Vir. No more of these Racks; what I am, I am.
I hope not to go free with poor confessions;
Nor if I shew ill, will I seem a monster,
By making my mind prisoner; do your worst.
When I came out to deal with you, I cast it,
Only those base inflictions fit for slaves,
Because I am a Gentleman.—
Sess. Thou art none.
Thou wast while thou stoodst good, th' art now a villain.
And agent for the devil.
Vir. That tongue lies.
Give me my sword again, and stand all arm'd;
I'll prove it on ye all, I am a Gentleman,
A man as fair in honor, rate your prisoners,
How poor and like a Pedagogue it shews!
How far from Nobleness! 'tis fair, you may kill's;
But to defame your victory with foul language.
Ses. Go fling him over-board; I'll teach you sirrah.
Vir. You cannot teach me to die. I could kill you now
With patience, in despising all your cruelties.
And make you choke with anger.
Ses. Away I say.
Mar. Stay Sir, h'as given you such bold language,
I am not reconcil'd to him yet, and therefore
He shall not have his wish observ'd so nearly,
To die when he please; I beseech you stay Sir.
Ses. Do with him what thou wilt.
Mar. Carry him to th' Bilboes,
And clap him fast there, with the Prince.
Vir. Do Lady,
For any death you give, I am bound to bless you.