He trembles at, if he were dead, 1055
Wou'd no more keep the slave in awe,
Than if you were a Knight of straw:
For death would then be his conqueror;
Not you, and free him from that terror.
If danger from his life accrue; 1060
Or honour from his death, to you,
'Twere policy, and honour too,
To do as you resolv'd to do:
But, Sir, 'twou'd wrong your valour much,
To say it needs or fears a crutch. 1065
Great conquerors greater glory gain
By foes in triumph led, than slain:
The laurels that adorn their brows
Are pull'd from living not dead boughs,
And living foes: the greatest fame 1070
Of cripple slain can be but lame.
One half of him's already slain,
The other is not worth your pain;
Th' honour can but on one side light,
As worship did, when y' were dubb'd Knight. 1075
Wherefore I think it better far
To keep him prisoner of war;
And let him fast in bonds abide,
At court of Justice to be try'd;
Where, if he appear so bold and crafty, 1080
There may be danger in his safety.
If any member there dislike
His face, or to his beard have pique;
Or if his death will save or yield,