_Cas._ Well! I forgive your blunt Laconic way; It shall be seen, it shall this very day, Who would preserve your life, and who betray. The king incensed, the favourite your foe, Yet on the same conditions you may go; Your wife, your son, your mother left behind. What think you now? _Cleom._ 'Tis to be wonderous kind. _Cas._ Suppose I add a farther bounty yet. _Cleom._ It could but make your favours over weight. _Cas._ What if I went myself to waft you o'er, And left you when I saw you safe ashore? For I should leave you, if you thought it fit, Not to do more, than honour would permit. Can I do less, to show you I am kind, To comfort you for those you left behind? _Cleom._ The world would think you kinder than you ought. _Cas._ Why should I care what base Egyptians thought? _Cleom._ Immoderate gifts oppress me, not relieve; Nor dare I take what ruins you to give. _Cas._ Leave me to judge of that; I could prescribe An easy way of giving back my bribe. Why would you force me farther than my part? Look on my eyes, and you may read my heart. [_Looks on her as by stealth._ Oh, there you met me with a guilty glance! Now 'tis too late to plead your ignorance. _Cleom._ I am so much below, and you above, What can I say? _Cas._ But one kind word,--I love. _Cleom._ As far as gratitude that love can pay. _Cas._ Oh, stop not there; for that's but half the way! Would you to one poor narrow word confine Your passion, when I put no bounds to mine? _Cleom._ Cleora! _Cas._ Now you speak too soon; forbear! Nothing can please me, that begins with her. _Cleom._ I must begin, where nature, void of art, Directs my tongue,--with her, who rules my heart. _Cas._ Let us together sail before the wind, And leave that dull domestic drudge behind. _Cleom._ What! to expose her helpless innocence To the wild fury of an injured prince? _Cas._ A vain surmise; their talents would agree. } The gods have made your noble mind for me, } And her insipid soul for Ptolemy: } A heavy lump of earth, without desire; A heap of ashes, that o'erlays your fire. _Cleom._ Virtue you must allow her, though a foe. _Cas._ No more than what I would to ice and snow. Yet those have seeds of heat; her shivering blood Makes her, at best, but impotently good. But neither I can save you, if you stay, Nor save myself unless I go away; For, if I stay behind, and set you free, The fury of the king would fall on me. _Cleom._ Then, to prevent your fate, I must not go; Death is my choice, since heaven will have it so. _Cas._ Heaven would preserve your life, and so would I; But you are obstinately bent to die.