Enter the Cyclops from the cave, leaning on Silenus.
Chorus
[495] Happy the man who shouts the Bacchic cry, off to the revel, the well-beloved juice of the vine putting the wind in his sails. His arm is around his trusty friend, and he has waiting for him [500] the fresh, young body of his voluptuous mistress upon her bed, and with his locks all gleaming with myrrh he says, ‘Who will open the door for me?’