_Lyg_.

I have another, but a worse, I am asham'd, it is a business.

_Mar_.

You serve a worthy person, and a stranger I am sure you are; you may imploy me if you please without your purse, such Offices should ever be their own rewards.

_Lyg_.

I am bound to your Nobleness.

_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_.

I do beseech you yield your cause Sir quickly.

_Lyg_.

Indeed I should have told that first.

_Bes_.

I take it so.

_1 Sword_.

Captain, he should indeed, he is mistaken.

_Lyg_.