Arb. But, better than she does; another way; As wives love husbands.

Mar. Why, I think there are few wives that love their husbands better than she does you.

Arb. Thou wilt not understand me! Is it fit This should be utter’d plainly? Take it, then, Naked as ’tis; I would desire her love Lasciviously, lewdly, incestuously, To do a sin that needs must damn us both; And thee too. Dost thou understand me now?

Mar. Yes; there’s your ring, again. What have I done Dishonestly, in my whole life, name it,
That you should put so base a business to me?

Arb. Didst thou not tell me, thou wouldst do it?

Mar. Yes, if I undertook it: But if all My hairs were lives, I would not be engaged In such a cause to save my last life.

Arb. Oh, guilt, how poor and weak a thing art thou! This man, that is my servant, whom my breath Might blow about the world, might beat me here Having this cause; whilst I, press’d down with sin, Could not resist him.—Hear, Mardonius! It was a motion mis-beseeming man, And I am sorry for it.

Mar. Heaven grant you may be so! You must understand, nothing that you can utter can remove my love and service from my prince: but, otherwise, I think, I shall not love you more: For you are sinful, and, if you do this crime, you ought to have no laws; for, after this, it will be great injustice in you to punish any offender, for any crime. For myself, I find my heart too big; I feel, I have not patience to look on, whilst you run these forbidden courses. Means I have none but your favour; and I am rather glad that I shall lose ’em both together, than keep ’em with such conditions. I shall find a dwelling amongst some people, where, though our garments perhaps be coarser, we shall be richer far within, and harbour no such vices in ’em. The gods preserve you, and mend—

Arb. Mardonius! Stay, Mardonius! for, though
My present state requires nothing but knaves
To be about me, such as are prepared
For every wicked act, yet who does know,
But that my loathed fate may turn about,
And I have use for honest men again?
I hope, I may; I pr’ythee leave me not.

Enter BESSUS.

Bes. Where is the king?

Mar. There.

Bes. An’t please your majesty, there’s the knife.

Arb. What knife?

Bes. The sword is eaten.

Mar. Away, you fool! the king is serious,
And cannot now admit your vanities.

Bes. Vanities! I’m no honest man, if my enemies have not brought it to this. What, do you think I lie?

Arb. No, no; ’tis well, Bessus; tis very well.
I’m glad on’t.

Mar. If your enemies brought it to this, your enemies are cutlers. Come, leave the king.

Bes. Why, may not valour approach him?

Mar. Yes; but he has affairs. Depart, or I shall be something unmannerly with you!