[Arbaces and Salemenes return their swords to the scabbards.
Sal.Mine's sheathed: I pray you sheathe not yours:
Tis the sole sceptre left you now with safety.
Sar. A heavy one; the hilt, too, hurts my hand.
(To a Guard.) Here, fellow, take thy weapon back. Well, sirs,
What doth this mean?
Bel.The Prince must answer that.
Sal. Truth upon my part, treason upon theirs.
Sar. Treason—Arbaces! treachery and Beleses!
That were an union I will not believe.