And by degrees grow valorous. 1025
He star'd about, and seeing none
Of all his foes remain, but one,
He snatch'd his weapon, that lay near him,
And from the ground began to rear him;
Vowing to make CROWDERO pay 1030
For all the rest that ran away.
But RALPHO now, in colder blood,
His fury mildly thus withstood:
Great Sir, quoth he, your mighty spirit
Is rais'd too high: this slave does merit 1035
To be the hangman's bus'ness, sooner
Than from your hand to have the honour
Of his destruction. I, that am
A nothingness in deed and name
Did scorn to hurt his forfeit carcase, 1040
Or ill intreat his fiddle or case:
Will you, great Sir, that glory blot
In cold blood which you gain'd in hot?
Will you employ your conqu'ring sword
To break a fiddle and your word? 1045
For though I fought, and overcame,
And quarter gave, 'twas in your name.
For great commanders only own
What's prosperous by the soldier done.
To save, where you have pow'r to kill, 1050
Argues your pow'r above your will;
And that your will and pow'r have less
Than both might have of selfishness.
This pow'r which, now alive, with dread