He'll make mad work, and elbow all his neighbours.
Cleon. My neighbours! Little: Elbow all the world,
And push off kings, like counters, from the board,
To place myself the foremost.
Panth. What wilt thou be, young cockeril, when thy spurs
Are grown to sharpness?
Cleon. Why, I'll be a Spartan;
For if I said a king, I should say less.
I mean a Spartan while I live on earth;
But when in heaven, I'll stand next Hercules,