Hemlock, do you mean?
No, that's too deathly cold a way;
You have hardly started ere your shins get numbed.
Well, would you like a steep and swift descent?
Aye, that's the style: my walking powers are small.
Go down to the Cerameicus.
And do what?
Climb to the tower's top pinnacle-
Observe the torch-race started, and when all
The multitude is shouting "Let them go,"
Let yourself go.
To the ground.
And lose, forsooth, two envelopes of brain.
I'll not try that.
Which will you try?
You went yourself.
A parlous voyage that,
For first you'll come to an enormous lake
Of fathomless depth.
And how am I to cross?
An ancient mariner will row you over
In a wee boat, so big. The fare's two obols.
Fie! The power two obols have, the whole world through!
How came they thither!
Theseus took them down.
And next you'll see great snakes and savage monsters
In tens of thousands.
You needn't try to scare me,
I'm going to go.
Then weltering seas of filth
And ever-rippling dung: and plunged therein,
Whoso has wronged the stranger here on earth,
Or robbed his boylove of the promised pay,
Or swinged his mother, or profanely smitten
His father's check, or sworn an oath forsworn,
Or copied out a speech of Morsimus.
There too, perdie, should he be plunged, whoe'er
Has danced the sword-dance of Cinesias.