Women, the man is caught in our net. He will go to the Bacchae, where he will pay the penalty with his death. Dionysus, now it is your job; for you are not far off. Let us punish him. First drive him out of his wits, send upon him a dizzying madness, since if he is of sound mind he will not consent to wear women’s clothing, but driven out of his senses he will put it on. I want him to be a source of laughter to the Thebans, led through the city in women’s guise after making such terrible threats in the past. But now I will go to fit on Pentheus the dress he will wear to the house of Hades, slaughtered by his mother’s hands. He will recognize the son of Zeus, Dionysus, who is in fact a god, the most terrible and yet most mild to men. Chorus Shall I move my white foot in the night-long dance, aroused to a frenzy, throwing my head to the dewy air, like a fawn sporting in the green pleasures of the meadow, when it has escaped a fearful chase beyond the watchers over the well-woven nets, and the hunter hastens his dogs on their course with his call, while she, with great exertion and a storm-swift running, rushes along the plain by the river, rejoicing in the solitude apart from men and in the thickets of the shady-foliaged woods.
What is wisdom? Or what greater honor do the gods give to mortals than to hold one’s hand in strength over the head of enemies? What is good is always dear. Chorus Divine strength is roused with difficulty, but still is sure. It chastises those mortals who honor folly and those who in their insanity do not extol the gods. The gods cunningly conceal the long pace of time and hunt the impious. For it is not right to determine or plan anything beyond the laws. For it is a light expense to hold that whatever is divine has power, and that which has been law for a long time is eternal and has its origin in nature.
What is wisdom? Or what greater honor do the gods give to mortals than to hold one’s hand in strength over the head of enemies? What is good is always dear. Chorus Happy is he The archaic sound of the English happy is he... , with its implicit echo of the beatitudes from the Sermon on the Mount, is appropriate here, for the chorus is describing beatitudes of a kind (though not strictly religious beatitudes) as appear at 73ff. who has fled a storm on the sea, and reached harbor. Happy too is he who has overcome his hardships. One surpass another in different ways, in wealth or power. There are innumerable hopes to innumerable men, and some result in wealth to mortals, while others fail. But I call him blessed whose life is happy day to day. Dionysus You who are eager to see what you ought not and hasty in pursuit of what ought not to be pursued—I mean you, Pentheus, come forth before the house, be seen by me, wearing the clothing of a woman, of an inspired maenad, a spy upon your mother and her company.
 Pentheus emerges. 
In appearance you are like one of Kadmos’ daughters. Pentheus Oh look! I think I see two suns, and twin Thebes , the seven-gated city. And you seem to lead me, being like a bull and horns seem to grow on your head. But were you ever before a beast? For you have certainly now become a bull. Dionysus The god accompanies us, now at truce with us, though formerly not propitious. Now you see what you should see. Pentheus How do I look? Don’t I have the posture of Ino, or of my mother Agave? Dionysus Looking at you I think I see them. But this lock of your hair has come out of place, not the way I arranged it under your headband. Pentheus I displaced it indoors, shaking my head forwards and backwards and practising my Bacchic revelry. Dionysus But I who ought to wait on you will re-arrange it. Hold up your head. Pentheus Here, you arrange it; for I depend on you, indeed. Dionysus Your girdle has come loose, and the pleats of your gown do not extend regularly down around your ankles. Pentheus At least on my right leg, I believe they don’t. But on this side the robe sits well around the back of my leg. Dionysus You will surely consider me the best of your friends,