Then come all and feast ye now! Come catch Love, the pretty rover! Not a maiden bind her brow With a rose unkissed by lover! As a flower Is Cupid's hour, And where he flies none can discover. [_Exeunt toward the heights of Achridina_] _Timolean._ So turns our war into a holiday. Here Dion lands, and swift the tyrant flies With all his boasted guard into the castle, While Syracuse throws open gate and arms To welcome her besieger. _Ascander._ By Artemis! Didst see him marching in?--Calippus on One side, Aristocles on t'other--their corselets white Fair shining in the sun, and each with locks Bright garlanded?--close treading them the guards-- The hundred Grecian guards that watch by Dion, Then all his men in battle order placed? _Tim._ But when his trumpeter blew from the gate, And all the people upward looked in silence While he declared them subjects but of Heaven, No wonder that each eye turned fount and flowed. _Asc._ Then 'twas the wet cheek marked the noble heart, And the unwatered eye was shame. _Tim._ And now His soldiers rove throughout the city, while The people lean from walls like branching trees And shake a crop of blessings. _Asc._ Kisses too! E'en in the streets the women set their tables, And from their wreath�d urns pour Cretan wine For Dion's men. _Tim._ What says my lord Speusippus? The only sour-face in all Syracuse. _Speu._ And cause enough. A pretty soldier, sir, Who'd choose to march with flowers in his hand Like smirking virgin on Diana's day! I thought the tyrant would show tooth of war And not turn tail and kennel. _Tim._ [_Starting_] What noise is that? It cuts the air unlike a feasting cry. _Speu._ By Mars, I pray our swords will yet have airing, And good fresh drink too! _Tim._ Here's a man, Ascander. He courts dame Trouble as she were his wench. _Speu._ Tut, tut, my friends, I've but a soldier's relish For an honest fight. What's there to fear? Besides, I have a trick to dodge misfortune's blows. _Tim._ What's that, Speusippus?