f(1) There was a real Cinesias—a dythyrambic poet born at Thebes.
PISTHETAERUS This is a fellow will need a whole shipload of wings.
CINESIAS (singing) "...and being fearless and vigorous, it is seeking fresh outlet."
PISTHETAERUS Welcome, Cinesias, you lime-wood man!(1) Why have you come here a-twisting your game leg in circles?
f(1) The scholiast thinks that Cinesias, who was tall and slight of build, wore a kind of corset of lime-wood to support his waist—surely rather a far-fetched interpretation!
CINESIAS "I want to become a bird, a tuneful nightingale."
PISTHETAERUS Enough of that sort of ditty. Tell me what you want.
CINESIAS Give me wings and I will fly into the topmost airs to gather fresh songs in the clouds, in the midst of the vapours and the fleecy snow.
PISTHETAERUS Gather songs in the clouds?
CINESIAS 'Tis on them the whole of our latter-day art depends. The most brilliant dithyrambs are those that flap their wings in void space and are clothed in mist and dense obscurity. To appreciate this, just listen.