_Dor._ A curl'd hair Gentleman stept in, a stranger, As he rod by, belike he heard our bickering, Saw our distresses, drew his sword, and prov'd He came to execute, and not to argue. Lord what a lightning methought flew about him, When he once toss'd his blade! in face _Adonis_, While peace inhabited between his eye-brows: But when his noble anger stirr'd his metal, And blew his fierie parts into a flame, Like _Pallas_, when she sits between two armies, Viewing with horrid brows their sad events, Such then he look'd: and as her shield had arm'd him. _Cal._ This man Sir were a friend to give an age for. This Gentleman I must love naturally: Nothing can keep me off; I pray you go on Sir. _Dor._ I will, for now you please me: this brave youth, This bud of _Mars_, for yet he is no riper, When once he had drawn bloud, and flesh'd his sword, Fitted his manly metal to his spirit, How he bestirr'd him! what a lane he made! And through their fierie Bullets thrust securely: The hardned villains wondring at his confidence, Lame as I was I follow'd, and admir'd too, And stirr'd, and laid about me with new spirit, My men too with new hearts thrust into action, And down the Rogues went. _Cle._ I am struck with wonder. _Dor._ Remember but the storie of strong _Hector_, When like to lightning he broke through his vanguard, How the _Greeks_ frighted ran away by Troops, And trod down Troops to save their lives: so this man Dispers'd these slaves: had they been more and mightier, He had come off the greater, and more wonder. _Cle._ Where is the man, good Sir, that we may honour him? _Cal._ That we may fall in superstition to him. _Dor._ I know not that, from me he late departed, But not without that pious care to see safe Me, and my weak men lodg'd, and dress'd; I urg'd him First hither, that I might more freely thank him: He told me he had business, crav'd my pardon, Business of much import. _Cle._ Know you his name? _Dor._ That he deny'd me too: a vow had bar'd him. _Cal._ In that he was not noble to be nameless. _Dor._ Daughter you must remember him when I am dead, And in a noble sort requite his piety, 'Twas his desire to dedicate this service To your fair thoughts. _Cal._ He knows me then? _Dor._ I nam'd you, And nam'd you mine: I think that's all his knowledge. _Cle._ No name, no being? _Cal._ Now I am mad to know him: Saving mine honour, any thing I had now But to enjoy his sight, but his bare picture; Make me his Saint, I must needs honour him. _Serv._ I know his name. _Cal._ There's thy reward for't; speak it. _Ser._ His man told me, but he desir'd my silence. _Cal._ O _Jasper_ speak, 'tis thy good Masters cause too: We all are bound in gratitude to compel thee.