THE BACCHANALS.
405
Pentheus.
This stranger—vainly wrestle we with him: 800
Doing nor suffering will he hold his peace.
Dionysus.
Friend, yet this evil may be turned to good.
Pentheus.
How?—by becoming my bondwomen's thrall?
Dionysus.
I without arms will bring the women hither.
Pentheus.
Ha! here for me thou plottest treachery! 805
Dionysus.
Treachery?—I would save thee by mine art!
Pentheus.
Ye have made this covenant, so to revel aye.
Dionysus.
Nay: know, this covenant made I with the God.
Pentheus (to attendant).
Bring forth mine arms!—thou, make an end of speech.
Dionysus.
Ho thou! 810
Wouldst thou behold them camped upon the hills?
