Wouldst thou work with me, Pyrrha, the thing could be.
Why shouldst thou smile? I do not say that I
Would rate my strength with men; but on the farms
Women are thicker sinewed; and in thee
I see what all might be. I am sure for speed
No man could match thee, and thou hast an arm
To tug an oar or hurl the heaviest spear,
Or wrestle with the best. Why dost thou smile?
Ach. When thou art queen, I’ll be thy general.
Deid. That was my thought. What dost thou think?