Who caught you, falling, in his faithful arms;
And, not alone sufficient to restore you,
Called loud for my assistance.
I found him, propping you with trembling hands;
His eyes so hagard, I could scarce distinguish
Who was the living friend, and who the dead.
Cleom. All this, Cleanthes! This, what this Cleanthes?
Panth. Yes, your Cleanthes.
Clean. Your suspected friend,
Much wronged, but ever faithful.