Cleom. I thank you, mother;
Once more you have erected me to man,
And set me upright, with my face to heaven.
The woman and the boy be yours awhile:
The war be mine alone!
Crat. There spoke the Spartan king: Think not on us.
Cleom. I wonnot.
Cleor. Not in prayers!
Cleon. In prayers! That's poor,
As if the gods were thoughtless of their work.