_Cleom._ Some men are made of such a leaky mould, That their filled vessels can no fortune hold: Poured in, it sinks away, and leaves them dry; Of that unsusceptible make am I. Yet think not, fair one, I your charms despise; My heart's insensible, but not my eyes: Respect and gratitude are all my store, And those I give; my love was given before. _Cas._ Thus break false merchants, with an honest show; Rich to themselves, but bankrupts where they owe. _Cleom._ If at this awful distance I remain, Better be too devout, than too profane. _Cas._ Flattery! such alms the priesthood give the poor; They bless, and send them empty from the door. Know you, that Death stands ready at the gate, That I forbid him, and suspend your fate? The king's short absence leaves me absolute; When he returns, the inevitable ill Is past my power, and may be past my will. Unhappy man! prevent thy destiny; Speak one kind word, to save thy life and me. _Cleom._ Be answered, and expect no more reply. _Cas._ Disdain has swelled him up, and choked his breath; Sullen, and dumb, and obstinate to death. No signs of pity in his face appear; Look, if the ungrateful creature shed one tear! Crammed with his pride, he leaves no room within For sighs to issue out, or love to enter in.-- [_He turns away._ What! dost thou turn thy face in my despite? Am I a toad? a monster to thy sight? Farewell, fond pity, then: As thou from me, So thy good fortune turns her face from thee. Left, scorned, and loathed, and all without relief, Revenge succeeds to love, and rage to grief. Tempests and whirlwinds through my bosom move, } Heave up, and madly mount my soul above } The reach of pity, or the bounds of love.-- } Approach, and seize the traitor. _Enter Guards._ _Cleom._ Now I can speak: thy kindness kept me dumb, For that I could not answer. The false Syren, No longer hiding her uncomely parts, Struts on the waves, and shews the brute below. _Cas._ Stop that foul mouth! Behold this royal signet, The warrant of his death. [_Guards go to seize him._ _Cleom._ Stand back, ye slaves, [_He draws his Sword._ And put me not to stain a Spartan sword With base Egyptian blood. [_He advances upon them; they retire, with signs of fear._ _Cas._ Fall on!--Behold a noble beast at bay, And the vile huntsmen shrink!--More aid: Who waits?-- _Enter_ CLEANTHES. Now, sir, what brings you here? _Clean._ My zeal to serve you. _Cas._ That shall be tried; disarm him. _Clean._ Cleomenes, Deliver me your sword. _Cleom._ How's this, Cleanthes? _Clean._ It must be so. _Cleom._ Is this a friend's advice, To give me up defenceless to a crowd, Whom, armed, I could resist?