Birds (55-86)

And you your head to double the noise.

Well then use a stone instead; take one and hammer with it.

Good idea! He does so. Ho there, within! Slave! slave!

What's that, friend! You say, slave, to summon Epops? It would be much better to shout, Epops, Epops!

Well then, Epops! Must I knock again? Epops!

Rushing out of a thicket. Who's there? Who calls my master?

Apollo the Deliverer! what an enormous beak!

Good god! they are bird-catchers.

But is it so terrible? Wouldn't it be better to explain things?

You're done for.

But we are not men.

What are you, then?

I am the Fearling, an African bird.

You talk nonsense.

Well, then, just ask it of my feet.

And this other one, what bird is it? To Pisthetaerus. Speak up!

I? I am a Crapple, from the land of the pheasants.

But you yourself, in the name of the gods! what animal are you?

Why, I am a slave-bird.

Why, have you been conquered by a cock?

No, but when my master was turned into a hoopoe, he begged me to become a bird also, to follow and to serve him.

Does a bird need a servant, then?

That's no doubt because he was once a man. At times he wants to eat a dish of sardines from Phalerum; I seize my dish and fly to fetch him some. Again he wants some pea-soup; I seize a ladle and a pot and run to get it.

This is, then,

truly a running-bird. Come, Trochilus, do us the kindness to call your master.

Why, he has just fallen asleep after a feed of myrtle-berries and a few grubs.

Never mind; wake him up.

I am certain he will be angry. However, I will wake him to please you.

You cursed brute! why, I am almost dead with terror!

Oh! my god! it was sheer fear that made me lose my jay.