_ But always out of humour,--
_Dor._ I have cause:
Though all mankind is cause enough for satire.
_Bend._ Why, then, thou hast revenged thee on mankind.
They say, in fight, thou hadst a thirsty sword,
And well 'twas glutted there.
_Dor._ I spitted frogs; I crushed a heap of emmets;
A hundred of them to a single soul,
And that but scanty weight too. The great devil
Scarce thanked me for my pains; he swallows vulgar
Like whipped cream,--feels them not in going down.
_Bend._ Brave renegade!--Could'st thou not meet Sebastian?
Thy master had been worthy of thy sword.
_Dor._ My master!--By what title?
Because I happened to be born where he
Happened to be king?--And yet I served him;
Nay, I was fool enough to love him too.--
You know my story, how I was rewarded
For fifteen hard campaigns, still hooped in iron,
And why I turned Mahometan. I'm grateful;
But whosoever dares to injure me,
Let that man know, I dare to be revenged.
_Bend._ Still you run off from bias:--Say, what moves
Your present spleen?
_Dor._ You marked not what I told you.
I killed not one that was his maker's image;
I met with none but vulgar two-legged brutes:
Sebastian was my aim; he was a man:
Nay,--though he hated me, and I hate him,
Yet I must do him right,--he was a man,
Above man's height, even towering to divinity:
Brave, pious, generous, great, and liberal;
Just as the scales of heaven, that weigh the seasons.
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