SILENUS:
Ah me! _205
I have been beaten till I burn with fever.

CYCLOPS:
By whom? Who laid his fist upon your head?

SILENUS:
Those men, because I would not suffer them
To steal your goods.

CYCLOPS:
Did not the rascals know
I am a God, sprung from the race of Heaven? _210

SILENUS:
I told them so, but they bore off your things,
And ate the cheese in spite of all I said,
And carried out the lambs--and said, moreover,
They'd pin you down with a three-cubit collar,
And pull your vitals out through your one eye, _215
Furrow your back with stripes, then, binding you,
Throw you as ballast into the ship's hold,
And then deliver you, a slave, to move
Enormous rocks, or found a vestibule.

NOTE:
_216 Furrow B.; Torture (evidently misread for Furrow) 1824.

CYCLOPS: