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Not godly?

Who dares accuse me of? Do you want to ruin me? Godly? When was I godly? I once belonged to the sect of the Donatists; that was years and years ago. Devil take the Donatists! [He knocks at the window.] Hi, Barbara, Barbara; open the door, old she-cat! [The door is opened and he slips in.   There he is! There he comes! All irregular perquisites! Accounts examined! Oh thunderbolt of disaster! [He slips away, followed by his two slaves.

[''The procession of Dionysus comes down the street. Flute-players go foremost; drunken men, some of them dressed as fauns and satyrs, dance to the measure. In the middle of the procession comes the , riding on an ass, which is covered with a panther-skin; he is dressed as the god Dionysus, with a panther-skin over his shoulders, a wreath of vine-leaves round his head, in his hands a staff wreathed with green, and with a pine-cone fastened on its upper end. Half-naked, painted women and youths, dancers and jugglers, surround him; some carry wine-flagons and goblets, others beat tambourines, and move forward with wild leaps and antics.''