Dionysus.
I will pass in, and what befits devise.
Pentheus.
So be it. I am resolved: my path is clear.
I go; for I must needs march sword in hand, 845
Or do according unto thine advice. [Exit.
Dionysus.
Women, the man sets foot within the toils.
The Bacchants—and death's penalty—shall he find.
Dionysus, play thy part now; thou art near:
Let us take vengeance. Craze thou first his brain, 850
Indarting sudden madness. Whole of wit,
Ne'er will he yield to don the woman's robe:
Yet shall he don, driven wide of reason's course.
I long withal to make him Thebes' derision,
In woman-semblance led the city through, 855
After the erstwhile terrors of his threats.
I go, to lay on Pentheus the attire
Which he shall take with him to Hades, slain
By a mother's hands. And he shall know Zeus' son
Dionysus, who hath risen at last a God[1] 860
Most terrible, yet kindest unto men. [Exit.
Chorus.
(Str.)
Ah, shall my white feet in the dances gleam
The livelong night again? Ah, shall I there
Float through the Bacchanal's ecstatic dream,
Tossing my neck into the dewy air?—
