Bia. I'm yours for that. By th' mother of the sea,
Her tears shall wash your feet!
Third Senator. What way wouldst take?
Bia. The way to Phernes and the Persian fleet
Now boastful before Rhodes. Grant me a convoy,
I'll forge with Persia Lacedæmon's sword,
And cut the crest from Athens.
Fourth Senator. We have failed
With Phernes.
Bia. You'll not fail again. He's sworn
My friend.
First Senator. Our ships are few.
Bia. But Corinth holds
Her sea-wings spread for any need of yours.
Ste. Hear me, ye warriors! He will lead
Our force afar, then stir up neighbor foes
To scourge unarmored Sparta! Think that one,
Cradled in silk and fed on nectared drops——
Bia. There, sir, I'm bold to say you're off the road
Of truth. My nurse was of your people, brought
From sterner Sparta for my orphan rearing,
By my good uncle Pelagon,—a man
Ye know your friend. From her wise hands I took
Your doughty-nurturing bread, and broth black-brewed,
That drives the shade of fear from veins of men.
Ste. I've bread now in my wallet. Let us see
Your teeth in 't.