Mardonius, stay Mardonius, for though
My present state requires nothing but knaves
To be about me, such as are prepar'd
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 prethee 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?