PRAXITHEA.
What first they give who give this city good,
For that first given to save it I give thanks
First, and thanks heartier from a happier tongue,
320 More than for any my peculiar grace
Shown me and not my country; next for this,
That none of all these but for all these I
Must bear my burden, and no eye but mine
Weep of all women's in this broad land born
Who see their land's deliverance; but much more,
But most for this I thank them most of all,
That this their edge of doom is chosen to pierce
My heart and not my country's; for the sword
Drawn to smite there and sharpened for such stroke
330 Should wound more deep than any turned on me.