Eunapius.
A new-made freeman, gracious Emperor! Make way, Bacchanalians; room for a brother!
[He and the girls dance into the ranks of the Bacchanalians.
Julian.
I like this well. Take example by this Greek, if you have a spark of your fathers’ spirit left in you. And this is sorely needed, you citizens; for no divinity has been so much misunderstood—ay, even rendered ridiculous—as this ecstatic Dionysus, whom the Romans also call Bacchus. Think you he is the god of sots? Oh ignorant creatures, I pity you, if that is your thought. Who but he inspires poets and prophets with their miraculous gifts? I know that some attribute this function to Apollo, and certainly not without a show of reason; but in that case the whole matter must be regarded in quite another aspect,—as I could prove by many authorities. But this I will not debate with you in the open streets. This is neither the place nor the time. Ay, mock away! Make the sign of the cross! I see it! You would fain whistle with your fingers; you would stone me, if you dared.—Oh, how I blush for this city, so sunk in barbarism that it knows no better than to cling to an ignorant Jew’s deluded fantasies!—Forward! Stand aside,—do not block the way!
The Dancers.
There rides Lyaeus,
Pard-borne, delivering!
The Women.
Know, we are passionate; feel, we are quivering;