_King_. _Melantius_, I do credit this from him,
How slight so e're you mak't.

_Mel_. 'Tis strange you should.

_Cal_. 'Tis strange he should believe an old mans word,
That never lied in his life.

_Mel_. I talk not to thee;
Shall the wild words of this distempered man,
Frantick with age and sorrow, make a breach
Betwixt your Majesty and me? 'twas wrong
To hearken to him; but to credit him
As much, at least, as I have power to bear.
But pardon me, whilst I speak only truth,
I may commend my self--I have bestow'd
My careless blood with you, and should be loth
To think an action that would make me lose
That, and my thanks too: when I was a boy,
I thrust my self into my Countries cause,
And did a deed that pluckt five years from time,
And stil'd me man then: And for you my King,
Your subjects all have fed by vertue of my arm.
This sword of mine hath plow'd the ground,
And reapt the fruit in peace;
And your self have liv'd at home in ease:
So terrible I grew, that without swords
My name hath fetcht you conquest, and my heart
And limbs are still the same; my will is great
To do you service: let me not be paid