An officer brings in Dionysus as prisoner; he has yielded himself
without resistance, while as for the imprisoned worshippers their
chains have fallen off spontaneous, and they are away to the revels on
the mountains. In long-drawn parallel dialogue Pentheus questions the
Stranger--struck with his beauty though he be. Dionysus calmly answers
to every point, but allows the orgies are secret and must not be
revealed to the uninitiated. The King threatens in vain.
_Pen._ First I will clip away those soft bright locks.
_Dio._ My locks are holy, dedicate to my god.
_Pen._ Next, give thou me that thyrsus in thy hand.
_Dio._ Take it thyself; 'tis Dionysus' wand.
_Pen._ I'll bind thy body in strong iron chains.
_Dio._ My god himself will loose them when he will.
_Pen._ When thou invok'st him 'mid thy Bacchanals.
_Dio._ Even now he is present, he beholds me now.
_Pen._ Where is he then? mine eyes perceive him not.
_Dio._ Near me: the impious eyes may not discern him.
The king relies on his superior strength.
_Dio._ Thou knowest not where thou art or what thou art.
_Pen._ Pentheus, Agave's son, my sire Echion.
_Dio._ Thou hast a name whose very sound is woe.
Dionysus is removed a prisoner to the palace of Pentheus, while the
latter retires to prepare measures against the Maenads.