PISTHETAERUS. No head-bird gave you a safe-conduct?
IRIS. A safe-conduct to me, you poor fool!
PISTHETAERUS. Ah! and so you slipped into this city on the sly and into these realms of air-land that don't belong to you.
IRIS. And what other road can the gods travel?
PISTHETAERUS. By Zeus! I know nothing about that, not I. But they won't pass this way. And you still dare to complain! Iris would ever have more justly suffered death.
IRIS. I am immortal.
PISTHETAERUS. You would have died nevertheless.--Oh! 'twould be truly intolerable! What! should the universe obey us and the gods alone continue their insolence and not understand that they must submit to the law of the strongest in their due turn? But tell me, where are you flying to?
IRIS. I? The messenger of Zeus to mankind, I am going to tell them to sacrifice sheep and oxen on the altars and to fill their streets with the rich smoke of burning fat.
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