Ha! but here comes a fiend, that soars above; A prince o'the air, that sets the mud a moving. _Mal._ Colonel, a word. _Gril._ I hold no speech with villains. _Mal._ But, sir, it may concern your fame and safety. _Gril._ No matter; I had rather die traduced, Than live by such a villain's help as thine. _Mal._ Hate then the traitor, but yet love the treason. _Gril._ Why, are you not a villain? _Mal._ 'Tis confessed. _Gril._ Then, in the name of all thy brother-devils, What wouldst thou have with me? _Mal._ I know you're honest; Therefore it is my business to disturb you. _Gril._ 'Fore God, I'll beat thee, if thou urge me farther. _Mal._ Why, though you should, yet, if you hear me after, The pleasure I shall take in your vexation, Will heal my bruises. _Gril._ Wert thou definite rogue, I'faith, I think, that I should give thee hearing; But such a boundless villainy as thine Admits no patience. _Mal._ Your niece is come to court, And yields her honour to our Henry's bed. _Gril._ Thou liest, damned villain. [_Strikes him._ _Mal._ So: why this I looked for; But yet I swear by hell, and my revenge, 'Tis true, as you have wronged me. _Gril._ Wronged thee, villain! And name revenge! O wert thou Grillon's match, And worthy of my sword, I swear, by this One had been past an oath; but thou'rt a worm, And if I tread thee, darest not turn again. _Mal._ 'Tis false; I dare, like you, but cannot act; There is no force in this enervate arm. Blasted I was ere born--curse on my stars!-- Got by some dotard in his pithless years, And sent a withered sapling to the world. Yet I have brain, and there is my revenge; Therefore I say again, these eyes have seen Thy blood at court, bright as a summer's morn, When all the heaven is streaked with dappled fires. And flecked with blushes like a rifled maid; Nay, by the gleamy fires that melted from her, Fast sighs and smiles, swol'n lips, and heaving breasts, My soul presages Henry has enjoyed her. _Gril._ Again thou liest! and I will crumble thee, Thou bottled spider, into thy primitive earth, Unless thou swear thy very thought's a lie. _Mal._ I stand in adamant, and thus defy thee! Nay, draw, and with the edge betwixt my lips, Even while thou rak'st it through my teeth, I'll swear All I have said is true, as thou art honest, Or I a villain. _Gril._ Damned infamous wretch! So much below my scorn, I dare not kill thee; And yet so much my hate, that I must fear thee. For should it be as thou hast said, not all The trophies of my laurelled honesty Should bar me from forsaking this bad world, And never draw my sword for Henry more. _Mal._ Ha! 'tis well, and now I am revenged. I was in hopes thou wouldst have uttered treason, And forfeited thy head, to pay me fully. _Gril._ Hast thou compacted for a lease of years With hell, that thus thou ventured to provoke me?