ACTUS SECUNDUS
ARGUS.
True, Theseus—if he had but hit his thumb!
CASTOR.
Cease this fool’s talk. The moon waits not the work.
POLLUX.
The sun will sink no later for your pleasure.
On to thy work, man.
THESEUS,
He that traps a lion
And baits him for an hour, and lets him go,
Does well to think before he tempt again
The forest paths.
HERACLES.
The wise man wisely thinks
That nothing is but wisdom—and myself
Think strongly that no other thing exists
But strength: so with his subtleties of mind
He baffles me; and I lift up my club,
And with one blow bespatter his wise brains.
JASON.
Ay, not for nothing did the darkness reign
Those eight-and-forty hours, O Zeus-begot!
THESEUS.
Tell me, friend master, how the work goes on.
When shall our gallant vessel breast the deep?
When shall we see the sun sink o’er the poop,
And look toward moonrise, and the land be lost,