_Bal_. A great mans vices, that can raise all hell. What woo'd you call that man, who under-saile In a most goodly ship wherein he ventures His life, fortunes and honours, yet in a fury Should hew the Mast downe, cast Sayles over-boord, Fire all the Tacklings, and to crowne this madnesse Shoo'd blow up all the Deckes, burne th'oaken ribbes And in that Combat 'twixt two Elements Leape desperately and drowne himselfe i'th Seas,-- What were so brave a fellow? _Omnes_. A brave blacke villaine. _Bal_. That's I; all that brave blacke villaine dwels in me, If I be that blacke villaine; but I am not: A Nobler Character prints out my brow, Which you may thus read: I was banish'd Spaine For emptying a Court-Hogshead, but repeal'd So I woo'd (e're my reeking Iron was cold) Promise to give it a deepe crimson dye In--none heare?--stay--no, none heare. _Med_. Whom then? _Bal_. Basely to stab a woman, your wrong'd Neece, And her most innocent sonne _Sebastian_. _Alb_. The Boare now foames with whetting. _Daen_. What has blunted Thy weapons point at these? _Bal_. My honesty, A signe at which few dwell, pure honesty. I am a vassaile to _Medina's_ house; He taught me first the A, B, C of warre[203] E're I was Truncheon-high I had the stile Of beardlesse Captaine, writing then but boy: And shall I now turne slave to him that fed me With Cannon-bullets, and taught me, Estridge[204]-like, To digest Iron and Steele? no: yet I yeelded With willow-bendings to commanding breaths. _Med_. Of whom? _Bal_. Of King and Queene: with supple Hams And an ill-boading looke I vow'd to doo't; Yet, lest some choake-peare[205] of State-policy Shoo'd stop my throat and spoyle my drinking-pipe, See (like his cloake) I hung at the Kings elbow Till I had got his hand to signe my life. _Daen_. Shall we see this and sleepe? _Alb_. No, whilst these wake. _Med_. 'Tis the Kings hand. _Bal_. Thinke you me a quoyner? _Med_. No, no, thou art thy selfe still, Noble _Baltazar_; I ever knew thee honest, and the marke Stands still upon thy forehead. _Bal_. Else flea the skin off. _Med_. I ever knew thee valiant and to scorne All acts of basenesse: I have seene this man Write in the field such stories with his sword That our best chiefetaines swore there was in him As 'twere a new Philosophy of fighting, His deeds were so Puntillious. In one battell, When death so nearely mist my ribs, he strucke Three horses stone-dead under me: this man Three times that day (even through the jawes of danger) Redeem'd me up, and (I shall print it ever) Stood o're my body with _Colossus_ thighes Whilst all the Thunder-bolts which warre could throw Fell on his head; and, _Baltazar_, thou canst not Be now but honest still and valiant still Not to kill boyes and women. _Bal_. My byter here eats no such meat.