I confess such fellows
  Be in all Royal Camps, and have and must be,
  To make the sin of Coward more detested
  In the mean souldier that with such a foil
  Sets off much valour.  By description
  I should now guess him to you, it was Bessus,
  I dare almost with confidence pronounce it.

Lyg.

  ’Tis such a scurvie name as Bessus, and now I think ’tis he.

Mar.

  Captain do you call him? 
  Believe me Sir, you have a misery
  Too mighty for your age:  A pox upon him,
  For that must be the end of all his service: 
  Your Daughter was not mad Sir?

Lyg.

  No, would she had been,
  The fault had had more credit:  I would do something.

Mar.

I would fain counsel you, but to what I know not, he’s so below a beating, that the Women find him not worthy of their Distaves, and to hang him were to cast away a Rope; he’s such an Airie, thin unbodyed Coward, that no revenge can catch him:  I’le tell you Sir, and tell you truth; this Rascal fears neither God nor man, he has been so beaten:  sufferance has made him Wainscot:  he has had since he was first a slave, at least three hundred Daggers set in’s head, as little boys do new Knives in hot meat, there’s not a Rib in’s body o’ my Conscience that has not been thrice broken with dry beating:  and now his sides look like two Wicker Targets, every way bended; Children will shortly take him for a Wall, and set their Stone-bows in his forehead, he is of so base a sense, I cannot in a week imagine what shall be done to him.

Lyg.

  Sure I have committed some great sin
  That this fellow should be made my Rod,
  I would see him, but I shall have no patience.

Mar.

’Tis no great matter if you have not:  if a Laming of him, or such a toy may do you pleasure Sir, he has it for you, and I’le help you to him:  ’tis no news to him to have a Leg broken, or Shoulder out, with being turn’d o’th’ stones like a Tansie:  draw not your Sword if you love it; for on my Conscience his head will break it:  we use him i’th’ Wars like a Ram to shake a wall withal.  Here comes the very person of him, do as you shall find your temper, I must leave you:  but if you do not break him like a Bisket, you are much to blame Sir.

[Exit Mar.

  Enter Bessus And the Sword men.

Lyg.

  Is your name Bessus?

Bes.

  Men call me Captain Bessus.

Lyg.

  Then Ca[p]tain Bessus, you are a rank rascall, without more
  exordiums, a durty frozen slave; and with the favor of your
  friends here I will beat you.

2 Sword.

  Pray use your pleasure Sir,
  You seem to be a Gentleman.

Lyg.