On the next morning, the barber entered the chamber of Domitian, and prepared to shave the king. The razor was stropped, the lather spread upon the royal chin, and the towel fastened round the royal breast. On the edge of the napkin were these words in letters of gold: “Never begin any thing until you have calculated what the end will be.”
The barber’s eye fell on these words, they arrested his attention, he paused in his labors.
“What am I about to do?” thought he to himself, “to kill the king, to gain his crown; am I sure of the crown? shall I not rather be slain miserably, and die amid unheard-of tortures and infamy? whilst those that plot with me will turn against me, and make me their scape-goat.”
“Art dreaming, sir barber?” exclaimed the king.
At the king’s voice, the barber trembled exceedingly, he dropt the razor from his hand, and fell at his sovereign’s feet.
“What means all this?”
“Oh, my good lord!” exclaimed the barber, as he knelt trembling at Domitian’s feet, “this day was I to have killed thee; but I saw the maxim written on the napkin; I thought of the consequences, and now repent me of my wickedness. Mercy, my good lord, mercy!”
“Be faithful, and fear not,” replied the king.
“The merchant, my lord the king,” said a servant of the chamber, who entered at that moment, followed by the old merchant.
“Thou art come at a good time, sir merchant; the first maxim has been proved; it has saved my life; it was worthy of its price.”