Servant.

With much toil have I hewn these sapless logs.

Pr. But toil brings health, and health is happiness.

Serv. Here’s one I know not--nay, how came he here Unseen by me? I pray thee, stranger, tell me What would’st thou at the house of Inachus?

Pr. Intruders, friend, and travellers have glib tongues, Silence will question such.

Serv. If ’tis a message, To-day is not thy day--who sent thee hither?

Pr. The business of my leisure was well guessed: But he that sent me hither is I that come.

Serv. I smell the matter--thou would’st serve the house?

Pr. ’Twas for that very cause I fled my own.

Serv. From cruelty or fear of punishment?

Pr. Cruel was my master, for he slew his father. His punishments thou speakest of are crimes.

Serv. Thou dost well flying one that slew his father.

Pr. Thy lord, they say, is kind.

Serv. Well, thou wilt see. Thou may’st at once begin--come, give a hand.

Pr. A day of freedom is a day of pleasure; And what thou doest have I never done, And understanding not might mar thy work.

Serv. Ay true--there is a right way and a wrong In laying wood.

Pr. Then let me see thee lay it: The sight of a skill’d hand will teach an art.

Serv. Thou seest this faggot which I now unbind, How it is packed within.

Pr. I see the cones And needles of the fir, which by the wind In melancholy places ceaselessly Sighing are strewn upon the tufted floor.

Serv. These took I from a sheltered bank, whereon The sun looks down at noon; for there is need The things be dry. These first I spread; and then Small sticks that snap i’ the hand.

Pr. Such are enough To burden the slow flight of labouring rooks, When on the leafless tree-tops in young March Their glossy herds assembling soothe the air With cries of solemn joy and cawings loud. And such the long-necked herons will bear to mend Their airy platform, when the loving spring Bids them take thought for their expected young.

Serv. See even so I cross them and cross them so: Larger and by degrees a steady stack Have built, whereon the heaviest logs may lie: And all of sun-dried wood: and now ’tis done.

Pr. And now ’tis done, what means it now ’tis done?

Serv. Well, thus ’tis rightly done: but why ’tis so I cannot tell, nor any man here knows; Save that our master when he sacrificeth, As thou wilt hear anon, speaketh of fire; And fire he saith is good for gods and men; And the gods have it and men have it not: And then he prays the gods to send us fire; And we, against they send it, must have wood Laid ready thus as I have shewn thee here.

Pr. To-day he sacrificeth?

Serv. Ay, this noon. Hark! hear’st thou not? they come. The solemn flutes Warn us away; we must not here be seen In these our soilèd habits, yet may stand Where we may hear and see and not be seen.

[Exeunt R.

Enter CHORUS, and from the palace INACHUS bearing cakes: he comes to stand behind the altar.