Apollo,
that prophetic voice
to whom you turn
in everything you do--
practical affairs,
commerce and trade,
and marriage too.
Birds are your signs,
and all your omens
are governed by Birds:
words are omens
sent by the Birds.
And the same for sneezes,
meetings, asses, voices:
all are omens,
and omens are Birds.
Who are we then
if we are not
your prophetic Apollo?
The obbligato of the flute ceases as the Chorus now shifts to a
lighter vein and a quicker tempo.
So elect us as your gods
and we, in turn, shall be
your weathervane and Muse,
your priests of prophecy,
foretelling all,
winter, summer, spring, and fall.
Furthermore, we promise we'll
give mankind an honest deal.
Unlike our smug opponent, Zeus,
we'll stop corruption and abuse.
NO ABSENTEE ADMINISTRATION!
NO PERMANENT VACATION
IN THE CLOUDS!
And we promise
to be scrupulously honest.
Last of all, we guarantee
to every single soul on earth,
his sons and their posterity:
HEALTH
WEALTH
HAPPINESS
YOUTH
LONG LIFE
LAUGHTER
PEACE
DANCING
and
LOTS TO EAT!
We'll mince no words.
Your lives shall be
the milk of the Birds!
We guarantee
you'll all be
revoltingly
RICH!
O woodland Muse
with lovely throat,
tio tio tio tinx!
who with me sing
whenas in glade or mountain, I,
perched upon the ashtree cry,
tio tlo tio tinx!
my tawny-throated song of praise,
to call the Mother to the dance,
a song of joy for blessed Pan,
tototototototinx!
whence, like a bee,
the poet stole his honeyed song,*
my ravished cry,
tio do tio tinx!
Do you suffer pangs of conscience?
Nervous?
Jumpy?
Scared?
Need a hideout from the law? Some cozy place to pass the
time? Well, step right up, friend!
We'll get you a berth with the Birds.
We do things differently up here.
What your laws condemn,
the things that you think shady or immoral are compulsory
with us.
Consider the case, for instance, of a boy who beats up
his dad.
Admit it: you're shocked. The idea! But we call it courage
when some bantam twirps, "C'mon, old Bird, put up your
spurs and fight!"
Or suppose you've deserted. You're a runaway, branded
with shame.
Hell, come and live with us! We'll call you a Yellow
Chicken. Or perhaps you happen to come from some foppish
hole in
Asia? Come on up, you fairy fop, and be an Asiatic Finch.
Or suppose you're a slave from Krete, like our friend
Exekestides--
We'll call you little Cuckoo and pawn you off as our own.
Was Peisias your father?
Are you a future traitor too?
Hell, make like a Partridge then. That's what your Daddy
did.
And who are we Birds to fuss at shamming hurt and
partridge tricks?
And so the swans
their clamor cry,
tio do do tinx!
and beating wings
and bursting throats
lord Apollo sing,
tio tio tio tinx!
by Hebros' waters, swarming, crying,
tio tio do tinx!
And every living thing is still.
On bird, on beast, the hush of awe.
The windless sea lies stunned when--
tototototototinx!
All Olympos rings,
and wonder breaks upon the gods,
and echoing, the Graces sing,
and lovely Muses raise the cry,
tio do tio tinx!
Friends, you haven't really lived till you've tried a set of
FEATHERS!
Think, spectators.
Imagine yourselves with a pair of wings!
The sheer joy of it! Not having to sit those tragedies out!
No getting bored.You merely flap your little wings and fly
off home.
You have a snack, then make it back to catch the COMIC
play.
Or again, suppose you're overtaken by a sudden need to crap.
Do you do it in your pants?
Not a bit.
You just zoom off.
fart and shit to your heart's content and whizz right back.
Or perhaps you're having an affair--I won't name any names.
You spot the lady's husband attending some meeting or
other.
Up you soar, flap your wings, through the window and into
bed!
You make it a quickie. of course, then flutter back to your
seat.
So what do you say?
Aren't wings just the most wonderful things?
Look at Dieitrephes. our vulgar Ikaros of trade,*
who started life on wicker wings but rose to captain's rank,
and now, still riding high, is colonel of a wing of horse.
From horse's ass to Pegasos! But that's what wings can do!
The Chorus now turns and faces the stage Pisthetairo and
Euelpides return. Both of them now sport tiny wings, a few
feathers, and outsize beaks.
PISTHETAIROS
Well, here we are.
EUELPIDES
Sweet gods, in all my days,
I've never seen a sillier sight than you!
PISTHETAIROS
Yeah,
what's so damn funny?
EUELPIDES
You and those baby wings.
They tickle me. You know what you look like, don't you?
PISTHETAIROS
You look like an abstraction of a Goose.
EUELPIDES
Yeah?
Well, if you're supposed to be a Blackbird, boy,
somebody botched the job. You're more bare than Bird.
PISTHETAIROS
We made the choice that gave these barbs their bite.
Remember.the poor Birds in that Aischylos play*--
"Shot down by shafts of their own feathers made?"
EUELPIDES
What's the next move?
PISTHETAIROS
First, we'll give our city
some highfalutin' name. Then a special sacrifice
to our new gods.
EUELPIDES
A special sacrifice? Yummy.
KORYPHAIOS
To work. men. How do you propose
to name our city?
PISTHETAIROS
How about Sparta? That's a grand old name
with a fine pretentious ring.
EUELPIDES
Great Herakies.
call my city Sparta? I wouldn't even insult
my mattress by giving it a name like Sparta.*
PISTHETAIROS
Well.
what do you suggest instead?
EUELPIDES
Something big, smacking
of the clouds. A pinch of fluff and rare air
A swollen sound.
PISTHETAIROS
I've got it! Listen--
CLOUDCUCKOOLANO
KORYPHAIOS
That's it! The perfect name. And it's a big word too.
EUELPIDES
CLOUDCUCKOOLANO
Imagination's happy home,
where Theogenes builds castles in the air. and Aischines
becomes a millionaire.
PISTHETAIROS IROs
Better yet, here we have
the plain of Phlegra. that windy battlefield of blab and bluff,
where the gabbling gods outbragged the wordy giants.
KORYPHAIOS
A suave and splendid city.
--But which of the gods
should we designate as patron and protector?
EUELPIDES
Why not Athena?
PISTHETAIROS
But it's bound to seem a bit, odd, isn't it? I mean,
a female goddess protecting our walls with a spear
while men like Kleisthenes sit home with their knitting?
KORYPHAIOS
And, come to think of it, who will guard our Storkade?*
PISTHETAIROS
A Bird.
KORYPHAIOS
One of us, you mean?
PISTHETAIROS
Why not the Rooster?
They're terrible scrappers and famous fighting Birds.
Little chicks of Ares.
EUELPIDES
Little Corporal Cock!
He's the perfect Bird for protecting our rock.
PISTHETAIROS
To Euelpides
Hop it. man!*
Quick. up the rigging of the air!
Hurry! Done? Now supervise the workers on the wall.
Run the rubble up!
Quick, mix the mortar, man!
Up the ladder with your hod--and then fall down!
Don't stop!
Post the sentries!
Bank the furnace!
Now the watchman's round.
All right, catch two winks.
Rise and shine!
Now send your heralds off.
one to the gods above, one to the mortals below
Then scurry back.
EUELPIDES
As for you. just stay right here--
and I hope you choke.
PISTHETAIROS
Obey your orders, friend.
Unless you do your share. we shan't get done.
Exit Euelpides.
Now, let me see.
First, a priest to supervise
our sacrifice.
--Boy!
An Acolyte appears.
Boy, go fetch me a priest.
And when you're finished, bring me a basket and a laver
Exit Acolyte.
CHORUS
The Birds agree
most heartily.
You're absolutely right.
Hymns and laud
are dear to god,
but dinner's their delight
Yet, gratitude
is shown with food,
so rise and offer up,
in witness of
our shrunken love,
one miserable lamp chop!
'KORYPHAIOS
Flutist, come in.*
Now let our sacrifice begin.
Enter the Flutist, a Raven whose beak is an enormous flute
which is strapped to his mouth by means of a leather harness
After strenuous huffing, he manages to produce what are
unmistakably caws.
PISTHETAIROS
Stop that raucous Rook!
In the name of god.
what are you anyway?
I've seen some weird sights.
but this is the first time in my life I ever saw,
a Blackbird propping his beak with a leather belt *
Exit Flutist. Enter Priest, followed by the Acolyte with the
paraphernalia of the sacrifice.
At last.
--Eminence, you may begin the inaugural sacrifice
PRIEST
Your humble servant, sir.
--But where's my acolyte?
The Acolyte steps forward. The Priest raises his hands and
begins the Bidding Prayer of the Birds.*
Now let us pray--
PRAY TO THE HESTIA OF NESTS,
TO THE HOUSEHOLDING HARRIER HAWK,
TO ALL THE OLYMPIAN COCKS AND
COQUETTES. TO THE SWOOPING STORK OF THE SEA--
PISTHETAIROS
ALL HAIL, THE STORK! HAIL, POSEIDON OF
PINIONS!
PRIEST
TO THE SWEETSINGER OF DELOS,
THE APOLLONIAN SWAN,
TO LETO THE QUEEN OF THE QUAIL,
TO ARTEMIS THE PHOEBE--
PISTHETAIROS
HAIL TO THE PHOEBE, VIRGIN SISTER OF
PHOIBOS!
PRIEST
PRAY TO WOODPECKER PAN,
TO DOWITCHER KYBELE,
MOTHER OF MORTALS AND GODS--
PISTHETAIROS
HAIL, DOWAGER QUEEN, GREAT MOTHER OF
BUSTARDS!
PRIEST
PRAY THAT THEY GRANT US
HEALTH AND LENGTH OF LIFE,
PRAY THAT THEY PROTECT US,
pray for the Chians too*--
PISTHETAIROS
You know, I like the way he tacks those Chians on.
PRIEST
COME, ALL HERO BIRDS,
ALL HEROINE HENS AND PULLETS!
COME, O GALLINULE!
BRING DICKYBIRD AND DUNNOCK,
COME, CROSSBILL AND BUNTING!
ON DIPPER, ON DIVER,
ON WHIMBREL AND FINCH!
COME CURLEW AND CREEPER,
ON PIPIT, ON PARROT,
COME VULTURE, COME TIT--
PISTHETAIROS
Stop it, you fool! Stop that rollcall of the Birds!
Are you utterly daft, man, inviting Vultures and Eagles
and suchlike to our feast? Or weren't you aware
one single beak could tuck it all away?
Clear out, and take your blasted ribands with you.
So help me, I'll finish this sacrifice myself.
Exit Priest.
CHORUS
Again we raise
the hymn of praise
and pour the sacred wine.
With solemn rite
we now invite
the blessed gods to dine.
But don't all come--
perhaps just one,
and maybe then again,
there's not enough
(besides, it's tough),
so stay away. Amen.
PISTHETAIROS
Let us pray to the pinion'd gods--
Enter a hungry, ragged Poet, chanting.
POET
In all thy songs, O Muse,
let one city
praised be--
CLOUDCUCKOOLAND THE LOVELY!
PISTHETAIROS
Who spawned this spook?
--Look here, who are you?
POET
One of the tribe of dulcet tongue and tripping speech--
"the slave of Poesy,
whose ardent soul
the Muses hold in thrall,"
as Homer hath it. *
PISTHETAIROS
Judging from your clothes, friend, your Muses must be
bankrupt. Tell me, bard, what ill wind plopped you here?
POET
I've been composing poems in honor of your new city--
oodles of little odes, some dedication-anthems,
songs for soprano voice, a lyric or two
a la Simonides--
PISTHETAIROS
How long has your little poetic mill
been grinding out this chaff?
POET
Why, simply ages.
Long, long since my Muse commenced to sing
Cloudcuckooland in all her orisons.
PISTHETAIROS
Long ago?
But that's impossible. This city's still a baby.
I just now gave birth. I just baptised her.
POET
Ah, but swift are the mouths of the Muses,
more swift than steeds the galloping news
of the Muses!
He turns to the altar and with outstretched hands invokes it
in Pindaric parody.
O Father,
Founder of Etna,*
of thy bounty give,
O Hiero, O Homonym,
Great Hero of the Fire,
just one slender sliv-
er to my desire,
some tidbit to savor,
some token of favor--
PISTHETAIROS
You know, I think we'd better bribe this beggar bard
to leave before we die of doggerel.
To the Acolyte.
--You there,
strip and. let the beggar poet have your overcoat.
He hands the coat to the Poet.
Dress.
Why, you poor poet, you're shivering with cold.
POET
My Muse accepts with thanks
this modest donation.
But first, before I leave,
one brief quotation,
a snatch of Pindar
you might ponder--
PISTHETAIROS
Gods above, will this poor man's Pindar never leave?
POET
Undressed amidst the nomad Skyths.*
the Frozen Poet fareth,
as Beastly Cold as Bard may be.
who Next-to-Nothing weareth.
Genius, ah, hath deck' d his Song,
but oh, di' Ingratitude!
Whilst other Blokes be warm as Toast,
the Poet's damn near Nude.
You catch my drift?
PISTHETAIROS
Yes, I catch your drift.
You want some underwear.
To the Acolyte.
All right, off with it, lad.
We can't allow our delicate poets to freeze to death.
And now clear out, will you?
POET
I go, I go,
but first my final valediction to this little village--
Singing.
O Muse on golden throne,
Muse with chattering teeth
sing this capitol of cold,
this frigorifical city!
I have been where the glebe is frozen with frore.
I have traipsed where the furrows are sown with snow.
Alalai!
Alalai!
G'bye.
Exit Poet.
PISTHETAIROS
Well, how do you like that? Griping about the cold
after making off with an entire new winter outfit!
And how in the name of heaven did that poetic plague discover us so fast?
To the naked and shivering Acolyte.
--You there, to work again.
Take up your laver and circle the altar, boy,
and we'll resume our inaugural sacrifice once again.
Quiet now, everyone.
As Pisthetairos approaches the altar with the sacrificial knife,
an itinerant Prophet with a great open tome of oracles makes
his appearance.
PROPHET
HALT! Forbear, I say!
Let no one touch the victim.
PISTHETAIROS
Who the hell are you,
may I ask?
PROPHET
I am a Prophet, sir, in person.
PISTHETAIROS
Then beat it.
PROPHET
Ah, the naughty wee scamp.
But we mustn't scoff.
Friend, I have brought you an oracle of the prophet Bakis,
transparently alluding to the city of Cloudcuckooland.
PISTHETAIROS
Why did you wait till after I founded my city
before disgorging this revelation of yours?
PROPHET
Alas,
I could not come. The Inner Voice said No.
PISTHETAIROS
I suppose we'll have to hear you expound your oracle.
PROPHET
Listen--
LO, IN THAT DAY WHEN THE WOLF AND THE
CROW DO FOREGATHER AND COMPANION,
AND DOMICILE IN THE AIR, AT THAT POINT
WHERE KORINTH KISSETH SIKYON*--
PISTHETAIROS
Look here, what has Korinth got to do with me?
PROPHET
Why,
it's ambiguous, of course. korintb signifies "air."
Resuming.
PRESENT, I SAY, A WHITE SHEEP TO PANDORA,
BUT TO THE SEER WHO BRINGS MY BEHEST:
IN PRIMIS, A WARM WINTER COAT
PLUS A PAIR OF SANDALS (THE BEST)--
PISTHETAIROS
The best sandals, eh?
PROPHET
Yup. Look in the book.
Resuming.
ITEM, A GOBLET OF WINE,
ITEM, A GIBLET OF GOAT--
PISTHETAIROS
Giblet? It says giblet?
PROPHET
Yup. Look in the book.
Resuming.
IF, O BLESSED YOUTH, THOU DOST AS I ENJOIN,
REGAL EAGLE WINGS THIS VERY DAY ARE
THINE.*
NOT SO MUCH AS PIGEON FLUFF, IF THOU
DECLINE.
PISTHETAIROS
It really says that?
PROPHET
Yup. Look in the book.
PISTHETAIROS
Drawing out a huge tome from under his cloak.
You know, your oracles somehow don't mesh with mine,
and I got these from Apollo's mouth.
Listen--
LO, IF IT CHANCE THAT SOME FAKER INTRUDE,
TROUBLING THY WORSHIP AND SCROUNGING
FOR FOOD,
LET HIS RIBS BE BASHED
AND HIS TESTICLES MASHED--
PROPHET
I suspect you're bluffing.
PISTHETAIROS
Nope. Look in the book.
Resuming.
SMITE ON, I SAY, IF ANY PROPHET SHOULD
COME,
YEA, THOUGH HE SOARETH LIKE THE SWALLOW,
FOR THE GREATER THE FAKER,* THE HARDER
HIS BUM
SHOULD BE BATTERED.
GOOD LUCK.
Signed,
APOLLO,
PROPHET
Honest? It says that?
PISTHETAIROS
Yup. Look in the book.
Suddenly throwing his tome at him and beating him.
Take that!
And that!
And that!
PROPHET
Ouch. Help!
PISTHETAIROS
Scat. Go hawk your prophecies somewhere else.
Exit Prophet. From the other side enters the geometrician
and surveyor Meton, * his arms loaded with surveying instruments.
METON
The occasion that hath hied me hither--
PISTHETAIROS
Not another!
State your business, stranger. What's your racket?
What tragic error brings you here?
METON
My purpose here
is a geodetic survey of the atmosphere of Cloudcuckooland
and the immediate allocation of all this aerial area
into cubic acres.
PISTHETAIROS
Who are you?
METON
Who am I?
Why, Meton, of course. Who else could I be?
Gometer to Hellas by special appointment.
Also Kolonos.
PISTHETAIROS
And those tools?
METON
Celestial rules,
of course.
Now attend, sir.
Taken in extenso,
our welkin resembles a cosmical charcoal-oven*
or potbellied stove worked by the convection principle,
though vaster. Now then, with the flue as my base,
and twirling the calipers thus, I obtain the azimuth,
whence, by calibrating the arc or radial sine--
you follow me, friend?
PISTHETAIROS
No, I don't follow you.
METON
No matter. Now then, by training the theodolite here
on the vectored zenith tangent to the Apex A,
I deftly square the circle, whose conflux, or C,
I designate as the center or axial hub of Cloudcuckoola
whence, like global spokes or astral radii,
broad boulevards diverge centrifugally, forming,
as it were--
PISTHETAIROS
Why, this man's a regular Thales!
Whispering confidentially.
Pssst. Meton.
METON
Sir?
PISTHETAIROS
I've taken quite a shine to you.
Take my advice, friend, and decamp while there's still time.
METON
You anticipate danger, you mean?
PISTHETAIROS
The kind of danger
one meets in Sparta. You know, nasty little riots,
a few foreigners beaten up or murdered, knifings,
fighting in the streets and so on.
METON
Dear me, you mean
there might actually be revolution?
PISTHETAIROS
I certainly hope not.
METON
Then what is the trouble?
PISTHETAIROS
The new law. You see,
attempted fraud is now punishable by thrashing.
METON
Er, perhaps I'd best be going.
PISTHETAIROS
I'm half afraid
you're just a bit too late.
Yes!
Look out!
Here comes your thrashing!
He hatters Meton with a surveying rod.
METON
HALP! MURDER!
PISTHETAIROS
I warned you. Go survey some other place, will you?
Exit Meton. From the other side enters an Inspector, *dressed
in a magnificent military uniform and swaggering imperiously.
INSPECTOR
Fetch me the Mayor, yokel.
PISTHETAIROS
Who's this popinjay?
INSPECTOR
Inspector-general of Cloudcuckooland County, sir.
invested, I might add, with plenary powers--
PISTHETAIROS
Invested?
On whose authority?
INSPECTOR
Why, the powers vested in me
by virtue of this piddling piece of paper here
signed by one Teleas of Athens.
PISTHETAIROS
Look. Let me propose
a little deal, friend. I'll pay you off right now,
provided you leave the city.
INSPECTOR
A capital suggestion.
As it so happens, my presence is urgently required
at home. They're having one of their Great Debates.
The Persian crisis, you know.*
PISTHETAIROS
Really? Splendid.
I'll pay you off right now.
Violently beating the Inspector
Take that!
And that!
INSPECTOR
What does this outrage mean?
PISTHETAIROS
The payoff. Round One
of the Great Debate.
INSPECTOR
But this is mutiny! Insubordination!
To the Chorus.
Gentlemen, I call on you Birds to bear me witness
that this man wilfully assaulted an Inspector.
PISTHETAIROS
Shoo, fellow,
and take your ballot boxes with you when you go.
Exit Inspector.
What confouded gall! Sending us one of their Inspectors
before we've even finished the Inaugural Service.
Enter an itinerant Legislator reading from a huge volume of
laws
LEGISLATOR
BE IT HEREBY PROVIDED THAT IF ANY CLOUD-
CUCKOOLANDER SHALL WILFULLY INJURE OR
WRONG ANY CITIZEN OF ATHENS--
PISTHETAIROS
Gods, what now? Not another bore with a book?
LEGISLATOR
A seller of laws and statutes, sir, at your service.
Fresh shipment of by-laws on special sale for only--
PISTHETAIROS
Perhaps you'd better demonstrate your wares.
LEGISLATOR
Reading.
BE IT HEREBY PROVIDED BY LAW THAT FROM
THE DATE SPECIFIED BELOW
THE WEIGHTS AND MEASURES OF THE CLOUD-
CUCKOOLANDERS ARE TO BE ADUSTED
TO THOSE IN EFFECT AMONG THE OLOPHYX-
IANS--
PISTHETAIROS
Pummelling him
By god, I'll Olo-phyx you!
LEGISLATOR
Hey, mister, stop!
PISTHETAIROS
Get lost, you and your laws, or I'll carve mine
on the skin of your tail.
Exit Legislator. Enter Inspector
INSPECTOR
I summon the defendant Pisthetairos
to stand trial in court on charges of assault and battery
not later than April.
PISTHETAIROS
Good gods, are you back too?
He thrashes Inspector who runs off. Re-enter Legislator.
LEGISLATOR
IF ANY MAN, EITHER BY WORD OR ACTION, DO
IMPEDE OR RESIST
A MAGISTRATE IN THE PROSECUTION OF HIS
OFFICIAL DUTIES, OR REFUSE
TO WELCOME HIM WITH THE COURTESY PRE-
SCRIBED BY LAW--
PISTHETAIROS
Great thundery Zeus are you back here too?
He drives the Legislator away. Re-enter Inspector.
INSPECTOR
I'll have you sacked. What's more, I'm suing you
for a fat two thousand.
VISTHETAIROS
By Zeus, I'll fix you
and your blasted ballot boxes once and for all!
Exit Inspector under a barrage of blows. Re-enter Legislator
LEGISLATOR
Remember that evening when you crapped in court?
PISTHETAIROS
Dammit
Someone arrest that pest!
Exit Legislator.
And this time stay away!
But enough's enough.
We'll take our goat inside
and finish this sacrifice in peace and privacy.
Exit Pisthetairos into house, followed by Acolyte with basket
and slaves with the sacrifice.
CHORUS
Wheeling sharply and facing the audience.
Praise Ye the Birds, O Mankind!
Our sway is over all.
The eyes of the Birds observe you:
we see if any fail.
We watch and guard all growing green,
protecting underwing
this lavish lovely life of earth,
its birth and harvesting.
We smite the mite, we slay the pest,
all ravagers that seize
the good that burgeons in your buds
or ripens on your trees.
Whatever makes contagion come,
whatever blights or seeks
to raven in this green shall die,
devoured by our beaks.-
KORYPHAIOS
You know, gentlemen, that proclamation that's posted
everywhere in town-
WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE! DIAGORAS OF MELOS.
ONE TALENT'S REWARD FOR ANY MAN WHO
KILLS THE TYRANT!
Well, we Birds have published our own public procla-
mation:--
"HEAR YE!
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE!
PHILOKRATES
THE BIRDSELLER!
DEAD, 1 TALENTS REWARD. 4 TALENTS IF
TAKEN ALIVE,
BUT PROCEED WITH CAUTION. THIS MAN
IS DANGEROUS.
WANTED FOR MURDER AND CRUELTY TO BIRDS
ON THE FOLLOWING COUNTS:-
For the Spitting of Finches, seven to a skewer;
item, for Disfiguring Thrushes by means of inflation;
item, for Insertion of Feathers in Blackbirds' nostrils:
item, for Unlawful Detention of Pigeons in Cages:
item, for Felonious Snaring of Innocent Pigeons;
item, for Flagrant Misuse of Traps and Decoy-devices,
So much for Philolcrates.
But as for you, dear spectators.
we give you solemn warning.
If any boy in this audience
has as his hobby the keeping of Birds in captivity or cages.
we urgently suggest that you let your pets go free. Disobey.
and we'll catch you and lock you up in a wicker cage
or stake you out to a snare as a little decoy boy!
CHORUS
How blessed is our breed of Bird,
dressed in fluff and feather,
that, when hard winter holds the world,
wears no clothes whatever.
And blazoned summer hurts no Bird,
for when the sun leaps high,
and, priestly in that hellish light,
the chaunting crickets cry,
the Birds keep cool among the leaves
or fan themselves with flight;
while winter days we're snug in caves
and nest with nymphs at night.
But Spring is joy, when myrtle blooms
and Graces dance in trio,
and quiring Birds cantatas sing
vivace e con brio.
KORYPHAIOS
Finally, gentlemen, a few brief words about the First Prize
and the striking advantages of casting your vote for THE
BIRDS of Aristophanes--
advantages compared to which that noble prince,
poor Paris of Troy, was very shabbily bribed
indeed.
First on our list of gifts comes a little item
that every judge's greedy heart must be panting to possess.
I refer, of course, to those lovely little owls of Laurium,
sometimes called the coin of the realm.
Yes, gentlemen,
these lovely owls, we promise, will flock to you by the
thousand, settle down in your wallets kir good and hatch
you a brood of nice little nest eggs.
Secondly, gentlemen, we promise
to redesign your houses.
See, the sordid tenements vanish,
while in their place rise splendid shrines whose dizzy
heights, like Eagle-eyries,* hang in heaven.
Are you perhaps
a politician faced with the vexing problem of insufficient
plunder? Friend, your problems are over. Accept as our gift
to you a pair of Buzzard claws designed with special hooks
for more efficient grafting.
As for heavy eaters,
those suffering from biliousness, heartburn, acid indigestion
or other stomach ailments and upsets, we proudly present
them
with special lifetime Bird-crops, guaranteed to be virtually
indestructible.
If, however, gentlemen, you withhold your vote,
you'd better do as the statues do and wear a metal lid
against our falling guano.
I repeat.
Vote against THE BIRDS,
and every Bird in town will cover you with--vituperation!
The Chorus turns and faces the stage. Enter Pisthetairos.
PISTHETAIROS
Birds, the omens are favorable. Our sacrifice has been
auspicious. But I wonder where in the world our messenger
is with news about our wall.
A sound of furious panting offstage.
Aha. There he is now.
I'd recognize that awful huffing and puffing anywhere.
Those are the true Olympic pants and puffs I hear.
Enter Messenger, panting.
MESSENGER
Where anh where hoo where uh where can he be?
Where is Pisthetairos hanh?
PISTHETAIROS
Here hunh here.
MESSENGER
Whew, the wall's all up! The wall's done!
PISTHETAIROS
Splendid!
MESSENGER
What a wonderful, whopping, well-built wall! Whew!
Why, that wall's so wide that if you hitched up
four Trojan Horses to two huge chariots
with those braggarts Proxenides in one and Theogenes in the
other,
they could pass head-on. That's the width of your wall!
PISTHETAIROS
Wow, what a width!
MESSENGER
And what a height! Measured it myself.
Six hundred feet high!
PISTHETAIROS
Poseidon, what a height!
Who in the world could have built a wall like that?
MESSENGER
The Birds.
Nobody but Birds.
Not one Egyptian.
No bricklayers. No carpenters. Or masons.
Only the Birds. I couldn't credit my eyes.
What a sight it was:
Thirty thousand Cranes
whose crops were all loaded with boulders and stones,*
while the Rails with their beaks blocked out the rocks
and thousands of Storks came bringing up bricks
and Plovers and Terns and seabirds by billions
transported the water right up to the sky!
PISTHETAIROS
Heavens!
But which Birds hauled the mortar up?
MESSENGER
Herons,
in hods.
PISTHETAIROS
But how was the mortar heaped in the hods?
MESSENGER
Gods, now that was a triumph of engineering skill!
Geese burrowed their feet like shovels beneath
and heaved it over their heads to the hods.
PISTHETAIROS
They did?
Ah Feet! Ah, Feet! O incredible feat!*
What can compete with a pair of feet?
MESSENGER
And, sir,
you should have seen the Ducks with their aprons on
go hauling the bricks! And how the Swallows came
swooping, dangling their trowels behind them like boys,
and darting and dipping with mouthfuls of mortar!
PISTHETAIROS
Why,
if this is true, then human labor is obsolete.
But what happened next? Who finished off the job?
Who did the woodwork on the wall?
MESSENGER
Mastercraftsmen birds.
It was Pelicans, like carpenters, with handy hatchet-beaks
who hewed the gates, and what with the racket and hubbub
of all that hacking and chopping and hewing and banging,
sir, you'd have sworn it was a shipyard down at the docks.
Or so it sounded to me.
But the gates are done,
the bolts shot home, watchbirds make their rounds
with clanging bells, the guards patrol their beats
and every tower along the circuit of the wall
blazes with its watchfire. And in three words, sir,
all is well.
But I must go and wash my face.
My job is done. The rest is up to you.
Exit Messenger.
KORYPHAIOS
Well,
wasn't it a wonder the way that wall of ours shot up?
PISTHETAIROS
A damn sight too wonderful. If you're asking me,
I think it's all a lie.
--But look what's coming:
another messenger, and a sentry judging by his looks.
Enter Sentry, whirling on stage in the wild steps of a military
dance.*
--What are you, fellow? A soldier or a ballerina?
SENTRY
ALAS! ALACKADAY!
OCHONE!
WOE IS ME!
PISTHETAIROS
Well, what's troubling you?
SENTRY
Sir, we are diddled
and undone.
Some god has given us the slip,
I wot not which. Carommed through the gates
out into territorial air. The Daws on guard
never spotted him.
PISTHETAIROS
Gad. A national scandal.
Which god?
SENTRY
We couldn't tell. But he was wearing wings,
that much we know.
PISTHETAIROS
Were Pursuitbirds sent up
to intercept him?
SENTRY
Everything we had took off, sir.
The Sparrowhawk Reserve, thirty thousand Falcons,
every claw-carrying Harrier we could throw
in the sky:--Kestrels, Buzzards, Owls, Eagles,
Vultures, you name it.
Why, the whole atmosphere
is throbbing and buzzing with the whirr of beating wings
as they comb the clouds for that sneaky little god.
If you're asking me, he's not so far away either.
He's hereabouts. I'm sure.
Exit Sentry.
PISTHETAIROS
Where's my bow?
Bring me my sling!
Archerbirds, fall in!
Now shoot to kill.
Dammit, where's my sling?
CHORUS
Now words are weak
and ACTIONS speak
ineffably of War.
Let every Bird
for battle gird:
the gods are at our door:
Rise up, defend
your native land!
Go mobilize the Air!
Immortal spies
now prowl our skies.
And saboteurs. Take care.
KORYPHAIOS
Quiet.
I hear the whirr of beating wings.
Listen. Some god comes whizzing through our air.
With a loud whoosh and a burst of baroque movement and
color, Iris descends in the machine. She is a young girl with
golden wings and billowing rainbow-colored robes. From her
dress and hair, in gracious and extravagant loops of color,
pennants and ribbons and streamers trail out behind.
PISTHETAIROS
Ship ahoy!
Belay!
Where are you cruising?
Down anchors!
And stop luffing those wings.
Now who are you? Home Port? Purpose of voyage?
IRIS
I am Iris the fleet.
PISTHETAIROS
Clippership or sloop?
IRIS
What does this mean?
PISTHETAIROS
Some Buzzard flap up
and arrest that bitch.
IRIS
You dare arrest me?
What sort of joke is this?
PISTHETAIROS
You'll see, sister.
IRIS
But I must be dreaming. This can't be real.
PISTHETAIROS
What gate did you enter by? Answer, you slut.
IRIS
Gates? What would a goddess know about gates?
PISTHETAIROS
A glib little piece. Just listen to those lies.
--Well, did you report to the Daw on duty at the gate?
Mum, eh?
Where's your Storkpass?
IRIS
I must be mad.
PISTHETAIROS
What? You never even applied?
IRIS
You must be mad.
PISTHETAIROS
Was your form filled out by Colonel Cock
and properly punched?
IRIS
Just let him try!
Why, the very idea!
PISTHETAIROS
So that's your game, is it?
To sneak in here, infiltrate our territorial air,
spy on our city--
IRIS
But where can a poor god go?
PISTHETAIROS
How should I know? But not here, by god!
You're trespassing. What's more, it would serve you right
if I ordered you put to death this very instant.
If ever a god deserved to die, that god is you.
IRIS
But I can't die.
PISTHETAIROS
Well, you damn well should.
A pretty pickle it would be if the whole world
obeyed the Birds while you gods got uppity
and defied your betters.
Now then, you aerial yacht, state your business here.
IRIS
My business? Why,
I am bearing the following message from my father Zeus
to mankind:
"LET HOLOCAUSTS MAKE GLAD THY
GODS AND MUTTON BARBECUES ON BEEFY
ALTARS TOAST, YEA, TILL EVERY STREET DOTH
REEK WITH ROAST AMBROSIALLY."
PISTHETAIROS
Hmm. I think he wants a sacrifice.
But to which gods?
IRIS
To which gods? To us, of course.
Who else could he mean?
PISTHETAIROS
But that's quite absurd.
You, gods? I mean, really!
IRIS
Name me any other gods.
PISTHETAIROS
Why, the Birds, madam. Birds are now the gods.
Men worship Birds, not gods. Good gods, no!
IRIS
In the high tragic manner. *
Then beware, O Mole, lest thou court the choler
of the galled gods, and Justice with the angry pick
of peeved Zeus prise up thy pedestals
and topple all thy people, leaving not a smitch;
yea, and forked levin sear thee to a crisp,
lambasted low amongst thy mortal porticoes
by lightnings blunderbuss'd, yea--
PISTHETAIROS
Listen, lady,
stow the tragic guff. You're starting to slobber.
And kindly stop twitching.
What do you think I am?
Some poor Lydian or Phrygian slave* you can browbeat
with the bogey-talk?
Go back and tell your Zeus
if he messes around with me. I'll fry him to a cinder!
What doth the poet say?*
Aye, with eagles belching levin,
I shall scorch the halls of heav'n.
till Zeus doth frizzle in his juice
and Amphion, e'en Amphion--
--But what am I saying?
How does Amphion fit in here?
Well, no matter.
But you tell your Zeus that if he crosses me, by god,
I'll send six hundred Porphyrions up against him,
and every Bird-Jack of the lot tricked out as a panther.
I'd like to see his face. I remember the time
when one poor piddling little Porphyrion
was one too many for Zeus.
But as for you,
Miss Messenger Iris, sail my way once more
and I'll lay my course right up your lovely legs,
and board you at the top.
Mark my words:
you'll be one flabbergasted little goddess
when you feel the triple ram on this old hulk.
IRIS
What a disgusting way to talk.
PISTHETAIROS
Skedaddle, slut.
IRIS
Just you wait till my Father hears about this.
PISTHETAIROS
Heaven defend me from this flying flirt. Beat it!
Go singe some youngster with your lechery, will you?
Exit Iris in the machine.
CHORUS
The gods' attack
has been lolled back,
rebuffed by our Blockade.
Let god and man
now heed our ban:
NO TRANSETHEREAL TRADE!
No more, no more
do victuals soar; no savory ascends;
and chops and stew
are now taboo:
the party's over, friends!
PISTHETAIROS
You know, its rather odd about that other messenger
we despatched to earth. He should be back by now.
Enter Herald in great' haste. He throws himself to the ground
at Pisthetairos' feet and salaams profoundly.
HERALD
O Pisthetairos! O Paragon! O Pink!
Thou Apogee of Genius! Sweet Flower of Finesse!
O Phoenix of Fame! Flimflam's Non-Pareil!
O of every noble attribute the Plus!
O Happy Happy Chap! O Blest! O Most!
O Best!--
oh, balls.
PISTHETAIROS
You were about to say, my friend,
when you so rudely interrupted yourself?
HERALD
Rising and crowning Pisthetairos.
Deign, my lord, to accept this crown of solid gold,
profferred in honor of your glorious wisdom and chicane
by an adoring world.
PISTHETAIROS
I am deeply honored sir.
But why should man's election fall on me?
HERALD
O fabulous founder of great Cloudcuckooland,
how can you ask such a question? Have you not heard
that Pisthetairos has become the darling of the mortal
world,
a name to conjure with? That all mankind
has gone Cloudcuckoolandophile,
madly, utterly?
And yet, only yesterday,
before your dispensation in the skies became a fact.
the Spartan craze had swept the faddish world.
Why, men went mad with mimicry of Sokrates,*
affected long hair, indifferent food,
rustic walking sticks, total bathlessness,
and led, in short, what I can only call
a Spartan existence.
But then suddenly, overnight,
the Birds became tl)e vogue, the dernier cri
of human fashion.* And men immediately began
to feather their own nests; to cluck and brood;
play ducks and drakes; grub for chickenfeed;
atch deals, and being rooked or gulled,
to have their little gooses cooked. But if they grouse,
they still are game.
In sum, the same old life,
but feathered over with the faddish thrills of being
chic.
But the latest word in Birds is names.
The gimpy peddler is tagged Old Partridge now;
Menippos is called Cuckoo; Opountios, Stool Pigeon;
Philokles is the Lark; Theogenes, the Pseudo-Goose;
Lykourgos, Lame Duck; Chairephon is Bats;
Syrakosios, of course, is called the Jaybird,
and as for Meidias, why, he's the Sitting Duck--
and judging from that ugly clobbered beak of his,
no man ever missed.
And that's not all.
Mankind has gone so utterly batty over Birds
that all the latest songs are filled with them--
Swallows, Pigeons, Ducks, Geese, you name it.
Any tune with feathers in it or a pinch or fluff
becomes a hit.
And that's how matters stand
below.
But one last point before I leave.
Vast swarms and coveys of men are on the move,
all migrating here to Cloudcuckooland in quest of wings
and the Feathered Way of Life. Somehow, sir,
you'll have to wing these mortal immigrants.
Exit Herald.
PISTHETAIROS
We'd best get busy.
Gad!
To a Slave.
--You there.
Run inside.
Stuff every hamper you can find with sets of wings
and tell Manes to bring them out. I'll stay here
to give my greeting to these wingless refugees in person.
Exit Slave.
CHORUS
Upon thy head, Cloudcuckooland,
the crown of praise we set:
O Beautiful for Swarming Skies-
PISTHETAIROS
-Don't count your chickens yet.
CHORUS
This feather'd isle, this pinion'd place,
where martyr-Birds have bled,
where men aspire on wings of fluff--
Enter Manes, slowly and empty-handed.
PISTHETAIROS
--Their legs are made of lead.
Exit Manes.
CHORUS
What greater bliss can men require?
Here the lovely Graces go,
and Wisdom strolls with sweet Desire,
and Peace comes tripping slow.
Enter Manes carrying two wings.
PISTHETAIROS
She's miles ahead of Manes.
--Dammit, blockhead, move!
CHORUS
To work, dull clod! Heave-ho the wings!
Exit Manes. To Pisthetairos.
Now show him you're the master.
Flog him, thrash him--
Enter Manes with two more wings.
PISTHETAIROS
--What's the use?
A mule could manage faster.
Exit Manes.
CHORUS
Now sort the wings in pinion-piles
by order of professions:
Seabirds' wings for nautical types,
Warblers' for musicians--
Enter Manes with three wings.
PISTHETAIROS
--So help me, Kestrels, if I don't bash your head
to a pulp, you lazy, stupid, bungling ass!
Beats him. Manes scurries off, instantly reappearing with
crates and hampers of wings which he quickly dumps and
sorts into the appropriate piles. Suddenly from offstage is
heard the tenor voice of Delinquent, singing:
If I had the wings of an Eagle, *
o'er this barren blue brine I would fly...
PISTHETAIROS
That messenger of ours was telling the truth, by god.
Here comes someone crooning Eagle-ballads.
Enter Delinquent, * a strapping boy in his teens.
DELINQUENT
Some kicks!
There's nothin' on earth like flyin'! Whee!
Chee,
Cloudcuckooland's the roost for me! Hey, man,
I'm bats about the Birds! I'm with it chum!
I wanna be a Bird! I want your way of life!
PISTHETAIROS
Which way? We Birds have bushels of ways.
DELINQUENT
If it's strictly for the Birds, then it's for me, man.
But best of all I like that splendid custom you've got
that permits a little Bird to choke his daddy dead.
PISTHETAIROS
True. We think it very manly of a young Bird
if he walks up and takes a poke at his old man.
DELINQUENT
That's it, Dad.
Exactly why I'm here. I want to throttle
the old man and inherit his jack.
PISTHETAIROS
One moment.
We Birds observe another custom older still.
You'll find it preserved in the Scrolls of the Storks. 1 quote:
"ONCE THE AGED STORK HATH REARED HIS
BROOD
AND HIS CHICKS HAVE MADE THEIR MAIDEN
FLIGHT ALONE,
THEY MUST IN TURN SUPPORT THEIR FATHER IN
HIS AGE."
DELINQUENT
A fat lot of good I've got from coming here, chum,
if I have to go back home and support the old man.
PISTHETAIROS
I tell you what. You seem a decent lad,
and I'll adopt you as our city's official Mascot-Bird.
But first some good advice I received as a toddler
at my mother's knee:
Don't drub your dad.
Take this wing instead.
With your other hand,
accept this spur. Here, your helmet is this crest.
Now march off, rookie. Drill, stand your guard,
live on your pay and let your father be.
You look aggressive: flutter off to Thrace.
There's fighting there.
DELINQUENT
By god, I think you're right.
What's more, I'm game.
PISTHETAIROS
You damn well better be.
Exit Delinquent. From the other side enters the dithryambic
poet Kinesias. His splay-footed galumphing entrance is in
sharp contrast to his aerial pretensions.
KINESIAS
On gossamer I go,
delicately wending, *
up, up, up the airy stairs
of Poesy ascending--
PISTHETAIROS
By god, we'll need a boatload of wings at least
to get this limping poet off the ground!
KINESIAS
--forth through the Vast Unknown,
original, alone--
PISTHETAIROS
Welcome, Kinesias, bard of balsa-wood!
What made you whirl you splay-foot hither, bard?
KINESIAS
I yearn, I burn, thou know'st it well,
to be a lilting Philomel.
PISTHETAIROS
A little less lilt, please. Could you stoop to prose?
KINESIAS
Wings, dull wight, wings!
Vouchsafe me wings
to percolate amidst the churning scud and rack
of yon conceited clouds from which I'll pluck and cull
tornado similes of blizzard speech.
PISTHETAIROS
You mean you plagiarize the clouds?
KINESIAS
Ah, my dear sir,
but our poet's craft depends completely on the clouds.*
Why, the most resplendent poem is but the insubstantial
shimmer refracted from that blue and bubbled murk of
froth, that featherfillip'd air.
Judge for yourself.
PISTHETAIROS
I won't.
KINESIAS
Ah, but you shall, dear boy, you shall.
I'll do my Aerial Aria, and just for you.
Ready?
Singing.
Now winged wraiths
of the hovering Plover
over yon Ether rove--
PISTHETAIROS
GALE WARNINGS POSTED! STAND BY, ALL SHIPS
AT SEA!
KINESIAS
--over the billows pillow'd aloft,
in the buffeting gust of the gathered gale--
PISTHETAIROS
By god, I'll give you some buffets you won't like!
He snatches a pair of large wings from a pile and beats
Kinesias who runs about, still spouting.
KINESIAS
--now north, now south,
and where they fare, fare I,
cutting my wake
on the harborless lake
of the feathelfillip'd sky.
Get that, old boy? A catchy figure, what?
PISTHETAIROS
Lashing him again.
Get that? What? No taste for featherfillips, poet?
KINESIAS
What a beastly way to welcome a poetic genius
for whose services the entire civilized world competes!
PISTHETAIROS
Then stay with us. You can train an All-Bird
Chorus. Leotrophides will conduct his own compositions.
He likes the delicate stuff.
KINESIAS
Durst despise me, sir?
Know then, I ne'er shall cease from Poesy
until with wings I waltz upon Cloudcuckooland.
Farewell.
Exit Kinesias. Enter an Informer in a tattered coat, singing.
INFORMER
What suspicious Birds are these*
that own no clothes and house in trees?
O Cuckoo, Cuckoo, tell me true!
PISTHETAIROS
We've passed the nuisance stage. This is crisis.
Here comes a warbler humming treason-trills.
INFORMER
Ho!
Again I cry:
O Cuckoo, Cuckoo, tell me true!
PISTHETAIROS
I think it must be an epigram on his tattered coat.
He's so cold he's calling the Cuckoo to bring the Spring.*
Poets are always talking out loud to Cuckoos in April.
INFORMER
You there. Where's the guy who's handing out the wings?
PISTHETAIROS
You're looking at him now. What do you want, friend?
INFORMER
Wings, fellow, wings! Got it?
PISTHETAIROS
I get it:
to hide the holes in your coat.*
INFORMER
Listen, Buster:
my business is the indictment of islands for subversive
activities. * You see in me a professional informer.
PISTHETAIROS
A splendid calling
INFORMER
Also an agent provocateur of lawsuits and investigations.
That's why I want the wings. They'd come in handy
for whizzing around the islands delivering my indictments
and handing out subpoenas in person.
PISTHETAIROS
I see. And these wings
would increase your efficiency?
INFORMER
Increase my efficiency?
Impossible. But they'd help me dodge the pirates I meet
en route. Then. coming home, I'd load the crops of the
Cranes with writs and suits for ballast.
PISTHETAIROS
And that's your trade?
A husky lad like yourself earning his livelihood
by indicting foreigners?
INFORMER
But what am I supposed to do?
I don't know how to dig.
PISTHETAIROS
Great Zeus Almighty.
Aren't there enough honest means of earning a living
without this dirty little dodge of hatching suits?
INFORMER
Listen, mister: it's wings I want. not words.
PISTHETAIROS
But my words are wings.
INFORMER
Your words are wings?
PISTHETAIROS
But of course. How else do you think mankind won its
wings if not from words?
INFORMER
From words?
PISTHETAIROS
Wings from words.
You know the old men, how they loll around at the
barbershop*
grousing and bitching about the younger generation?--
"Thanks to that damned Dieitrephes* and his damned
advice," growls one, "my boy has flown the family nest
to take a flier on the horses."
"Hell,"
pipes another, "you should see that kid of mine:
he's gone so damn batty over those tragic plays,
he flies into fits of ecstacy and gets goosebumps
all over."
INFORMER
And that's how words give wings?
PISTHETAIROS
Right.
Through dialectic the mind of man takes wing and soars;
he is morally and spiritually uplifted. And so I hoped
with words of good advice to wing you on your way
toward some honest trade.
INFORMER
It just won't work.
PISTHETAIROS
But why won't it?
INFORMER
I can't disgrace the family name
We've been informers now for several generations.
you see.
So give me wings--Hawk's or Kestrel's
will suit me fine, but anything's all right by me
provided they're fast and light. I'll slip them on.
dart out to the islands with stacks of subpoenas and
summons, whizz back home to defend the case in court
then zip right back to the islands again.
PISTHETAIROS
I get it.
When they arrive, they find their case is lost by default
they've been condemned in absentia.
INFORMER
You've got it
PISTHETAIROS
And while they're coming here, you're going there
to confiscate their property? Right?
INFORMER
You've got it.
I'll whirr around like a top.
PISTHETAIROS
Right. I've got it:
you're a top. And guess what I've got here for you.
a lovely little set of Korkyrean wings.
He pulls out a whip.
INFORMER
Hey, that's a whip!
PISTHETAIROS
Not a whip, it's wings
to make your little top go round
He lashes Informer with the whip
Got it?
INFORMER
Ouch! Owwoooo!
PISTHETAIROS
Flap your wings, Birdie!
That's it, old top, wobble on your way!
By god,
I'll make this legal whirligig go round!
Exit Informer under the lash. Pisthetairos signals to his slaves
to pick up the piles of wings.
--Hey,
you there. Gather up the wings and bring them inside
Exeunt Pisthetairos and Attendants with the hampers of wings.
CHORUS*
Many the marvels I have seen,
the wonders on land and sea;
but the strangest sight I ever saw
was the weird KLEONYMOS-tree.
It grows in faraway places;
its lumber looks quite stout,
but the wood is good for nothing,
for the heart is rotten out.
In Spring it grows gigantic
with sycophantic green,
and bitter buds of slander
on every bough are seen.
But when. like war, cold winter comes
this strange KLEONYMOS yields.
instead of leaves like other trees.
a crop of coward's shields
And far away (but not so far)
we saw a second wonder.
a place of awful, dismal dark-
when the sun goes under
And there by day dead heroes come
and talk with living men.
and while it's light no ghost will hurt.
but when it's dark again.
then thieves and ghosts take common shape.
and who knows which is which?
So wise men dodge that dive at night-
but most of all the rich
For any man who ventures in
may meet ORESTES there.
the ghost who paralyzes men.
the thief who strips them bare.
Enter Prometheus. * so muffled in blankets as to be com-
pletely unrecognizable. His every motion is furtive. but his
furtiveness is hampered by an immense umbrella which he
carries underneath his blankets. He speaks in a whisper
PROMETHEUS
Easy does it. I hope old Zeus can't see me.
To a Bird.
Psst. Where's Pisthetairos?
PISTHETAIROS
What in the world is this?
-Who are you, blanket?
PROMETHEUS
Shh. Are there any gods
on my trail?
PISTHETAIROS
Gods? No. not a god in sight.
Who are you?
PROMETHEUS
What's the time? Is it dark yet?
PISTHETAIROS
You want the time? It's still early afternoon.
Look, who the hell are you?
PROMETHEUS
Is it milking-time. or later?
PISTHETAIROS
Look, you stinking bore-
PROMETHEUS
What's the weather doing?
How's the visibility' Clear skies? Low ceiling?
PISTHETAIROS
Raising his stick
By god,
if you won't talk-
PROMETHEUS
Dark. eh? Good. I'm coming out.
Uncovers
PISTHETAIROS
Hullo: it's Prometheus!
PROMETHEUS
Shh. Don't make a sound.
PISTHETAIROS
What's the matter?
PROMETHEUS
Shh. Don't even whisper my name.
If Zeus spots me here, he'll cook my goose but good.
Now then, if you want to learn the lay of the land
in heaven, kindly open up this umbrella here
and hold it over my head while I'm talking.
Then the gods won't see me.
Pisthetairos takes the umbrella, opens it up, and holds it over
Prometheus.
PISTHETAIROS
Say, that's clever.
Prometheus all over.*
--All right. Pop underneath
and give us your news.
PROMETHEUS
Brace yourself.
PISTHETAIROS
Shoot.
PROMETHEUS
Zeus has had it.
PISTHETAIROS
Since when?
PROMETHEUS
Since the moment
you founded the city of Cloudcuckooland. Since that day
not a single sacrifice, not even a whiff of smoke,
no savories, no roast, nothing at all
has floated up to heaven. In consequence, my friend.
Olympos is starving to death. And that's not the worst of it.
All the Stone Age gods* from the hill country
have gone wild with hunger, screaming and gibbering away
like a lot of savages. And what's more, they've threatened
war unless Zeus succeeds in getting your Bird-embargo lifted
and the tidbit shipments back on the move once more.
PISTHETAIROS
You mean to say there are other gods in Heaven?
Stone Age gods?
PROMETHEUS
Stone Age gods for Stone Age people.
Exekestides must have something to worship.
PISTHETAIROS
Heavens,
they must be savages. But what do you call them?
PROMETHEUS
We call them Triballoi.
PISTHETAIROS
Triballoi? From the same root
as our word "trouble." I suppose.
PROMETHEUS
Very probably, I think
But give me your attention. At present these Triballoi gods
have joined with Zeus to send an official embassy
to sue for peace. Now here's the policy you must follow:
flatly reject any offers of peace they make you
until Zeus agrees to restore his sceptre to the Birds
and consents to give you Miss Universe* as your wife.
PISTHETAIROS
But who's Miss Universe?
PROMETHEUS
A sort of Beauty Queen,
the sign of Empire and the symbol of divine supremacy.
It's she who keeps the keys to Zeus' thunderbolts
and all his other treasures--Divine Wisdom,
Good Government, Common Sense, Naval Bases,
Slander, Libel, Political Graft, Sops to the Voters--
PISTHETAIROS
And she keeps the keys?
PROMETHEUS
Take it from me, friend.
Marry Miss Universe and the world is yours.
--You understand
why I had to tell you this? As Prometheus, after all,
my philanthropy is proverbial.
PISTHETAIROS
Yes, we worship you
as the inventor of the barbecue. *
PROMETHEUS
Besides, I loathe the gods.
PISTHETAIROS
The loathing's mutual, I know.
PROMETHEUS
Just call me Timon:
I'm a misanthrope of gods.
--But I must be running along.
Give me my parasol. If Zeus spots me now,
he'll think I'm an ordinary one-god procession. I'll pretend
to be the girl behind the boy behind the basket.
PISTHETAIROS
Here--take this stool and watch yourself march by.
Exit Prometheus in solemn procession, draped in his blanket,
the umbrella in one hand, the stool in the other. Pisthetairos
and the Attendants retire.
CHORUS*
There lies a marsh in Webfoot Land,
the Swamp of Dismal Dread,
and there we saw foul SOKRATES
come calling up the dead.
And there that cur PEISANDROS came
to see if he could see
the soul he'd lost while still alive
by dying cowardly.
He brought a special sacrifice,
a little camel lamb;
then, like Odysseus, slit its throat--
he slits its throat and ran!
And then a phantom shape flew down,
a specter cold and wan,
and on the camel's blood he pounced--
the vampire CHAIREPHON!
Enter the Peace Delegation from Olvmpos: first, Poseidon, a
god of immense and avuncular dignity, carrying a trident.
then Herakles with lion skin and club, a god with
the character and build of a wrestler and an appetite to match.
and finally Triballos, hopelessly tangled up in the unfamiliar
robes of Olympian civilization.
POSEIDON
Here we are. And there before us, ambassadors,
lies Cloudcuckooland.
Triballos, by now hopelessly snarled up in his robes, trips
and falls flat on his face.
--Damn you! Back on your feet,
you hulking oaf. Look, you've got your robes
all twisted up.
No. Screw them around to the right.
This way. Where's your dignity, you heavenly hick?
O Democracy, I fear your days are numbered
if Heaven's diplomatic corps is recruited like this!
Dammit, stop twitching! Gods, I've never seen
a gawkier god than you!
--Look here, Herakles,
how should we proceed in your opinion?
HERAKLES
You hoid me, Poseidon. If I had my way, I'd throttle the guy,
any guy, what dared blockade the gods.
POSEIDON
My dear nephew,
have you forgotten that the purpose of our mission here
is to treat for peace?
HERAKLES
I'd throttle him all the more.
Enter Pisthetairos, followed by Attendants' with cooking uten-
sils. He pointedly ignores the presence of the Divine Delegation.
PISTHETAIROS
To Attendants
Hand me the cheese grater. Vinegar, please. All right,
now the cheese. Poke up that fire, somebody.
POSEIDON
Mortal, three immortal gods give you greeting.
Dead Silence.
Mortal, three immortal--
PISTHETAIROS
Shush: I'm slicing pickles.
HERAKLES
Hey, what kind of meat is dat?
PISTHETAIROS
Those are jailbirds
sentenced to death on the charge of High Treason
against the Sovereign Birds.
HERAKLES
And dat luscious gravy
gets poured on foist?
PISTHETAIROS
Looking up for the first time.
Why hullo there: it's Herakles!
What do you want?
POSEIDON
Mortal, as the official spokesman
for the Divine Delegation, I venture to suggest that--
PISTHETAIROS
Holding up an empty bottle.
Drat it. We're out of oil.
HERAKLES
Out of oil?
Say, dat's a shame. Boids should be basted good.
POSEIDON
--As I was on the point of saying, official Olympos
regards the present hostilities as utterly pointless.
Further, I venture to observe that you Birds
have a great deal to gain from a kindlier Olympos.
I might mention, for instance, a supply of clean rainwater
for your Birdbaths and a perpetual run, say,
of halcyon days. On some such terms as these
we are formally empowered by Zeus to sign the articles
of peace.
PISTHETAIROS
Poseidon, you forget: it was not the Birds
who began this war. Moreover, peace is our desire
as much as yours. And if you gods stand prepared
to treat in good faith, I see no obstacle to peace.
None whatsoever. Our sole demand is this:
Zeus must restore his royal sceptre to the Birds.
If this one trifling concession seems agreeable to you,
I invite you all to dinner.
HERAKLES
Youse has said enough.
I vote Yes.
POSEIDON
You contemptible, idiotic glutton!
Would you dethrone your own Father?
PISTHETAIROS
I object. Poseidon.
Look at it in this light.
Can you gods be unaware
that you actually stand to increase, not diminish your power,
by yielding your present supremacy to the Birds? Why.
as things stand now, men go skulking around
under cover of the clouds, with impunity committing perjury
and in your name too. But conclude alliance with the Birds.
gentlemen, and your problems are over forever. How?
Suppose, for instance, some man swears a solemn oath
be Zeus and the Raven and then breaks his word. Suddenly
down swoops a Raven when he's least suspecting it
and pecks out his eyes!
POSEIDON
Holy Poseidon! You know,
I think you've got something there.
HERAKLES
Youse is so right.
POSEIDON
To Triballos.
What do you say?
TRIBALLOS
Fapple gleep.
HERAKLES
Dat's Stone Age for Yeah.*
PISTHETAIROS
And that's not all.
Suppose some fellow vows to make a sacrifice to the gods
and then later changes his mind or tries to procrastinate.
thinking, The mills of the gods grind slow:
well, so do mine.
We Birds, I can promise you,
will put a stop to sophistry like that.
POSEIDON
Stop it? But how?
PISTHETAIROS
Someday our man will be busily counting up his cash
or lolling around in the tub, singing away.
and a Kite will dive down like a bolt from the blue,
snatch up two of his sheep or a wad of cash
and whizz back up to the gods with the loot.
HERAKLES
Friend,
youse is right. Zeus should give dat sceptre
back to the Birds.
POSEIDON
What do you think, Triballos'
HERAKLES
Threateninghim with his club.
Vote Yes, bub, or I'll drub youse.
TRIBALLOS
Schporckl nu?
Momp gapa birdschmoz kluk.
HERAKLES
See? He votes wid me
POSEIDON
If you both see eye to eye, I'll have to go along.
HERAKLES
Dat does it. Hey, youse. The sceptre's yours.
PISTHETAIROS
Dear me, I nearly forgot one trifling condition.
We Birds willingly waive any claim we might have to Hera:
Zeus can have her. We don't object in the slightest.
But I must have Miss Universe as my wife. On that demand
I stand absolutely firm.
POSEIDON
Then you won't have peace.
Good afternoon.
The Delegation prepares to leave, Herakles with great re-
luctance.
PISTHETAIROS
It's all the same to me.
--Oh chef:
make the gravy thick.
HERAKLES
God alive, Poseidon, where in the
world is youse going? Are we going to war for the sake of a
dame?
POSEIDON
What alternative would you suggest?
HERAKLES
Peace, peace!
POSEIDON
You poor fool, don't you realize that you're being tricked?
What's more, you're only hurting yourself.
Listen here.
if Zeus should abdicate his throne in favor of the Birds
and then die. you'd be left a pauper Whereas now
you're the legal heir of Zeus. Heir. in fact,
to everything he owns.
PISTHETAIROS
Watch your step. Herakles.
You're being hoodwinked.
Taking Herakles by the arm and withdrawing a little
--Now. just step aside with me
I have something to tell you.
Look, you poor chump.
your uncle's pulling a fast one. Not one cent
of Zeus' enormous estate will ever come to you
You see, my friend, you're a bastard.
HERAKLES
What's dat. fella?
I'm a bastard?
PISTHETAIROS
Of course you're a bastard--by Zeus.
Your mother. you see, was an ordinary mortal woman,
not a goddess. In other words, she comes
of foreign stock. Which makes you legally a bastard.*
pure and simple.
Moreover, Pallas Athene
is normally referred to as The Heiress.* That's her title
But how in the name of Zeus could Athene be an heiress
if Zeus had any legitimate sons?
HERAKLES
Maybe.
Youse could be right. But what if the Old Man
swears I'm his son?
PISTHETAIROS
The law still says No.
In any case. Poseidon here. who's been egging you on,
would be the first person to challenge the will in court
As your father's brother. he's the next-of-kin, and hence
the legal heir
Let me read you the provisions of the law.
He draws a lawbook from his robes
In the words of Solon himself:
SO LONG AS LEGITIMATE ISSUE SHALL SURVIVE
THE DECEASED, NO BASTARD SHALL INHERIT
IN THE CASE THAT NO LEGITIMATE ISSUE SUR-
VIVES, THE ESTATE SHALL PASS TO THE NEXT
OF KIN
HERAKLES
Youse mean to say I won't inherit a damn thing
from the Old Man?
PISTHETAIROS
Not a smitch. By the way.
has your Father ever had your birth legally recorded
or had you registered in court as his official heir?
HERAKLES
No, never. I always thought there was something fishy
PISTHETAIROS
Come, my boy. chin up. Don't pout at heaven
with that sullen glare. Join us. Come in with the Birds.
We'll set you on a throne and you can guzzle pigeon's milk
the rest of your endless days.
HERAKLES
You know, fella,
I been thinking about that dame you want so bad.
Well, I vote youse can have her.
PISTHETAIROS
Splendid.
What do you say, Poseidon?
POSEIDON
No. A resounding No.
PISTHETAIROS
Then it rests with Triballos.
--What's your verdict, my friend?
TRIBALLOS
Gleep? Schnoozer, skirt wotta twatch snock!
Birdniks pockle. Ugh.
HERAKLES
He said she's for the Boids.
I hoid him.
POSEIDON
And I distinctly heard him say the opposite:
A firm No--with a few choice obscenities added.
HERAKLES
The poor dumb sap never said a doity word
All he said was: Give 'er to the Boids.
POSEIDON
I yield
You two can come to terms together as you please.
Since you seem to be agreed on everything,
I'll just abstain.
HERAKLES
To Pisthetairos.
Man. youse is getting everything youse wants.
Fly up to Heaven wid us. and get your missus
and anything else your little heart desires.
PISTHETAIROS
And we're in luck. This feast of poultry I've prepared
will grace our wedding supper
HERAKLES
Youse guys push along
I'll stay here and watch the barbecue
POSEIDON
Not on your life
You'd guzzle grill and all. You'd better come along
with us, my boy.
HERAKLES
Aw. Unc, but it woulda tasted so good.
PISTHETAIROS
To Attendants
You there, servants.
Bring my wedding clothes along.
Exeunt Pisthetpiras the gods and Attendants.
CHORUS
Beneath the clock in a courtroom,
down in the Land of Gab,
We saw a weird race of people
earning their bread by blab
Their name is the Claptraptummies.
Their only tool is talk.
They sow and reap and shake the figs
by dexterous yakkity-yak.
Their tongues and twaddle mark them off,
barbarians every one;
but the worst of all are in the firm
of GORGIAS & SON.*
But from this bellyblabbing tribe,
one custom's come to stay:
in Athens, when men sacrifice,
they cut the tongue away.
Enter a Messenger.
MESSENGER
O blessed, blessed, blessed breed of Bird,
more happy than human tongue can tell:
welcome your lord and King as he ascends to heaven!
Attend him now!
Praise him, whose glory glisters
more brightly than the rising stars at dusk
flare their loveliness upon the golden evening air,
purer than the blazoned sun!
He comes, he comes,
and with him comes the splendid glory of a bride
whose beauty has no peer. In his hand he shakes
the winged, thunderbolt at Zeus, the flash of lightning.
Unspeakably sweet, a fragrance ascends to heaven
and curls of incense trace their love spirals
on the drinking air.
He comes!
Greet your King with song!
Raise the wedding song the lovely Muses sing!
Re-enter Pisthetairos, gorgeously attired, * his long golden
train carried by the three gods. Beside him, dressed in the
magnificent golden robes of a bride, walks the veiled figure
of Miss Universe.
KORYPHAIOS
Make way! Make way!
Fall back for the dancers!
Welcome your King with beating wings!
Dance, dance!
Praise this happy Prince!
sing the loveliness of brides!
Weave with circling feet, weave and dance
in honor of the King, in honor of his bride!
Now let the Golden Age of Birds begin
by lovely marriage ushered in.
Hymen Hvmenaios O!
CHORUS
To such a song as this,
the weaving Fates once led
the universal King?,
Zeus, the lord of all.
to lovely Hera's bed.
O Hymen! Hvmenois O!
And blooming Love was there,
Love with shimmering wings,
Love the charioteer!
Love once held the reins.
Love drove the happy pair!
O Hymen! Hvmenaios O!
PISTHETAIROS
I thank you for your songs and dance. Thank you, thank
you.
one and all.
KORYPHAIOS
Now praise the lightnings of your King!
Sing his thunders crashing on the world!
Sing the blazing bolts of Zeus, praise the man
who hurls them!
Sing the flare of lightning;
praise, praise the crashing of its awful fire!
CHORUS
O Lightning, flash of livid fire,
O javelin of Zeus,
everliving light!
A great low roll of thunder is heard.
O thunders breaking on this lovely world,
rumble majestic that runs before the rain!
O Lightning and Thunders,
bow low, bow down,
bow before this man, bow to the lord of all!
Another great crack of thunder.
He wields the thunder as his very own.
Lightnings flare at the touch of his hand,
winning, achieving
the Bride of Heaven and the Crown of God!
O Hymen! Hymenaios O!
PISTHETAIROS
Now follow our bridal party, one and all.
Soar on high, you happy breed of Birds,
to the halls of Zeus, to the bed of love!
He extends his hand to his bride and together they dance
toward the waiting machine.
Reach me your hand, dear bride.
Now take me by my wings,
oh my lovely,
my sweet,
and let me lift you up,
and soar beside you
through the buoyant air!
Pisthetairos and his bride dance toward the waiting machine.
With slowly beating wings they rise gradually heavenward.
The gods and Attendants bow down in homage, the Chorus
divides and flocks triumphantly toward the exits, chanting as
they go.
CHORUS
Alalalai!
lo!
Paion!
O greatest of the gods!
Tenella Kallinikos O!