_Hera_. He _is_ unworthy! He is a villain! Discard him!

_Zeus_. Eh? What has he been after? I must know about this.

_Hera_. Certainly you must; though I scarce know how to tell you. The
wretch!

_Zeus_. Oh, oh; if he is a 'wretch,' you must certainly tell me all
about it. I know what 'wretch' means, on your discreet tongue. What,
he has been making love?

_Hera_. And to me! to me of all people! It has been going on for a
long time. At first, when he would keep looking at me, I had no idea--.
And then he would sigh and groan; and when I handed my cup to
Ganymede after drinking, he would insist on having it, and would stop
drinking to kiss it, and lift it up to his eyes; and then he would
look at me again. And then of course I knew. For a long time I didn't
like to say anything to you; I thought his mad fit would pass. But
when he actually dared to _speak_ to me, I left him weeping and
groveling about, and stopped my ears, so that I might not hear his
impertinences, and came to tell you. It is for you to consider what
steps you will take.

_Zeus_. Whew! I have a rival, I find; and with my own lawful wife.
Here is a rascal who has tippled nectar to some purpose. Well, we have
no one but ourselves to blame for it: we make too much of these
mortals, admitting them to our table like this. When they drink of our
nectar, and behold the beauties of Heaven (so different from those of
Earth!), 'tis no wonder if they fall in love, and form ambitious