Think on us, when you fight; and when you make
A lusty stroke, cry out,—That's for my boy.
Crat. Dispose this mouldering carcase as you please,
Ere lingering age or sickness wear it out,
Unprofitable then for Sparta's good.
Be chearful, fight it well, and all the rest
Leave to the gods and fortune.
Cleom. If they fail me,
Theirs be the fault, for fate is theirs alone:
My virtue, fame, and honour are my own. [Exeunt.