Dionysus (tending him).
It shall soon be tied
Aright. 'Tis mine to tend thee. . . . Nay, but stand
With head straight.
Pentheus.
In the hollow of thy hand
I lay me. Deck me as thou wilt.
Dionysus.
Thy zone
Is loosened likewise; and the folded gown
Not evenly falling to the feet.
Pentheus.
'Tis so,
By the right foot. But here, methinks, they flow
In one straight line to the heel.
Dionysus (while tending him).
And if thou prove
Their madness true, aye, more than true, what love
And thanks hast thou for me?