_Amint_. I hate mine as much.
This 'tis to break a troth; I should be glad
If all this tide of grief would make me mad.

[_Exit_.

_Enter Melantius_.

_Mel_. I'le know the cause of all _Amintors_ griefs,
Or friendship shall be idle.

[_Enter Calianax_.

_Cal_. O _Melantius_, my Daughter will die.

_Mel_. Trust me, I am sorry; would thou hadst ta'ne her room.

_Cal_. Thou art a slave, a cut-throat slave, a bloody treacherous
slave.

_Melan_. Take heed old man, thou wilt be heard to rave,
And lose thine Offices.

_Cal_. I am valiant grown
At all these years, and thou art but a slave.

_Mel_. Leave, some company will come, and I respect
Thy years, not thee so much, that I could wish
To laugh at thee alone.