_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 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 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. _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. _Enter_ CŒNUS. _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 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. _Clean._ Wouldst thou bring horses here, to shame our men? Those very words, of _spirited_ and _war_, 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 horses The far side from the near. _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 pelf That noble Sparta scorns, I'll pay their value. _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._ _Exit_ CŒNUS. _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.