But now the sound of flutes is heard in the distance, and with music and torches, a festive procession enters the orchestra. A parody of the great Eleusinian mysteries (for even these were lawful game to the comedy-writer) introduces the true Chorus of this play, consisting of the ‘Initiated,’ who chant an ode, half serious half burlesque, in honour of Bacchus and Ceres. They direct the travellers to the gates of Pluto’s palace, which are close at hand. Bacchus eyes the awful portal for some time before he ventures to lift the knocker, and is very anxious to announce himself in the most polite fashion. “How do people knock at doors in these parts, I wonder?” “_Æac._ (_from within, with the voice of a royal and infernal porter_). Who’s there? _Bac._ (_with a forced voice_). ’Tis I,--the valiant Hercules. _Æac._ (_coming out_). Thou brutal, abominable, detestable, Vile, villanous, infamous, nefarious scoundrel! How durst thou, villain as thou wert, to seize Our watchdog Cerberus, whom I kept and tended, Hurrying him off half-strangled in your grasp? But now, be sure, we have you safe and fast, Miscreant and villain! Thee the Stygian cliffs With stern adamantine durance, and the rocks Of inaccessible Acheron, red with gore, Environ and beleaguer, and the watch And swift pursuit of the hideous hounds of hell, And the horrible Hydra with her hundred heads, “Whose furious ravening fangs shall rend and tear thee.”--(F.) Before the terrible porter has ended his threats, Bacchus has dropped to the ground from sheer terror. “Hallo!” says Xanthias, “what’s the matter?” “I’ve had an accident,” says his master, recovering himself when he sees that Æacus is gone. But finding that the _rôle_ of Hercules has so many unforeseen responsibilities, he begs Xanthias to change dresses and characters,--to relieve him of the club and lion’s skin, while he takes his turn with the bundles. No sooner has the change been effected, than a waiting-woman of Queen Proserpine makes her appearance--she has been sent to invite Hercules to supper. She addresses herself, of course, to Xanthias:-- “Dear Hercules! so you’re come at last! come in! For the goddess, as soon as she heard of it, set to work Baking peck-loaves, and frying stacks of pancakes, And making messes of frumenty: there’s an ox, Besides, she has roasted whole, with a relishing stuffing.”--(F.) There is the best of wine, besides, awaiting him--and such lovely singers and dancers!