Ha, ha, ha.

Arb.

  Why dost thou laugh? 
  By all the world, I’m grown ridiculous
  To my own Subjects:  Tie me in a Chair
  And jest at me, but I shall make a start,
  And punish some that others may take heed
  How they are haughty; who will answer me? 
  He said I boasted, speak Mardonius,
  Did I?  He will not answer, O my temper! 
  I give you thanks above, that taught my heart
  Patience, I can endure his silence; what will none
  Vouchsafe to give me answer? am I grown
  To such a poor respect, or do you mean
  To break my wind?  Speak, speak, some one of you,
  Or else by heaven.

1 Gent.

  So please your.

Arb.

  Monstrous,
  I cannot be heard out, they cut me off,
  As if I were too saucy, I will live
  In woods, and talk to trees, they will allow me
  To end what I begin.  The meanest Subject
  Can find a freedom to discharge his soul
  And not I, now it is a time to speak,
  I hearken.

1 Gent.

  May it please.

Arb.

  I mean not you,
  Did not I stop you once? but I am grown
  To balk, but I defie, let another speak.

2 Gent.

  I hope your Majesty.

Arb.

  Thou drawest thy words,
  That I must wait an hour, where other men
  Can hear in instants; throw your words away,
  Quick, and to purpose, I have told you this.

Bes.

  And please your Majesty.

Arb.

  Wilt thou devour me? this is such a rudeness
  As you never shew’d me, and I want
  Power to command too, else Mardonius
  Would speak at my request; were you my King,
  I would have answered at your word Mardonius,
  I pray you speak, and truely, did I boast?

Mar.

Truth will offend you.

Arb.

  You take all great care what will offend me,
  When you dare to utter such things as these.

Mar.

  You told Tigranes, you had won his Land,
  With that sole arm propt by Divinity: 
  Was not that bragging, and a wrong to us,
  That daily ventured lives?

Arb.

  O that thy name
  Were as great, as mine, would I had paid my wealth,
  It were as great, as I might combate thee,
  I would through all the Regions habitable
  Search thee, and having found thee, wi’my Sword
  Drive thee about the world, till I had met
  Some place that yet mans curiosity
  Hath mist of; there, there would I strike thee dead: 
  Forgotten of mankind, such Funeral rites
  As beasts would give thee, thou shouldst have.

Bes.

  The King rages extreamly, shall we slink away?  He’l strike us.

2 Gent.