O Lord of the frolic and dance,
Iacchus, beside me advance!

DIO. Wouldn't I like to follow on, and try
A little sport and dancing?

XAN. Wouldn't I?

(_The banter at the bridge of Cephisus_.)

CHOR. Shall we all a merry joke
At Archedemus poke,
Who has not cut his guildsmen yet, though seven years old;
Yet up among the dead
He is demagogue and head,
And contrives the topmost place of the rascaldom to hold?
And Cleisthenes, they say, Is among the tombs all day,
Bewailing for his lover with a lamentable whine.
And Callias, I'm told,
Has become a sailor bold,
And casts a lion's hide o'er his members feminine.

DIO. Can any of you tell
Where Pluto here may dwell,
For we, sirs, are two strangers who were never here before?

CHOR. O, then no further stray,
Nor again enquire the way,
For know that ye have journeyed to his very entrance-door