Brun. Villany.
Theod. You are too violent.
Enter Protaldye.
The worst that can come
Is blanketing; for beating, and such virtues
I have been long acquainted with.
Mart. Oh strange!
Bawdb. Behold the man you talk of.
Brun. Give me leave,
Or free thy self, (think in what place you are)
From the foul imputation that is laid
Upon thy valour (be bold, I'll protect you)
Or here I vow (deny it or forswear it)
These honors which thou wear'st unworthily,
Which be but impudent enough, and keep them,
Shall be torn from thee with thy eyes.
Prot. I have it,
My v[a]lour! is there any here beneath,
The stile of King, dares question it?
Thier. This is rare.
Prot. Which of [my] actions, which have still been noble,
Has rend'rd me suspected?