Mel. It ought to be: If he got then away,
He must wear all our lives upon his sword.
He need not fly the island; he must leave
No one alive.

King. No; I should think no man
Could kill me, and ’scape clear, but that old man.

Cal. But I! heaven bless me! I! should I, my liege?

King. I do not think thou would’st; but yet thou might’st;
For thou hast in thy hands the means to ’scape,
By keeping of the fort.—He has, Melantius,
And he has kept it well.

Mel. From cobwebs, sir,
’Tis clean swept: I can find no other art
In keeping of it now: ’Twas ne’er besieged
Since he commanded it.

Cal. I shall be sure
Of your good word: But I have kept it safe
From such as you.

Mel. Keep your ill temper in:
I speak no malice. Had my brother kept it,
I should have said as much.

King. You are not merry.
Brother, drink wine. Sit you all still:—Calianax,

[A part to him.

Cal. Impudence may ’scape,
When feeble virtue is accused.

King. He must,
If he were guilty, feel an alteration
At this our whisper, whilst we point at him:
You see he does not.

Cal. Let him hang himself:
What care I what he does? This he did say.

King. Melantius, you can easily conceive
What I have meant; for men that are in fault
Can subtly apprehend, when others aim
At what they do amiss: But I forgive
Freely, before this man. Heaven do so too!
I will not touch thee, so much as with shame
Of telling it. Let it be so no more.

Cal. Why, this is very fine.

Mel. I cannot tell
What ’tis you mean; but I am apt enough
Rudely to thrust into an ignorant fault.
But let me know it: Happily, ’tis nought
But misconstruction; and, where I am clear,
I will not take forgiveness of the gods,
Much less of you.

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 show you
My ears are everywhere, 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,
Facers and talkers, to defame the worth
Of those that do things worthy. The man that utter’d this
Had perish’d without food, be’t who it will,
But for this arm, that fenced 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. Ay, that will be
The end of all: Then I am fairly paid
For all my care and service.