The World’s Tragedy

8 THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. SILENUS Ha, you rogue, if Rhodon rage, Poets earn a cynic page ; And our lips with laughter curl If she treat you as a girl. CHIRON Brute, get back to wine, and leave us In our flower-love to inweave us. All we know the shameless chorus : “ Fie ! Silenus — Heliorus ! ” HELIORUS I had better right to mock you, Graceless Chiron, with the quip (Girls, come close — the jest will shock you) “ Pine-tree with the drooping tip ! ” CHIRON Oh, you little toad of spite ! Come, and I will set you right. All your years of wantoness Shall not save you — much distress.