Dionysus.
Better to yield him prayer and sacrifice
Than kick against the pricks, since Dionyse
Is God, and thou but mortal.
Pentheus.
That will I!
Yea, sacrifice of women's blood, to cry
His name through all Kithaeron!
Dionysus.
Ye shall fly,
All, and abase your shields of bronzen rim
Before their wands.
Pentheus.
There is no way with him,
This stranger that so dogs us! Well or ill
I may entreat him, he must babble still!
Dionysus.