PROLOGUE,

Whilst there, his heart did waste with secret grief,And he was eager for the noisy wars.

Whilst there, his heart did waste with secret grief,

And he was eager for the noisy wars.

His affairs standing in this condition, Nicagoras, the Messenian, came to Alexandria: a man thatdeeply hated Cleomenes, yet pretended to be his friend; for he had formerly sold Cleomenes a fair estate, but never received the money, because Cleomenes was either unable, (as it may be) or else, by reason of his engagement in the wars and other distractions, had no time to pay him. Cleomenes, seeing him landing, (for he was then walking upon the key) kindly saluted him, and asked, "What business brought him to Egypt?" Nicagoras returned his compliment, and told him, "That he came to bring some excellent war-horses to the king." And Cleomenes, with a smile, subjoined, "I wish you had rather brought pimps, whores, and pathics; for those now are the king's chief delight." Nicagoras at the present smiled at the conceit; but, a few days after, he put Cleomenes in mind of the estate that he had bought of him, and desired his money, protesting, that he would not have troubled him, if his merchandize had turned to that account, which he thought it would. Cleomenes replied, "That he had not a penny left of all that had been given him;" at which answer Nicagoras being nettled, told Sosibius Cleomenes' scoff upon the king. He caressed him for the discovery; but desiring to have some greater reason to excite the king against Cleomenes, persuaded Nicagoras to leave a letter written against Cleomenes, importing, that he had a design, if he could have gotten ships and soldiers, to surprise Cyrene. Nicagoras wrote such a letter, and left Egypt. Four days after, Sosibius brought the letter to Ptolemy, pretending it was just then delivered him, and with a bitter invective excited the fury of the youth. Upon this it was agreed, that Cleomenes should be invited into a large apartment, and treated as formerly, but not suffered to go out again. This usage was grievous to Cleomenes; and by this unlucky accident, his hopes, forthe future, seemed to be quite dashed. Ptolemy, the son of Chrysermas, a favourite of the king's, always carried himself fairly towards Cleomenes: they contracted a near acquaintance, and would talk freely together about the state. He, at Cleomenes's desire, came to him, had some discourse with him upon a few and inconsiderable subjects, to avoid suspicion, and made some excuses for the king; but as he went out again, not knowing that Cleomenes followed him to the door, he very severely reprimanded the keepers, for their carelessness in looking after so great and so furious a wild beast. This Cleomenes himself heard; and retiring before Ptolemy perceived it, told his friends what he had heard. Upon this they cast off all their former hopes, and determined for violent proceedings, resolving to be revenged on Ptolemy for his base and unjust dealing, to have satisfaction for the affronts, to die as it became Spartans, and not stay till, like fatted sacrifices, they were butchered; for it was both grievous and dishonourable for Cleomenes, who had scorned to come to terms with Antigonus, a brave warrior, and a man of action, to wait an effeminate king's leisure, till he should lay aside his fiddle, and end his dance, and then kill him. These courses being resolved on, and Ptolemy happening at the same time to make a progress to Canopus, they first spread abroad a report, that his freedom was ordered by the king; and it being the king's custom to send presents and an entertainment to those whom he would free, Cleomenes's friends made that provision, and sent it into the prison, thereby deceiving the keepers, who thought it had been sent by the king; for he sacrificed, and gave them large portions, and with a crown upon his head feasted and made merry with his friends. It is said, that he began the action sooner than he designed,having understood that a servant of one of the accomplices lay abroad with a mistress that he loved. This made him afraid of a discovery; and therefore, as soon as it was full noon, and all the keepers drunk and fast asleep, he put on his coat, and opening the seam on his right shoulder, with his sword drawn in his hand, he issued forth, together with his friends, provided in the same manner, making thirteen in all. One of them, by name Hippotas, was lame; he followed the first onset very well; but when afterwards he perceived that they were more slow in their advances for his sake, he desired them to run him through, and not ruin their enterprise, by staying for an useless, unprofitable man. By chance an Alexandrian was then riding by the door; him they threw off, and, setting Hippotas on horseback, ran through the narrow lanes, and proclaimed liberty to the people; but they, it seems, had courage enough to praise and admire Cleomenes's daring, but not one had the heart to follow and assist him. Three of them fell on Ptolemy, the son of Chrysermas, as he was coming out of the palace, and killed him: another Ptolemy, the lieutenant of the city, advancing against them in a chariot, they set upon, dispersed his guards and attendants and pulling him out of the chariot, killed him upon the place. Then they made toward the castle, designing to break open the prison, and take the prisoners to their assistance; but the keepers were too quick for them, and secured the passages. Being baffled in this attempt, Cleomenes, with his company, roamed about the city, none joining with them, but all retreating from, and flying his approach; therefore, despairing of success, and saying to his friends, "That it was no wonder that women ruled over those men that fled liberty," he excited them all to die as bravely as became his followers,and men of their glorious performances. This said, Hippotas was first, as he desired, run through by one of the young men, and then each of them readily and resolutely fell upon his own sword, except Pantheus, that Pantheus that first surprised Megalopolis. This man, being a very handsome person, and a better companion than any of the youth, the king loved, and bade him, when he had seen him and the rest fallen, die by their example. Pantheus walked over them as they lay, and pricked every one with his dagger, to try whether any was alive; when he pricked Cleomenes in the leg, and saw him turn upon his back, he kissed him, sat down by him, and when he was quite dead, covered his carcase, and then killed himself upon his body.

Thus fell Cleomenes, that great, brave man, after he had been king of Sparta sixteen years. The news of their fall being noised through the city, Cratesiclea, though a woman of a great spirit, could not bear up against the insupportable weight of this affliction, but, embracing Cleomenes's children, made grievous lamentations; but the eldest boy, none suspecting such a spirit in a child, threw himself headlong from the top of the house; he was bruised very much, but not killed by the fall, and was taken up crying, and expressing his resentment for not being permitted to destroy himself. Ptolemy, as soon as an account of the action was brought him, gave order, that Cleomenes's body should be flayed and hung up; that his children, mother, and the women that were with her, should be killed. Among those was Pantheus's wife, a very fair woman, and of a stately carriage, who had been but newly married, and suffered these disasters in the height of her love. Her parents would not let her embark with Pantheus presently after they weremarried, though she eagerly desired it, but shut her up, and kept her by violence at home; yet a few days after, she got a horse and a little money, and, escaping by night, made speed to Tænarus, where she embarked for Egypt, came to her husband, and with him cheerfully endured to live in a foreign country. She led Cratesiclea, as she was going with the soldiers to execution, held up her train, and begged her to be courageous, who of herself was not in the least afraid of death, and desired nothing else, but only to be killed before the children. When they were come to the place of execution, the children were first killed before Cratesiclea's eyes, and afterwards she herself, with only these words in her mouth; "O children, whither are you gone?" But Pantheus's wife girding her garments close to her, and being a strong woman, without any noise or lamentation, looked after every one that was slain, and wound them up as well as her present circumstances would permit; and after all were killed, dressing herself, bound her clothes close about her, and, suffering none to come near, or be an eye witness of her fall, beside the executioner, she courageously submitted to the stroke, and wanted nobody to look after, or wind her up after she was dead. Thus, in her death, the modesty of her mind appeared, and set the guard upon her body, which she always kept when alive; and she, in the declining age of the Spartans, shewed, that women were no unequal rivals of the men, and was an instance of such a courage as would not sneak to the affronts of fortune. A few days after, those that watched the hanging body of Cleomenes, saw a very great snake winding about his head, and covering his face, so that no bird of prey should fly at it. This made the king superstitiouslyafraid, and set the women upon several lustrations, as if he had been an extraordinary man, and one beloved by the gods, that had been slain. And the Alexandrians made processions to the place, and gave Cleomenes the title of Hero, and the Son of the gods, till the philosophers satisfied them, by saying, "That, as oxen breed bees, putrefying horses breed hornets, and beetles rise from the carcases of dead asses, so the humours and juices of the marrow of a man's body, coagulating, produce serpents." And this the antients observing, appropriated a serpent rather than any other creature to heroes.

SPOKEN BY MR MOUNTFORD.

I think, or hope at least, the coast is clear;That none but men of wit and sense are here;That our Bear-Garden friends are all away,Who bounce with hands and feet, and cry, Play, Play;Who, to save coach-hire, trudge along the street,Then print our matted seats with dirty feet;Who, while we speak, make love to orange-wenches,And, between acts, stand strutting on the benches;Where got a cock-horse, making vile grimaces,They to the boxes show their booby faces.A Merry-Andrew such a mob will serve,And treat them with such wit as they deserve.Let them go people Ireland, where there's needOf such new planters to repair the breed;Or to Virginia or Jamaica steer,But have a care of some French privateer;For, if they should become the prize of battle,They'll take them, black and white, for Irish cattle.Arise, true judges, in your own defence,Controul these foplings, and declare for sense:For, should the fools prevail, they stop not there,But make their next descent upon the fair.Then rise, ye fair; for it concerns you most,That fools no longer should your favours boast;'Tis time you should renounce them, for we findThey plead a senseless claim to womankind:Such squires are only fit for country-towns,To stink of ale, and dust a stand with clowns;Who, to be chosen for the land's protectors,Tope and get drunk before their wise electors.Let not farce lovers your weak choice upbraid,But turn them over to the chamber-maid;Or, if they come to see our tragic scenes,Instruct them what a Spartan hero means:Teach them how manly passions ought to move,For such as cannot think, can never love;And, since they needs will judge the poet's art,Point them with fescues to each shining part.Our author hopes in you; but still in pain,He fears your charms will be employed in vain.You can make fools of wits, we find each hour;But to make wits of fools, is past your power.

I think, or hope at least, the coast is clear;

That none but men of wit and sense are here;

That our Bear-Garden friends are all away,

Who bounce with hands and feet, and cry, Play, Play;

Who, to save coach-hire, trudge along the street,

Then print our matted seats with dirty feet;

Who, while we speak, make love to orange-wenches,

And, between acts, stand strutting on the benches;

Where got a cock-horse, making vile grimaces,

They to the boxes show their booby faces.

A Merry-Andrew such a mob will serve,

And treat them with such wit as they deserve.

Let them go people Ireland, where there's need

Of such new planters to repair the breed;

Or to Virginia or Jamaica steer,

But have a care of some French privateer;

For, if they should become the prize of battle,

They'll take them, black and white, for Irish cattle.

Arise, true judges, in your own defence,

Controul these foplings, and declare for sense:

For, should the fools prevail, they stop not there,

But make their next descent upon the fair.

Then rise, ye fair; for it concerns you most,

That fools no longer should your favours boast;

'Tis time you should renounce them, for we find

They plead a senseless claim to womankind:

Such squires are only fit for country-towns,

To stink of ale, and dust a stand with clowns;

Who, to be chosen for the land's protectors,

Tope and get drunk before their wise electors.

Let not farce lovers your weak choice upbraid,

But turn them over to the chamber-maid;

Or, if they come to see our tragic scenes,

Instruct them what a Spartan hero means:

Teach them how manly passions ought to move,

For such as cannot think, can never love;

And, since they needs will judge the poet's art,

Point them with fescues to each shining part.

Our author hopes in you; but still in pain,

He fears your charms will be employed in vain.

You can make fools of wits, we find each hour;

But to make wits of fools, is past your power.

Cleomenes,King of Sparta.Cleonidas,his Son by his first Wife.Ptolemy,King of Egypt.Sosibius,his Minister of State.Cleanthes,Son toSosibius,Friend toCleomenes,Captain ofPtolemy'sGuard.Pantheus,a Noble Spartan, the Favourite ofCleomenes.Cœnus,a Messenian Lord.Cratesiclea,Mother toCleomenes.Cleora,Cleomenes'ssecond Wife.Cassandra,Mistress toPtolemy.Priests of Apis. A Mariner. Egyptians. Guards

Cleomenes,King of Sparta.

Cleonidas,his Son by his first Wife.

Ptolemy,King of Egypt.

Sosibius,his Minister of State.

Cleanthes,Son toSosibius,Friend toCleomenes,

Captain ofPtolemy'sGuard.

Pantheus,a Noble Spartan, the Favourite ofCleomenes.

Cœnus,a Messenian Lord.

Cratesiclea,Mother toCleomenes.Cleora,Cleomenes'ssecond Wife.Cassandra,Mistress toPtolemy.

Cratesiclea,Mother toCleomenes.

Cleora,Cleomenes'ssecond Wife.

Cassandra,Mistress toPtolemy.

Priests of Apis. A Mariner. Egyptians. Guards

EnterCleomenes.

Cleom.Dejected! no, it never shall be said,That fate had power upon a Spartan soul:My mind on its own centre stands unmoved,And stable, as the fabric of the world,Propt on itself; still I am Cleomenes.I fought the battle bravely, which I lost;And lost it, but to Macedonians,The successors of those who conquered Asia.'Twas for a cause too, such a cause I fought;Unbounded empire hung upon my sword:Greece, like a lovely heifer, stood in view,To see the rival bulls each other gore,But wished the conquest mine.I fled; and yet I languish not in exile;But here in Egypt whet my blunted horns,And meditate new fights, and chew my loss.Ah! why, ye gods, must Cleomenes waitOn this effeminate, luxurious court,For tardy helps of base Egyptian bands?Why have not I, whose individual mindWould ask a nation of such souls to inform it,Why have not I ten thousand hands to fightIt all myself, and make the work my own?EnterCratesiclea,Cleora,andCleonidas.Crat.Is this well done? or like the king of Sparta?Or like my son? to waste your time in tears?What have you done, that you avoid mankind,And sculk in corners like a guilty slave?Cleor.We have been seeking you, my dearest lord,Through all the shady walks and dark retreatsOf secret care; that false deluding friend,That only sooths and keeps you company,To prey upon your last remains of life.Cleom.I've heard you.[Sighs.Crat.Hear her still; she tells you true.This melancholy flatters, but unmans you.What is it else, but penury of soul,A lazy frost, a numbness of the mind,That locks up all the vigour to attempt,By barely crying,—'tis impossible!Cleom.You both mistake me:—That I grieve, 'tis true;But 'tis a grief of fury, not despair!And if a manly drop or two fall down,It scalds along my cheeks, like the green wood,That, sputtering in the flame, works outward into tears.Cleor.Why would you leave me then, and be alone?Indeed it was a churlish kind of sorrow,Indeed it was, to engross it all yourself,And not permit me to endure my share.Think you, because I am of tender mould,I cannot suffer and partake your burdens?Alas! I suffer more by not partaking.Cleom.My wife! my mother! O, I'm so divided,That I grieve most for both, and love both most!Two twining vines about this elm, whose fallMust shortly—very shortly, crush you both.And yet I will not go to ground,Without a noble ruin round my trunk:The forest shall be shaken when I sink,And all the neighbouring treesShall groan, and fall beneath my vast destruction.Crat.That's something yet, an earnest of an action;Another groan or two, and all goes well.Cleom.Well, I will live.Crat.Thou shalt.Cleom.I'll try at least.Crat.Do not go back, and beat off what thou saidst.Cleon.Peace, peace, good grandmother; he lives already,And conquers too, in saying he will try:Nay, if the king of Sparta says he'll do't,I ask no more than that;For 'tis below a king to tell a lie.Cleor.But where's the means?Cleon.The means is in the daring:Had my own mother lived, and asked that question,I should have thought my father had begot meWithout her help, as Pallas sprung from Jove.Cleor.Think'st thou, he can defend us all, alone?Cleon.No; for I mean to help him.Cleom.That's my boy, my hopeful lion's whelp.[Takes and kisses him.Cleor.So Hector hugged his young Astyanax;Went out to fight, and never saw him more.Cleon.But why did not Astyanax go with Hector?Crat.Because he was a child, and could not go.Cleon.Was he a Spartan child?Cleor.Oh no! a Trojan.Cleon.There's it, a Trojan child. But grant me this,There are no Spartan children; we are born men;And though you say, I have but fifteen years,We Spartans take ten strides before our age,And start beyond dull nature.Cleom.Let me but live to shadow this young plantFrom blights and storms, he'll soon shoot up a hero:He must; I got him in the pride of conquest;For, coming back from my first maiden battle,Wherein I made the great Aratus fly,And added all his laurels to my brow,I well remember, that I spurred it hard,And, like a meteor, shot before my troops,To reach my love that night. I was bridegroom,Or scarce had lost that name; and, stealing home,According to my country's modest use,I found my Ægiatis just undrest,Wearying the gods with vows for my return.My transport was so great, I could not stay,But kissed, and took her, trembling, in my arms;And in that fury of my love, I stamptThis image of my soul.—[41]EnterPantheus.What, my Pantheus!Where hast thou been this long long year of hours?Panth.Where I have past a merry morning's walk,With the best company.Cleom.With whom?Panth.Why with myself, in laughing at the world,Making a farce of life, where knaves, and fools,And madmen, that's all human kind, were actors.Cleom.And what part acted you?Panth.As little as I could; and daily would have less,So please the gods, for that's a wise man's part.Cleom.Would I could share thy balmy, even temper,And milkiness of blood.Panth.You may.Cleom.As how?Panth.By but forgetting you have been a king.Cleom.Then must I rust in Egypt, never moreAppear in arms, and be the chief of Greece?Now, by yon blue palace,The mansion of my great forefather, Hercules,I would lose o'er again Sellasia's field,Rather than fight behind,When proud Aratus led the Grecian van.Cleon.What, when the lively trumpets sound a charge,The word of battle may be Hercules,And after our great grandsire's name, AratusCries,—Cleomenes, bring you up the rear.Panth.If fortune takes not off this boy betimes,He'll make mad work, and elbow all his neighbours.Cleon.My neighbours! Little: Elbow all the world,And push off kings, like counters, from the board,To place myself the foremost.Panth.What wilt thou be, young cockeril, when thy spursAre grown to sharpness?Cleon.Why, I'll be a Spartan;For if I said a king, I should say less.I mean a Spartan while I live on earth;But when in heaven, I'll stand next Hercules,And thrust between my father and the god.Cleor.Do you not view, my lord,As in a glass, your darling fault, ambition,Reflected in your son?Cleom.My virtue rather:I love to see him sparkle out betimes,For 'twas my flame, that lighted up his soul:I'm pleased with my own work; Jove was not moreWith infant nature, when his spacious handHad rounded this huge ball of earth and seas,To give it the first push, and see it rollAlong the vast abyss.Cleon.My mother would have had my youth brought upTo spin with girls in Sparta.Crat.Well said, my boy; yet Hercules, they say,Took up the distaff once.Cleon.Yes, when he had been conquered by a woman.Panth.[ToCleom.]One thing I have forgot, which may import you,—You'll suddenly hear news from Greece.Cleom.Thou wertIndeed forgetful, not to tell me that;For, from my first arrival on this coast,This fatal Egypt, where I fled for refuge,In three long months I have not heard from Greece.What makes thee think I shall have news so soon?Panth.As walking on the beach, I saw a shipJust entering in the port, and on the deckStood Cœnus.Cleom.Cœnus, saidst thou?Panth.Yes, our Cœnus, the rich Messenian lord;I saw and knew him; but, amidst the shoutsOf mariners, and busy care to slingHis horses soon ashore, he saw not me.Cleom.Then shall I hear of thee once more, dear country!I fear too soon: shall hear how proud AntigonusLed o'er Eurota's banks his conquering troops,And first to wondering Sparta shewed a king,A king, that was not hers:Then I shall hear of sacrilege and murders,And fires, and rapes on matrons, and on maids.Panth.Such news we must expect.Cleom.O happy ghostsOf those that fell in the last fatal fight,And lived not to survive their country's loss!Base as I was, I should have fallen there too;But first have raised a mountain of the dead,To choke their way to Sparta.Panth.Thus I knewYour blood would boil, and therefore I delayedSo long to tell you Cœnus was arrived.Cleom.Go,My mother, my Cleora, and my boy.[StrokingCleon.Your ears would be polluted with such ills,Which I must try to mollify, beforeThey reach your tender hearing.Cleor.I obey you.But let not grief disorder you too muchFor what you lost.For me, while I have you, and you are kind,I ask no more of heaven.Cleon.I go too,Because my king and father bids me go;Else, I have sternness in my soul enoughTo hear of murders, rapes, and sacrilege:For those are soldiers' work; and I would hear them,To spur me to revenge.[ExeuntCrat.Cleora,andCleon.Panth.He's here already;Now bear it like yourself.Cleom.I'm armed against it.EnterCœnus;salutesCleomenes.Cœn.I heard, sir, you were refuged in this court,And come to beg a favour.Cleom.Good; a favour!Sure, thou mistakest me for a king of Egypt,And think'st I govern here?Cœn.You're Cleomenes.Cleom.No thanks to heaven for that. I should have died,And then I had not been this Cleomenes.Panth.You promised patience, sir.Cleom.Thou art a scurvy monitor; I am patient:Do I foam at lips,Or stare at eyes? Methinks, I am wondrous patient:Now, thou shalt see how I can swallow gall.—I pr'ythee, gentle Cœnus, tell the story[Speaking softly.Of ruined Sparta; leave no circumstanceUntold, of all their woes; and I will hear thee,As unconcerned, as if thou toldst a taleOf ruined Troy. I pr'ythee, tell us howThe victors robbed the shrines, polluted temples,Ransacked each wealthy house:—No, spare me that;Poor honest Sparta had no wealth to lose.But[Raises his voice.]when thou com'st to tell of matrons ravished,And virgins forced, then raise thy voice,And let me hear their howlings,And dreadful shrieks, as in the act of rape.Panth.Again you are distempered.Cleom.[Softly.]Peace! I am not.I was but teaching him to grace his taleWith decent horror.Cœn.Your sick imagination feigns all this:Now hear a truth, and wonder.Cleom.Has not the conqueror been at Sparta?Cœn.Yes.Cleom.Nay, then I know what follows victory.Panth.You interrupt, as if you would not know.Cœn.Then,—if you will imagine,—think some king,Who loved his people, took a peaceful progressTo some far distant place of his dominions;Smiled on his subjects, as he rode in triumph,And strewed his plenty, wheresoe'er he passed.Nay, raise your thoughts yet higher;—think some deity,Some better Ceres, drawn along the skyBy gentle dragons, scattered, as she flew,Her fruitful grains upon the teeming ground,And bade new harvests rise.Cleom.Do we dream, Pantheus?Panth.No, sure; we are awake: but 'tis he, dreams.Cœn.The soldiers marched, as in procession, slow,And entered Sparta like a choir of priests,As if they feared to tread on holy ground.No noise was heard; no voice, but of the crier,Proclaiming peace and liberty to Sparta.At that, a peal of loud applause rang out,And thinned the air, till even the birds fell downUpon the shouters' heads: the shops flew open,And all the busy trades renewed their tasks:No law was changed, no custom was controuled;That had Lycurgus lived, or you returned,So Sparta would have shown.Panth.If this be true,——Cleom.If this indeed be true,Then farewell, Sparta.Cœn.Hear me out.—He reaped no fruit of conquest but their blessings;Nor staid three days in Sparta; summoned thence,With sudden news, that a barbarian hostWas entered Macedonia,And, like a mighty deluge rolling on,Swept all before them. Thus alarmed, he left us;Marched homeward; met, and fought them; nay, and livedTo say, the field is mine!Panth.Died of his wounds?Cœn.Not so; but, straining loud his feeble voiceTo animate his soldiers, broke a vein,And, in a purple vomit, poured his soul.Panth.O blessed, blessed Cœnus, for this happy news![EmbracesCœnus.Cleom.O, wretch! O, born to all misfortunes! cursed,Cursed Cleomenes!Panth.How's this!—Are these the thanks you pay the gods,Who freed your Sparta, and removed, by death,Your only fatal foe?Cleom.O, blind Pantheus!Canst thou not find, that, had I but deferredSellasia's fight three days, but three short days,Fate then had fought my battle with Antigonus;And I, not fighting, had been still a king?Panth.That's true; but that you knew not when you fought.Cleom.Why, therefore, once again cursed Cleomenes!'Tis not to be endured,That fate of empires, and the fall of kings,Should turn on flying hours, and catch of moments.Panth.Now, by my soul, 'tis lazy wickedness,To rail at heaven, and not to help yourself;Heaven's but too kind, in offering you the means.Your fate, once more, is laid upon the anvil;Now pluck up all the Spartan in your soul,Now stretch at every stroke, and hammer outA new, and nobler fortune;Else may the peaceful ground restore the dead,And give up old Antigonus again.Cleom.I thank thee; thou hast added flame to fury.The Spartan genius shall once more be roused;Our household gods, that droop upon our hearths,Each from his venerable face shall brushThe Macedonian soot, and shine again.Panth.Now you confess the Spartan.Cleom.Haste, Pantheus!I struggle like the priestess with a god;With that oppressing god, that works her soul.Haste to Cleanthes, my Egyptian friend,That only man that Egypt ever made;He's my Lucina. Say, my friendship wants him,To help me bring to light a manly birth;Which to the wondering world I shall disclose,Or, if he fail me, perish in my throes.[Exeunt.

Cleom.Dejected! no, it never shall be said,

That fate had power upon a Spartan soul:

My mind on its own centre stands unmoved,

And stable, as the fabric of the world,

Propt on itself; still I am Cleomenes.

I fought the battle bravely, which I lost;

And lost it, but to Macedonians,

The successors of those who conquered Asia.

'Twas for a cause too, such a cause I fought;

Unbounded empire hung upon my sword:

Greece, like a lovely heifer, stood in view,

To see the rival bulls each other gore,

But wished the conquest mine.

I fled; and yet I languish not in exile;

But here in Egypt whet my blunted horns,

And meditate new fights, and chew my loss.

Ah! why, ye gods, must Cleomenes wait

On this effeminate, luxurious court,

For tardy helps of base Egyptian bands?

Why have not I, whose individual mind

Would ask a nation of such souls to inform it,

Why have not I ten thousand hands to fight

It all myself, and make the work my own?

EnterCratesiclea,Cleora,andCleonidas.

Crat.Is this well done? or like the king of Sparta?Or like my son? to waste your time in tears?What have you done, that you avoid mankind,And sculk in corners like a guilty slave?

Crat.Is this well done? or like the king of Sparta?

Or like my son? to waste your time in tears?

What have you done, that you avoid mankind,

And sculk in corners like a guilty slave?

Cleor.We have been seeking you, my dearest lord,Through all the shady walks and dark retreatsOf secret care; that false deluding friend,That only sooths and keeps you company,To prey upon your last remains of life.

Cleor.We have been seeking you, my dearest lord,

Through all the shady walks and dark retreats

Of secret care; that false deluding friend,

That only sooths and keeps you company,

To prey upon your last remains of life.

Cleom.I've heard you.[Sighs.

Crat.Hear her still; she tells you true.This melancholy flatters, but unmans you.What is it else, but penury of soul,A lazy frost, a numbness of the mind,That locks up all the vigour to attempt,By barely crying,—'tis impossible!

Crat.Hear her still; she tells you true.

This melancholy flatters, but unmans you.

What is it else, but penury of soul,

A lazy frost, a numbness of the mind,

That locks up all the vigour to attempt,

By barely crying,—'tis impossible!

Cleom.You both mistake me:—That I grieve, 'tis true;But 'tis a grief of fury, not despair!And if a manly drop or two fall down,It scalds along my cheeks, like the green wood,That, sputtering in the flame, works outward into tears.

Cleom.You both mistake me:—That I grieve, 'tis true;

But 'tis a grief of fury, not despair!

And if a manly drop or two fall down,

It scalds along my cheeks, like the green wood,

That, sputtering in the flame, works outward into tears.

Cleor.Why would you leave me then, and be alone?Indeed it was a churlish kind of sorrow,Indeed it was, to engross it all yourself,And not permit me to endure my share.Think you, because I am of tender mould,I cannot suffer and partake your burdens?Alas! I suffer more by not partaking.

Cleor.Why would you leave me then, and be alone?

Indeed it was a churlish kind of sorrow,

Indeed it was, to engross it all yourself,

And not permit me to endure my share.

Think you, because I am of tender mould,

I cannot suffer and partake your burdens?

Alas! I suffer more by not partaking.

Cleom.My wife! my mother! O, I'm so divided,That I grieve most for both, and love both most!Two twining vines about this elm, whose fallMust shortly—very shortly, crush you both.And yet I will not go to ground,Without a noble ruin round my trunk:The forest shall be shaken when I sink,And all the neighbouring treesShall groan, and fall beneath my vast destruction.

Cleom.My wife! my mother! O, I'm so divided,

That I grieve most for both, and love both most!

Two twining vines about this elm, whose fall

Must shortly—very shortly, crush you both.

And yet I will not go to ground,

Without a noble ruin round my trunk:

The forest shall be shaken when I sink,

And all the neighbouring trees

Shall groan, and fall beneath my vast destruction.

Crat.That's something yet, an earnest of an action;Another groan or two, and all goes well.

Crat.That's something yet, an earnest of an action;

Another groan or two, and all goes well.

Cleom.Well, I will live.

Crat.Thou shalt.

Cleom.I'll try at least.

Crat.Do not go back, and beat off what thou saidst.

Cleon.Peace, peace, good grandmother; he lives already,And conquers too, in saying he will try:Nay, if the king of Sparta says he'll do't,I ask no more than that;For 'tis below a king to tell a lie.

Cleon.Peace, peace, good grandmother; he lives already,

And conquers too, in saying he will try:

Nay, if the king of Sparta says he'll do't,

I ask no more than that;

For 'tis below a king to tell a lie.

Cleor.But where's the means?

Cleon.The means is in the daring:Had my own mother lived, and asked that question,I should have thought my father had begot meWithout her help, as Pallas sprung from Jove.

Cleon.The means is in the daring:

Had my own mother lived, and asked that question,

I should have thought my father had begot me

Without her help, as Pallas sprung from Jove.

Cleor.Think'st thou, he can defend us all, alone?

Cleon.No; for I mean to help him.

Cleom.That's my boy, my hopeful lion's whelp.[Takes and kisses him.

Cleom.That's my boy, my hopeful lion's whelp.

[Takes and kisses him.

Cleor.So Hector hugged his young Astyanax;Went out to fight, and never saw him more.

Cleor.So Hector hugged his young Astyanax;

Went out to fight, and never saw him more.

Cleon.But why did not Astyanax go with Hector?

Crat.Because he was a child, and could not go.

Cleon.Was he a Spartan child?

Cleor.Oh no! a Trojan.

Cleon.There's it, a Trojan child. But grant me this,There are no Spartan children; we are born men;And though you say, I have but fifteen years,We Spartans take ten strides before our age,And start beyond dull nature.

Cleon.There's it, a Trojan child. But grant me this,

There are no Spartan children; we are born men;

And though you say, I have but fifteen years,

We Spartans take ten strides before our age,

And start beyond dull nature.

Cleom.Let me but live to shadow this young plantFrom blights and storms, he'll soon shoot up a hero:He must; I got him in the pride of conquest;For, coming back from my first maiden battle,Wherein I made the great Aratus fly,And added all his laurels to my brow,I well remember, that I spurred it hard,And, like a meteor, shot before my troops,To reach my love that night. I was bridegroom,Or scarce had lost that name; and, stealing home,According to my country's modest use,I found my Ægiatis just undrest,Wearying the gods with vows for my return.My transport was so great, I could not stay,But kissed, and took her, trembling, in my arms;And in that fury of my love, I stamptThis image of my soul.—[41]

Cleom.Let me but live to shadow this young plant

From blights and storms, he'll soon shoot up a hero:

He must; I got him in the pride of conquest;

For, coming back from my first maiden battle,

Wherein I made the great Aratus fly,

And added all his laurels to my brow,

I well remember, that I spurred it hard,

And, like a meteor, shot before my troops,

To reach my love that night. I was bridegroom,

Or scarce had lost that name; and, stealing home,

According to my country's modest use,

I found my Ægiatis just undrest,

Wearying the gods with vows for my return.

My transport was so great, I could not stay,

But kissed, and took her, trembling, in my arms;

And in that fury of my love, I stampt

This image of my soul.—[41]

EnterPantheus.

What, my Pantheus!Where hast thou been this long long year of hours?

What, my Pantheus!

Where hast thou been this long long year of hours?

Panth.Where I have past a merry morning's walk,With the best company.

Panth.Where I have past a merry morning's walk,

With the best company.

Cleom.With whom?

Panth.Why with myself, in laughing at the world,Making a farce of life, where knaves, and fools,And madmen, that's all human kind, were actors.

Panth.Why with myself, in laughing at the world,

Making a farce of life, where knaves, and fools,

And madmen, that's all human kind, were actors.

Cleom.And what part acted you?

Panth.As little as I could; and daily would have less,So please the gods, for that's a wise man's part.

Panth.As little as I could; and daily would have less,

So please the gods, for that's a wise man's part.

Cleom.Would I could share thy balmy, even temper,And milkiness of blood.

Cleom.Would I could share thy balmy, even temper,

And milkiness of blood.

Panth.You may.

Cleom.As how?

Panth.By but forgetting you have been a king.

Cleom.Then must I rust in Egypt, never moreAppear in arms, and be the chief of Greece?Now, by yon blue palace,The mansion of my great forefather, Hercules,I would lose o'er again Sellasia's field,Rather than fight behind,When proud Aratus led the Grecian van.

Cleom.Then must I rust in Egypt, never more

Appear in arms, and be the chief of Greece?

Now, by yon blue palace,

The mansion of my great forefather, Hercules,

I would lose o'er again Sellasia's field,

Rather than fight behind,

When proud Aratus led the Grecian van.

Cleon.What, when the lively trumpets sound a charge,The word of battle may be Hercules,And after our great grandsire's name, AratusCries,—Cleomenes, bring you up the rear.

Cleon.What, when the lively trumpets sound a charge,

The word of battle may be Hercules,

And after our great grandsire's name, Aratus

Cries,—Cleomenes, bring you up the rear.

Panth.If fortune takes not off this boy betimes,He'll make mad work, and elbow all his neighbours.

Panth.If fortune takes not off this boy betimes,

He'll make mad work, and elbow all his neighbours.

Cleon.My neighbours! Little: Elbow all the world,And push off kings, like counters, from the board,To place myself the foremost.

Cleon.My neighbours! Little: Elbow all the world,

And push off kings, like counters, from the board,

To place myself the foremost.

Panth.What wilt thou be, young cockeril, when thy spursAre grown to sharpness?

Panth.What wilt thou be, young cockeril, when thy spurs

Are grown to sharpness?

Cleon.Why, I'll be a Spartan;For if I said a king, I should say less.I mean a Spartan while I live on earth;But when in heaven, I'll stand next Hercules,And thrust between my father and the god.

Cleon.Why, I'll be a Spartan;

For if I said a king, I should say less.

I mean a Spartan while I live on earth;

But when in heaven, I'll stand next Hercules,

And thrust between my father and the god.

Cleor.Do you not view, my lord,As in a glass, your darling fault, ambition,Reflected in your son?

Cleor.Do you not view, my lord,

As in a glass, your darling fault, ambition,

Reflected in your son?

Cleom.My virtue rather:I love to see him sparkle out betimes,For 'twas my flame, that lighted up his soul:I'm pleased with my own work; Jove was not moreWith infant nature, when his spacious handHad rounded this huge ball of earth and seas,To give it the first push, and see it rollAlong the vast abyss.

Cleom.My virtue rather:

I love to see him sparkle out betimes,

For 'twas my flame, that lighted up his soul:

I'm pleased with my own work; Jove was not more

With infant nature, when his spacious hand

Had rounded this huge ball of earth and seas,

To give it the first push, and see it roll

Along the vast abyss.

Cleon.My mother would have had my youth brought upTo spin with girls in Sparta.

Cleon.My mother would have had my youth brought up

To spin with girls in Sparta.

Crat.Well said, my boy; yet Hercules, they say,Took up the distaff once.

Crat.Well said, my boy; yet Hercules, they say,

Took up the distaff once.

Cleon.Yes, when he had been conquered by a woman.

Panth.[ToCleom.]One thing I have forgot, which may import you,—You'll suddenly hear news from Greece.

Panth.[ToCleom.]One thing I have forgot, which may import you,—

You'll suddenly hear news from Greece.

Cleom.Thou wertIndeed forgetful, not to tell me that;For, from my first arrival on this coast,This fatal Egypt, where I fled for refuge,In three long months I have not heard from Greece.What makes thee think I shall have news so soon?

Cleom.Thou wert

Indeed forgetful, not to tell me that;

For, from my first arrival on this coast,

This fatal Egypt, where I fled for refuge,

In three long months I have not heard from Greece.

What makes thee think I shall have news so soon?

Panth.As walking on the beach, I saw a shipJust entering in the port, and on the deckStood Cœnus.

Panth.As walking on the beach, I saw a ship

Just entering in the port, and on the deck

Stood Cœnus.

Cleom.Cœnus, saidst thou?

Panth.Yes, our Cœnus, the rich Messenian lord;I saw and knew him; but, amidst the shoutsOf mariners, and busy care to slingHis horses soon ashore, he saw not me.

Panth.Yes, our Cœnus, the rich Messenian lord;

I saw and knew him; but, amidst the shouts

Of mariners, and busy care to sling

His horses soon ashore, he saw not me.

Cleom.Then shall I hear of thee once more, dear country!I fear too soon: shall hear how proud AntigonusLed o'er Eurota's banks his conquering troops,And first to wondering Sparta shewed a king,A king, that was not hers:Then I shall hear of sacrilege and murders,And fires, and rapes on matrons, and on maids.

Cleom.Then shall I hear of thee once more, dear country!

I fear too soon: shall hear how proud Antigonus

Led o'er Eurota's banks his conquering troops,

And first to wondering Sparta shewed a king,

A king, that was not hers:

Then I shall hear of sacrilege and murders,

And fires, and rapes on matrons, and on maids.

Panth.Such news we must expect.

Cleom.O happy ghostsOf those that fell in the last fatal fight,And lived not to survive their country's loss!Base as I was, I should have fallen there too;But first have raised a mountain of the dead,To choke their way to Sparta.

Cleom.O happy ghosts

Of those that fell in the last fatal fight,

And lived not to survive their country's loss!

Base as I was, I should have fallen there too;

But first have raised a mountain of the dead,

To choke their way to Sparta.

Panth.Thus I knewYour blood would boil, and therefore I delayedSo long to tell you Cœnus was arrived.

Panth.Thus I knew

Your blood would boil, and therefore I delayed

So long to tell you Cœnus was arrived.

Cleom.Go,My mother, my Cleora, and my boy.[StrokingCleon.Your ears would be polluted with such ills,Which I must try to mollify, beforeThey reach your tender hearing.

Cleom.Go,

My mother, my Cleora, and my boy.[StrokingCleon.

Your ears would be polluted with such ills,

Which I must try to mollify, before

They reach your tender hearing.

Cleor.I obey you.But let not grief disorder you too muchFor what you lost.For me, while I have you, and you are kind,I ask no more of heaven.

Cleor.I obey you.

But let not grief disorder you too much

For what you lost.

For me, while I have you, and you are kind,

I ask no more of heaven.

Cleon.I go too,Because my king and father bids me go;Else, I have sternness in my soul enoughTo hear of murders, rapes, and sacrilege:For those are soldiers' work; and I would hear them,To spur me to revenge.[ExeuntCrat.Cleora,andCleon.

Cleon.I go too,

Because my king and father bids me go;

Else, I have sternness in my soul enough

To hear of murders, rapes, and sacrilege:

For those are soldiers' work; and I would hear them,

To spur me to revenge.

[ExeuntCrat.Cleora,andCleon.

Panth.He's here already;Now bear it like yourself.

Panth.He's here already;

Now bear it like yourself.

Cleom.I'm armed against it.

EnterCœnus;salutesCleomenes.

Cœn.I heard, sir, you were refuged in this court,And come to beg a favour.

Cœn.I heard, sir, you were refuged in this court,

And come to beg a favour.

Cleom.Good; a favour!Sure, thou mistakest me for a king of Egypt,And think'st I govern here?

Cleom.Good; a favour!

Sure, thou mistakest me for a king of Egypt,

And think'st I govern here?

Cœn.You're Cleomenes.

Cleom.No thanks to heaven for that. I should have died,And then I had not been this Cleomenes.

Cleom.No thanks to heaven for that. I should have died,

And then I had not been this Cleomenes.

Panth.You promised patience, sir.

Cleom.Thou art a scurvy monitor; I am patient:Do I foam at lips,Or stare at eyes? Methinks, I am wondrous patient:Now, thou shalt see how I can swallow gall.—I pr'ythee, gentle Cœnus, tell the story[Speaking softly.Of ruined Sparta; leave no circumstanceUntold, of all their woes; and I will hear thee,As unconcerned, as if thou toldst a taleOf ruined Troy. I pr'ythee, tell us howThe victors robbed the shrines, polluted temples,Ransacked each wealthy house:—No, spare me that;Poor honest Sparta had no wealth to lose.But[Raises his voice.]when thou com'st to tell of matrons ravished,And virgins forced, then raise thy voice,And let me hear their howlings,And dreadful shrieks, as in the act of rape.

Cleom.Thou art a scurvy monitor; I am patient:

Do I foam at lips,

Or stare at eyes? Methinks, I am wondrous patient:

Now, thou shalt see how I can swallow gall.—

I pr'ythee, gentle Cœnus, tell the story[Speaking softly.

Of ruined Sparta; leave no circumstance

Untold, of all their woes; and I will hear thee,

As unconcerned, as if thou toldst a tale

Of ruined Troy. I pr'ythee, tell us how

The victors robbed the shrines, polluted temples,

Ransacked each wealthy house:—No, spare me that;

Poor honest Sparta had no wealth to lose.

But[Raises his voice.]when thou com'st to tell of matrons ravished,

And virgins forced, then raise thy voice,

And let me hear their howlings,

And dreadful shrieks, as in the act of rape.

Panth.Again you are distempered.

Cleom.[Softly.]Peace! I am not.I was but teaching him to grace his taleWith decent horror.

Cleom.[Softly.]Peace! I am not.

I was but teaching him to grace his tale

With decent horror.

Cœn.Your sick imagination feigns all this:Now hear a truth, and wonder.

Cœn.Your sick imagination feigns all this:

Now hear a truth, and wonder.

Cleom.Has not the conqueror been at Sparta?

Cœn.Yes.

Cleom.Nay, then I know what follows victory.

Panth.You interrupt, as if you would not know.

Cœn.Then,—if you will imagine,—think some king,Who loved his people, took a peaceful progressTo some far distant place of his dominions;Smiled on his subjects, as he rode in triumph,And strewed his plenty, wheresoe'er he passed.Nay, raise your thoughts yet higher;—think some deity,Some better Ceres, drawn along the skyBy gentle dragons, scattered, as she flew,Her fruitful grains upon the teeming ground,And bade new harvests rise.

Cœn.Then,—if you will imagine,—think some king,

Who loved his people, took a peaceful progress

To some far distant place of his dominions;

Smiled on his subjects, as he rode in triumph,

And strewed his plenty, wheresoe'er he passed.

Nay, raise your thoughts yet higher;—think some deity,

Some better Ceres, drawn along the sky

By gentle dragons, scattered, as she flew,

Her fruitful grains upon the teeming ground,

And bade new harvests rise.

Cleom.Do we dream, Pantheus?

Panth.No, sure; we are awake: but 'tis he, dreams.

Cœn.The soldiers marched, as in procession, slow,And entered Sparta like a choir of priests,As if they feared to tread on holy ground.No noise was heard; no voice, but of the crier,Proclaiming peace and liberty to Sparta.At that, a peal of loud applause rang out,And thinned the air, till even the birds fell downUpon the shouters' heads: the shops flew open,And all the busy trades renewed their tasks:No law was changed, no custom was controuled;That had Lycurgus lived, or you returned,So Sparta would have shown.

Cœn.The soldiers marched, as in procession, slow,

And entered Sparta like a choir of priests,

As if they feared to tread on holy ground.

No noise was heard; no voice, but of the crier,

Proclaiming peace and liberty to Sparta.

At that, a peal of loud applause rang out,

And thinned the air, till even the birds fell down

Upon the shouters' heads: the shops flew open,

And all the busy trades renewed their tasks:

No law was changed, no custom was controuled;

That had Lycurgus lived, or you returned,

So Sparta would have shown.

Panth.If this be true,——

Cleom.If this indeed be true,Then farewell, Sparta.

Cleom.If this indeed be true,

Then farewell, Sparta.

Cœn.Hear me out.—He reaped no fruit of conquest but their blessings;Nor staid three days in Sparta; summoned thence,With sudden news, that a barbarian hostWas entered Macedonia,And, like a mighty deluge rolling on,Swept all before them. Thus alarmed, he left us;Marched homeward; met, and fought them; nay, and livedTo say, the field is mine!

Cœn.Hear me out.—

He reaped no fruit of conquest but their blessings;

Nor staid three days in Sparta; summoned thence,

With sudden news, that a barbarian host

Was entered Macedonia,

And, like a mighty deluge rolling on,

Swept all before them. Thus alarmed, he left us;

Marched homeward; met, and fought them; nay, and lived

To say, the field is mine!

Panth.Died of his wounds?

Cœn.Not so; but, straining loud his feeble voiceTo animate his soldiers, broke a vein,And, in a purple vomit, poured his soul.

Cœn.Not so; but, straining loud his feeble voice

To animate his soldiers, broke a vein,

And, in a purple vomit, poured his soul.

Panth.O blessed, blessed Cœnus, for this happy news![EmbracesCœnus.

Panth.O blessed, blessed Cœnus, for this happy news!

[EmbracesCœnus.

Cleom.O, wretch! O, born to all misfortunes! cursed,Cursed Cleomenes!

Cleom.O, wretch! O, born to all misfortunes! cursed,

Cursed Cleomenes!

Panth.How's this!—Are these the thanks you pay the gods,Who freed your Sparta, and removed, by death,Your only fatal foe?

Panth.How's this!—Are these the thanks you pay the gods,

Who freed your Sparta, and removed, by death,

Your only fatal foe?

Cleom.O, blind Pantheus!Canst thou not find, that, had I but deferredSellasia's fight three days, but three short days,Fate then had fought my battle with Antigonus;And I, not fighting, had been still a king?

Cleom.O, blind Pantheus!

Canst thou not find, that, had I but deferred

Sellasia's fight three days, but three short days,

Fate then had fought my battle with Antigonus;

And I, not fighting, had been still a king?

Panth.That's true; but that you knew not when you fought.

Cleom.Why, therefore, once again cursed Cleomenes!'Tis not to be endured,That fate of empires, and the fall of kings,Should turn on flying hours, and catch of moments.

Cleom.Why, therefore, once again cursed Cleomenes!

'Tis not to be endured,

That fate of empires, and the fall of kings,

Should turn on flying hours, and catch of moments.

Panth.Now, by my soul, 'tis lazy wickedness,To rail at heaven, and not to help yourself;Heaven's but too kind, in offering you the means.Your fate, once more, is laid upon the anvil;Now pluck up all the Spartan in your soul,Now stretch at every stroke, and hammer outA new, and nobler fortune;Else may the peaceful ground restore the dead,And give up old Antigonus again.

Panth.Now, by my soul, 'tis lazy wickedness,

To rail at heaven, and not to help yourself;

Heaven's but too kind, in offering you the means.

Your fate, once more, is laid upon the anvil;

Now pluck up all the Spartan in your soul,

Now stretch at every stroke, and hammer out

A new, and nobler fortune;

Else may the peaceful ground restore the dead,

And give up old Antigonus again.

Cleom.I thank thee; thou hast added flame to fury.The Spartan genius shall once more be roused;Our household gods, that droop upon our hearths,Each from his venerable face shall brushThe Macedonian soot, and shine again.

Cleom.I thank thee; thou hast added flame to fury.

The Spartan genius shall once more be roused;

Our household gods, that droop upon our hearths,

Each from his venerable face shall brush

The Macedonian soot, and shine again.

Panth.Now you confess the Spartan.

Cleom.Haste, Pantheus!I struggle like the priestess with a god;With that oppressing god, that works her soul.Haste to Cleanthes, my Egyptian friend,That only man that Egypt ever made;He's my Lucina. Say, my friendship wants him,To help me bring to light a manly birth;Which to the wondering world I shall disclose,Or, if he fail me, perish in my throes.[Exeunt.

Cleom.Haste, Pantheus!

I struggle like the priestess with a god;

With that oppressing god, that works her soul.

Haste to Cleanthes, my Egyptian friend,

That only man that Egypt ever made;

He's my Lucina. Say, my friendship wants him,

To help me bring to light a manly birth;

Which to the wondering world I shall disclose,

Or, if he fail me, perish in my throes.[Exeunt.

EnterCleomenes,Cleanthes,andPantheus.

Cleom.The king sent for me, say'st thou, and to council!Clean.And I was coming to you, on that message,Just when I met Pantheus.Panth.Good omen, sir, of some intended good.Your fortune mends; she reconciles apace,When Egypt makes the advances.Cleom.Rise a prophet!—For since his father's death, this PtolemyHas minded me no moreThan boys their last year's gewgaws.Petition on petition, prayer on prayer,For aid, or free dismission, all unanswered,As Cleomenes were not worth his thought;Or he, that god, which Epicurus dreamt,Disclaiming care, and lolling on a cloud.Panth.At length, it seems, it pleases him to wake.Clean.Yes, for himself, not you; he's drenched too deep,To wake on any call, but his own danger.My father, his wise pilot, has observedThe face of heaven, and sees a gathering storm;I know not from what quarter; but it threatens,And, while it threats, he wants such hands as yours;But when 'tis o'er, the thoughtless king returnsTo native sloth, shifts sides, and slumbers on.Panth.Sure, he'll remember to reward those hands,That helped him from the plunge.Clean.You dream, Pantheus,Of former times, when gratitude was virtue.Reward him! Yes, like Æsop's snake the wretch,That warmed him in his bosom. We are tools,Vile abject things, created for his use,As beasts for men; as oxen, draw the yoke.And then are sacrificed.Cleom.I would not use him so.Clean.You are not Ptolemy;Nor is he Cleomenes.Cleom.I'll press him home,To give me my dispatch; few ships will serveTo bear my little band, and me, to Greece:I will not ask him one of his Egyptians;No, let him keep them all for slaves and stallions,Fit only to beget their successors.Clean.Excepting one Egyptian,—that's myself.Cleom.Thou need'st not be excepted; thou art onlyMisplanted in a base degenerate soil;But Nature, when she made thee, meant a Spartan.Panth.Then if your father will but second us—Clean.I dare not promise for him, but I'll try.He loves me: love and interest sometimesMay make a statesman honest.Cleom.For the king,I know he'll not refuse us, for he dares not;A coward is the kindest animal,'Tis the most giving creature in a fright.Clean.Say the most promising, and there you hit him.Cleom.Well, I'll attack him on the shaking side,That next his fearful heart.EnterCœnus.Cœn.I come to mind you of the late request,You would not hear. Be pleased to engage this lord,And then it may succeed.Cleom.What wouldst thou, Cœnus?Cœn.I brought alongSome horses of the best Thessalian breed,High-spirited and strong, and made for war;These I would sell the king.Cleom.Mistaken man!Thou shouldst have brought him whores and catamites;Such merchandise is fit for such a monarch.Clean.Wouldst thou bring horses here, to shame our men?Those very words, ofspiritedandwar,Are treason in our clime.Cleom.From the king downward, (if there be a downward,From Ptolemy to any of his slaves,)No true Egyptian ever knew in horsesThe far side from the near.Clean.Cleomenes told thee true: Thou shouldst have broughtA soft pad strumpet for our monarch's use;Though, thanked be hell, we want not one at home,—Our master's mistress, she that governs all.'Tis well, ye powers, ye made us but Egyptians:You could not have imposedOn any other people such a load,As an effeminate tyrant and a woman.Cleom.Sell me thy horses, and, at my return,When I have got from conquered Greece the pelfThat noble Sparta scorns, I'll pay their value.Cœn.Just as you paid me for the fair estateI sold you there.[Aside.Cleom.What's that you mutter?Cœn.Nothing: That's what his hopes are worth—[Aside.ExitCœnus.Panth.I fear he's gone away dissatisfied.Clean.I'll make it up:—Those horses I present you;You'll put them to the use that nature meant them.Cleom.I burden you too much.Clean.If you refuse, you burden me much more.A trifle this:A singing eunuch's price, a pandar's fee,Exceeds this sum at court.The king expects us.Cleom.Come after us, Pantheus,And bring my boy Cleonidas along.I'll shew his youth this base luxurious court,Just as in sober Sparta we exposeOur drunken Helots; only with designTo wean our children from the vice of wine.[Exeunt.

Cleom.The king sent for me, say'st thou, and to council!

Clean.And I was coming to you, on that message,Just when I met Pantheus.

Clean.And I was coming to you, on that message,

Just when I met Pantheus.

Panth.Good omen, sir, of some intended good.Your fortune mends; she reconciles apace,When Egypt makes the advances.

Panth.Good omen, sir, of some intended good.

Your fortune mends; she reconciles apace,

When Egypt makes the advances.

Cleom.Rise a prophet!—For since his father's death, this PtolemyHas minded me no moreThan boys their last year's gewgaws.Petition on petition, prayer on prayer,For aid, or free dismission, all unanswered,As Cleomenes were not worth his thought;Or he, that god, which Epicurus dreamt,Disclaiming care, and lolling on a cloud.

Cleom.Rise a prophet!—

For since his father's death, this Ptolemy

Has minded me no more

Than boys their last year's gewgaws.

Petition on petition, prayer on prayer,

For aid, or free dismission, all unanswered,

As Cleomenes were not worth his thought;

Or he, that god, which Epicurus dreamt,

Disclaiming care, and lolling on a cloud.

Panth.At length, it seems, it pleases him to wake.

Clean.Yes, for himself, not you; he's drenched too deep,To wake on any call, but his own danger.My father, his wise pilot, has observedThe face of heaven, and sees a gathering storm;I know not from what quarter; but it threatens,And, while it threats, he wants such hands as yours;But when 'tis o'er, the thoughtless king returnsTo native sloth, shifts sides, and slumbers on.

Clean.Yes, for himself, not you; he's drenched too deep,

To wake on any call, but his own danger.

My father, his wise pilot, has observed

The face of heaven, and sees a gathering storm;

I know not from what quarter; but it threatens,

And, while it threats, he wants such hands as yours;

But when 'tis o'er, the thoughtless king returns

To native sloth, shifts sides, and slumbers on.

Panth.Sure, he'll remember to reward those hands,That helped him from the plunge.

Panth.Sure, he'll remember to reward those hands,

That helped him from the plunge.

Clean.You dream, Pantheus,Of former times, when gratitude was virtue.Reward him! Yes, like Æsop's snake the wretch,That warmed him in his bosom. We are tools,Vile abject things, created for his use,As beasts for men; as oxen, draw the yoke.And then are sacrificed.

Clean.You dream, Pantheus,

Of former times, when gratitude was virtue.

Reward him! Yes, like Æsop's snake the wretch,

That warmed him in his bosom. We are tools,

Vile abject things, created for his use,

As beasts for men; as oxen, draw the yoke.

And then are sacrificed.

Cleom.I would not use him so.

Clean.You are not Ptolemy;Nor is he Cleomenes.

Clean.You are not Ptolemy;

Nor is he Cleomenes.

Cleom.I'll press him home,To give me my dispatch; few ships will serveTo bear my little band, and me, to Greece:I will not ask him one of his Egyptians;No, let him keep them all for slaves and stallions,Fit only to beget their successors.

Cleom.I'll press him home,

To give me my dispatch; few ships will serve

To bear my little band, and me, to Greece:

I will not ask him one of his Egyptians;

No, let him keep them all for slaves and stallions,

Fit only to beget their successors.

Clean.Excepting one Egyptian,—that's myself.

Cleom.Thou need'st not be excepted; thou art onlyMisplanted in a base degenerate soil;But Nature, when she made thee, meant a Spartan.

Cleom.Thou need'st not be excepted; thou art only

Misplanted in a base degenerate soil;

But Nature, when she made thee, meant a Spartan.

Panth.Then if your father will but second us—

Clean.I dare not promise for him, but I'll try.He loves me: love and interest sometimesMay make a statesman honest.

Clean.I dare not promise for him, but I'll try.

He loves me: love and interest sometimes

May make a statesman honest.

Cleom.For the king,I know he'll not refuse us, for he dares not;A coward is the kindest animal,'Tis the most giving creature in a fright.

Cleom.For the king,

I know he'll not refuse us, for he dares not;

A coward is the kindest animal,

'Tis the most giving creature in a fright.

Clean.Say the most promising, and there you hit him.

Cleom.Well, I'll attack him on the shaking side,That next his fearful heart.

Cleom.Well, I'll attack him on the shaking side,

That next his fearful heart.

EnterCœnus.

Cœn.I come to mind you of the late request,You would not hear. Be pleased to engage this lord,And then it may succeed.

Cœn.I come to mind you of the late request,

You would not hear. Be pleased to engage this lord,

And then it may succeed.

Cleom.What wouldst thou, Cœnus?

Cœn.I brought alongSome horses of the best Thessalian breed,High-spirited and strong, and made for war;These I would sell the king.

Cœn.I brought along

Some horses of the best Thessalian breed,

High-spirited and strong, and made for war;

These I would sell the king.

Cleom.Mistaken man!Thou shouldst have brought him whores and catamites;Such merchandise is fit for such a monarch.

Cleom.Mistaken man!

Thou shouldst have brought him whores and catamites;

Such merchandise is fit for such a monarch.

Clean.Wouldst thou bring horses here, to shame our men?Those very words, ofspiritedandwar,Are treason in our clime.

Clean.Wouldst thou bring horses here, to shame our men?

Those very words, ofspiritedandwar,

Are treason in our clime.

Cleom.From the king downward, (if there be a downward,From Ptolemy to any of his slaves,)No true Egyptian ever knew in horsesThe far side from the near.

Cleom.From the king downward, (if there be a downward,

From Ptolemy to any of his slaves,)

No true Egyptian ever knew in horses

The far side from the near.

Clean.Cleomenes told thee true: Thou shouldst have broughtA soft pad strumpet for our monarch's use;Though, thanked be hell, we want not one at home,—Our master's mistress, she that governs all.'Tis well, ye powers, ye made us but Egyptians:You could not have imposedOn any other people such a load,As an effeminate tyrant and a woman.

Clean.Cleomenes told thee true: Thou shouldst have brought

A soft pad strumpet for our monarch's use;

Though, thanked be hell, we want not one at home,—

Our master's mistress, she that governs all.

'Tis well, ye powers, ye made us but Egyptians:

You could not have imposed

On any other people such a load,

As an effeminate tyrant and a woman.

Cleom.Sell me thy horses, and, at my return,When I have got from conquered Greece the pelfThat noble Sparta scorns, I'll pay their value.

Cleom.Sell me thy horses, and, at my return,

When I have got from conquered Greece the pelf

That noble Sparta scorns, I'll pay their value.

Cœn.Just as you paid me for the fair estateI sold you there.[Aside.

Cœn.Just as you paid me for the fair estate

I sold you there.[Aside.

Cleom.What's that you mutter?

Cœn.Nothing: That's what his hopes are worth—[Aside.ExitCœnus.

Cœn.Nothing: That's what his hopes are worth—

[Aside.ExitCœnus.

Panth.I fear he's gone away dissatisfied.

Clean.I'll make it up:—Those horses I present you;You'll put them to the use that nature meant them.

Clean.I'll make it up:—Those horses I present you;

You'll put them to the use that nature meant them.

Cleom.I burden you too much.

Clean.If you refuse, you burden me much more.A trifle this:A singing eunuch's price, a pandar's fee,Exceeds this sum at court.The king expects us.

Clean.If you refuse, you burden me much more.

A trifle this:

A singing eunuch's price, a pandar's fee,

Exceeds this sum at court.

The king expects us.

Cleom.Come after us, Pantheus,And bring my boy Cleonidas along.I'll shew his youth this base luxurious court,Just as in sober Sparta we exposeOur drunken Helots; only with designTo wean our children from the vice of wine.[Exeunt.

Cleom.Come after us, Pantheus,

And bring my boy Cleonidas along.

I'll shew his youth this base luxurious court,

Just as in sober Sparta we expose

Our drunken Helots; only with design

To wean our children from the vice of wine.[Exeunt.

Enter KingPtolemy,Sosibius,with papers, after him.

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