MENELAUS. I will answer for the king. Go.
[PARIS exits into the library.]
ANALYTIKOS [rubbing his hands]. Shall I order the boiling oil?
MENELAUS [surprised]. Oil?
ANALYTIKOS. Now that he is being cleaned for the sacrifice.
MENELAUS. His torture will be greater than being boiled alive.
ANALYTIKOS [eagerly]. You'll have him hurled from the walls of the palace to a forest of waiting spears below?
MENELAUS. None is so blind as he who sees too much.
ANALYTIKOS. Your Majesty is subtle in his cruelty.
MENELAUS. Haven't the years taught you the cheapness of revenge?