Xanthias (as before).
O Lord!
Dionysus.
It hurts!
Xanthias (as though continuing).
"Poseidon ruler free
Of cliffs Aegean and the grey salt sea."
Aeacus.
Now, by Demeter, it's beyond my powers
To tell which one of you's a god!—Come in;
We'll ask my master. He and Persephassa
Will easily know you, being gods themselves.
Dionysus.
Most wisely said. Indeed I could have wished
You'd thought of that before you had me swished.
[They all go into the house. The Chorus, left alone on the stage, turns towards the audience.
Chorus.
Semi-Chorus I.
Draw near, O Muse, to the spell of my song,
Set foot in the sanctified place,
And see thy faithful Athenians throng,
To whom the myriad arts belong,
The myriad marks of grace,
Greater than Cleophon's own,
On whose lips, with bilingual moan,
A swallow from Thrace
Has taken his place
And chirps in blood-curdling tone
