Pen. How wise thou art, except where thy wisdom is needed!
Dio. Where most ’tis needed, there am I most wise. But first listen to yonder messenger and hear what he says; he comes from the hills with tidings for thee; and I will await thy pleasure, nor seek to fly.
Mes. Pentheus, ruler of this realm of Thebes! I am come from Cithæron, where the dazzling flakes of pure white snow ne’er cease to fall.
Pen. What urgent news dost bring me?
Mes. I have seen, O king, those frantic Bacchanals, who darted in frenzy from this land with bare white feet, and I am come to tell thee and the city the wondrous deeds they do, deeds passing strange. But I fain would hear, whether I am freely to tell all I saw there, or shorten my story; for I fear thy hasty temper, sire, thy sudden bursts of wrath and more than princely rage.
Pen. Say on, for thou shalt go unpunished by me in all respects; for to be angered with the upright is wrong.[1] The direr thy tale about the Bacchantes, the heavier punishment will I inflict on this fellow who brought his secret arts amongst our women.
Mes. I was just driving the herds of kine to a ridge of the hill as I fed them,[2] as the sun shot forth his rays and made the earth grow warm; when lo! I see three revel-bands of women; Autonoe was chief of one, thy mother Agave of the second, while Ino’s was the third. There they lay asleep, all tired out; some were resting on branches of the pine, others had laid their heads in careless ease on oak-leaves piled upon the ground, observing all modesty; not, as thou
