THE BIRDS 255
Trochilus. Out ! out upon it ! a brace of bird- catchers ! 75 Eueljndes. No, no ; don't be disturbed ; think
better of us. TrochihiH. You '11 both be put to death. Euelpides. But we 're not men.
Trochilus. Not men ! what are ye ? what do ye
call yourselves ? Eiielpides. The fright has turned me into a yel- low-hammer. 79 Trochilus. Poh ! Stuff and nonsense ! Euelpides. I can prove it to ye. Search !
Trochilus. But your comrade here ; what bird is he? Peisthetainis. I 'm changed to a golden pheasant
just at present. Euelpides. Now tell me, in heaven's name, what
creature are ye ? Trochilus. I 'm a slave bird.
Euelpides. A slave ? how did it happen ?
Were you made prisoner by a fighting cock ? 85
Trochilus. No. When my master made himself a Hoopoe, He begged me to turn bird to attend upon him. Euelpides. Do birds then want attendance? Trochilus. Yes, of course,
In his case, having been a man before, He longs occasionally for human diet, 90
His old Athenian fare : pilchards, for instance. Then I must fetch the pilchards ; sometimes por- ridge ; He calls for porridge, and I mix it for him.
Euelpides. Well, you 're a dapper waiter, a di- dapper ;
