Part 6 (2/2)

For still are the ways of Wisdom, and her temper trembleth not!

_Enter_ PENTHEUS _in fury_.

PENTHEUS.

It is too much! This Eastern knave hath slipped His prison, whom I held but now, hard gripped In bondage.--Ha! 'Tis he!--What, sirrah, how Show'st thou before my portals?

[_He advances furiously upon him._

DIONYSUS.

Softly thou!

And set a quiet carriage to thy rage.

PENTHEUS.

How comest thou here? How didst thou break thy cage?

Speak!

DIONYSUS.

Said I not, or didst thou mark not me, There was One living that should set me free?

PENTHEUS.

Who? Ever wilder are these tales of thine.

DIONYSUS.

He who first made for man the cl.u.s.tered vine.

PENTHEUS.

I scorn him and his vines!

DIONYSUS.

For Dionyse 'Tis well; for in thy scorn his glory lies.

PENTHEUS (_to his guard_).

Go swift to all the towers, and bar withal Each gate!

DIONYSUS.

What, cannot G.o.d o'erleap a wall?

PENTHEUS.

Oh, wit thou hast, save where thou needest it!

DIONYSUS.

Whereso it most imports, there is my wit!-- Nay, peace! Abide till he who hasteth from The mountain side with news for thee, be come.

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