ALICIA. Pity of my youth! I swerve not from, you stumble at, the truth.
CRASSUS. I like not jests. This is a serious journey.
ALICIA. Why did you make a mocker your attorney? The way to Rome leads through the Apennines. Bacchus has horns beneath the crown of vines. If you fear horns, make some polite excuse Not to invoke him by the name Zagreus!
A FAUN [Passing among the trees]. Ye thought me a lamb With a crown of thorns; I am royal, a ram With death in my horns. So mild and soft And feminine, Ye held me aloft And frowned on sin! But I was awake In your clasp as I lay; I roused the snake From its nest of clay; And ere ye knew I had sunk my forehead Through and through; Harsh and horrid Through all the pleasure Of rose and vine I thrust my treasure, The cone of the pine. Irru's maid Was easily sated, For she was afraid When Irru mated!
CRASSUS. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
ALICIA. You would not laugh Were you the maid!
CRASSUS. How could I be?
ALICIA. Great calf! But you are all the same, blaspheme and jeer At any mystery beyond your sphere Of beer, and beef, and beer, and beef, and beer. Now you have frightened the shy god!
CRASSUS. Why heed? Between your - arms - is all the god I need.
ALICIA. Prudish and coarse to the last. Now hush indeed! The stream kisses the lake. We near the shrine. Stir no snapped twig. Let your foot - even yours - Fall like a fawn's.