ASPHALION. He is a queer old dog, Yet not so laughable. ’Tis true, he’s drunk, And sings and reels under the broad, green leaves, And hanging clusters of his crown of grapes.— ZOPYRION. A crown of grapes! but can that hide his ears[?] ASPHALION. His ears!—Oh, no! they stick upright between. When Midas saw him— ZOPYRION. Whom then do you mean? Did you not say— ASPHALION. I spoke of old Silenus; Who having missed his way in these wild woods, And lost his tipsey company—was found Sucking the juicy clusters of the vines That sprung where’er he trod:—and reeling on Some shepherds found him in yon ilex wood. They brought him to the king, who honouring him For Bacchus’ sake, has gladly welcomed him, And will conduct him with solemnity To the disconsolate Fauns from whom he’s strayed. But have you seen the new-fashioned diadem[2] That Midas wears?— ZOPYRION. Ha! he has got it on!— Know you the secret cause why with such care He hides his royal head? you have not seen— ASPHALION. Seen what? ZOPYRION. Ah! then, no matter:— (_turns away agitated._) I dare not sneak or stay[;] If I remain I shall discover all. ASPHALION. I see the king has trusted to your care Some great state secret which you fain would hide. I am your friend, trust my fidelity, If you’re in doubt I’ll be your counsellor. ZOPYRION. (_with great importance._) Secret, Asphalion! How came you to know? If my great master (which I do not say) Should think me a fit friend in whom to pour The weighty secrets of his royal heart, Shall I betray his trust? It is not so;— I am a poor despised slave.—No more! Join we the festal band which will conduct Silenus to his woods again? ASPHALION. My friend, Wherefore mistrust a faithful heart? Confide The whole to me;—I will be still as death. ZOPYRION. As death! you know not what you say; farewell[!] A little will I commune with my soul, And then I’ll join you at the palace-gate. ASPHALION. Will you then tell me?— ZOPYRION. Cease to vex, my friend, Your soul and mine with false suspicion, (_aside_) Oh! I am choked! I’d give full ten years of my life To tell, to laugh—& yet I dare not speak. ASPHALION. Zopyrion, remember that you hurt The trusting bosom of a faithful friend By your unjust concealment. (_Exit_.) ZOPYRION. Oh, he’s gone! To him I dare not speak, nor yet to Lacon; No human ears may hear what must be told. I cannot keep it in, assuredly; I shall some night discuss it in my sleep. It will not keep! Oh! greenest reeds that sway And nod your feathered heads beneath the sun, Be you depositaries of my soul, Be you my friends in this extremity[:] I shall not risk my head when I tell you The fatal truth, the heart oppressing fact, (_stooping down & whispering_)