Mel. Mark his disordered words! And, at the masque,
Diagoras knows, he raged, and rail’d at me,
And call’d a lady whore, so innocent
She understood him not. But it becomes
Both you and me too to forgive distraction:
Pardon him, as I do.

Cal. I’ll not speak for thee,
For all thy cunning.—If you will be safe,
Chop off his head; for there was never known
So impudent a rascal.

King. Some, that love him,
Get him to bed. Why, pity should not let
Age make itself contemptible; we must be
All old; have him away.

Mel. Calianax,

[Apart to him.

Cal. Now, now, ’tis plain, sir; he does move me still.
He says, he knows I’ll give him up the fort,
When he has used me thus a month. I am mad,
Am I not, still?

All. Ha, ha, ha!

Cal. I shall be mad indeed, if you do thus!
Why should you trust a sturdy fellow there
(That has no virtue in him; all’s in his sword)
Before me? Do but take his weapons from him,
And he’s an ass; and I’m a very fool,
Both with him, and without him, as you use me.

All. Ha, ha, ha!

King. ’Tis well, Calianax. But if you use
This once again, I shall entreat some other
To see your offices be well discharged.
Be merry, gentlemen; it grows somewhat late.—
Amintor, thou wouldst be a-bed again.

Amin. Yes, sir.

King. And you, Evadne.—Let me take
Thee in my arms, Melantius, and believe
Thou art, as thou deserv’st to be, my friend
Still, and for ever.—Good Calianax,
Sleep soundly; it will bring thee to thyself.

[Exeunt all but Melantius and Calianax.

Cal. Sleep soundly! I sleep soundly now, I hope;
I could not be thus else.—How darest thou stay
Alone with me, knowing how thou hast used me?

Mel. You cannot blast me with your tongue, and that’s
The strongest part you have about you.

Cal. I
Do look for some great punishment for this;
For I begin to forget all my hate,
And take’t unkindly that mine enemy
Should use me so extraordinarily scurvily.

Mel. I shall melt too, if you begin to take
Unkindnesses: I never meant you hurt.

Cal. Thou’lt anger me again. Thou wretched rogue,
Meant me no hurt! Disgrace me, with the king;
Lose all my offices! This is no hurt,
Is it? I pr’ythee, what dost thou call hurt?

Mel. To poison men, because they love me not;
To call the credit of men’s wives in question;
To murder children betwixt me and land;
This is all hurt.

Cal. All this thou think’st is sport;
For mine is worse: But use thy will with me;
For, betwixt grief and anger, I could cry.