Part 6 (1/2)

So close the Styx's inky-hearted rock, The blood-bedabbled peak of Acheron Shall hem thee in: the h.e.l.l-hounds of Cocytus Prowl round thee; whilst the hundred-headed Asp Shall rive thy heart-strings: the Tartesian Lamprey, Prey on thy lungs: and those t.i.thrasian Gorgons Mangle and tear thy kidneys, mauling them, Entrails and all, into one b.l.o.o.d.y mash.

I'll speed a running foot to fetch them hither.

XAN. Hallo! what now?

DIO. I've done it: call the G.o.d.

XAN. Get up, you laughing-stock; get up directly, Before you're seen.

DIO. What, I get up? I'm fainting. Please dab a sponge of water on my heart.

XAN. Here!

DIO. Dab it, you.

XAN. Where? O, ye golden G.o.ds, Lies your heart THERE?

DIO. It got so terrified It fluttered down into my stomach's pit.

XAN. Cowardliest of G.o.ds and men!

DIO. The cowardliest? I? What I, who asked you for a sponge, a thing A coward never would have done!

XAN. What then?

DIO. A coward would have lain there wallowing; But I stood up, and wiped myself withal.

XAN. Poseidon! quite heroic.

DIO. 'Deed I think so. But weren't you frightened at those dreadful threats And shoutings?

XAN, Frightened? Not a bit. I cared not.

DIO. Come then, if you're so very brave a man, Will you be I, and take the hero's club And lion's skin, since you're so monstrous plucky?

And I'll be now the slave, and bear the luggage.

XAN. Hand them across. I cannot choose but take them.

And now observe the Xanthio-heracles If I'm a coward and a sneak like you.

DIO. Nay, you're the rogue from Melite's own self.

And I'll pick up and carry on the traps.

MAID. O welcome, Heracles! come in, sweetheart.

My Lady, when they told her, set to work, Baked mighty loaves, boiled two or three tureens Of lentil soup, roasted a prime ox whole, Made rolls and honey-cakes. So come along.

XAN. (Declining.) You are too kind.

MAID. I will not let you go. I will not LET you! Why, she's stewing slices Of juicy bird's-flesh, and she's making comfits, And tempering down her richest wine. Come, dear, Come along in.

XAN. (Still declining.) Pray thank her.

MAID. O you're jesting, I shall not let you off: there's such a lovely Flute-girl all ready, and we've two or three Dancing-girls also.

XAN. Eh! what! Dancing-girls?

MAID. Young budding virgins, freshly tired and trimmed.

Come, dear, come in. The cook was dis.h.i.+ng up The cutlets, and they are bringing in the tables.

XAN. Then go you in, and tell those dancing-girls Of whom you spake, I'm coming in Myself. Pick up the traps, my lad, and follow me.

DIO. Hi! stop! you're not in earnest, just because I dressed you up, in fun, as Heracles? Come, don't keep fooling, Xanthias, but lift And carry in the traps yourself.

XAN. Why! what! You are never going to strip me of these togs You gave me!