ick me out the finest stones you have . . .
I'll bring you a drink of water presently.

CORYDON: [Goes back and sits down, with the jewels before him.]
A bowl of jewels is a lot of jewels.

THYRSIS: [Chopping up the weed.] I wonder if it has a bitter taste.

CORYDON: There's sure to be a stone or two among them
I have grown fond of, pouring them from one hand
Into the other.

THYRSIS: I hope it doesn't taste
Too bitter, just at first.

CORYDON: A bowl of jewels
Is far too many jewels to give away
And not get back again.

THYRSIS: I don't believe
He'll notice. He's too thirsty. He'll gulp it down
And never notice.

CORYDON: There ought to be some way
To get them back again. . . . I could give him a necklace,
And snatch it back, after I'd drunk the water,
I suppose. . . . Why, as for that, of course a _necklace_. . . .

[He puts two or three of the colored tapes together and tries
their strength by pulling them, after which he puts them around
his neck and pulls them, gently, nodding to himself. He gets up
and goes to the wall, with the colored tapes in his hands.]

[THYRSIS in the meantime has poured the powdered root--black
confetti--into the pot which contained the flower and filled
it up with wine from the punch-bowl on the floor. He comes
to the wall at the same time, holding the bowl of poison.]

THYRSIS: Come, get your bowl of water, Corydon.

CORYDON: Ah, very good!--and for such a gift as that
I'll give you more than a bowl of unset stones.
I'll give you three long necklaces, my friend.
Come closer. Here they are. [Puts the ribbons
about THYRSIS' neck.]

THYRSIS: [Putting bowl to CORYDON'S mouth.]
I'll hold the bowl
Until you've drunk it all.

CORYDON: Then hold it steady.
For every drop you spill I'll have a stone back
Out of this chain.

THYRSIS: I shall not spill a drop.

[CORYDON drinks, meanwhile beginning to strangle
THYRSIS.]

THYRSIS: Don't pull the string so tight.

CORYDON: You're spilling the water.

THYRSIS: You've had enough--you've had enough--stop pulling
The string so tight!

CORYDON: Why, that's not tight at all ...
How's this?

THYRSIS: [Drops bowl.] You're strangling me! Oh, Corydon!
It's only a game!--and you are strangling me!

CORYDON: It's only a game, is it?--Yet I believe
You've poisoned me in earnest! [Writhes and
pulls the strings tighter, winding them about
THYRSIS' neck.]

THYRSIS: Corydon! [Dies.]

CORY