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.
Mel. No more. My worthy father's and my services
Are liberally rewarded! King, I thank thee,
For all my dangers and my wounds, thou hast paid me
In my own metal: These are Souldiers thanks.
How long have you liv'd thus Evadne?
Evad. Too long.
Mel. Too late you find it: can you be sorry?
Evad. Would I were half as blameless.
Mel. Evadne, thou wilt to thy trade again.
Evad. First to my grave.
Mel. Would gods th'hadst been so blest:
Dost thou not hate this King now? prethee hate him:
Couldst thou not curse him? I command thee curse him,
Curse till the gods hear, and deliver him
To thy just wishes: yet I fear Evadne;
You had rather play your game out.