_Mar_.
I may have need of you, and then this courtesie,
If it be any, is not ill bestowed;
But may I civilly desire the rest?
I shall not be a hurter if no helper.
_Lyg_.
Sir you shall know I have lost a foolish Daughter,
And with her all my patience, pilfer'd away
By a mean Captain of your Kings.
_Mar_.
Stay there Sir:
If he have reacht the Noble worth of Captain,
He may well claim a worthy Gentlewoman,
Though she were yours, and Noble.
_Lyg_.
I grant all that too: but this wretched fellow
Reaches no further than the empty name
That serves to feed him; were he valiant,
Or had but in him any noble nature
That might hereafter promise him a good man,
My cares were so much lighter, and my grave
A span yet from me.
_Mar_.
I confess such fellows
Be in all Royal Camps, and have and must be,
To make the sin of Coward more detested
In the mean souldier that with such a foil
Sets off much valour. By description
I should now guess him to you, it was _Bessus_,
I dare almost with confidence pronounce it.
_Lyg_.
'Tis such a scurvie name as _Bessus_, and now I think 'tis he.
_Mar_.
Captain do you call him?
Believe me Sir, you have a misery
Too mighty for your age: A pox upon him,
For that must be the end of all his service:
Your Daughter was not mad Sir?
_Lyg_.
No, would she had been,
The fault had had more credit: I would do something.
_Mar_.
I would fain counsel you, but to what I know not, he's so below a
beating, that the Women find him not worthy of their Distaves,
and to hang him were to cast away a Rope; he's such an Airie,
thin unbodyed Coward, that no revenge can catch him: I'le tell
you Sir, and tell you truth; this Rascal fears neither God nor
man, he has been so beaten: sufferance has made him Wainscot: he
has had since he was first a slave, at least three hundred
Daggers set in's head, as little boys do new Knives in hot meat,
there's not a Rib in's body o' my Conscience that has not been
thrice broken with dry beating: and now his sides look like two
Wicker Targets, every way bended; Children will shortly take him
for a Wall, and set their Stone-bows in his forehead, he is of so
base a sense, I cannot in a week imagine what shall be done to
him.
_Lyg_.
Sure I have committed some great sin
That this fellow should be made my Rod,
I would see him, but I shall have no patience.
_Mar_.
'Tis no great matter if you have not: if a Laming of him, or
such a toy may do you pleasure Sir, he has it for you, and I'le
help you to him: 'tis no news to him to have a Leg broken, or
Shoulder out, with being turn'd o'th' stones like a Tansie: draw
not your Sword if you love it; for on my Conscience his head will
break it: we use him i'th' Wars like a Ram to shake a wall
withal. Here comes the very person of him, do as you shall find
your temper, I must leave you: but if you do not break him like a
Bisket, you are much to blame Sir.
[_Exit_ Mar.
_Enter_ Bessus _And the Sword men_.
_Lyg_.
Is your name _Bessus_?
_Bes_.
Men call me Captain Bessus.
_Lyg_.
Then Ca[p]tain _Bessus_, you are a rank rascall, without more
exordiums, a durty frozen slave; and with the favor of your
friends here I will beat you.
_2 Sword_.
Pray use your pleasure Sir,
You seem to be a Gentleman.
_Lyg_.
Thus Captain _Bessus_, thus; thus twing your nose, thus kick,
thus tread you.
_Bes_.