Begone!
Clean. Oh I have been too long away!
Cleom. Too soon thou art returned,
To triumph o'er my fate.
Clean. Forgive me, that I seemed your foe.
Cleom. Forgive me, heaven, for thinking thee my friend.—
No more; 'tis loss of time to talk.
Clean. Indeed it is,
When hunger calls so loud for sustenance.
But whether friend or foe, 'tis food I bring.