_Hera. Zeus_
_Hera_. Well, Zeus, I should be ashamed if _I_ had such a son; so
effeminate, and so given to drinking; tying up his hair in a ribbon,
indeed! and spending most of his time among mad women, himself as much
a woman as any of them; dancing to flute and drum and cymbal! He
resembles any one rather than his father.
_Zeus_. Anyhow, my dear, this wearer of ribbons, this woman among
women, not content with conquering Lydia, subduing Thrace, and
enthralling the people of Tmolus, has been on an expedition all the way
to India with his womanish host, captured elephants, taken possession
of the country, and led their king captive after a brief resistance.
And he never stopped dancing all the time, never relinquished the
thyrsus and the ivy; always drunk (as you say) and always inspired! If
any scoffer presumes to make light of his ceremonial, he does not go
unpunished; he is bound with vine-twigs; or his own mother mistakes him
for a fawn, and tears him limb from limb. Are not these manful doings,
worthy of a son of Zeus? No doubt he is fond of his comforts, too, and
his amusements; we need not complain of that: you may judge from his
drunken achievements, what a handful the fellow would be if he were
sober.
_Hera_. I suppose you will tell me next, that the invention of wine is
very much to his credit; though you see for yourself how drunken men
stagger about and misbehave themselves; one would think the liquor had
made them mad. Look at Icarius, the first to whom he gave the vine:
beaten to death with mattocks by his own boon companions!
_Zeus_. Pooh, nonsense. That is not Dionysus's fault, nor the wine's
fault; it comes of the immoderate use of it. Men _will_ drink their
wine neat, and drink too much of it. Taken in moderation, it engenders
cheerfulness and benevolence. Dionysus is not likely to treat any of
his guests as Icarius was treated.—No; I see what it is:—you are
jealous, my love; you can't forget about Semele, and so you must
disparage the noble achievements of her son.