_Cal_. I do look for some great punishment for this,
For I begin to forget all my hate,
And tak't unkindly that mine enemy
Should use me so extraordinarily scurvily.

_Mel_. I shall melt too, if you begin to take
Unkindnesses: I never meant you hurt.

_Cal_. Thou'lt anger me again; thou wretched rogue,
Meant me no hurt! disgrace me with the King;
Lose all my Offices! this is no hurt,
Is it? I prethee what dost thou call hurt?

_Mel_. To poyson men because they love me not;
To call the credit of mens Wives in question;
To murder children betwixt me and land; this is
all hurt.

_Cal_. All this thou think'st is sport;
For mine is worse: but use thy will with me;
For betwixt grief and anger I could cry.

_Mel_. Be wise then, and be safe; thou may'st revenge.

_Cal_. I o'th' King? I would revenge of thee.

_Mel_. That you must plot your self.

_Cal_. I am a fine plotter.