Part 17 (2/2)

_King_. Nay if you stand so stiff, I shall call back my mercy.

_Mel_. I want smoothness To thank a man for pardoning of a crime I never knew.

_King_. Not to instruct your knowledge, but to shew you my ears are every where, you meant to kill me, and get the Fort to scape.

_Mel_. Pardon me Sir; my bluntness will be pardoned: You preserve A race of idle people here about you, Eaters, and talkers, to defame the worth Of those that do things worthy; the man that uttered this Had perisht without food, be't who it will, But for this arm that fenc't him from the foe.

And if I thought you gave a faith to this, The plainness of my nature would speak more; Give me a pardon (for you ought to do't) To kill him that spake this.

_Cal_. I, that will be the end of all, Then I am fairly paid for all my care and service.

_Mel_. That old man who calls me enemy, and of whom I (Though I will never match my hate so low) Have no good thought, would yet I think excuse me, And swear he thought me wrong'd in this.

_Cal_. Who I, thou shameless fellow! didst thou not speak to me of it thy self?

_Mel_. O then it came from him.

_Cal_. From me! who should it come from but from me?

_Mel_. Nay, I believe your malice is enough, But I ha' lost my anger. Sir, I hope you are well satisfied.

_King_. _Lisip_. Chear _Amintor_ and his Lady; there's no sound Comes from you; I will come and do't my self.

_Amin_. You have done already Sir for me, I thank you.

_King_. _Melantius_, I do credit this from him, How slight so e're you mak't.

_Mel_. 'Tis strange you should.

_Cal_. 'Tis strange he should believe an old mans word, That never lied in his life.

_Mel_. I talk not to thee; Shall the wild words of this distempered man, Frantick with age and sorrow, make a breach Betwixt your Majesty and me? 'twas wrong To hearken to him; but to credit him As much, at least, as I have power to bear.

But pardon me, whilst I speak only truth, I may commend my self--I have bestow'd My careless blood with you, and should be loth To think an action that would make me lose That, and my thanks too: when I was a boy, I thrust my self into my Countries cause, And did a deed that pluckt five years from time, And stil'd me man then: And for you my King, Your subjects all have fed by vertue of my arm.

This sword of mine hath plow'd the ground, And reapt the fruit in peace; And your self have liv'd at home in ease: So terrible I grew, that without swords My name hath fetcht you conquest, and my heart And limbs are still the same; my will is great To do you service: let me not be paid With such a strange distrust.

_King_. _Melantius_, I held it great injustice to believe Thine Enemy, and did not; if I did, I do not, let that satisfie: what struck With sadness all? More Wine!

_Cal_. A few fine words have overthrown my truth: Ah th'art a Villain.

_Mel_. Why thou wert better let me have the Fort, Dotard, I will disgrace thee thus for ever;

[_Aside_.

There shall no credit lie upon thy words; Think better and deliver it.

_Cal_. My Liege, he's at me now agen to do it; speak, Deny it if thou canst; examine him Whilst he's hot, for he'l cool agen, he will forswear it.

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