_Pos_. What is the meaning of this, Alpheus? unlike others, when you take your plunge you do not mingle with the brine as a river should; you do not put an end to your labours by dispersing; you hold together through the sea, keep your current fresh, and hurry along in all your original purity; you dive down to strange depths like a gull or a heron; I suppose you will come to the top again and show yourself somewhere or other. _Al_. Do not press me, Posidon; a love affair; and many is the time you have been in love yourself. _Pos_. Woman, nymph, or Nereid? _Al_. All wrong; she is a fountain. _Pos_. A fountain? and where does she flow? _Al_. She is an islander—in Sicily. Her name is Arethusa. _Pos_. Ah, I commend your taste. She is pellucid, and bubbles up in perfect purity; the water as bright over her pebbles as if it were a mass of silver. _Al_. You know my fountain, Posidon, and no mistake. It is to her that I go. _Pos_. Go, then; and may the course of love run smooth! But pray where did you meet her? Arcadia and Syracuse, you know! _Al_. I am in a hurry; you are detaining me, with these superfluous questions. _Pos_. Ah, so I am. Be off to your beloved, rise from the sea, mingle your channels and be one water. H. IV _Menelaus. Proteus_ _Me_. I can understand your turning into _water_, you know, Proteus, because you _are_ a sea-god. I can even pass the tree; and the lion is not wholly beyond the bounds of belief. But the idea of your being able to turn into _fire_, living under water as you do,—this excites my surprise, not to say my incredulity. _Pro_. Don't let it; because I can. _Me_. I have seen you do it. But (to be frank with you) I think there must be some deception; you play tricks with one's eyes; you don't really turn into anything of the kind? _Pro_. Deception? What deception can there possibly be? Everything is above-board. Your eyes were open, I suppose, and you saw me change into all these things? If that is not enough for you, if you think it is a fraud, an optical illusion, I will turn into fire again, and you can touch me with your hand, my sagacious friend. You will then be able to conclude whether I am only visible fire, or have the additional property of burning. _Me_. That would be rash. _Pro_. I suppose you have never seen such a thing as a polypus, nor observed the proceedings of that fish? _Me_. I have seen them; as to their proceedings, I shall be glad of your information. _Pro_. The polypus, having selected his rock, and attached himself by means of his suckers, assimilates himself to it, changing his colour to match that of the rock. By this means he hopes to escape the observation of fishermen: there is no contrast of colour to betray his presence; he looks just like stone. _Me_. So I have heard. But yours is quite another matter, Proteus. _Pro_. I don't know what evidence would satisfy you, if you reject that of your own eyes.