_Aphrodite. Eros_
_Aph_. Child, child, you must think what you are doing. It is bad
enough on earth,—you are always inciting men to do some mischief, to
themselves or to one another;—but I am speaking of the Gods. You change
Zeus into shape after shape as the fancy takes you; you make Selene
come down from the sky; you keep Helius loitering about with Clymene,
till he sometimes forgets to drive out at all. As for the naughty
tricks you play on your own mother, you know you are safe there. But
Rhea! how could you _dare_ to set her on thinking of that young fellow
in Phrygia, an old lady like her, the mother of so many Gods? Why, you
have made her quite mad: she harnesses those lions of hers, and drives
about all over Ida with the Corybantes, who are as mad as herself,
shrieking high and low for Attis; and there they are, slashing their
arms with swords, rushing about over the hills, like wild things, with
dishevelled hair, blowing horns, beating drums, clashing cymbals; all
Ida is one mad tumult. I am quite uneasy about it; yes, you wicked boy,
your poor mother is quite uneasy: some day when Rhea is in one of her
mad fits (or when she is in her senses, more likely), she will send the
Corybantes after you, with orders to tear you to pieces, or throw you
to the lions. You are so venturesome!
_Eros_. Be under no alarm, mother; I understand lions perfectly by this
time. I get on to their backs every now and then, and take hold of
their manes, and ride them about; and when I put my hand into their
mouths, they only lick it, and let me take it out again. Besides, how
is Rhea going to have time to attend to me? She is too busy with Attis.
And I see no harm in just pointing out beautiful things to people; they
can leave them alone;—it is nothing to do with me. And how would you
like it if Ares were not in love with you, or you with him?
_Aph_. Masterful boy! always the last word! But you will remember this
some day.