The wish of Pentheus to have in his power the deluder of the Theban women is soon gratified. Bacchus, in a comely human form, is brought manacled before him. The king, thinking that now he cannot escape, leisurely contemplates the prisoner, and is greatly struck by his appearance:—
"There's beauty, stranger! woman-witching beauty
(Therefore thou art in Thebes) in thy soft form;
Thy fine bright hair, not coarse like the hard athletes,
Is mantling o'er thy cheek warm with desire;
And carefully thou hast cherished thy white skin;
Not in the sun's soft beams, but in cool shade,
Wooing soft Aphroditè with thy loveliness."
Then follows a close examination of the fair-visaged sorcerer about his race, his orgies, and his purpose in coming to Thebes, and at the end of it he is sent off to the "royal stable,"—
"That he may sit in midnight gloom profound:
There lead thy dance! But those thou hast hither led,
Thy guilt's accomplices, we'll sell for slaves;
Or, silencing their noise and beating drums,
As handmaids to the distaff set them down."
Bacchus does not long remain in the dark stable. He appears, "a god-confest," to his worshippers, who are prostrate on the ground, alarmed by the destruction of the palace of Pentheus. They ask how he obtained his freedom; he replies:—
"Myself, myself delivered—with ease and effort slight.
Cho. Thy hands, had he not bound them, in halters strong and tight?
