DIONYSUS
He who first made for man the clustered vine.

PENTHEUS
I scorn him and his vines.

DIONYSUS
For Dionyse
'Tis well; for in thy scorn his glory lies.

PENTHEUS (_to his guard_)
Go swift to all the towers, and bar withal
Each gate!

DIONYSUS
What, cannot God o'erleap a wall?

PENTHEUS
Oh, wit thou hast, save where thou needest it!

DIONYSUS
Whereso it most imports, there is my wit!--
Nay, peace! Abide till he who hasteth from
The mountain side with news for thee, be come.
We will not fly, but wait on thy command.
[_Enter suddenly and in haste a Messenger from the Mountain._]

MESSENGER
Great Pentheus, Lord of all this Theban land,