_Mel_. Force my swollen heart no further; I would save thee; your great maintainers are not here, they dare not, would they were all, and armed, I would speak loud; here's one should thunder to 'em: will you tell me? thou hast no hope to scape; he that dares most, and damns away his soul to do thee service, will sooner fetch meat from a hungry Lion, than come to rescue thee; thou hast death about thee: h'as undone thine honour, poyson'd thy vertue, and of a lovely rose, left thee a canker. _Evad_. Let me consider. _Mel_. Do, whose child thou wert, Whose honour thou hast murdered, whose grave open'd, And so pull'd on the Gods, that in their justice They must restore him flesh again and life, And raise his dry bones to revenge his scandal. _Evad_. The gods are not of my mind; they had better let 'em lie sweet still in the earth; they'l stink here. _Mel_. Do you raise mirth out of my easiness? Forsake me then all weaknesses of Nature, That make men women: Speak you whore, speak truth, Or by the dear soul of thy sleeping Father, This sword shall be thy lover: tell, or I'le kill thee: And when thou hast told all, thou wilt deserve it. _Evad_. You will not murder me! _Mel_. No, 'tis a justice, and a noble one, To put the light out of such base offenders. _Evad_. Help! _Mel_. By thy foul self, no humane help shall help thee, If thou criest: when I have kill'd thee, as I have Vow'd to do, if thou confess not, naked as thou hast left Thine honour, will I leave thee, That on thy branded flesh the world may read Thy black shame, and my justice; wilt thou bend yet? _Evad_. Yes. _Mel_. Up and begin your story. _Evad_. Oh I am miserable. _Mel_. 'Tis true, thou art, speak truth still. _Evad_. I have offended, noble Sir: forgive me. _Mel_. With what secure slave? _Evad_. Do not ask me Sir. Mine own remembrance is a misery too mightie for me. _Mel_. Do not fall back again; my sword's unsheath'd yet. _Evad_. What shall I do? _Mel_. Be true, and make your fault less. _Evad_. I dare not tell. _Mel_. Tell, or I'le be this day a killing thee. _Evad_. Will you forgive me then? _Mel_. Stay, I must ask mine honour first, I have too much foolish nature in me; speak. _Evad_. Is there none else here? _Mel_. None but a fearful conscience, that's too many. Who is't? _Evad_. O hear me gently; it was the King.