And though you say, I have but fifteen years,
We Spartans take ten strides before our age,
And start beyond dull nature.
Cleom. Let me but live to shadow this young plant
From blights and storms, he'll soon shoot up a hero:
He must; I got him in the pride of conquest;
For, coming back from my first maiden battle,
Wherein I made the great Aratus fly,
And added all his laurels to my brow,
I well remember, that I spurred it hard,