_Timol._ By my hopes, There's fire and spirit enough in this to make Thersites valiant. _Cleo._ No; far, far be it from you: Let these of meaner quality contend Who can endure most labour; plough the earth, And think they are rewarded when their toil Brings home a fruitful harvest to their lords; Let them prove good artificers, and serve you For use and ornament, but not presume To touch at what is noble. If you think them Unworthy to taste of those cates you feed on, Or wear such costly garments, will you grant them The privilege and prerogative of great minds, Which you were born to? Honour won in war, And to be styled preservers of their country, Are titles fit for free and generous spirits, And not for bondmen. Had I been born a man, And such ne'er-dying glories made the prize To bold heroic courage, by Diana, I would not to my brother, nay, my father, Be bribed to part with the least piece of honour I should gain in this action! _Timol._ She's inspired, Or in her speaks the genius of your country, To fire your blood in her defence: I am rapt With the imagination. Noble maid, Timoleon is your soldier, and will sweat Drops of his best blood, but he will bring home Triumphant conquest to you. Let me wear Your colours, lady; and though youthful heats, That look no further than your outward form, Are long since buried in me; while I live, I am a constant lover of your mind, That does transcend all precedents. _Cleo._ 'Tis an honour, [_Gives her scarf._ And so I do receive it. _Leost._ I am for the journey. _Timag._ May all diseases sloth and luxury bring Fall upon him that stays at home! _Archid._ Though old, I will be there in person. _Diph._ So will I: Methinks I am not what I was; her words Have made me younger, by a score of years, Than I was when I came hither. _Cleon._ I shall never Make a good soldier, and therefore desire To be excused at home. _Asot._ 'Tis my suit too. _Timol._ Have your desires; you would be burthens to us.-- Lead, fairest, to the temple; first we'll pay A sacrifice to the gods for good success: For all great actions the wish'd course do run, That are, with their allowance, well begun. [_Exeunt all but_, MAR. GRAC. _and_ CIMB. _Mar._ Stay, Cimbrio and Gracculo. _Cimb._ The business? _Mar._ Meet me to-morrow night near to the grove, Neighbouring the east part of the city. _Grac._ Well. _Mar._ And bring the rest of our condition with you: I've something to impart may break our fetters, If you dare second me. _Cimb._ We'll not fail. _Grac._ A cart-rope Shall not bind me at home. _Mar._ Think on 't, and prosper. [_Exeunt._ FOOTNOTES: [98] _The braveries_,] i. e. _the gay and fashionable gallants of the town_.