THE CLOUDS, 12!

“ High priest of all trumpery nonsense, we greet thee, old hunter

of words that are clever and fine!

Now tell us the thing about which you have called us; to no
voice do we listen so soon as to thine ;

So solemn your gait, and so fierce are your glances, as we look
at you strutting along in the ways

Barefooted and wretched, while up to the heavens a look of
majestical greatness you raise.” ;

Soc. “You see, my friend, that these are the only
divinities. All the others are mere moonshine.”

Strep. “Stop! isn’t Olympian Zeus a divinity,
then?”

Soe. “What Zeus? Don’t talk nonsense. There
is no Zeus.” . :

Strep. “What? Who is it that rains, then?”

Soc. “Why, these, of course. Did you ever see it
rain without clouds? Zeus ought to rain from a clear
sky, if he did it.”

Strep. “Well, but who is it that thunders?”

Soc. “These; they thunder as they roll along.
They are laden with water, and come crashing to-
gether, and so make a great noise.”

Strep. “But who makes them move? It must ‘be
Zeus.”

Soc. “No; it isn’t Zeus: it is Whirl.” |

Strep. “So Whirl is king instead of Zeus. Well,
I didn’t know it. But tell me about the lightning.
Doesn’t Zeus strike perjurers with it?”

Soc. “Well, you are an antiquated old fool. If
Zeus strikes the perjurers, why doesn’t he strike Si-