viii
Someone, quickly, go
now, to the place where he observes his birds.
Take a lever, turn the whole thing over, demolish it,
throw his sacred garlands to the storming winds.
There's no way I can hurt him more than that.
The rest of you, patrol the city.
That girlish stranger who's introduced this new plague
and fouled our beds - I want him. Track him down
and when you find him, tie him up, bring him here
so he can get what he deserves, death by stoning.
He'll rue the Bacchic orgies he'll find in Thebes.
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vii (18 March 2015)
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Discussion of "viii"
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Posted on 18 March 2015, 9:19 am by Madeleine Guy | Permalink
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