_Bes_.

Vanities! I'me 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.

_Arb_.

No, let him stay _Mardonius_, let him stay, I have occasion with him very weighty, And I can spare you now.

_Mar_.

Sir?

_Arb_.

Why I can spare you now.

_Bes_.

_Mardonius_ give way to these State affairs.

_Mar_.

Indeed you are fitter for this present purpose.

[_Exit_ Mar.

_Arb_.

_Bessus_, I should imploy thee, wilt thou do't?

_Bes_.

Do't for you? by this Air I will do any thing without exception, be it a good, bad, or indifferent thing.

_Arb_.

Do not swear.

_Bes_.

By this light but I will, any thing whatsoever.

_Arb_.

But I shall name the thing, Thy Conscience will not suffer thee to do.

_Bes_.

I would fain hear that thing.

_Arb_.

Why I would have thee get my Sister for me?

Thou understandst me, in a wicked manner.

_Bes_.

O you would have a bout with her?

I'le do't, I'le do't, I'faith.

_Arb_.

Wilt thou, do'st thou make no more on't? Bes. More? no, why is there any thing else? if there be, it shall be done too.

_Arb_.

Hast thou no greater sense of such a sin?

Thou art too wicked for my company, Though I have hell within me, thou may'st yet Corrupt me further: pray thee answer me, How do I shew to thee after this motion?

_Bes_.

Why your Majesty looks as well in my opinion, as ever you did since you were born.

_Arb_.

But thou appear'st to me after thy grant, The ugliest, loathed detestable thing That I ever met with. Thou hast eyes Like the flames of _Sulphur_, which me thinks do dart Infection on me, and thou hast a mouth Enough to take me in where there do stand Four rows of Iron Teeth.

_Bes_.

I feel no such thing, but 'tis no matter how I look, Pie do my business as well as they that look better, and when this is dispatch'd, if you have a mind to your Mother, tell me, and you shall see I'le set it hard.

_Arb_.

My Mother! Heaven forgive me to hear this, I am inspir'd with horrour: now I hate thee Worse than my sin, which if I could come by Should suffer death Eternal ne're to rise In any breast again. Know I will die Languishing mad, as I resolve, I shall, E're I will deal by such an instrument: Thou art too sinful to imploy in this; Out of the World, away.