Suppose—we played this game of Amazons
In earnest. What an isle this Scyros were;
Rich and wellplanted, and its rocky coast
Easy of defence: the women now upon it
Could hold it. Nay, I have often thought it out:
The king my sire is threescore years and more,
And hath no heir: suppose that when he dies,—
The gods defer it long, but when he dies,
If thou and I should plan to seize this isle,
Drive out the men, and rule it for our own ...