In Epidauria he was attacked by a celebrated robber, whom he slew, and whose club he retained as his favourite weapon.

In the Isthmus, Sinnis, another bandit, who had been accustomed to destroy the unfortunate travellers who fell in his way by binding them to the boughs of two pine trees (so that when the trees, released, swung back to their natural position, the victim was torn asunder, limb by limb), was punished by the same death he had devised for others; and here occurs one of those anecdotes illustrative of the romance of the period, and singularly analogous to the chivalry of Northern fable, which taught deference to women, and rewarded by the smiles of the fair the exploits of the bold.

Sinnis, "the pine bender," had a daughter remarkable for beauty, who concealed herself amid the shrubs and rushes in terror of the victor.
Theseus discovered her, praying, says Plutarch, in childish innocence or folly, to the plants and bushes, and promising, if they would shelter her, never to destroy or burn them.

A graceful legend, that reminds us of the rich inventions of Spenser.

But Theseus, with all gentle words and soothing vows, allured the maiden from her retreat, and succeeded at last in obtaining her love and its rewards.
Continued adventures--the conquest of Phaea, a wild sow (or a female robber, so styled from the brutality of her life)--the robber Sciron cast headlong from a precipice--Procrustes stretched on his own bed-- attested the courage and fortune of the wanderer, and at length he arrived at the banks of the Cephisus.