alphabet? No; well; you can write it down when we go home. Ione, I want to speak to you. [Glaucus and Ione talk apart. Would you like your father to be a god,--a minor god? Ione. No. Glaucus. But I would develop godlike qualities, of which the chief is tolerance. I begin to feel more dignified and wiser already. Then, as these qualities, by friction with other gods, and a rational indulgence in ambrosia and nectar, become brighter and solider, my minority may end, and they may give me a seat at Jove's table on Olympus, Ione, think; a little intrigue has brought about a greater matter than a divorce: Juno must be old! her successor--you do not listen: give your eyes to him and your ears to me. Ione. I will. You were saying that you would like to be a god. Glaucus. After all, I am a well-made man; and Endymion looks no more. Ione. But he is disguised. Glaucus. It may be that I am disguised too. Ione. I doubt it: no god could be disguised so completely as not to know his own identity. Glaucus. Still, here is a god punished with dumbness: Jupiter may have punished me with oblivion of a brilliant past. Ione. What god could you possibly be? Glaucus. Probably just a god. Doubtless there are gods of nothing in particular, merely decorative. Ione. Doubtless. Glaucus. Well, I would rather be that than no god at all. Ione. I fear it. Glaucus. Endymion, you must tell me in writing when we go home, if one of the chief minor gods was punished some fifty years ago by the loss of all knowledge of his own identity. Ione. Father, he does not know a word you say: He understands no language I can speak-- [Aside.] Except that of my eyes. If I can read The fire of his they tell me priceless tales. Enter Silenus, Satyrs, and Bacchantes. Silenus. Ha! Ariadne!--Theseus, not yet fled! Or who are you? But you are Ariadne. [He is about to take her hand when Sarmion interferes. Bacchantes, bind him! [After a short struggle Sarmion is bound. Glaucus. I declare! Take care what you are about, my good women; and you, old man, conduct yourself more respectfully in the presence of immortals. This is Endymion, and I am a nameless god. Silenus. Nameless and noteless, you! Endymion, this? Never! I saw Endymion long ago Before the stars were tarnished: with his crook Sloped in his hand he wandered down a hill; The night shone round him: this youth is not he. Men are not made so now, though this is one Who may remind me of the elder time. But you, most lovely lady, seem to me The very image of the golden age. Glaucus. My daughter! Silenus. She is Ariadne now, For I am Bacchus. Fill my cup again; If I cease drinking I grow melancholy. [A Bacchante fills his cup and he drinks. Glaucus. Pardon, most potent god! Enter Scaramouch, Harlequin, and Columbine.