DIO. What's the right way to knock? I wonder how
The natives here are wont to knock at doors.

XAN. No dawdling: taste the door. You've got, remember,
The lion-hide and pride of Heracles.

DIO. Boy! boy!

AEACUS. Who's there?

DIO. I, Heracles the strong!

AEAC. O, you most shameless desperate ruffian, you!
O, villain, villain, arrant vilest villain!
Who seized our Cerberus by the throat, and fled,
And ran, and rushed, and bolted, haling off
The dog, my charge! But now I've got thee fast.
So close the Styx's inky-hearted rock,
The blood-bedabbled peak of Acheron
Shall hem thee in: the hell-hounds of Cocytus
Prowl round thee; whilst the hundred-headed Asp
Shall rive thy heart-strings: the Tartesian Lamprey,
Prey on thy lungs: and those Tithrasian Gorgons
Mangle and tear thy kidneys, mauling them,
Entrails and all, into one bloody mash.
I'll speed a running foot to fetch them hither.

XAN. Hallo! what now?

DIO. I've done it: call the god.