Waste not good breath. If I must sell myself,

It matters not if she be fair or foul,

Angel or doubly damned; hating the race,

Men, maidens, young and old, I would blight my life

To save my country.

11

11

King.

Thanks, my dearest son.

There spake a patriot indeed.

Servant.

My liege,

An embassy from Cherson for the King.

Enter Ambassador, with retinue.

Ambassador

Ambas. Sirs, I bring you a message from Lamachus, the Archon of Cherson.

Lys. Sirs, forsooth! Know ye not the dignity of princes, or does your republican rudeness bar you from all courtesy? I do not count myself equal to the King, nor, therefore, should you.

King. Nay, good Lysimachus, let him proceed.

Ambas. If I am blunt of speech, I beg your forgiveness. I bring to you a letter from the citizen Lamachus, which I shall read, if it be your pleasure.

King. Read on.

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