Cleom. What he is,
And what I am, are owing to your favour.
Cas. [To Cleon.] Shall I not be your mistress?
[Looking on Cleom.
Cleon. No; for I would not get Egyptians.
Cas. For what, sir, do you take us?
Cleon. For what you are.
When the gods moulded up the paste of man,
Some of their dough was left upon their hands,
For want of souls; and so they made Egyptians.