Soc. Have you not heard me, that I said that the Clouds,
when full of moisture, dash against each other and clap
by reason of their density?

Strep. Come, how am I to believe this?

Soc. I'll teach you from your own case. Were you ever,
after being stuffed with broth at the Panathenaic
festival, then disturbed in your belly, and did a
tumult suddenly rumble through it?

Strep. Yes, by Apollo! And immediately the little broth
plays the mischief with me, and is disturbed and rumbles
like thunder, and grumbles dreadfully: at first gently
pappax, pappax; and then it adds papa-pappax; and
finally, it thunders downright papapappax, as they do.

Soc. Consider, therefore, how you have trumpeted from a
little belly so small; and how is it not probable that
this air, being boundless, should thunder so loudly?

Strep. For this reason, therefore, the two names also
Trump and Thunder, are similar to each other. But teach
me this, whence comes the thunderbolt blazing with fire,
and burns us to ashes when it smites us, and singes
those who survive. For indeed Jupiter evidently hurls
this at the perjured.

Soc. Why, how then, you foolish person, and savouring of